A weird funk and a wild solution

It seems like every time I blog, it's always a negative thing. And though this post is no exception, at least it's almost been a year.

A really weird funk is passing over me. It's the kind of funk that doesn't let you decide on the right playlist to sleep with. Do you want something depressing, or maybe something inspiring? Or do you want something loud and obnoxious to help you forget what's going on in your real life? Which is really just the problem. Nothing is going on in my real life.

And I finally realize why I feel this way. I do not, by any means, define myself by how many friends I have in my life. But I do define myself by the quality of the friendship I have in my life, and lately that quality of friendship has been questionable. The way my particular group of friends have been treating me, by no fault of their own, has left me feeling like I'm disinteresting, and like I'm not worth their time. And maybe it's the way I've been acting. I don't know. All I know is I feel undervalued.

And it's not just in my friendship that I feel undervalued in. It's also in my job. I've been working really hard the past seven months, working forty hours a week without a vacation, and I'm getting really tired of it. And I would take a vacation, except I can't. I don't get paid time off, I don't get benefits, I don't get any of it. And I'm getting paid just over half of what I should be getting paid for the work I do.

I just feel like people don't appreciate me. And on top of that, I feel like every similarly gay person I meet out here takes one look at me and writes me off because I'm not enough of one thing or another for them.

And I feel like everything, what with the way customers respond to me at work, and the way my friends ignore me, and the way other gay people look at me, all of these things are forcing me to compensate for each one individually, and I'm forced to act like someone that I'm not every other second, and the stress of changing like that has finally gotten to me. I'm not a happy person anymore. I'm actually quite miserable. I just want to be myself, whoever that is. And I feel like once I start doing that, people will either be forced to recognize me, or forced to write me off, and I have never had a problem with that. If people can't handle me, that's their own problem. I just need to get a foothold on myself again, a jumpstart reminder, if you will, of who I really am. And I think that requires a vacation by myself. This weekend I have three days off in a row, and I plan to take advantage of that.

I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want to do, without worrying about who else sees me, or who else ignores me, or who else writes me off as obnoxious. And who knows? Perhaps something amazing will happen because of it.

Dear First

I thought you were long forgotten, but of course you're not. The memory of you is like a drug, the tears are my high. Every time I feel sad, your face surfaces from the depths of my subconscious, calling out to me, tempting me to join it in the fathoms of depression. And who can refuse your face? I sure as hell couldn't.

I've tried to use this sadness as inspiration for music, but nothing I create can capture the depth of the feelings I had for you. I think it's best to wallow in it for a bit. At least it's easier than pretending I don't care, that I never did. You never did.

It would be easier if it was just the one time. If you were the only one who didn't love me back. What if the second had, or even the third. Then it would have been easier. But of course they didn't. Who would? I wouldn't have.

It's tough. I have to change who I am, be more obvious, more flamboyant, just to convey the possibility that I could be interested in you. But then I'm no longer myself. I'm a different person than I was before, and I hate myself like that. But what's a boy to do? There isn't a right or wrong answer, and I can't blame you for not liking someone you would never have been interested in the first place. But I have to blame someone. Someone has to be responsible for causing me this pain, and it can't be me. I would never be able to live with myself if it was my own fault.

Dear First, it would be so much easier if I could hate you.

Deja Vu round 1

I used to hold merit in Deja Vu.

Believed it a sign I should be with you

But now I know better and so will you.

So will you.

You cornered the cat and you hacked the hive

Unaware of the fiends laying deep inside

No longer content to just sit and hide

And you obliged.

Your consequence - significant.

So painful you'll probably feint.

So fun we can hardly wait.

Your intentions - so deliberate

No amnesty for such as you

You should be grateful that's all we'll do.

Oh I used to have dreams of how this would go

As you once told me, just go with the flow

The ache will subside, oh so pleasurably

At least for me!

On a scale from one, to ten can you

Please tell me where the pain is at?

I fear it will end too fast.

Like Sisyphus you too, my friend

Less than normal amounts of pain

Will be your singular refrain.

Black cats, broken mirrors, who spilled the salt?!

Oh please, mummy deary, it's not my fault.

I had to get off, you know what it's like.

I'm so contrite.

Please spare me the bullshit, you whore

Consider this reciprocation

For the blatant form of condemnation

Of course who am I to judge you, dear?

