Always

I'm writing this to keep a promise,
I told you you'd wake up to something nice.
The difficulty is trying to create something as beautiful as you are.
My last best friend got a book in her name.
I know you don't read much so I made you CD's instead.
I could never express in words the way I feel around you sometimes.
Our friendship means the world to me.
Actually no, the world isn't big enough for you.
You deserve more, you deserve everything, someone who's good to you.
Someone who loves you.
Someone who's always there for you.
Sounds familiar doesn't it? I thought so too. It's okay. There's no reason to be guilty, either of us. It's what best friends are for and that'll change no matter what. You're here for me, so I'm always here for you.
To keep you warm when you're given the cold shoulder.
You kept my hands warm after all.
To tell you you're Beautiful when you just get insults.
To love you,
Platonic or not.
Romantic or not.
I am nothing but yours as your best friend,
It doesn't matter if I ever get lucky enough
You'll never lose me. So long as I can keep you warm.
Always.

Philosophy

There’s almost no greater challenge for myself than attempting to convey my individuality whilst avoiding the typical elitism that plagues the intellectual common denominators. The lack of humility amongst humanity is just a personal annoyance of mine. Due to history always repeating itself, I tend to find that extensive pride causes more harm than good. Look no further than Julius Caesar, someone so arrogant that once he was kidnapped and his only concern was that the ransom should be higher because his conceit convinced him he was worth more. I’m aware that it is paradoxical. My wish to not come off as an elitist ends up making me come off as extra arrogant due to the inference that humility makes me better than others. This is not the case. All of us will have the same sized grave eventually, each with a lifeless stone with an entire life etched into it. I consider myself no better a man than anyone.

 With that said, I no longer need to feel guilty for indulging in my own life. Everyone has difficulties. Suffering is often the nature of the world. It’s just something I’ve grown to accept thanks to the Cynics of Greece such as Diogenes, or the base teachings of Siddhartha Gautama. Philosophy has played a large role in solving my teenage identity crisis. It has been one of the few parts of life that I can truly connect with. It has a magic of serving multiple purposes. It allows for extensive self-reflection, helps me to try and comprehend the mindset of others, as well as satisfy my thirst for knowledge because the mystery of life is infinite.

I’m not shocked in the slightest that my preferred pastime boils down to simply thinking. I feel as though the cards I’ve been dealt lead me to no other route, really. From day one of life, Asperger’s Syndrome has greatly skewed my perspective on the world compared to the average young adult. My nature was thus converted to being a social moth, deliberately distancing myself from others, taking friendships much more seriously than most people along with just plainly overanalyzing everything. Loneliness becomes a universal constant when you have no concept of social rules and have no idea what people are truly thinking. As with anything, you can eventually get used to it. AS also causes a very small percentage of people to actually understand how I think and observe thing. I’m so used to having to over explain myself.

Coupled with AS, I’ve also lived with a mild form of Cerebral Palsy. Being a physical ailment it honestly doesn’t bother me much. With time it only gets worse so it has taught me to appreciate the present and not let myself worry too much about the future. It’s a rare perspective I think- when you know you’re doomed to be blind with little muscle control by the time you’re thirty. Evidently, sports aren’t exactly my strong suit, with no hope of much physical capabilities, what choice did I have but to nurture my process of thought? Thinking and thinking well is the only thing the world can never rip away from me no matter how cruel. My consciousness and the knowledge that I gain throughout my existence is the only certainty I have in my future. This is what it means for me to be alive.

Cold

     I was freezing. I only had one layer on at the time; she had on 3. I wanted her against me, I'm scared of being let go of so I needed her to hang on to me. I also needed the warmth. When my hands get cold, the bone chills first, I can't warm them up unless they're held. Like a byronic hero my body starts to give out if someone isn't there for me. When my hands get cold, the feeling dies off slowly and the blood in my veins start to hide away in the core of my body. I lose control of them if the frost goes too deep.
     When they're frozen they do whatever they like. I can't stop them. They go after the person I hate most in the world and ithout hands I can't protect myself against their lacerations, their expectations, worst of all the loss of touch. I feel so isolated without it. Like I'm locked in a freezer just left alone to die. The lack of blood causes them to be extra ruthless. There's nothing I can do but watch when that happens. It's been a little over two months since the last time they've gone cold.
     There was an hour left on the ride home. She rolls over and lays her hooded mess of  my shoulder. She removes any gap of air between us and uses a fourth coat as a blanket. I have my arm around her able hold her in place so that she didn't fall off the seat during redlights. So there she slept in my arms. Keeping me warm with her sleepy breaths that fogged up the window. She holds onto my arm and her bear, shoving her hands underneath us so they stay warm. One of mine goes with them while my other hand keeps her rested against me occasionally playing with her hair.
     She slept so peacefully. Something I can never achieve. I stayed up the whole time and just enjoyed the moment. Why would I sleep during the only time I'll ever get to hold her like this. It'll likely be the last we'll ever have as well. And I'm okay with that. The rides almost over. She wakes up. She moves a bit until I loosen my arms and she sits up. "Sorry, did I wake you?" She asked. She always has this worry for me and how I feel. She understands how fragile I can be at times and I get a sense that she truly does care for me.

    "No," I said. "I didn't sleep".

      When she sat up all I could see is her dark blonde hair covering most of her face. There was a smile on her face as if she was glad to wake up  next to me. She had even slept with her glasses on, I could never do that. Through them the 3 AM moonlight bounced off her pupils as she laid back onto my shoulder wrapping herself around my arm so that I could see her face this time. It was all I could ever have wanted in that moment. It was nearly Perfect. It took every bit of strength I had not to kiss her forehead, it was the only thing missing. It's hard to explain how I feel about her because these kinds of moments are what I truly want. It doesn't have the lust and sexuality like romantic love gets. But this is too close to be simply plantonic. What I can be sure of, is that I'm in love with this moment.
      Despite having the cutest sneeze, and the kind of beauty you find only once you've stopped looking for it, she'll stay planotic.  If I could just take this moment and live in it forever, I would. No sleep, no eating, not even decent radio music, just her warmth and the reassurance that someone is here to defrost my hands when I can't feel them anymore. It's completely worth it to me. It's an hour of my life I will cherish forever, regardless of the future. It's reassurance that I just need someone to make sure my hands never get too cold.

Moments

       Time is the only thing everyone shares together. It effects us all at once. It's something so limited that our minds can't help but cherish every second of it without even realizing it. Take tragedies for example, that one moment, everyone feels the same thing and it's a unison that can't compare to anything else.
        For this application things will be less blight. I'm not here to complain about societies inequalities or discuss the latest pile of corpses on the news. This one might just apply to me. I'm noticing something with moments I have, more specifically, moments I share with people specifically. Friendships get perfectly solidified over just a single cup of coffee, one spoken sentence reassures me for the rest of time, one movie causes me to deeply care about another person. These moments shape how I feel about the person associated with it regardless of what precedes or follows it. I've already spent a few stories describing the results of the first two moments. That last one is boggling my mind.
        From this moment is something I can't explain. There's a drive to be near them but it's very unique. It has similar side effects of an infatuation but my libido is dead so this affliction isn't lust. All the insects are gone so it's not butterflies either. I am honestly perplexed. I can't explain this. It's not love, my love has a special pattern and that's not being followed so that's out. Maybe I'm in love with the moment. Maybe that's what it's always been. That would explain why I could jump from person to person so long as they shared time with me. There's just something I love about sand trails through the house, movie soundtracks left on repeat, macab card games, levels that can only be completed with someone else; I can't help but try to never leave those moments. Each of these moments have a direct association in my mind with whoever I shared them with. Maybe this love of the memory carries over into loving another person. That's why there's no butterflies, no lust, just a smile on my face and 2007 indie bands playing in the back of my head. This must've been the type of love Plato was trying to describe; like my love of orange Tic-Tacs. I think I finally understand it now. Platonic Love.

Butterflies

Two hours of sleep tends to feel the same regardless of where you are. At least those two hours felt nice. Quality over quantity right? You're probably asking yourself what it is this time. "What's keeping him up?'
"Who hurt him now?"
"Do we finally have an eighth member to the platoon of heart destroyers?"
Surprisingly, it's none of those. We've been on a good streak. Despite being followed home by am entitled white Knight and threatened we've done good I'd say. The 'worst case scenario' was happily avoided and now the threads are stitched in.
It's those sickening creatures that won't stop flapping their wings. My intestines keep rearranging themselves as wingéd demons traverse my inner membranes. Like a stomach flu with arms and legs. Who put these fucking butterflies here?
Butterflies Dont just appear out of the blue. Metamorphosis must occur. Those parasitic larvae of love, they've been growing for four years. Every awkward conversation, every interest that was shown in my writing, every batch of hair dye.... It's all to blame. For this sleeplessness. I'm happy and I hate it. That ridiculous giddy smile that can't be wiped away when they laugh at something I say; The panic that overcomes me when I have to make up an excuse to talk to them, it feels good to have a crush. Then my masochism allows it to be just as nice when it crushes me. As the night drags on I only become more pathetic, the thought of another person shouldn't have this much power over how I feel or what my face does. It feels like a form of mind control. What's left over most of all is the fear. Again and again I get the same spiel that I don't have to feel bad about how I feel, just how I go about it. Then, the moment I'm honest with myself I get a barrage of chastising for it.
Let's just hope their food supply runs out soon. I would prefer to actually sleep tonight.
Fucking insects.

