End

This is the end... of my time writing here.

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I refuse

To be subject to the forces of habit

To be pulled back in like the tide

To give up like some weak-willed wuss

Or to be bullied into saying what I should say

Because regardless of what vocabulary I have

What I choose to say is what is going on in my head

And when I say it

It means

Who I am.

And sometimes you need that period

At the end of a sentence

For finality

Because sometimes leaving it too open ended

Leaves too much room for misinterpretation

This is something that needs to be understood clearly:

.

I've felt every way possible about this

There's not an option I haven't tested

Not a rocket I haven't seen come crashing down

But still nothing to show for it

Not much has changed and I wish it would

Ten months ago I was wishing myself out of a rut

Now I'm in it

A new one

And I want out again

So I can discover a new rut

To get caught in

Lost in

Forgotten

And re-found

Not just a rebound

Feeling like I should reread this

To see how it sounds

Feeling awkward 'cause somethings rhyme

And others just plain don't

As if looking over what I've already touched on

Was gonna help me discover what my next subject is

Sometimes you gotta ignore where you've been

And accept you're going someplace entirely different

So I dare myself to shut it out

And just say whatever non-related bull that comes forth

And I dare myself to cope with a mix

Of the old

And the new

Because it is the cowards who try to define

Spaces of time

And box people into them too

And box emotions

And memories

Commitments

Am I capable of letting this happen?

I'm ashamed of my reoccurring patterns

Like I said

I've tried everything

The worst part is the dependency

Which I'm showing right now

This horrible display of dysfunctionality

Apparently that's not a word

It should be.

That is me.

RESTART

Her

I used to ride the train home from Kindergarten at the same hour that the high schoolers took the 1 train back uptown. I was about... four feet, clinging to a pole and looking up at giants. There was a girl in skinny jeans and bright white Nikes. She had the most perfect curly hair that was always perfectly tousled and was wearing gold hoops, and a backpack thrown over her arm. The subway car would be packed in tight, so that everything was dark at my height - people's legs and bags. So I would just look up at her, with the perfect hair and the perfect look, surrounded by her girlfriends who were laughing, and she was laughing too, a big beautiful smile, with gum tucked in the back. And in front of her was some guy leaning against the subway door, flirting with her and she just kept laughing back. And these people were in some realm of superiority, which seemed like perfection, and where everyone should land in by the time they were teenagers. At that age, being a teenager, was one notch below a deity. It was a place I dreamed of, when I would be at the peak of life and freedom and identity. And beyond that, when I had my identity, I knew exactly who I would be. I wanted to be her.

February

For some reason, this never made it up when it was written - May 6, 2010. Felt like sharing:

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February was the last of the good old days

Before everyone went and changed their ways

I can't believe we have slipped into this phase

What happened to our innocent lunchtimes at Ray's?

Seems that sex has gotten everyone crazed

Taking full advantage of the world that we made

But it's not just a gain

Apparently it's a trade

Because in exchange

We are losing things

And which one is better?

It's hard to say

I'm just looking up at quotes

From last February

I'm feeling nostolgic

Cuz though times are great

I also have time to appreciate

When the weather was cold

There were sweet couples

We had principles

Not just hooking up with people

There was hope and chance

Actual romance

And comparitively things were so relaxed

Or maybe I'm just mourning lost time

And judging motives

Since I have lost mine.

Twelve

Sometimes, I can close my eyes, and this year never happened. I close my eyes, and I am twelve again, it's a cool summer day, I'm riding home on the elevated 1 train, staring out the window at the clouds. For a second, I have a year. We are standing on the edge of a cliff, and there are so many bridges we are about to cross, but once we are crossing those bridges, we are focusing on making sure we don't fall. From where we stood then, we could merely stand on the edge of that cliff, and look out into the canyon, entirely unaware of what was out there. And I remember so vividly, staring out into the expansive gray clouds, from the view of a vandalized window, thinking that something was about to happen. Future was about to happen, and there were so many points that were bursting, like a nest full of eggs about to emerge.

For a moment, I am back there. I am back in that feeling, right before life changes. It is there whenever life changes, and whenever you need it. And when I need it... I need to touch base with twelve year old me, who surprisingly, knew more about myself, than I will ever know again. Now I know about other people and the world... but it's harder to read my own dreams, and my own desires. When I close my eyes, I remember how it felt that summer, and now that I think about it, that summer was a time of magic.

Importance

We walk by people every day, and almost as often, meet new people. New names and identities enter our consciousness, even if only for a second. They are the insignificant people in our lives, acquaintances and strangers, and then there are the main characters, friends, family, lovers, and even teachers I guess. Who present a more prominent and effective role in our lives. But really, every one of the main characters started out as one of the nobodys you passed, and didn't think much about, who you had a one word opinion about and never really looked further. Because there was no reason to look further, because they didn't ever come into contact with you, or anything you did. They existed within one random moment like an extra in a movie. Then, you wake up, and a bunch of those people are close to you now, changing your life and the way you think, taking you in all new directions and becoming important. Who would have thought, when you first glanced at this person, that they would become your best friend, or you best advisor? And this will happen again - people we may know right now, as vaguely associated with some other part of life, may come to have a starring role. Then you'll look back and see how the world can revolve and take us to people, who it would appear, were always meant to be a part of your history. I find this intensely amusing.