After all it was my choice as well

I guess we're both going straight to hell

Dear mystery Customer..

Your jaw was a little skewed. It was a little to far to the right when you opened your mouth.
Your teeth were not straight, and there were some gaps between them.
Your eyes were muddied blue, not piercing, and not really deep. They were average.
Your clothes weren't overly impressive, and they didn't really stand out.
All in all, you were just another person who walked into my store.
And yet, you were infinitely greater than the sum of your parts.
Something about the cumulative effect of your eyes, jaw, teeth, face, clothes.. Everything, really, was stunning.
I caught you staring at me. I don't want to read into it.
When I talked to you, you were constantly smiling. I don't want to read into that either.
You asked me about who I was. I don't want to read into it.

I didn't want to. I couldn't help reading into it, anyway.

But, you were buying something for her.

Her.

It's always for her.

How drab.

May my gaze be forever drawn
That I won't see your beauty.
May transgression's seething soothe
That love won't be my folly.

I stared too long upon you
That I saw what wasn't there
The truth was hidden from me
I knew, but did not care.

I saw, instead, what I desired
In all you did to me
Unaware of the timely price
Of unrequition's healing.

May my gaze be forever drawn.

Where did this come from?

How easily is modern man reduced to begging for his life from the clutches of such invisible a foe as a sickness! Oh how shattered becomes the illusion of control we so rigorously annex everything into, that when a contender arises to compete with it, we feel so disturbed by its presence that we resort to total extermination of the merely inquisitive specimen.
Imagine if we were to adopt such a brutal and unforgiving form of politics. Indeed the man who carried out such a goal would be compared to the great bringers of the apocalypse so quickly that surely some esoteric organization, if not a public one, proud of the accomplishment, would destroy the usurper as swiftly as he desired to usurp others.
Do we punish every arrogant senator that deigns to disrupt the unity and continuous flow of society with an outlandish idea? Does his head end up on the chopping block for every misspoken word that leaves his mouth? Do we annihilate him and all those who stand by him for their refusal to accept our views? Does the dissonance their existence creates leave us feeling empty or worthless, like a decaying corpse under six feet of barren earth?
No. In fact, it is this dissonance, this audacity to propose, this unerring nerve to suggest such a new or even retrogressive policy that is so far from what we consider normal, that allows our form of government to accurately judge the true desires of the people.
It is not within our capacity to achieve perfection. Indeed, it is not even within our true desire to do so. Imagine, momentarily, a life where nothing wanted was not given. We would soon learn to want nothing, or else be forced to, by the extremity of our predicament, the same end. Picture a life without sadness, without grief, or without sorrow. Visualize a world without hatred, without pain, without spurn. The ideal of perfection is just that, ideal. It is not beholden to rules or common sense, or even logic. For if one were to apply such restraints on the ideal, such restraints that are, at least at the current time, prerequisites of any idea worth idealizing, it would become dreadfully apparent that without pain, we would have nothing to judge ecstasy besides. Without the deep colorful pangs of hatred, we would never feel so acutely the soaring uplifting notes of love. Without days filled with sadness, we would never understand the sheer blessing that is a day full of joy.
No, it is not within our desire for perfection. So let us instead revel in the imperfectections that make this life so worth our time. For it is only after struggling to achieve that we can truly feel the pride that comes from the achievement. Only after struggling to survive do we understand what it means to be alive. We must change our attitude. We must look at sickness not as a curse, but as an opportunity to once again become healthy. We must gaze into the face of danger and see not our own misfortune, but the luck we have to have been given a test of our own strength. We must spare no thoughts to the forlorn, for our minds were not meant to dwell in such miserable haunts of attitude.
Let us look at the future not as another day that we must fight the raging battle, but as another day in which we can grow to new heights. For the evergreen does not look at the shade of his ancestors and say “I will never achieve such greatness.” No, the evergreen forgets to look at his own shade, but rather turns his attention to the sky in search of new opportunities to grow.
Granted, such a metaphor may hardly seem applicable, for it is through the gift of higher intelligence that we are capable of feeling such complex emotions as worthlessness or neglect, and a tree does not feel compelled to attain such intelligence, and therefore has never felt the heavy presence of depression nor the futility of the abused. But any creature with a soul and any being that struggles to survive in this world and has, is a being that must be praised. For we all can relate to the struggles of survival.

Ooooh something worth posting about!