What If.... Part IV

"We all have to take a look at our dark side sometimes Lex"
"The only problem is if you stare at it too long it gets hard to tell the difference."~ L.L.

Throughout the entirety of my existence the villains always resonated more with me; as well as the oh so lovely Anti-heroes. I should relate to the Pallladin mindset. Or at least that's what society teaches me. That "there's just good and evil. And if you aren't good we'll just hypocritically murder you" I truly believe that everyone has their dark sides. Yes, some are much worse than others. However the majority of the time it's dormant and kept in line purely for the sake of everyone else. Much like Lex Luthor, I can feel mine peeking it's head around the corner. So this causes me to question. What if I really let him out? What if I stopped fighting my destiny and just be absorbed by the monster that I live with?
I suppose it's time everyone Finally found out.
-------------------------------------
There's plenty of abandoned factories scattered across 12th through 14th Street. I just so happen to be in one of those building. My room of choice was pitch black. The only light being the red glow of a furnace similar to a room one develops photos in. The whole building is brick. Attached to the wall past the furnace are chains mounted on the wall, Cask of Amontillado style. At the end of each of those chains lie a hand. These were workers hands. Rough and calloused. Hands unfit to ever care for a child properly as I learned from a young age. The left wrist has a deep scar on it from when a he got a metal plate inserted where bone used to be. The only sound is that of an old Victorian music box. The kind with a Ballerina spinning as it plays.
  "W-Where am I?" Stammers the disappointment of a wall ornament.
I can feel the excitement filling my veins now that it's consious. "Nowhere you need to know. You'll get used to it soon enough"
"What do you want with me, I'll give you whatever you want. Please, just let me go."
It's so cute when they try and beg for their life. He's even more of a pussy than I thought. I haven't even started playing yet.
"Your plea would be much more touching with a string quartet in the background. What I want is revenge. And I could simply just abandon you and leave you to die. But I'm not you, abandonment just leaves scars. That's not good enough."
"What the hell are you talking about?! I did the best I could for my son."
"You self-centered fuck, you actually believe that?" I walk closer to him revealing a powerful neodium magnet. Some of the strongest in the world. "You don't remember leaving him just to fuck some cunt with double D's? You don't remember scolding him in public and belittling a child for the way he walked. 'Get off your toes you goddamn ballerina. You should be wearing a dress if walk like that' You were a grown man yelling at your disabled son who could barely fucking walk at all!"
I'm in his face now. The chains are rattling due to the magnet. I move the magnet closer and closer to the metal plate in his arm. It was starting to move. His whimpers and pangs of pain were the perfect score to such a scene. The metallic plate broke through the surgical scars, taking a couple arteries with it. He's still alive, crying like a bitch.
He attempts to apologise, "I didn't know what I was saying or doing. I was just scared he'd turn out different"
"He got both of his legs split open to fix the way he walked. Despite how much you blamed him for it. Telling your son how it was his fault he walked the wrong way." He was bleeding out fast. Unfortunately my little game will have to end soon. I had a rusty nail that was picked up by the magnet. I jam it into his windpipe so now there's suffocation on top of blood loss. I gather up as much of my saliva as possible. Spitting right into the hole I made adding a third level of simulating drowning. "Isn't this just the perfect father son bonding time?"
He looks up at me crying even harder only now realizing that this is all is own doing with the monster he created. I never asked to be born. He attempts to hold my hand as one final act of love in his dying breath. I simply laugh and shatter every last digit with a brick.
"Don't wound what you can't kill, Dad."

That's only my father. Imagine what I'd be willing to do to anyone else who abandons me.
____________________________________

Welcome to the thoughts of my Sociopath. I wonder what yours is like.

What If.... Part III.

  What if... for once in my life I was able to do the things I truly want? Like fall in love without going into a downward spiral of insanity and apathy. What if I could finally just die. Just get all of this over with so I no longer have to live with the fact that I'm not good enough for anyone. Near death experiences are the only thing that ever gets people running to your side and magically they all start to show that they give a shit. If they gave a fuck before hand this wouldn't even be an issue. I'm being vague so don't assume I'm talking to you; Because like everything, there's even exceptions to this too.
One specific instance of this was something that will always stick with me. This was around a month or so after I was left for dead by that Bewitched blonde adversary. There was a limited number of people I could even speak to at all. And one of them virtually stood by my side the whole time and still does. During my anguish, I began to have heart problems so I was basically convinced I was going to die. And on top of that I was in a suicidal mindset and so I was perfectly happy to just sit back and waste away without seeing a doctor. Upon sharing all this with the closest thing I have to my own Clark Kent. He got so... Passionate about it. He wasn't mad at me. He was mad with me. Almost seeming more upset than I was because seeing me in such pain drove him mad. 
Even before that I knew how caring he was but this specific instance where I truly needed someone he did the best he could for me. Oh, and the cherry on top. I was using Depeche Mode as the main distraction from everything. It was easily an obsession. And one day he gets back from a date and he tells me how he would've bought me a vinyl record of theirs if he could. Just the gesture alone. The fact that it was a random thought just gives it a lot of meaning on it's own. I will never forget that moment. Thank you, Aaron.

    Now that we've got the only person exempt from my malice out of the way, let's hit where it hurts. Well, hurts me anyways.      _________________________________________

Hi, Hatred here. I haven't been at the writing mantel for quite some time. For the last few days things have been getting a little out of hand around here. I don't think I can just stand by any longer. "What in the hell have the five of you shitheads been doing lately? Huh? Why is he drinking again? Who in the fuck left his knife out? Don't you sacks of shit realize that if he dies we all die? Oh, I get it. You all just have nothing to say now. Great. Well while the rest of you are standing around here doing a fuckload of nothing, I'm going to try and get some goddamn answers". Can you believe them? Letting him fall this far. We've been in this body for seventeen years. They should know how fragile his stupid heart is. And God knows not single person understands how gentle they have to be. I better go check our diagnostics.
Oh for fucks sake. So we haven't slept in days, headaches are more frequent, we keep spiking the coffee like that's going to ever fix anything, we're bleeding from 12 different spots, and he's officially lost all sense of purpose and self worth. Fan-fuckin-tastic. Well, the lacerations will heal themselves at least he's done worse. The caffeine cancels out the alcohol so he never actually gets drunk. So that just leaves sleep and self worth. How in the hell am I supposed to fix that? I wasn't exactly designed for this kind of work. My use is reserved for handling his father and  the ridiculously stupid. I need to go see why no one else is doing their fucking job.
There they are, the five of them Just blankly existing like zombies. "Look, I understand that he wants to die at the moment but that doesn't mean we act dead ourselves". I notice a new sheet of paper on the control panel. "You let Lover-Boy here write a story all on his own. Goddamn fools. All of you. I understand it was a nice gesture but he just isn't stable enough for that yet. I know it was just describing a daydream but still." That's just great.

"Well, you could never ruin Everything. That's just impossible".

"It's like you guys took that shit as a challenge when it was said. I know they all say it and  always turn out insincere but you don't have to go and test the limits. And still none of you are saying a word what the hell is wrong with all of you" I decide to inspect them considering no stimulation seems to activate them at all. The five of them are all just frozen. Unable to move or think for themselves. Even if they want to they're completely incapable of doing anything at all. There's a small puncture wound on the back of each of their necks. Outside the opening to each is a black liquid with the same consistency as blood but nowhere near as sticky. They all have pulses so they aren't permanently out of commission. This all seems so familiar. The last time this happened was when that pancreatic tragedy occurred. This time there doesn't seem to be a definitive trigger. No actual cause. At least I recognize what this is now. Our favorite parasite Depression is back. For no reason might I add. You see, I'm the only one it can't infect Because it can't handle the taste of something more evil and sinister than itself. There may only be one of me in this body but make no mistake I'm the largest one of them all. I control his envy, part of his masochism, and so much more. He just doesn't like to embrace me so I just keep quiet. That is, until I'm the only one left standing. Don't you worry though. There's darkness inside of everybody. It's a lot easier to bring out in some than others. But it's never scary until it's the only thing left. Nothing is more terrifying than someone with nothing left to lose. And without our Sanity what are we? I don't think I can get rid of this disease on my own. Let's hope he forgot where the noose is hidden. I'll try my best to get us back to normal.
_________________________________________

So, what If there's no going back? What if we're stuck like this for the rest of our lives? What if we truly are unlovable to every degree and every effort we make is all for nothing? As far as I can tell we're destined to be alone. And if the Lex Luthor has taught me anything; It's that we can't fight it no matter what. If I truly can't change that, I refuse to continue living through it any longer.