Repeated

I was just trying to write how I felt in my journal, in normal paragraph form. Then this slipped out. (this is from a few weeks ago)

_________________________________________________

And why does my life feel like the same thing

Repeated year to year

The only thing changing is the characters

But the lessons are the same

Cause I have the same feelings

And I never learn.

I look back at old journals

That tell of a time

So long before ours

Before simplicity was devoured

And while the setting was so vastly different -

Essentially

It was the same.

So what am I doing here but walking in circles

Scratching with pencils and searching for words

To find a phrase and complete a poem

So I can turn the page

Think about -

And go on.

Future

Pain is a barrier

preventing motion towards your future.

Happiness stimulates

progress towards the future.

Memories exist

to allow the future to be the future

and not a repetition of the past.

Fragile

Yall remember this. But I was rereading it, and decided it was the right time to post it here. (originally written December 8, 2009, in math. This was not my assignment.)

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Run away and hide

Away from world order

Winter known to bring

Worst of luck

Say something wrong

Do something reckless

Leaving winter to blame

Looking to next month

Wishing for next year

If there is no way to return from which you came

In my past I fear

This season of detatchment

Still

Too fragile for winter winds

Could you get lost in winter?

Lose true meaning

Succumb to foggy memories

Only to rise again

And may springtime bring us peace

Fluidity and understanding

But when November clouds taunt -

Too fragile for winter winds.

1/28/2010

Does it hurt less To see by day

And know by night
Nonexistent echoes
Of empty words
What do I see
Power gone
But ego is strong
Wake up one day
and cry
Still Breathing
In and out of dreams
Can't change a thing
Passing days
Just for the sake of
Killing time

Happiness comes in waves

Sunlight has never been so dry

How come

Weather changes so fast in this town

Find I'm constantly

Loosing ground

Heart aches for freedom

More than satisfaction

Every word

Emphisizing hope is dead

Tell me again

Blue fire

Black coal

Don't know where to turn

Let the fire burn

Drown

There are those things in your mind that sometimes you would prefer to be a guest, and not a resident. There are some thoughts, some memories that are better seen every once and a while, and then can be shoved out the door. Or maybe they can just be exiled forever to live in some remote corner of the intellectual universe where they don't have to be leeches to my mind. Some things are just not meant to dwell here in my head, because they are too powerful to allow the rest of my brain operate in the way in which it needs to. So this is about those thoughts.
If I don't get rid of them, I'll never write again. I'll never read another story that doesn't trail off into some daydream, I'll never live a day without the fun being interrupted by a random daily event that triggers a flashback. And in the last two weeks, I've learned to stop these flashbacks, let them play and then shake myself out of it before I fall too deep. Before people realize exactly what I'm doing and it's a bad thing. Living off of memories is sick. I don't live off of them either; the plague me. I want to live life where I can fall asleep every night without random disturbances, where Jamba Juice cups, wet gravel, snow and car alarms, are not haunted by the same idea forever. I will drown these memories forever. I will write them down, every detail that my mind can imagine, down to the very temperature, slightest brush of air, every immaculate movement. All the tiny memories that rule my life, will all be written down on papers, until there are no more left. Then I will drown them. Whichever body of water I can, even if it's a street puddle, even if it's the bathroom sink. I will soak these memories into the water and watch the ink and paper crumble, and then I will be free. If they are all said and all gone, then like getting rid of the lip gloss that tasted so good, all evidence of the story will be gone and liberation will have come.

Back

I am going to close my eyes right now. And the tears are going to come streaming down my cheeks, down my neck and the two rivers will meet at my spine. I am going to take a deep breath, and it will take me a full 65 seconds to slowly let it out. I am going to open my mouth, and wait for words to come. But they never will. I will stare at a computer screen and listen to the sound of a clicking keyboard, but I will still not understand exactly what is coming out from my fingertips. I feel my life rewinding, I feel like I'm crawling back into prehistory. I've already zipped through November, now I'm living October. October was long and hard compared to December. It was full of constant doubt and playing every card carefully... yet I'm still confused what the difference between October and December was... on that spectrum. Did I not think the same thoughts, only by December they were reality? I feel as distant from you as my birthday. September. August. August was like a stab in the chest followed by hiding in a hole. July, July ends it. My memory ends in July, my time travel is limited to July. Because so many things were a myth in July, so many people were different, including myself. There was so much left to figure, so much innosence. No, we can't go back THAT far. But maybe tonight we'll understand, because we will have lost the past 4 months. Maybe, but we can only hope. It seems I can't understand anything being thrown at me these days.

Music

Music works in our minds in various strange ways, and imprints itself when we hear it, and all senses. Songs that play consistently over a certain period of time or just once during a very important moment, tend to stay in our minds and be the great representatives. Dozens of songs and albums have been devoted to eras of my life, certain places. Not that any of you would know these songs, or just call them pop songs. So for that reason, I will not post them. But do you know what I'm talking about? I have songs that I really can't listen to unless it's that time of year, or else it will feel strange, and ruin the song's magic. To name one song, "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley is a song specifically for July. I only listen to it in the summertime, but it's especially good if played in July. Another song that just reminds me of a time of my life, is "Beep" by Pussycat Dolls. That reminds of being eight or nine.