Well the other night I had an incredibly frightening experience. Similar to a few other experiences I've had in the past; downright disturbing.

So I was bored with too much time on my hands, like usual considering I don't currently have a job, except the odd times that I hold and/or assemble signs. But that's a different story, and I digress.

I was writing a weird short story that was just coming to me off the top of my head while listening to a few celestial sounding songs by m83. It was about someone obtaining Nirvana and having unlimited access to the cosmos and all the energy between matter and just a ton of bullshit like that. It sounded really weird and stuff, but there were a few clever lines here and there.

Anyway, I get to a paragraph describing how he ended up creating the universe by condensing matter, and I think I started typing something with the general theme of "he did this by himself" and BAM! Something else was in the room. My family were all in bed, and the ferrets, the bird, the hamster and the goldfish were in their respective cages. I was completely alone, except for this presence. This heavy, all consuming, dark, being.

I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, and suffice it to say I was freaked out. If you've ever been in this situation before, you know just how I was feeling. If you haven't, I really don't recommend it. It is legitimately the most frightening thing I've ever experienced.

Well, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed in the hopes that I would forget about the feeling I had. It helped, I was able to calm myself down, and the presence had dissipated. After I put my retainer in, I walk back to my computer, to re-read what I've written so far. I was hoping that I had just imagined whatever it was that I had felt. It seemed I had, because the whole time I was reading, I felt perfectly fine. However, the second I started reading from that paragraph again, the feeling was back. The presence returned. Whether it was warning me to stop writing, or egging me on, wanting me to finish the thought, I wasn't sure. All I know is that single paragraph was provoking this unwanted feeling, and it was petrifying.

There's only been one other time that I've felt something like this before, and it too was equally as scary, if in a slightly different way.

I had been staying up late reading about children with enhanced psychic capabilities, something I was vastly interested in at the time, when I realized exactly how late it really was. So, I did the usual routine of turning on my "sleep" playlist (the songs of which have over 300 plays each) and curling up to go to sleep.

I was able to sleep, but rather restlessly. I kept waking up, but not randomly. It seemed like, for some reason, I would wake up to the parts of the songs that had the weirdest lyrics. Things that made sense when put in the context of the song, but to the disconnected and foggy brain of the sleeper, sounded just plain creepy. I remember one of the parts was something along the lines of "We'll be together, just you and I alone" or something with the same general insinuation. And this happened multiple times, in numerous different songs. I kept dismissing them as nothing, things that didn't really mean anything. Y'know, just coincidence.

Well, I woke up again, and I could tell instantly something was different. My room was completely dark. And there was something else in the room, perhaps multiple things. The atmosphere was so heavy, I could not even comprehend it. I was absolutely petrified, completely incapable of movement. The only thing I could do was shut my eyes and focus on not focusing on the presence.

It didn't work. I could feel it trying to get into my head, like some sort of ethereal demon. I could hear the lyrics from before, the creepy "all alone, just me and you" stuff echoing around inside of my head. There were a few moments where I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I stopped resisting, the thing would have won and taken over. It was about that time that I started praying. There was nothing else I could do, I couldn't leave my room, because I knew it was standing between me and the door, and sitting there was not a viable option either. So I prayed.

Eventually the presence receded, and I felt safe enough to open my eyes. For the rest of the night, I kept my lamp on and I just watched youtube videos on my computer.

Anyway, those are two of the most frightening, if not the top two most frightening moments of my life. Even thinking about them right now, I got chills multiple times. Some people don't believe in the paranormal. I think those people are just not as sensitive to it. I'm not saying I'm a really sensitive person, because I don't think I am, and I definitely would not want to develop the slight ability I have to sense that sort of stuff. But anyone who says that stuff like that doesn't exist has just never been in the same sort of situation.

It's real.

No joke.

I can feel it coming on again

This weird feeling that grips me. It's sort of like loneliness, but not really as painful. Perhaps it will grow into that someday. Right now it just feels like inadequacy. I don't know what it means. I don't know what to do with it. And I don't know how to hide it. It seeps into every conversation I have. I just sound so weird and unusual and upset, and people can tell.