What If.... Part II.

    Have you ever tried to predict the future?  -- I know rhetorical questions are the cop-outs of intros just bare with me --
I sit and think by myself far too much for my own good. I've yet to see a positive side to these insomnia driven streaks of day dreaming that prevent me from actually being able to dream at all. I guess that's not too bad. Dreaming just sets me up to be disappointed in the end. Anyways, I play out all these conversations. I try to figure out what to say in moments that probably won't ever exist in the first place. So then the mind goes on and explores all the possibilities. Or rather, just what we wish would happen in that situation. I rarely am able to play out a scenerio in which I don't actually wish for.
         It's 6 in the morning. It's not like I can exactly talk to anyone about all these painful adventures my thoughts like to take me on. So we try and be positive. Across the 6 of us, positivity isn't exactly in our nature. Oh look, we got a "10/10" on the last one of these things. I'm glad someone can at least find joy in living inside my head for a few paragraphs. Granted, it's unlikely our biggest fan is going to hate hearing us as much as we do. We have to live with these constant babblings around the clock. Only about 10% ever makes it into digital data.

"What if we just shared more of it?"

Well, since these are more like movie scenes I  imagine in my head rather than just words I suppose we could give it a shot.

       Let's just be cliché and call this day dream "The Perfect Date" if you will. This one has been rattling around in my head for at least two months now. It's one of the happiest things I could imagine but I wish I had never thought of it because I know nothing will ever live up to or ever come close to replicating it even if I attempted it.
For ambiance I always imagine music constantly playing in the background. When I dream about this one it's usually something like "Angels Or Devils" by Dishwalla or "Today" by The Smashing Pumpkins. They aren't subtle in the least but damn are they good ones. I feel like a part of my mind is always listening to music by replaying them from memory. That's my guess on why my day dreams do this anyways.
So it starts off just a gathering as simple as any other.  I attempt to execute my poor excuse for trying to look good with my typical plethora of button downs and simple black pants. Attached is a Street Fighter belt people rarely see. I choose a gray undershirt simply because I've been told that's what works best with the armada of black I wear. Then I put in the effort to wrestle with my hair until my bangs only peer out of the corner of my forehead. The asymmetrical part of it always made me appreciate it.
As for her, whomever she is. Could be anyone really. Although, if I got to pick I'd certainly know who; but it's just a daydream so imagine who you'd like. She could wear anything. I'm not there to gawk at her. However, I do appreciate the shade of blue on her toenail polish. I'm picky with blues. Now that we have my visuals sorted out we can get to the imaginary event itself.

Now we're on a hill. Somewhere, anywhere. Whereever it is- for some reason I know for sure that it took quite awhile to get out there. Which is a great start given the potential for banter that may or may not have occurred. For some reason my mind jumps straight to the hill and yet still recalls myself being in the car.  Based on the time and place of the daydream sometimes the location changes. Sometimes it's right on the edge of the bay, sometimes it's the drive in. My personal favorite is the variation where it's not exactly a hill but a bench under a tree that looks right over the bay because the rest of the city is just naturally elevated. It's just a couple blocks from my house too. I remember being younger and I sat at that bench all by myself. I sat there for hours admiring the sunset. We're known for some of the best ones. After that day I promised myself I would never go there again until I had someone to share it with. So I haven't been there since.
So there we are, on my extra cliché bench. Which is an actual location, that only makes it worse. The sun is just beginning to set or it's already dusk. Those are the times where the sky is most beautiful. I could swear it was trying to compete with her. I notice the small streaks of sunlight bounce off of her. It's an unrealistic special effect sure. I don't control what the dream creates. So we're sitting there, just talking. Everytime she laughs a new butterfly would get loose in my stomach. My smile would get harder and harder to wipe off of my face. This moment just feels so perfect to me. In and out of the dream, I don't know what else I could ask for. As the sun gets lower the water starts  mimicking her eyes and sparkles. "It seems like mother nature has a jealousy problem". I accidentally say aloud. She just looks over in utter confusion given she can't hear my thoughts.
"What do you mean?" She asks
"Well, the sky didn't start getting beautiful until after you showed up so it must feel threatened" I can't tell you how many times I think of these kinds of responses and just never say them.

"Haha. Thanks" I didn't expect anything less out of her. Even my imagination understands how weird it gets to try and respond to a compliment of that degree.

Time goes by and it only gets darker. We just keep talking endlessly and I can feel myself falling faster for her with every exhaling breath. Except, I'm not afraid of it. I feel happy for once so there's no point in trying to repress what little good there is.
The conversation slows down and now I just can't help myself. I say what I've always wanted to.

"Can I see your hand?" I ask.
"Sure, but what for?"
"Just trust me. It's for scientific purposes" As she curiously moves her hand over to me I simply take it and examine it. I press my own hand against hers comparing the sizes and lengths of our fingers. I intertwine my fingers with hers. Simply ignoring whatever confused look she has and focusing solely on our hands. After a couple seconds I just let go and sit back as though nothing has happened.
"Can I know the reasoning behind your 'science'?" She awkwardly inquires.
"Well, humans are like puzzle pieces. Right? So I was just curious on how well we fit together that's all."
"Oh, I see. And what exactly are your findings?"
"I'd say we fit well."
"How so?"
"I had forgotten what being happy even felt like until I was here with you."
"Lucky for you making people happy is my favorite thing to do."
"Unluckily, I think I'm falling in love with you".
"That's okay. You feel what you feel and you're brave enough to profess it to the world and not care what anyone else thinks. I admire that. I won't give you false hope or anything but we'll see what happens".
"Thanks. Don't worry, I'm not good enough for anyone to love. I certainly don't expect you to".
"Don't ever think that."
"But it's tru-"
"Shush, no it's not. Now I think the temperature dropped and I don't have gloves so I'm going to need one of your hands back." Instantly one of my infamous smirks pops over my face along with the short breath of air that always companies it.
"I don't care what happens. Just never abandon me okay?" I worriedly ask as one uncontrollable tear escapes the ducts at the edge of my eye.
"You worry too much. I can't abandon you. You have a diary to finish reading remember?"

From there it's just a classic zoom out of the two of us sitting there under the moon. The background music slowly gets louder as though it were the ending to a TV show.
So there you have it. One of the reoccurring daydreams that keep me up at night. Finally mapped out and told. I'll probably regret this one but oh well. It'll never happen Anyways so it's no big deal. Don't forget, only 10% ever leaves my brain. There's a lot more daydreams to be told.
So what if this were real? Would I be as happy as I think I would be? Would I just be let down? Would this ever even be possible? I don't think it ever will be but no one can ever be sure.

What If.... Part I.

