Some people are too preoccupied at the big picture to remember the the picture is actually made up of little tiny humans. Each human is unique and different, but all require at least one item universally: love. I went to a relay for a very personal reason, different than most of the reasons stated on that stupid sign-up sheet. Now I just feel foolish.
The kicker comes in when you love your friend so much that you’d be willing to give him or her anything in the whole world only to find out that they’ve put out for some advertisement for their “true soul-mate”.
The book I’m reading has an AIDs alert in the back. I’m probably going to end up shooting myself in the head someday. But maybe it has something to do with the fact that I haven’t slept in over 30 hours. Fuck, you’re beautiful.
I have a secret that I wrote down on a banner, why I was really there. I’m paralyzed with a crippling fear that someday, someone I know won’t be there to yell at me, play with me, or think with me, and be a paper bag themselves.
I am your mother, I am your father. I am your sister, brother, and lover. I am happiness and I am unhappiness. I’m you, who are you? You are loved, missed, and have affected my world in ways you cannot know; your loss is unacceptable. To my friends, I will not lose you.
I can’t live in a world you’ve left behind. Today, coming home, I couldn’t contain feelings that have been peaking their little head’s out for a while now. No amount of days can cap a feeling, no question of well-being can change it. This is where I draw the line.
We under-appreciate what we think. Indeed, the observer, God even, isn’t to be found anywhere in our physical selves, but something no one has properly termed without saying “soul”. When you take pride in a job well-done, is the exhaustion really what you love, or the thought of it? When you think about it, isn’t it a single thought that turns on a sexual-drive, rather than a physical beauty? Lust is a thought, and so is fear, frustration, love, etc. Everything that we say that has meaning is an intangible nothingness facilitated by an organic mass of electrified tissues.
Perhaps, more than anything, I’ve been living in the past. Don’t we cherish our adaptability? Human drama is inevitable, but there is also inherent joy, hope, and even happiness to the human condition. For even when I utter the tragic words, “That’s not it, you don’t understand me at all,” I also have the knowledge that we have the hope of talking the next day. If you lie to me and we don’t, we have the day after, over and over until we die or drown in our own sorrows.
People cheat and people lie while we just sit and watch it go by, counting the days until you die. We’re not connected anymore, at least like we used to be. It doesn’t matter anymore to me, though; it doesn’t matter where you’re going to, I just want to go with you. When you wish upon a star, there’s two of us you need to save. I made this wish for my birthday, why am I repeating it?
So I propose to you, dear confidant, loyal companion, that I let go of what haunts me. After all, you know that I love what you know I shouldn’t love, and I know that you know, after all, everyone really does know. More, I propose that I detach myself from this addiction of any of you. Maybe I should just go back to what I’m best at: being. Nothing you can say or do can ever take that away from me, save a bloody dagger. I want to share pure being with you; I want to be human with you. I will compliment your hair, your shoes, your taste for music and food, your preference for television. I will extoll good deeds and community service. I will laugh at your jokes, good or bad. I will do what I can to the best of my ability, not dwell on what is not.
I am nothing but what I can make of myself; today I was a weeping mess and a pitiful display. Tonight, I had the most amazing crutch, and for the first time, I’m prepared to call that a friend. Tomorrow, I will make my own day, perceive my own being. I have a map for the day, and it says “you are here” all over it. I’m here, you’re here, we’re here, that’s pretty much all we have. This is about being a hero for ourselves, without the sanction or support of society, of you. This is really about being me.
Come with me.
i’m nicotine
i’m coming clean
i fooled the crowd
when i made it sound like i was more then ready
strike up the band
deprive my sleep
cause there’s no love like apathy
the bell that tolls rings loud enough
that it should have woke us up
i’m trying to find truth
in words, in rhymes, in notes
in all the things i wish I’d wrote
cause i feel like i’ve been losing you
i read your last entry
over-privileged kids keep crying
the need to fit in gets harder
when living life from a screen
old classmates please drop all your pens
don’t write a word cause i wont reply
and i’m not bitter, no its just i’ve passed that point in my life
i’m trying to find truth
in words, in rhymes, in notes
in all the things i wish id wrote
cause i feel like i’ve been losing you
each night it ends too soon
you don’t hold me like you used to
and your eyes look like they’ve seen too much
it’s always some excuse
too tired, too obtuse
you look so far removed
this time i fear i’m losing you
i’m nicotine
i’m a cash machine
i’m the color green
and you should have seen the looks i just received
i need a reason to let go
an intervention, a lullaby
something to cure me please believe me
i’m trying to find truth
in words, in rhymes, in notes
in all the things i wish id wrote
cause i feel like i’ve been losing you
each night it ends too soon
you don’t hold me like you used to
and your eyes look like they’ve seen too much
its always some excuse
too tired, too obtuse
you look so far removed
this time i fear i’m just not getting through