I think about ways to distract myself. Recently those distractions have taken the form of books. Reading and reading. I read an O.K. book called The Maze Runner by James Dashner. It was good, but it was too specific, too unrealistically horrifying that the wonder of it sort of wore off. When I went to pick up the sequel I ended up buying something else entirely. Feed, by M.T. Anderson. This book was phenomenal. Absolutely incredible, and so pertinent to myself. By the end I was crying my eyes out. I am almost crying right now, thinking about it. Kind of pitiful, actually.

I feel like screaming, but I know that won't change anything. I feel like being irrational, but that won't change anything either. I feel like playing the piano until my fingers bleed. That would probably change everything, but everyone else is asleep right now. Maybe I'll stay up too late tonight. Maybe I'll stay up until *gasp* 3! Who knows!? I never show people this side of myself. I hide this depressing shell of a person from everyone. When I think of deal-breakers I think of this. Who I am right now. I feel like a liar for not telling everyone I meet that I am a moody asshole. I feel like I am misleading them. I can't help that this is who I am, this is who I will always revert to when something is wrong in my life.

The first problem is accepting that I feel this way. Then I have to think about what's making me feel this way. Then I have to think about how to solve that problem. Then I have to actually do it. The process is so long and so unpredictable that I could spend anywhere from months to a few minutes feeling like this. Most of the time it involves some serious sob-fests. I'm such a baby, it's kind of intolerable. I cry all the time. I cry when things are happy, when things are sad, when I'm angry too. It's a physical manifestation of the turmoil I feel inside me.

As for this most recent episode, I'm not sure what it is that's bothering me. I've yet to complete step 2. Usually, right before step 1 is over is the time in which some weird product of my estranged and macabre imagination is miraculously translated into music or poetry or writing, or some various form of art. Step one is followed by a lot of tears. The end of Step 2 is usually followed by, you guessed it, more tears, and a nasty bit of sarcasm usually directed at some individual on whom I blame the present situation. Well, I think I just disproved myself. I have reached the end of step 2.

In fact, I've known what's been bothering me for a long time. I'm afraid. I'm so scared about the future that the only thing I can do is resort to curling up into a ball and forgetting that it's in front of me. It's like when I was little, I used to get scared at night, so I would creep into my parent's room and sleep on their floor. Something about it just made me calm. Well, I guess right now I'm doing that again. I'm just running away from what I'm afraid of. Pretending it's not there. The problem with the future is that you can't do that. It's always going to catch up to you in the end. And there's really nobody to blame but myself when it finally does and I'm not prepared for it.

I just feel so isolated right now, like nobody else is going through what I'm going through right now. I have friends that are all going off to college without a care in the world. I want that to be me. My whole life I've cared about everything and thought about everything WAY too much. I just want to STOP CARING, I want to STOP THINKING about EVERY SINGLE FUCKING THING. I just want to be normal. I know it's not true, but I feel like every single day for me has been a fight against something. Every single day I've worried about something, or I've felt bad about something. I just want to stop worrying. I want to stop hurting. I want to stop feeling miserable. For once, I just want life to be as easy for me as it is for everyone else. And sure, I'm a long ways away from giving up on life. In fact, I'm convinced that will never happen. But I've stopped fighting. I've just sort of accepted the fact that I'm supposed to be unhappy. It's become my default setting. And everything about that is wrong. Everything about what I've just said is outright horrible.

But I just can't bring myself to hope that it will ever change, and I definitely cannot bring myself to fight it off. I don't have the energy, or the bravery, or the whatever it is that it takes to do it. I need to be rescued. I need someone to pull me out of this and stand me up on my own two feet again because I've reached my limit. I've reached my carrying capacity. I've reached that point where I just force myself to shut down, to stop giving a fuck about anything. And that makes me frightened. I don't know what I'll do. I don't know who I will become when I'm like this.

Someone rescue me, please. Help me out of this stupid fucking hole I've put myself in.

Dear Dad,

Have I finally broken through?

Have you finally felt the frustration?

Have you finally seen the darker side of this terrible translation?

Do your insides ache for understanding?

Does your brain ring with sounds of defeat?

Do you finally realize that you have lost the raging battle, will you finally retreat?

How can you stand so adamant about things that only you believe?

How can you be so ignorant towards the things that make others feel free?

I am different from you, you cannot change that fact.

I am my own person, my own mind, my own sense of worth.

I am my own set of goals, my own ideals, my own path.

I am what I want for myself, and not you or anyone else can change that.

So why do we fight such immovable a barrier?

For how long with this assault persist?