        Have you ever felt more alone in a crowd of people than ever before? I've somehow acquired this illness that makes everything worse the more people happen to be involved. I feel like the more people you add to a mix the more opinions you subconsciously worry about. Therefore everyone I'm around changes a bit and they act a little differently. I find it insincere most times; mainly because unbeknownst to them it affects the way they treat me and I notice. Just one person is always enough for me. When it's one on one I have no one else to worry about except the other person. I can focus on them, actually sense how they feel without that being tainted. When I'm allowed to devout that much attention to a single person or moment, I'm able to truly appreciate that time and remember it.
           I glance around a lot. Mostly when talking to people but even when I'm watching a movie I can't help but look around-- absorb the room. I try and focus so I can remember what color their eyes decided to be that day. Without memories the things we do in life and the people we make them with barely exist. Given that I prefer my memories to have as much detail as possible. It makes the good times really damn good. I form the memories to keep me happy as long as possible since I might not get the chance the make another one. Sure, all the sand at the end of my bed is a good reminder. But not as good as the detail of the moon reflecting light onto her eyes as she left.
            Alas, Everything has two sides. It's Newton's third law. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So of course the bad memories are all the harder to forget in the end. Naturally, negative memories last a lot longer simply by human nature. Let alone when you keep as much detail as I do. See, I have so much to choose from too. With the former it was as simple as referencing the most recent joyous memory I have. Unfortunately the happy ones fade since Everything I love leaves in the end.  It's almost like negative memories are sentient and they purposefully stick around because they get a kick out of tormenting humans. Unlike most, I'm fully aware of how fragile we are; so are the memories.
            Since I gave an example of a positive one I'm sure you're just enthralled and curious as to what depressing anecdote I'll mention. Despite it's unoriginality and the fact that you're probably one of the 400 witnesses that night. Let's flashback together.
         This is the night Lucky number 7 earned her place as another knot in my homemade noose. Little did I know that in the following months would all lead to 2 more suicide attempts. With her name all over the cover page*. -- Speaking of which if I would've double knotted the damn thing it probably would've worked -- Anyways, it started as what I had predicted to be a good night. I was preprogrammed to add lots of detail to these memories. That was my first mistake. Fuck this, let's just start where it begins to hurt.
         Remember what I said about being most alone in a crowd? That's when it hit me. It was a small circle of people. Myself, the only couple in the school that doesn't make me want to vomit, unlucky #7, her future superhero Captain Failing Pancreas, and finally the one who noticed. That dreadful moment. Any amount of joy leading up to that point immediately vanished. A friendship died that night. She couldn't even give it a proper burial. There I awkwardly stood, balancing between my surgically sewn legs, to a song I've never heard before with someone who didn't even want to be there with me. She sat and gawked at him the whole night. I was just a proxy so that she could go on her first unofficial date with Mr. Type 1.
           As time went on I only ended up feeling worse and worse. Despite my interest in acting, I can't exactly fake my facial expressions when I get like that. However there was only one person who seemed to notice. It was nothing major, but she was the first person to ask if I was okay. Funny enough, to this day she's one of 2 humans who care enough to still ask. She was a nice enough person. I didn't really ever speak to her before so the concern meant something given that I wouldn't have expected her to care about me. I was honest and said no. But I didn't want to depress her night so I agreed to just explain it later. She lived up to it and was still willing to listen to me after a week had passed. Despite all of her own things to deal with. -- That has always stuck with me, when you did that. I know you were just being yourself sharing human decency but I still appreciate it. So thank you. -- Fourth wall breaks aside, Hodge's inquired to my emotions as well. I remember explaining, "There's nothing more depressing than going to a dance with someone who won't even talk to you".
"Damn man that's rough. Good luck. "  A short and sweet response. I respect that. He had his own girlfriend to attend to so from guy to guy there's no reason in bothering him further with how I felt. He made falling in love with your best friend look so easy. At least there's proof it isn't entirely impossible.  Anyways, after a couple hours the intense bass began to rearrange my organs. Don't these people understand the Physical consequences of soundwaves? I eventually decided to abandon the circle. I didn't care if it made a scene or not. Low and behold #7 finally notices. I remember she tried to apologise. I saw her lips move, but I couldn't hear her over the godawful music and the sharp ping of a heart shattering. This isn't a normal heart shatter either. It's the kind you get when someone you love takes everything that makes your bond with them special and lights it on fire. That's not even the part that hurt most. Friendships die left and right it's a part of life and growing up. But it's being left alone to die, and watch that flame burn out by myself that I can't handle. I remember telling her that too.
"I asked someone to look after you" she said.
"Well guess what Seven? You quit and didn't even give me a two weeks notice. I will never forgive you so don't waste my time asking. I don't hate you... But scars don't heal. And neither will your broken promise".
-------------------------------------

That night was 5 months ago. If I dwell on it I still gets me just as upset. (Obviously). So now the purpose. It's really hard to tell why I've gone and typed all this up in the first place. What if that night never happened? Would it all have ended the same way? Would I still be friends with one of the best authors I've met? Would I still be alive? We'll never know. Some may say that it's a bit unreasonable to still be upset after so long. While i can certainly see where their idea comes from, the past never goes away. The stars we see died out thousands of years ago and it's only now that we're able to see their light. The past is constantly affecting the present.

While we're here, I'd like to apologise for not writing actual stories In awhile. This goes out to anyone. My one loyal fan/fellow author. My trusty editor and any other random strangers that may care to read these things. That goes to anyone in the future too; who's either binge reading these Because I got famous or it's just the coronor who's trying to piece together why I jumped. The only times I've created an actual character recently were all over text. Now my writing has just been reduced to an hour long conversation I have with myself. And yet I still try and pretend as though I'm talking to someone at 5 AM. Even if it's still good that just makes me articulate. I don't know if that makes me a writer anymore. I'm just Monologuing about my thoughts day to day. I guess that just makes this place nonfiction now.

Solnyshka (draft)

My dear Solnyshka,

            Little Sun... I always found that so fitting for you. You slowly became the brightest part of my day. You continued to keep my world from going dark. Even when I have little to no value to repay you with. Somehow you have this marvelous ability to bring about a level of comfort and tranquility usually reserved for the power of thunderstorms.
        They say eyes are the window to a humans soul. This brings me to a delimma I can't tell whether your eyes are the beautiful part or if it's really your soul that I end up getting lost in when I look at you.

Sincerely,
   Nobody.

P.S.
"Ya obozhayu tebya."
And I'm sorry that I do.

     If it seems unfinished that's because it is at it's core.  There was supposed to be so much more to this initially. But once I saw that it worried you I lost anything extra I might've had to say. And now it's impossible to go back and try and recreate what I wanted.

Futures

           Time, it listens to no one yet affects Everything. It's the one thing that ties us all together. Time constantly moves in one direction and yet ironically the universe does nothing but repeat itself. No matter how hard I try to break the cycle. No matter how different Everything seems or feels nothing changes. No matter how much I change nothing works. They can be proud of me all they want but I still can't shake my purely inevitable self-destructive path.
The universe simply does not care whether or not we're apart of it. Our existence is purely the worst side effect that an exploding nebula has to offer. We're just constrained by time. Our futures are already written we just have no clue what's written on the pages. Frankly I really could care less if I read my next chapter...
   
        It's just been one of those days I guess. I feel so uncontrollable sometimes. I'm fully aware free will is an illusion but it's not supposed to be this bad. Remember how history likes to repeat itself? Well I was fucking stupid enough to recognize my patterns. No matter what I do it's still the same pattern. I'm helpless, my emotions just run a muck and just ruin every meaningful relationship I manage to conjure up purely out of luck. They don't listen to me. No matter what I do, what I say, who I distract myself with. I'm destined to constantly be my own worst enemy. Knowing that, it really makes me question if the future is worth even looking into. I mean, if something is ruining your life, like alcohol for example. You just get rid of it all Together. Or even other people you just cut them off and move on.  If that's the solution how the fuck am I supposed to cut off my own emotions. I feel trapped in my own emotions Because the moment I let them loose the intensity just scares everyone. That's what happens when you restrain something for so long. If you chain up a dog for years, the moment that fucker gets free he's running all over the place just trying to make the most out of his freedom Because he has no idea how long it'll last. My emotions are no different than that dog.

           So I pick a different bottle. I magically stumbled across some vodka and I immediately couldn't help myself and the next thing I know I have an Irish coffee in my hand while no one knows any different. Keeps me distracted enough to stop arguing with myself for a few hours. Then what? The realization that I have it engrained in me by my entire family to simply just have a drink when I feel fucked in the head. Nothing like watching your mother chug a 20 oz. Bloody Mary in under a minute when she's upset. It's written into my pages since birth.

     "Who am I to argue with destiny?"

      At least only 1/6 of me actually believes that statement. Meanwhile the rest of us stay self-aware.

        We're keeping Lover-Boy locked In place because we can't afford to fall one step further. The Little idiot's falling hard and we can barely stop him. He's just afraid to lose everything again so of course he gets more antsy than he should. The poor kid had his best friend drop him in the blink of an eye just for some kid with no insulin.
       
           I should've written this sooner. It's actually helping despite the clear deviation from purpose.  I guess there's no point in dragging this on any longer.

"Sladkih Snov" ~ Nobody

A Letter From Sanity

Dear Lover-Boy,

      As I'm writing this you're mostly asleep. And  Let me tell you that adverb is fuckin terrifying. We are predictable, we have a pattern and I can feel you writhing around in there begging to get your small voice heard. If for some damn reason the "worse case scenario" happens I'm writing this in hopes of it maybe actually ending well for once. We can not fuck this up for the 8th time. I know it's impossible for any of us to listen to our own advice so hopefully you'll listen to it from me.
      Now if you're here of course, reading this, the worst case scenario has likely happened or perhaps even just begun and we're all just panicking, much like we are now, worrying over that which has yet to even happen, just in your case, it's a lot more relevant, being in the future and all. Chances are it's been at least 2 or 3 months since I wrote this for us. Or at least I hope it is. I swear to God if only a week has passed I'm actually going to kill us. At that point Hatred would probably take over the mantel and we both know how much fun he has with scarring us.
Speaking of which, if you're in the dire worst case scenario, Hatred is probably there too. He's a bit too Sociopathic to really read or care about this though so if we're lucky you'll be reading most of it.
    Now for the actual advice. We've been through this 7 times. And I know that I can't help you once you're already there. One thing I've learned from watching our self-destructive trail blazes is that only a portion of the pain is from the general rejection itself and the vast majority of it comes from hating ourself for letting the worst case scenario happen in the first place. There's a lot of stems for these roots so strap in kid. If I'm lucky we'll even just be so busy reading you won't have the energy to go dig the old noose we made last year out from our closet.
Hits hard doesn't it? Remember that shit? I had certainly forgot about it. I don't know what's worse, the fact that we designed it to kill us in under a minute or the fact that we tested it and still keep it because it works. Or, remember the time we counted out 532 Ibuprofen Because thats the exact number it takes to indefinitely kill someone. Or what about  every single Morning you walked into traffic with your eyes  shut hoping we'd get hit. Or what about last month, when you tore the house apart Looking for something sharp enough to go through an artery. My point is that whether you see it or not we've gotten better to some degree. Whether it's getting used to being hurt or slowly accepting it all. We are not the monster we used to be. Even if you think we are, we've matured. "I'm Proud of you"....
        Remember when she told you that? I know it's still keeping a smile on my face. Oh. hey look at that, we're the same person so you better start smiling damnit Because the last thing you want to do is end up proving her wrong. Yeah, yeah, I can hear you already you stubborn fuck you still don't believe me. Or you try and pull that tough guy bullshit all because you were taught that being sensitive was a weakness. Look around, being suicidal sounds pretty sensitive to me, it's not something to be ashamed of, trust me we live in the same body after all. And yes, I know for a fact  that's why you're reading this because you're predictable as hell.
  Anyways, if there was ever a compliment that meant the most to us it was that and you know it. So you better live up to it.

