Jump

I don't want you to get caught up in my mistakes. See, I feel like I'm about to jump off a cliff, and there's fog ahead of me, and I know how risky this is, 'cause I don't know what I'm jumping towards exactly. But I don't wanna stay waiting on that edge, because I'm bored of it! I'm so ready to just jump... and I'm waiting for myself to go... but I stay rooted in where I am nonetheless. And now this metaphor has gone beyond my control 'cause I have too many things on my mind to keep track of who is the cliff and who is the fog and why i can't jump.

I have to admit that before there is safety there is always the risk, but why am I so reluctant to take it now? Every time we speak I know this is what I want to be jumping to, but I can only hope that it's right. I've waited for the sake of morality, I've taken it slowly for the sake of evaluation. Now I have to see that the right thing for me would be to start learning how to drown again, rather than let the lake dry up.

Unsafety

A sense of unsafety

My own words on the attack

After a virtual sigh

Virtual silence.

These minds are screaming you see

Screaming in non verbal ways

These minds are wondering

Misunderstanding

As of that moment I was standing in space

Caught enegry dancing

But don't say a word

Cuz you say one more thing

And the energy explodes

Gone from it's encasement

Like three satisfying words

Suffocating in every way

A misty whirlwind in the middle of nowhere

And no where left to go

No more breathing now

Cling to every word

Until the storm abruptly stops

With one final message

Our ghost

Security

What is this destruction that is bringing down the structure of our lives? What is this communal "our" that is supposed to put us all in the same position? Why are there scars on children's faces that can only teach them about the darkness in people's troubles? Those liars who don't preach to raise awareness, but only to hide their own problems...

I don't know what someone could say to put together these pieces I'm holding in my hands. See those fibers like paper ripped apart that were once a face. And not the face of anyone I know because security doesn't have an identity. Security is a liar too - preaching examples of places where you can be unharmed. But everywhere is dangerous because you can always get hurt, but to say you're safe hides how vulnerable you really are. Every step taken is putting your entirety on the line, and we are more easily destroyed internally, before anything external can touch us. So as I hold these pieces that used to be Security, I am thankful that I get to breathe, and to stare down at my bare hands thinking. Because like those liars who are hiding their own problems by trying to act like they're solving everyone else's, I am sitting back and letting knives dig into the weakness of my own soul. Because I am the greatest example of one of those liars.

Sleeping

I like to think of people sleeping. Not in a creepy way, i just like to think of people in a peaceful state. When they are weak, and barely in control of their minds and bodies. It creates feeling of innocence and truth in who, and what they are. This is not because I am some power-crazy being who wants to see my rivals vulnerable, it's just because there is something about people when they are sleeping, that is beautiful. Don't people usually say "aw, how cute," sometimes, even if the subject is over five? Isn't a sleeping human something to be revered? Something about the clear look in their face, free of set emotion, free of the effects of the outside world. At that moment, they are living inside of their own thoughts and ideas, operating independently, even if the thoughts are spawned from outside ideas; the life that they live when they are awake. The moment before sleeping, is when there is a moment of reality and emotion, where there is comfort and finaltiy in the day ending. So, I like to think of people sleeping. Makes me feel better. Even if they are far from me, I picture them at peace: sleeping.

Hundred

I feel like my heart has left me and it's never coming back. This scary darkness like the closing of a book came towards me starting as a dot from the distance, spreading like ink on a page, until everything was black as if I were blind. THen this ghost, of no particular figure or shape, but with a white-sliver hue. This ghost lunged at me, and I was so frightened. I was flying, lost, crying, clinging to every cryptic word that came next, until slowly the white ghost became a solid, and formed white walls, and I was within them. This room proved to be suspended my a chain that went up in space indefinetly. And my four walls began to swing, which held the feeling of fear and that I was still moving, still, without solidity in that space. Yet, the box, gave me this little bit of safety that kept me together. And then life restarted.

This is my 100th blog post (thus the title). WHOO! One hundred rants that I've put up on the internet and that people have actually read! I feel so accomplished.