Will we tire ourselves to exhaustion's brink?

Will the promise of peace escape our lips?

Can we ever bridge that unfathomable gap

Or will this infinite ocean endlessly lap

against the shores of our own different dreams?

I feel like screaming this at the top of my lungs. I just need a good melody first.

Drown your sorrows with Alcohol

Smoke them away with weed

Swallow them with Ecstasy

Misery's not for me

Forget the richness of its flavor

The passion that fuels descent

Into chaos I brought myself

Though out of it I'll be in debt

Forgive me, fickle future

I am blind by the present's presence

The deed is done, addiction's born

On shoulders of silk so pleasant

I know just where I'm going

And from whence I came

The silly bit is where I am

Cartography's harsh game

Second guessing yourself at every corner

Tied up with the emotions of the weak

Pales in comparison's sake

When numbness calls to me

Well, I'm uploading like crazy. New and completed Lyrics to a piece from the possible musical :D

I will keep you here forever

To contemplate the decision you made

Just right now

Just a bit ago

So long ago

Forever go

I can feel my lips turning up and my tongue is forming the words to a

Lies don't work as well as truths I know this but I really don't give a

Shit it's working so fast I don't know how much longer he can wait but

Forever's long enough, I don't think you need more time holler when you're through.

I am so sick of your nonsense

It's getting older and older and older

Just like you

Just like them

Just like you all

But never like me

Death is only the beginning

Soon you'll know how I am feeling

Don't be upset or alarmed when you start to

Losing your mind is a treat

You never know how addling it is

Until it's gone

Gone and gone

Ball-park gone

Just like mine.

Just a dash of fine, aged hate

Add cynicism now stir and wait

Now a bit of your subject

Fill a vial and inject!

Welcome back here my old friend

I'm terribly sorry but an accident happened

Just last night

You were drunk

Driving too

Spinned out of control

I'm really sorry but you didn't make it

I was only slightly less unfortunate

Stuck in a coma really isn't a better situation to be in

Promise it's not

Rather inconvenient

Be back later,

Reality's calling

Don't worry, I forgive you.

Well well well..

Well, what do we have here?

The promise of a better year?

Not so, I would not dare to dream

Of a life so wonderful, So let's come clean.

What is it you really desire?

The savant's craze or passion's fire?

And what of when the kindling dies,

Will the night be pierced with your cries

Or the promises of devotion still

Despite the tongue's dwindling fill?

Tell me again, this time sincere

Of what allure should hold you here

On what level of infinite do I exist

That your attention is still as fixed

As it was on day one

With the promise of a brighter sun.

You are most immeasurably the better

But can you withstand the doldrum's weather?

Once twists and turns have all died down

And what we're left with is calm's sweet sound

You'll look at me with a different face

A stranger one that pricks no trace

Upon the memories of an exciting past

Fragile as wind, the stare will last

Always there under every face

The residue of a slower pace

When ecstasy's raw power

Has depleted its last hour

And the promise of future sips

From its fountain never left its lips

We're stuck here watching as the whole thing falls

The fortitude of excitement, gone from it's walls

The castle that we had built together

To withstand the hardest weather

Fails the simplest test there is

The test of time.

New Song Lyrics!

Cynicism in a Random Key

Now listen to an anecdote that's starved of any joy

A tragic tale of accidents about a little boy

He died one day because a bullet soared right through his brain

Black ash was on his fingertips no signs of foul-play

His wish was that they'd send him off, and that is what they did

With covers of white silk a once strong body now placid

They wept they cried they moaned in pain, but not because he died

Their sorrow lay with where they thought his soul would now reside

In life he was a sinner, for in his heart he loved

To be a wicked naughty boy not bound to his betrothed

They sent him to the altar, the woman by his side

He spurned her love on that sad day, his vows he did deny

Let us take a moment to say thanks to his family for providing such tasty treats at his funeral service

Because when you have a relative that sins it's important to keep up your appearances

And this boy was a sinner in everything that he ever did!

He rejected help, he would not turn from what he thought was true

Love is love, he'd always say, I guess that love was you

Of course we know that he was wrong, we hate those of his kind

But this one died, so I guess in the end it's just fine.

The Doldrums of Real Life.