    I know that doesn't really solve the problem of blaming yourself for how you feel at the moment. I know the same thing we always say, "It's my emotions. Therefore, it's my fault". Funny thing, I did some memory checking and we've never once applied that ridiculous way of thinking to any being except for ourselves. The 6 of us really are masochists huh? We do that a lot with many things. We have our own rulebook that only applies to us and no one else. We aren't allowed to make mistakes, it's impossible to forgive ourselves and of course you better stay humble, or else. I'm not really sure if we're ever going to be able to fix that one though. Being hard on ourselves is at least better than being a complete asshole by doing it to someone else.
       Jesus Christ I keep rambling. So you feel how you feel now. Some months have passed, you tried your best to prevent it, but ultimately failed. So what? On it's own that doesn't really change things for us. I mean what can you do other than get your emotions out and try to find some closure? Literally nothing. That's all you can do. It's too late to try and stop it. It's nothing to scar yourself over and deep down you know it because I'll be screaming it at you while you read this too. Also, you aren't crazy. I think it's clear we've learned that with 6 different pieces, as a personality, we literally do not have full control over what we do. Free Will is an illusion remember? So stop blaming yourself. You tried at least. That's all that matters.
What? Aw, fuck you still don't believe me?
Fine. I'll tag in Intelligence and let him explain this with logic. You know, he's the only one of us who is actually confident in his abilities.
     
    Alright, I'll try and make this simple since I'm sure you are in such a high strung emotional state you certainly are not thinking clearly. That's the only thing that'll bring you to this letter in the first place.
     As human beings we seek comfort in this detrimental and havoc-ridden world. I am aware it sucks, we didn't ask for the big bang y'know. Anyways, each person has a different definition of comfort and that particular comfort is what they ultimately pursue. Being poor we ironically learned to not care about money rather than be obsessed with it. So, what's our comfort you may ask? Attachment and companionship. I think we both know enough of our own abandonment issues to deduce that conclusion in the first place. Now with that in mind we've always done this. And most humans are quite prone to the pursuit naturally anyways. We're just a lot more intense about it for reasons that we honestly didn't have control over in the first place. Unless our two year old self could magically keep dad from meeting Amanda, it's impossible that we could have ever kept him from leaving mom. My bad, I know I just brought up some shit we hate. Back to the logic. People love the things and beings of which bring them comfort. Some Humans find comfort in religion. Many of those same would say they love it. They wouldn't want to live without it. Likewise many humans do this  with animals and pets. The pets bring them comfort and help them feel happy so of course they inherently love them and also wouldn't want to live without them. This can be anything for anyone, for some it's games, for others it's as simple as being their own families. So, Because yours is companionship, a thread that puts a smile on your face, brings you comfort, and helps you feel happy like nothing else. It's someone who genuinely cares about you and that's all you've ever asked for. Can you really blame yourself for loving her?

    Now do you believe me? Well, that's all I can do for us. Now. If we're lucky you'll never even have to read this Anyways. No matter what, this is a thread I don't ever wanna see get damaged or hurt. So just think about what I said and hopefully everything stays the same. I have to go. I've got a diary to go read.

Love,
Yourself.  Don't ever forget that.

Confusion

I should feel fine. It should be as simple as that. Maybe it's just restlessness. I can't really tell. This is part of the reason why I don't let myself be Happy half of the time. Once I let myself feel that short little burst of bliss, whether it's from just relaxing, watching one of my favorite movies, or worst of all, succumbing to that torturous thing humans call love, I end up addicted to it.
There's no real proper reason for why I feel like I do. I hope it's just that I'm tired and that's that. I'd rather not have to remind myself that life is decent enough. Nothing makes you appreciate it more than nearly losing it.
I'm literally just rambling. I don't know what to feel, how to feel, what to write. Maybe I just need more caffeine. Who knows at this point. Perhaps I'm just fighting with myself on a more subconscious level. This whole monitoring my emotions thing gets exhausting. I have to sit there as everyone is allowed to enjoy love whereas I have to be afraid of it because unlike everyone else I turn into a Sociopath. It's an exaggeration I know, yeah there's worse people out there. There always will be. Self comparison won't get you anywhere.
Yeah, now I'm pretty sure that's what it is. I'm just fighting myself. Even listening to my favorite playlist, it's acting as a double edged sword. They're my favorites as I said. But 70% of them are about what I can't let myself do. Even now, I'm biting my tongue, or my fingers rather, since this isn't spoken. It's one of those things where i somehow believe if I simply don't say it or think about it, thus it's not true. But that's just a paradox that inherently makes one think about it more.
The truth is I really do feel alright. If someone asked I'd say i was fine or well because things really are. It's just not distracting enough from the infighting amongst myselves. Even if I just let myself go and allowed my emotions to do whatever they please, what then? Just awkward silences and one more instance that I've managed to fuck up. I spent 3 hours singing "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon to myself. Because that's the sort of shit I do. I let myself feel when no one's watching and so that way no one's awake to judge me or state the obvious.
In the end I think no matter how much I try, they'll just keep breaking the bottle. Maybe my emotions are just claustrophobic. Even the small ones. It all feels so uncontrollable at times, my emotions. It's part of the reason I get so masochistic. Physical pain seems to be the only thing I actually have control over. How I react to it is my choice. How it feels all depends on how much force I put into it, partly the sharpness of the knife but even that I can go get a sharper or more dull object depending on what I need. I'm happy with the universe at the moment, things are better than they have been in a long time. I guess it's just the fear of losing all of that for the 8th time in a row is why I'm so keen on keeping my emotions obedient. Knowing me, repressing them, despite their small irrelevant size, is only going to make the stronger.
I'm just going to need a bigger bottle, I suppose. I'll try vodka this time.

The Little Things

Moments in time are definite. You can see, hear, feel and live Everything in that moment. From there all you're left with is a memory. This strength of this memory all depends on the value the observer associates with it. The strongest of these memories are the lowest of lows and the highest of highs.
For me, one of the strongest would be a collection of all the days I sat by the window looking out over the street waiting and waiting. Watching each car pass by just yearning for one of them to by the green Jeep my father drove. Hours would go by. He didn't show, once again. This was a very common occurrence. I was a chore to him, easy to forget about and seemingly painful to spend time with. My mom would always have to make excuses for him. Making up reasons for why he would never show or live up to his promises. I was 5 years old that day.
That's a low that has defined me whether I like it or not it's had one of the strongest influences into what I've turned into. As is for most people there aren't that many highs to life. So we have to hang on to them while they last. Why try and wipe away one of the few happy memories we're granted with keeping? It can be a silver lining to look for, passing a random murder shed that gets a laugh out of me, and Probably the scariest of all simply just people. Humans can easily be what defines a great memory from a horrible one. It's a coin flip really. The universe is ever so uncertain. It's been very good to me recently. I've suddenly gained more joyous memories to relish over in the last 48 hours than I've received in the last couple months all together. And that's all thanks to one simple thread. It's truly an anomaly how intense of an impact in people's lives that one day, one thing, one movie, or even one joke is able to make. We really do have to appreciate the little things if we're going to keep ourselves happy in this war-torn, starvation riddled world of ours. So, thank you universe. It's been a long time since you've been this good to me. Of all people I certainly don't deserve it. I just hope I can return the favor for other humans someday.