It's over. Done. Complete. There's nothing left... I am free to do whatever I want. I am free to be as gay as my heart desires, or to be as creepy as I can, or to be as generous as my status can offer. I'm really free to do everything I've ever wanted. Free to be a human, free to make mistakes, free to make bad friends, free to date perverted people who I dumb a day later, free to ask for more than I need, free to go without.

And yet, all I see in the world are the barriers I have yet to bring down. The things holding me back from what I really want. Whether they're in my own head in the form of my self-consciousness, or whether they're more extrinsic problems like "how will I pay for college?" and "how will I survive on my own when the time comes for me to do so?"

The real problem in my life is that I don't know what I want. I don't know what I want to be. Well, that's not true. I want to be a musician. I want to be a performer. I want people to hear my music. I want them to hear it and feel the emotion I put into it. I want it to surpass the bullshit that is modern pop music. I want people to hear it and weep the same way I wept when I wrote it. I want them to hear it and laugh in maniacal joy over the strangeness of the tune.

I keep thinking about what I should do with my life, and that right now is the time to make the decision. What if college isn't right for me? I know I will love it, but I just don't see it happening. Where will I get the money? What if I go, learn to do whatever it is I learn to do, and then do nothing with it? What if I rack up thousands of dollars in debt only for a self-discovery that I could have had in the first place?

What if? What if? What if? what iF? WHAT IF? what if......... . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I already know how this will end.

I think it's time for this ridiculousness to end.

So... So so so... SO! I think I am going to end this stupid thing I have for this stupid person. Before anyone gets all offended about whether or not the stupid person will be upset, I beg any and all of my nonexistent readers to look at the sentence again. Notice there are a lot of I's and not a lot of We's.

I am going to end something that never began in any way shape or form outside of my own imagination. Sure, I mean, he knows I exist; we talk almost every day and we joke and tease each other a lot. But I just have to know... I just have to know how he feels. So I figure the fastest way to learn how he feels is to tell him how I feel. And I know just the way to do it.

So, a few weeks ago my school had an event called Acoustic Night, and I performed in it. Now the song that I performed was one that I wrote, and I wrote new lyrics for it for a specific purpose. I've posted the lyrics before, and they're basically about tempting someone to do something they want to do, but don't feel like they can do. Sort of coercing, but not so much coercing and more giving them a helping hand in the direction they want to go.

Anyways! I wrote this song and I was hoping to perform this song in front of this boy. I pestered him for a good two weeks before the performance, trying to ensure he was going. After he said he would, I pestered him even more to make sure he was going. Now, maybe I came on too strong, and I guess the last sentence made it sound that way... But I know when I'm being annoying, and this definitely was not as annoying as he's used to, so I don't think that was it.

Either way, for some reason, he ended up not going. It was infuriating. I was really angry at him because of it, and even now I still feel hurt though most of my anger is now sadness. Anyways... It's been a week or two since the performance, and I think I've finally realized that the only way I am going to get over him is though a definite and hopefully blunt and to the point answer, which is asking a lot considering nothing I do concerning him is blunt and to the point. It's taken me how long to finally rack up the courage to tell him how I feel?

Anyways... I am nervous, because what if he's not even gay? I mean.. It would irritate me less if he is gay, and just isn't interested in me than it would if he wasn't even gay in the first place. It's just super irritating to think that I could fall for someone who isn't even a possibility, and I would like to retain the idea that I am smarter than that. Chances are, I'll tell him how I feel and he'll flat out say no way, or something along those lines. That's really okay with me. It would be closure. Much. Needed. Closure. The type of closure I feel I've never had with anyone else I've felt this way about.

The problem... A lot of people in his position (religious family and religious individual coupled with the fact that he's a sports junky) would probably say the say the same thing, even if they were harboring feelings for someone. But maybe that's just the freak in me always looking for a way to blame it on something other than how he really feels. Either way, I think it's time for this ridiculousness to end. And end it will. On Monday. During Lunch. In the Library. With the candlestick.

Ugh...

Sometimes it feels good to let all your feelings out.. Sometimes it feels good to just cry it out.. All the stress, the anger, the self-pity, but most of all the regret. But lately I haven't been able to.. It's weird to imagine not being able to cry when you really feel like crying. It's even more upsetting than actually crying.

I just wish I could make myself stop feeling the way I do, and despite how embarrassing it might be, no matter how humiliating, and even how painful it can be sometimes, crying provides a temporary respite from reality. A temporary glimpse into an alternative world where everyone feels the way you do. A mirrored reflection of a truth forgotten; people care about you.