Pretend

I am off my medication and I am pissed. Some may even call it livid, but you know what? I don't give a fuck anymore. I really, really don't. I've held this in for awhile now. I never got mad at you, I never took my anger out on you. I never said it was your fault, not once. I never blamed you but the way you've been acting lately I'm really starting to. Stop pretending like you actually give a shit about me. You gave such a heartfelt emotional speech about keeping me alive and on the planet Because you'd feel oh so very awful in a world without me. You said that you couldn't bare a world without me. And the moment I disappear from your life you don't even bat an eye. You don't give a single fuck about me or how I feel you just pretend to so that you'd feel less guilty at my funeral. You did as little as you could just so you can say you tried. I believed you for a long while. I truly did. I really thought I meant something to you. But as soon as I gave you opportunity after opportunity to prove it you sat by and did nothing. Silence, not a single utterance towards my direction. I get a scornful glance out of you then you proceed to have a fully joyous conversation with someone else completely ignorant to the corpse with your fingerprints on it. Do you even fucking remember what you promised me? Do you?! It doesn't fucking seem like it because you broke it. You know damn well you did and you couldn't care less. I don't fucking matter anymore because you never needed me. You pretended to just so there was no guilt on your end and after you had done enough I wasn't even worth speaking to anymore. You haven't said a fucking word to me at all. You haven't asked how I felt, you just sit there perfectly content in your safety bubble acting like you aren't just letting someone die in the background. You promised me we wouldn't change no matter what. That's what you said. You said I wouldn't be replaced by him and that our friendship wouldn't fucking change but you let it happen. You broke that promise and did nothing to try and stop it. You really give a shit huh? You abandoned me and left me here to die alone and yet you feel so proud of yourself. You used to call me a brother.  Now you just don't call me at all. I can hear you countering my argument with all these minute instances and inexcusable reasons for why this has happened but I already gave you the chance to show me you still care. And maybe you do. Maybe, just maybe you still have a chance to prove to me you haven't forgotten about me. But we all know that simply isn't true.
Have fun explaining it to the coroner.

I Envy the Dead

Those who come back from near death experiences often go on to try and inform the rest of us unelightened souls about what death feels like. But every utterance out of their mouths is dead wrong. Shitty puns aside, in order for us to feel anything as the bags of flesh we are it takes neurons and nerves to sense them. Both things that are completely decaying along with us. It's difficult to try and perceive pure nothingness due to it being impossible for any Fleshball to experience or process. It scares most conscious transmitters whilst mine is simply enthralled by it. Or rather... just Jealous.
The constant agony that often overcomes me is just all too powerful. So much so that I no longer find waiting for the not so horrid things to be worth it. I have a demon and an angel. Which one you get just depends on what story you've last read and what sort of mood she's in. Anyhow, it's one of the few things that keep me going. They deserve the title of demon not because of malice, but because of their understanding of pain and the poor irony of them constantly delivering it to me unintentionally. Meanwhile, on the other shoulder is the title of angel— The only thing within my thoughts I consider an honest desire.
You see, the demon is below me as she keeps me afloat from the permanent off-switch my foot is only inches away from flicking. Just as the eeriely similar angel stays above me, keeping my focus distracted, we both know I can never reach her and yet my arms won't stop stretching and now I keep wondering that if I just cut it... It would be enough.
Maybe this damnéd skin and worthless heartbeat keep weighing me down. If I get rid of them I'll be lighter. And I won't feel. It's a win win. The demon doesn't need to be held down any further by lack of my will to live. And the angel doesn't have to worry if I'm reaching or not because nothing will matter anymore. It sounds so wonderful. Being dead. So blissful. So peaceful to actually be feeling nothing.
Death is the one angel I can reach and they won't mind reaching back for once.

Drowning

"I'm sitting by myself in my hotel room drinking coffee; while blankly staring at the painting on the wall as Nine Inch Nails plays in the background."
"Sounds like the beginning of a Novel." She said
"It's the story of my life" I replied. Too bad this one won't have a happy ending.

At the time my roommates were all swimming with the rest of the group. There were 13 of us in total. Excluding myself, as I always do. I hated the coffee there. In that sense it just reminded me of my self, flavorless and empty. Feeling nothing as it passes my tongue and a tsunami of self-loathing as each breath passes by. The painting on the wall was simple. I didn't care for it. For the most part just indifferent I didn't have the energy to overanalyze a painting of all things. The thirteen of them actually did invite me down to join them. I kept myself​ from going for a number of reasons. I just... I just didn't fit. Forcing myself down there would only cause awkward bumps in conversation and silent glares of judgement. They all know each other, quite well might I add. Meanwhile they knew my name and a few of my jokes. That's only a portion of who I am and that's something none of them bother to consider. I'm like skin, I have a few layers. The one that everyone sees is thin and dead with no blood running underneath. An activity as interpersonal as swimming I just couldn't with how little they care for me.
Then there's the shirtless part.  For the most part my body doesn't bother me no matter how unappealing it may get. This time it was about infamy. They truly would've never understood it. The infamy of my scale-like left shoulder. It's something no one has really seen except for a select few. With the plethora of times I heard one of them shout "kill yourself" or "Sideways for attention, longways for results" or even flat out mimicking the all too familiar scenario with a plastic knife. I have a dark sense of humor, sure. In fact I'm considered "the worst" by many. Usually it never bothers me since enough people make fun of it, but just the constant onslaught of joke after joke finally got to me. I didn't get concrete proof on their opinions until we had a pain Olympics on the ride home. I remember being the only one who wanted to feel pain, I let my masochism Shine for the moment. And when I mentioned the dead nerve cells in my arm they just looked at me bewildered. They honestly couldn't catch on and they still wouldn't even if I tried.

Another reason I stayed... What if I had gone down? What if they actually didn't ridicule me? Their sudden support would honestly just piss me off more. It all just seems so false. For these people that all think they know me to suddenly give a fuck about how I feel, it's insulting. Why does it take years of agony to get someone to care? Of course this rule has it's exceptions. Any sudden Caring that's born simply out of some destruction I've done to myself or something done to me feels oh so insincere. In my mind, if it were, they would've always been there. I've known the majority of these 13 for 3 years now. It's too late for "if you need someone to talk to I'm here". Bullshit, that spot's taken.
"No one cares unless you're dying or beautiful." I hate this quote Because I keep proving it true to myself. I can only ever be one of those things anyways. When I thought I was, dying that is, I had this sudden influx of attention and concerned tones all of which have never been spoken to me before. A person I haven't spoken to in over a year decided to talk to me only because I was supposedly dying. I haven't heard from them since I got better.
If I would've gone down there with them I would've been too tempted to hold myself back. All I would have to do is sink, they wouldn't notice. They would think it was a joke, it's all I'm known for after all. It would've been easy. I should've. Just for the chance that I might actually get to die. If it weren't for her getting angry with me I would've had  nothing stopping me. Just think of what the headline would've been:
"World Rejoices as Meaningless Death Occurs." Has a nice ring to it, don't ya think?
As I sat there pondering all this, slowly sipping away, more, and more sucking the life out of myself the music beat on. It was a violin. One of my favorite Instruments . It always seemed to exemplify how I felt without words. Something I can't do at all. I remember trying to be a violinist. I was practicing by myself. My first and only song, it's called "A Symphony of Scars". It was the only song I knew how to play. I never got sick of it. My violin was about 15 years old, I didn't have many strings left to play on. There was limited space. This song become a ritual for me to play. Always alone, never to show or tell anyone. The bow I had for it was short with a silver string. When I first learned the song it always hurt to play, but after while, when I kept playing the same notes, torturing the same strings it just stopped hurting all together. It only took about a 1/16 of a pint to play each song. My violin was made from rare wood that bleeds when you cut it, so each time I would play the song the strings got red, then black, then stained. It always took about a week before each song finished playing and the barcodes holding all the sounds and tears that went into playing were finally imprinted onto wood. I haven't played that song in awhile, a part of me misses it and would like to hear it again, but with my addictive personality I shouldn't. They could never read those notes, maybe if I rewrote them for one final performance, I can get that headline after all.

L.O.V.E

L is for Lying,

When it comes to lying, particularly in this sense, I am not referring to cheating or being unfaithful. Rather, just lying to yourself. Convincing yourself that maybe, just for a moment, that she could somehow care about you the same exact way you do her. It then becomes a continuous lie that grows deeper and deeper. Adding more lacerations to yourself respectively to match. Perhaps she wonders on just how such irrational love comes to be. How such a ridiculous lie can be created out of air and believed so religiously by you for it all to just never really exist like actual religions do. But you, you know how. It makes sense to you, you're used to it. You remember the moment you officially could say you loved her. It was a normal day, finally just trying to relax at home when you get a phone call. It was her. You pick it up happily scurrying off to your room to so that no one else in the house could hear you. Going about the playful banter you always try and bring about unto just about any girl you speak to. However she's good at it, at least sometimes. The conversation went on for about 40 minutes. You remember the exact moment she slipped up, when she admitted she cared about you, that she was protective of you to some extent and that she hated your ex for mistreating you just as much as you did. Of course this is all platonic on her end. But you, being the absolute fucking idiot you are, managed to feel a butterfly in your stomach at the disbelief that she really cared, even if it was platonic. You should just learn to kill Everything that feels good. That butterfly was nice, you know it was. And it repopulated like a virus inside of you; consuming you until you feel the need to consume her to make up for the shitty parts of you that you got stuck with in the process. That very moment, that one, simple, phonecall... It actually made you start loving her and you were so caught up in false hope that you couldn't stop yourself. This stupid love of yours. It added a spark to every kiss you'd occasionally get, it even added a fucking smile to your face just from being around her. You idiot why would you do this to yourself. You autistic fuck, why must you care so much? why...

O is for Obsession,

So then the problem gets worse for you, and even worse for her. We know how it all started now, how such a harmful growth can begin and start to envelope your emotions. What happens when it's done? When there is a full grown nest inside of your priorities completey dedicated to her alone, smothering the ashy remains of its predecessors. Decomposition helps make healthy soil, perhaps all the amounting and dying failures in the past is why this one has grown so large for you. This cancer resembling canopy of emotions ends up disabling your ability to not try. You always feel the need to at least be doing something in hopes that it might work or at least take so much effort that it distracts you from the pain of the spreading canopy. Deep down when you examine those roots you know damn well they were grown into a non-existent foundation and it's too late for you to just rip them out of the ground. You're already committed to this in some sense. Committed to a relationship that you  Dreamt about​ the night before. You have an addictive loyalty to a person who finds you so distastefully exhausting that she can't bare to spend more than 2 hours with you at a time. And yet, that doesn't stop you. Nor do you even care honestly. You're just happy to have anything, 'it beats being alone' something you say that's only true when you lie to yourself about the immense torment you'll put yourself through later. You become so overly hateful of yourself for loving her that it just makes you want to love her more because it barely hurts when you're near her. Well done. You trapped yourself into an inescapable corner of losing all other purpose in life other than her. Which is absolutely stupid and you fuckin know it. And so does she. The label of an obsession for you can be derived from the lack of control you feel. How in the world could you possibly comand and control something as complex as your own emotions in an attempt to find solace somewhere buried in there. You don't tell your emotions how to feel, they just feel however, for whomever, completey against your will. And when it's one of the only things that can evoke happiness out of you it all seems worth the weeks of agony just for an hour of blissfulness. Your natural masochism certainly doesn't help it either. You only ever want that which you personally feel you need. That alone is a sole reason you're​ such an obsessive, self-sacrifical mess. Just another reason why love does so much bad shit to you.

V is for vulnerability

This is a reason, a lot of people commonly fear love. This is potentially the only normal thing about how you handle love. Oh wait, nevermind. You never let it stop you. You knowingly allow yourself to love and get an obsession. Fan-fucking-tastic that worked out well didn't it? You don't make sense. You seriously don't. You'll throw your entire world, including your life, off a cliff in hope, not even a guarantee, that it might work. You are unable to forgive yourself if you let any person be "the one that got away" so you become hell-bent on trying absolutely everything just so that you no longer have the what ifs rattling around in your head keeping you up at night. Instead you're kept up all night screaming at yourself for loving her and then punishing yourself for it. This goes on and on, until eventually you just feel nothing, for anyone. You become so drained that you can't even manage to hate yourself anymore and all you want is to just have it end.

E is for Envy

So what's left now that you've got nothing on this repeated journey of love. If you can't love, you find yourself being a lot more hateful given the fine line that seperates the two. You don't hate her, just yourself. You become envious of everyone she's ever had feelings for, mad at her for not wanting you, you know it's not her fault so you just become mute because you're afraid that any word you say will just hurt her. Meanwhile, silence seems to do the same. You're now at the end of your downward spiral. The same spiral that's used to tie a noose. All that's left for you to do at this point is to just finally tighten the knot.

Limits

"Limits"

Dear Sarah,

      I'm a worrier, it's that simple. It's not really that Important and I know you don't care. It's why I wrote a letter, so you can read it when you want since you hate texting so much.
       Highschool's​ almost over now... It's hard for me to think about, I think deep down it's why I am the way I am when it comes to you— when it comes to love in general.
     We all pretend as if we're all going to be here together after graduation and casually run into each other in college and still have the same bonds, and yet despite such a vivid illusion, that's all it is. In a few months, we'll all slowly forget about each other one way or another, we'll stay in touch a lot at first and it'll drift naturally and die; like a battery people are too lazy to charge. It's just how the world works now. With that constantly weighing over every single bond I choose to form with someone, a bond like yours I can honestly say I haven't​ encountered before. Not even in a romantic way that would sicken you as usual, when comparing the bonds, ours is something truly unique and special to me. All the countless dollars we'd spend on energy drinks, the semi-reliable emotional support which is magically still just as helpful, you nearly burning your lungs out on the couch, or the time I was too afraid to tell you just how beautiful you looked in your dress at prom, all the times we tried to sit through The Imitation Game together, the way you make being a loser enjoyable— we'll never be able to have that back  when we're adults.... And even though there's still some months left the knowledge that it's going to disappear just makes me want to make the most of it even then some. Causing a love for you to be inevitable. And I know, I know, there's​ too much wrong with me I get it. I do. I just can't stand to spend these last few moments with you alone when it's likely to be the last moments and memories we're ever going to have together. Why not just live and be free, and just have all this fun being together since it'll only be for a little while.
Then there's still that old cliché where highschool is supposed to be the "best time of our lives"...
If I can at least spend some of that remaining time with you, that decade old statement would actually be true.

Pax Aeterna. VI

With where I last was, all seems complete, does it not? Reliance I have at last found within the most angelic of figures. A beauty which I am so lucky to behold each day. Together we both grow and glow more and more each day.

As time has passed ever so vastly our dear balloon which was once the cornerstone of our companionship has somehow faded into the background. Paying attention to it now I notice its color was fading, yet hers was not. Could she be feeding off of it?

Perhaps my own bleak gloominess I bring to ever occasion could be killing it. And to think I had considered myself healing. I am surely just damaging to those around me. My uncontrollable outbursts, my eternal affection of which can never be reciprocated yet she still stays. How in this world could she bear such weight and still look astounding doing so?

I am ahead of myself as always.  I cannot let myself forget the shattered roots I have risen from. Those cold, cold nights… I am still surprised as to how I endured the endless malice I brought upon myself-- that I still bring some days. Profusely undercutting my own achievements I possess a vendetta against my own being. Seeing this flesh go without any sort of torture is maddening. I wish not to relapse, I must be careful recalling such memories.

Maybe that’s why she granted me the balloon oh so long ago. As if she knew redness was the only color familiar to me. Red was the only color I could produce on my own. Then it would slowly fade into a thick, painful, crumbling, black.

That’s the only recognizable affection I have received to date. Disregarding the helium goddess in my sight. So far I seemed to have come yet I have not taken any steps. Still bound by the same profound loneliness that has always shrouded my joy.

Back to the balloon. My addition to her life does not seem beneficial to any degree. I feel as those things wither around me. That could be my perspective just being off. Her smile always kept up with me. Knowing just when I needed it. Her timing was impeccable.

The balloon… it wasn’t just fading. I noticed some black around its edges. “Oh why must history always repeat itself!? It has become just as the red from before. I am ruining it with my frivolous existence!”

I ran outside with it in hand in hopes that the power of the dim sun could prove my hysteria wrong. To convince me I was not such the mistake I believed to be. The sun could never do that. That was her job.

In response to my anguish she followed and simply looked at me. With the constant calming tone in her eyes that told me it was okay.

The blackness on the balloon was pulsating as if it were slowly eating away at the balloon destroying all which I had fallen in love with. Pulsating like a torturous Tell-Tale Heart.

She held me with such reassurance my worries were slowly subdued. But she was not done. She sat there refusing to look away from my eyes. I was beginning to drift off getting lost in hers. Her grasp on me stayed steady however something in her muscles still shifted.

I looked on, lost in those eyes of an indescribable color. Fulfilling all of that which I thought I had lost in that very moment. In my delusion I had not even noticed the sun dissipate into the nothingness similar to my old soul. The moonlight shone on us both like the spotlight of a prison’s guard tower. It was intimidating yet welcoming all at once.

The rare speckles of light I knew nothing of showed themselves. Some were arranged in odd shapes as if by accident. Why in the world should there be two spoons in the sky watching over us and our endeavors.

With a sudden jolt she had let the balloon go. “Woman are you mad?!! What reason have you to stay without that? For what reason will I have to feel your grasp? What monster shall I become when you depart? Do you mean to abandon me so?”
            She placed a finger on my lips ever so gently. She stared on into the upward darkness that engulfed us all watching the balloon drift away. She motioned for me to watch as well.

I reluctantly watch as all that had built up drift away. An item so symbolic to our nature how could she ever afford to let it go. The moon seemed to absorb the balloon for some time before I officially gave up on its return.

Despite its disappearance she was still there by my side. It was honestly worrisome since most just vanish once they get the chance. Did she wish to harm me with a pent up aggression before her departure?

Whilst lost in my fervor I feel something brush against the back of my hand. Unfortunately it wasn’t hers but a string. I break my silence.

“Could it be? Has it returned?”

The balloon had indeed sunk back down to the putrid pit in which I live. Where the beauty it had brought to me was still my only solace. The balloon was more different than it already was only minutes ago.