I know I should be happy, so many good things are happening right now. I am going to college in the fall, my brother is finally marrying his girlfriend, I just got my driver's license, I'm applying for my summer job... All these things are happening, and yet I can't help but feel upset.

It's not like it's because of any of these things in particular.. It's more the entire picture in combination with the stuff happening in my life. Well.. I think I've figured out what I want to call whatever my music will be grouped into; (be it a musical, an estranged album, or even some abstract collection of live performances) Unrequition.

I know it's not technically a word, but I think it should be. It's honestly the most applicable concept in my life right now, and it should be a word.

I'm thinking..

I'm thinking I might write a musical. Or rather, turn all of the music that I have written so far into a musical. I already have a storyline in mind, and it seems solid enough, and I'm thinking that it could work, though I will probably need some help from a lot of my friends, lol! Hmm.. This is an idea I will have to consider deeply.. :)

Nothing short of perfection

The signals travel down the wires in the headphones. When they hit the buds they break into a thousand forms of euphony. The relaxation begins. I close my eyes, but the thoughts are still parading around my head as if they belong there. I reach out and gather them up, compressing them into a ball of infinite density and energy. Soon they all fit in my hand. As I close my fingers around it, squeezing them tighter and tighter, the light issuing forth from the thought-ball slowly fades until it is a dark, cold lump of nothing.

When I open my hand, sand pours forth, meeting the sand already at my feat. I look out over the wolf-blue ocean. The waves seem to move too quickly, but somehow it makes it all the more realistic. I have found a new place to be alone. The ocean and the sand and the salty breeze and the tepid sun. The sound of breaking waves and seagulls crying. The quiet hum of sand blowing across sand. Natural. Pure. Wholesome. Serenity.
I hear a breath behind me. Even out here, he's found me. I guess there's no respite from my feelings. I can feel the tears, hot behind my eyes. My breath is warm in my throat, caught there behind a million unspoken declarations of affection. I want to tell him how I feel. I want to ask him if he feels the same way. I want him to feel the same way. I am going to tell him this but at the last minute my mouth betrays me. It speaks a reference to a past conversation, one he probably wouldn't remember.

"Once you let God into your heart, he is always there." He looked at me so meaningfully, it had to be true. My mind raced at the implications of his words. What do they really mean? Thousands of calculations played through my head. They overwhelmed my ability to process information and I just sat there dumbfounded. It must have looked so ridiculous.

"Are you like God then?" I ask over the crashing waves. "Once I let you into my heart, you never leave it? Even when I am alone with my thoughts, you will be there?" The dam breaks, the great torrent of salty tears stream noiselessly down my face as I stare impassively out into the unfathomable depths of a make-believe sea.
I look around at him, pleading with my eyes for an answer, only to find that he is smiling at me. "That's love."
"No." My voice is oddly powerful, it even surprises me. "This can't be love. This uncertainty, this unrequited adoration, these feelings of helplessness. These things can't be love."
The waves freeze over behind me. The sand beneath out feet grows hard and cold. The very air around us drops a good thirty degrees. I stare into his eyes though my vision is obscured by a snow that has started falling out of nowhere. Still his smile is as unmoving as cement. I force the world to change again, plummeting the temperature another thirty degrees. He starts to shiver, but his smile is as pacified as ever.
I stare deeper into his eyes, lost in the emerald and evergreen pigments. His oddly shaped nose, his irregularly large lips, his oddly blockish face. What about him is so attractive, so compelling? It's not his bushy eyebrows, or his dorky hairstyle. I stare into his eyes again. I am reminded of Jade. A jade summer. I stare at him and he stares back at me, and the truth breaks on me like the frozen wave behind me that wasn't able to.

Around us an explosion takes place. The permafrost beneath us explodes into grass. The frozen ocean explodes into a hill. At the top, a solitary tree explodes into being. Without a word, we climb to the top of the hill. We stare out over the lake that has always been there, and the mountains that stand as resolute as they always do. To our right is the forest, as rooted to the ground as they always have been. And to our left is the vastly unexplored terrain, still as mysterious as our hearts have always wanted it to be.

I open my eyes, and reality hits me in the face like a cold torrent of wind on a frigid winter's day.