The blackness of which I surely caused had spiraled itself into the balloon ever so eloquently. It was almost as beautiful as she was. I glance over to see an excitement in her previously unknown to me. Her face was so creased, all her calcium was out in the open shining for anyone to see. Her short strands of gold bounced as if they were celebrating. The diameter of her overwhelming aura increased.

She was so contagious I could not keep my discontent any longer. My corners forced themselves over matching her energy, becoming one with it as we gawked at this new arrival.

“Don’t you like it? It looks so beautiful now”.

She spoke as if it had not been beautiful before. It was hers so surely it had to have been. Or at least I thought so. I inquire her to explain why she felt so much joy from the new appearance.

“Because it reminds me of you now, of us. Don’t you see how much more wonderful it is now that it has added your own color to it. Now it isn’t just my hope and my happiness. It has finally become ours. Something we’ve both contributed to. It’s absolutely wonderful because of you. I love its new color and you should to. Don’t underestimate all you do for me. You do a lot for me and my—I mean our happiness.”
I stood there frozen bewildered by the immense truth she spoke so well. Was she a mind reader? How could she have known to address such insecurities? I digress.

It was indeed beautiful. Together we had made it better. I had done something good with someone who was amazing and it was now ours to cherish and admire for the rest of time.

Until the very last bit of our matter goes off into oblivion and gets converted to some other substance. This new future I had no such words to describe it. Our final and infinite moments permanently sewn together by the string of this very balloon. At this thought she spoke up suddenly.

“Pax Aeterna” she said.

To this day I have never heard a more accurate descriptor of our life. 

My Longest Relationship (3/15/16)

I often wonder to myself, “Why am I alone?” You know, maybe it’s just that I haven’t met the right girl yet or maybe… Maybe I just shouldn’t exist. What’s the point in sticking around when no one wants me? Especially since I already hate myself, I’m sure they all hate me too. Okay, maybe you don’t, but you hate the fact that I’m in love with you, right? Exactly. That’s what I thought. All because I’m not good enough. I’m not a something people want. I’m a something that everyone is better off without. No, I’m not good enough. You’ve proven it to me.

You don’t understand what it’s like to be alone, do you? Of course not. You’re too beautiful for that. Pretty people don’t understand what it’s like to sit there at night, being unloved by everyone. Hating yourself more so than anyone else on the planet. You don’t understand what it’s like to be the only one in gym class wearing longs sleeves every class. You don’t understand what it’s like to have nothing but razors to keep you company at night. You…. You constantly have people following you around. You have people who constantly make you the center of their attention when you don’t even try. You have no concept of how I feel so how could you ever begin to help me? Actually, I have an idea. I want a reason. A reason I’m not good enough for you so that I might be able to fix it. Is it because I’m ugly, is it because I would rather write poems than play sports, is it because my wrists are nothing but a graveyard of scars that grows bigger with each day? Y’know what? It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s going to leave me eventually, just like my dad, you people are all the same. You, Vic, Karina, everyone will stop caring about me so I should just leave now before I’m hurt any worse. Nothing maters anymore. I’m sick of the universe constantly screwing me over; I’m sick of depression being the longest running relationship I’ve ever had. So, I’m sorry to everyone. This is goodbye.

Grasp. V

They are the eyes for the blind, the voice of the deaf. A symbol of all a human can hold. They represent our daily lives, what our lives used to be, and what our life might become. A sense of touch is one of the only things Washing away the permanent alienation instilled upon us at birth.

From the day this balloon wielding Saint was bestowed upon me it was a small detail I often overlooked, despite that they became the core of our near telepathic communication— aside from the portals that lie in wake within her pupils.  She seemed unaware the immense power she held within them. Or she was just taking it easy on me. I could not care any less. The force of her magnetic grasp always seemed to pull me closer to the one thing I always needed.

She spoke seldom. Her smile was always one which washed away all my worries. Yet at times that too made me anxious. Concerned with the possibility that she'll just take the balloon and leave. Alas, I often tried my hardest to not let the mystery of a unique countenance get to me. These frivolous falicies always cluttered my mind. Always finding a way to tear down the barrier she built to protect my fragile mind.

With the lack of words between us they became Everything in how we understood each other. Alongside her eyes. She was covered in invisible flaws. She hid some by purpose and some by accident. I could never tell which no matter how much she ran through my mind, not matter how long I sat with a childish grin on my face as I stared; no matter how much time seemed to stop around her—I...—I never could.

Despite all this one thing I could see. They were damaged, scarred, permanently blistered. Those wounds are the most we've had in common at first glance. Mine were the same, the damage extended past them; all the way up. The feeling of familiarity when they were intertwined was partly why I've come to care for her so deeply. (Even though she's been taking care of me this whole time). The action of conjoining between them was the empitome of a completed puzzle. All the peices finally in place. One small touch and I could feel all she had felt. She felt all that I had. One of the smallest gestures amongst humans yet for us it had become Everything.
Even though we both had our damages I never felt the roughness that should be there. It was always suddenly soft. Like one of those memory foam mattresses.

Even before her I never coped well with letting things go. I was a people hoarder. No matter how awful or how much Pain these succubi dished out over the years, my own lonliness always scared me more. I knew myself well, I could torture myself permanently for days on end. It's difficult for the outside world to try and protect one from themselves.

The thing that had become our defining feature of our companionship was the same force which had once held the worst weapon against myself. When you get so attached to another being, as if super gluing yourself to them emotionally it can easily become a burden for them and you would never know. That is one of my utmost fears, granted I've always believed I was a burden. She's been proving me wrong lately. Another thing that makes this world colorful again.

I was aware of the damage that she must do to herself at times. How else could someone be so helpful towards me unless she truly understood. I wish I was equal to her. My grasp never had the same affect on her as hers did to me. If anything I'd suspect the opposite. Nevertheless she looked so content. A look on her face she called 'Adorableness' even though I had no previous meaning of the word I could tell that was the word for how she always looked.

So selfless. So very selfless... She worries me with it. And I could never repay her. And yet she didn't seem to care about that. She still would let me hang on. To this balloon, and her. I feel at peace now despite my worries. Because that's all they were— worries. And she always reassured me. With that effortless angelic touch. Locked within her grasp— this is where I was meant to be.

Silence

Dear Gwyndolin,

      Your mind is so frail. Able to believe there's a change over time when in reality at heart the insanity still lies. A kind of insanity that takes such a thing as Silence and attaches a connotation to it out of thin air.
      Such as Sullenity. The kind of meaningless silence with no purpose or cause yet you're so full of yourself and worried over a fruitless opinion to notice that the world is fine. Yet that sudden, sullen silence reminds you of the kind that occurs between a father and a Son he never sees. When in the real world that's just your own mind toying with you.
       You need this unnecessary amount of reassurance all because you think you aren't worth anything. Yet you and I both know that's not true.
       You take something so menial and minute and through your eyes the world's on fire and everyone hates you.
       To everyone else you're just talking to yourself and their worried about you.
Just trust me on this alright?
You know I'm right because I'm a part of you.
~ Sincerely Yours,
           A Voice of Reason

Completion. IV

Although I have adopted the facial structure of a balloon owner, unwillingly induced by her wonderous presence, sleep was still something that eluded me. I oftentimes just stay up to think about the past. Even though it's certainly not enjoyable it allows me to appreciate her more and more with each passing day. If I wasn't reliving old nightmares I often lay and get lost in the peacefulness of her slumber- I have a bad habit of staring at the prettiest thing in the room and not noticing. Her body looked weightless as gravity took full control over it. She'd be no different than a corpse if it weren't for that beautiful countenance she always wore so well.
On occasion she would grow restless, suddenly tossing and turning as if facing the few demons she hid from me. Regardless of how much of me wanted to help, as If an obligation of recompense lead by all she has done for me and yet I am forced to do nothing. I never brought it up as to refrain from stirring up the worst of her reality once our equally sized hands connected like gears built for each other. With the gears locked in place the machine that is happiness moved forward for the day. Just a look into those innocent greenish eyes of her was like seeing a tree bloom for the first time. The balloon reluctantly joins like a typical background character.
As time goes on the strength of her ambiance only grew stronger. A most loving of an embrace she possessed. Something I have longed for since the day of my unfortunate creation. A kind of embrace that makes you want to endure all the world's aliments as it worked as a universal cure which made all that we both have suffered worth it.
She was often cold to the touch. Maybe her icy fingertips were the only reason she held my hands. Nevertheless I minded not. Intent on her end could never remove the immense release in the companionship I have finally gained. I felt as though I had a purpose to her. I was able to keep her warm any time of the day. I would give her all the warmth in my body if I had such capabilities. We were in the rest of this life together. Some would say to suffer the environment together however we both felt nothing but bliss as the others presence came to complete the puzzle of life and that happiness is much simpler than I had previously made it. It is the dream which lives on although encompassed in nightmares, it is the ember that refuses to be smothered during snowfall, it is the space between each of your digits being filled perfectly with another's that completes life's mysteries.
It is everything I've ever needed it to be- her.