Blah

Sometimes you're hungry... And you have a cupboard.. But you're not sure if there's any food in the cupboard. You think there is, but you can't be positive and for some reason, you're too afraid to look. You're almost sure that if you look in the cupboard and there is no food, you'll somehow die of disappointment. But then again, if you look and there is food, you'll be able to eat and temporarily numb the pain in your stomach. It's all a matter of looking. But sometimes it's better to wait to look inside? Like if you have cheese, you want it to mature. But then again, you don't want the crackers to spoil, so you can't wait too long.

And sometimes you have a radioactive substance and a cat and a device that emits Chlorine gas upon detection of a stray electron. And you may decide to put them all in the box. Ordinarily, this would be like Schrodinger's Cat, but say you leave the box where it is and go off somewhere else. Then it's sort of like the cupboard scenario... right?

And say, hypothetically and with no ties or relativity to the truth, you have someone that you like but you don't know if they like you too... And so you're sort of waiting for the cat to die, or the crackers to spoil, or their temporary interest in you to fade... And you're not sure when it is, and so you're not sure when to open the cupboard, you're not sure when to ask them about how they feel. And say you had a limited time to bring it up at all.. Say some sort of devastating thing was FOR SURE going to happen and you didn't know exactly when, but you could feel the hammer over your head. Wouldn't you write some crazy song too? Wouldn't you sing it to this person hoping that they will hear it and for some reason (without any prior indication) realize that it's about them? Wouldn't you try to hold their attention by any means necessary?

You know.. I just realized something. I'm sort of really a gigantic wuss, and I like to use the "..." more than I actually need to. I hate stagnation and yet the thought of losing what connection I have to him makes me fear change.

Change... change. changE. Egnahc. CHANGE. change change change change change change change change change change change change change change.

And now that that random assortment of letter holds no meaning to me anymore, I think I can finally see the truth. Change is constant as long as constants change. And constants are never really constant. So change is always changing. I guess it's some sort of truth. And I guess my fear of change is kind of irrational because change is ever present. Look, my finger was just on the "L" button, and now it's on the "e" button. That's a change. I'm terrified of Air. I'm terrified of Water. I'm terrified of Life. I'm terrified of People. I'm terrified of Change. I shouldn't be afraid of any of these things, because to be afraid of one is just as stupid and ridiculous as being afraid of another. They are always all around us. In fact, I lied to you. I'm only afraid of one (guess which). But now that I have that bit of logic "logicked" out, I think I can move on to getting over that fear.

It's incredibly interesting to me that when you feel hunger, the pain is in your stomach. It makes sense, you know? You eat and it goes to your stomach, the two are sort of connected. It's even more fascinating to me that when you feel unrequited love, you feel it in your heart. Why would it be there? What correlation do the two have? I wonder if that's why emotion is always tied to the heart, when in actuality it's caused by chemicals released by the amygdala. That's sort of a depressing sentiment.

I need to be more accepting of change, because if it's always going to be here, I sort of have to get used to it, and possibly learn to manipulate it. I think if I learn to manipulate change in a way that benefits me, and hopefully others, it would be a lot better, and the best way to manipulate something is to be one step ahead of it. I need to be one step ahead of change, and plan the way I want things to change. The only problem with being one step ahead of change, is that you don't always know how things are going to change, just like you don't know if there's food in the cupboard, or if the cat has been viciously burned to death by the horribly chlorine gas. I think the best way is to be prepared for when change does happen, and plan to change things yourself in the moments of stagnation.

Having made this important realization, I really hope I'm not too late to change things for myself. I'm going to go practice that ridiculous song I wrote for a ridiculous person that makes me feel ridiculous. Talk to you all later. ^_^

The new Circus in town!

Pacified lips wreak of horror
Succulent food I implore you
Reach for me now just a bit more
As soon as you're near I'll erase all your fears.

I feast on them now look at me grow
When my strength returns I will control
Your every last move just wait and see
The darkness that lives inside you and me.

So dance with me now,
this is your last chance to impress
the monster who will enslave you so
Dance baby! Prance baby! Trampse baby!
Waltz in this cirque du macabre!

The change is complete look at us now,
Traipsing around through the rest of the crowd
The onlookers who look so awnry
They don't know the joy of being so free.

So dance with me now,
this is your last chance to impress
the monster who will enslave you, so
Dance baby! Prance baby! Trampse baby!
Waltz in this cirque du macabre...