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.

Ecstasy. III

Not long did it take for the Golden shield, worn by this mistress of mystery to begin to protect me as well. The helium balloon was neither hers nor mine. It simply was. That's all we could've ever hoped it to be. This dusty snow globe of a world I reside in stayed just as dusty as always, yet I saw less of it— or rather felt less of it I suppose. This angelic figure of a woman and I had never separated since that day. All in all the activities of my day continued the same as before. However the mundane ambiance had evaporated now that I can share it with someone. Still, her high-stapled cheek bones and perfected bits of calcium make me uneasy. Whatever disease gives it to these balloon wielding miracles must be contagious. With her at my side she's basically sewn my corners to the top. She said it would be a lot harder to break than the staples the balloon gave her. As the time we spent together grew so did the gravitational force of those charismatic eyes she wore. They weren't Perfect, in fact it may have been her one and only imperfection, but she never pretended like they were either.  That has potentially always been the most intriguing fact about her. A human able to stay completely honest and still wear a halo of hair unlike any others.
She stuck out like a sore thumb. At least next to me anyways. As we walked the desolate avenues it looked as though we were an unmatched pair with our balloon as some adopted bastard of a child. When in fact neither of us could begin to see such a future. She just knew I'd never have the confidence to hold such an immense privilege in my hands without the warmth of hers helping me. We often had our fair share of stares and scowls from the creature like humanoids nested near the sewage drains. She never paid mind to them. I suppose I may have cared too much, even if I used to know them. They were different now. Not a single light shone except for her during all hours of the day. Like a spontaneously lit candle willing to sacrifice everything for a plebian whom of which certainly didn't deserve it. The light she emitted was a window into a previously unperceivable world with no dust at all.
When we were by our lonesome that window would widen to the fullest. In that window, was a world whose clouds only made shapes of animals, something no one has seen for years— at least... Not where I'm from. There was the same heap of snow but without the suffocation that comes with it. A world where the sun was always generously trading with the moon. This is where the balloons came from.
The window closes to her scolding me. I had no idea that I could get lost in someone's eyes so easily. She seldom spoke and whenever she did all I could ever hear was an angelic siren of reassurance that she'll never let this balloon go. I believe her. I felt drowned in euphoria. A type of feeling you only experience a few times in your life. The feeling of your lungs filling with helium lifting up what had been thought to be a useless soul. A special warmth in the upper-left sector of your ribcage I had never knew existed until she came along. A feeling so beautifully grotesque that if I were to breathe my last breath in those moments that breath would have a special enchantment to it that only she could form out of nothingness. She had taught me a new word as well, it must of been for describing her. I believe it was called "Perfe—"

After removing myself from this baptism of happiness she so instilled, I return to the scolding.  Apparently it had been my turn for over 5 minutes; we were playing chess. I was godawful at the game; goddamn was she good at it. I would just sit and arrange all the little figurines as though I was actually attempting to storm a castle. In my head the pawns were going to flank the side entrance, like the surprise of her arrival. I personally thought bishops were useless, just out of experience, forgetting it was a board game. The rest of the pieces just seemed to have arbitrary limitations. Like my own. Except for the Queen of course. The most powerful piece on the board. It had become the embodiment of her. All her pieces were golden, lined with red threads. Mine were dust ridden. Worn out, old, and obviously replaceable. Throughout the game the balloon sat and watched. Noiseless like a traumatized child; observing me endlessly. Watching me get lost in the thought and study of what happiness actually feels like. Subconsciously I was making each move take a little longer in hopes that maybe the window would stay open.
"Checkmate" she says.
I had almost intentionally put myself in a corner of the board, to make my rusted king suffer less. She decided to drag on his suffering with her two beautiful rooks. Somehow she knew how to amuse me. My face had sewn it's self upwards. The muscles twitched and creaked as this pleasurable roar of noise erupted from my vocal chords.  Hers was just the same. It was probably the loudest thing she's done. Seeing her do that caused my face to clench so tight the ends of my eyes crinkled. She seemed to enjoy that.
It grew to be late. The evening was near indescribable. I lay awake too full of adrenaline as the balloon separated her and I across the room. I was scared to fall asleep, I still am, because reality had become far greater than my dreams ever have.
I roll over just to stare into the balloon as I drift off with my helium filled lungs.
"This was the hope I had always Dreamt of".

Bliss. II

Day after day. Cloudy sunrise after cloudy sunrise. Gloomy Moonlight shone through each night as the one small glimpse at something known as hope.
One usual dead December day a red balloon attached itself to me. At first I was somewhat alarmed at just what the hell this was. I had knew of colors but never seen them in person. Not because I'm colorblind but because there are none in this dust enclosed dome of despair people are literally dying to get out of. There it sat, taunting me knowing I could never fully grasp it's presence. At least it was nice to look at, a small, nearly blooded, glimmer of hope to reach for. The red balloons were reserved for those who were actually good people, with money. The balloon refused to leave and so it just floated around me, like a cloud with no rain orbiting me as I travrsed my snowy wastelands.
Eventually there was a crowd surrounding me, making all this unbearable noise, futilely trying to remove the balloon from my orbit. Then I noticed a specific girl in the crowd. She was different from all the rest, she had this golden sheild of hair that seemed to repel the dust. Her face was nearly freakish, at least to me. She looked just like your stereotypical balloon owner, even though she didn't have one on her, with their top facial muscles clenched to perfection, showing off the impeccable calcium tablets held hostage in her mouth, all 32 of them; each corner pinned underneath their eyes, but hers wasn't forced.
She seemed odd especially in such an animalistic crowd however an Enjoyable resonance that only I seemed to be able to feel emitting from her. She approached me and with a power Unknown to me she grabbed the balloon. After the gasps from our audience had ceased the taped the balloon to my hand and vanished.
The crowd dispersed, seeing as I somehow possessed the balloon now. As the exposure to the balloon had extended more and more I could feel my facial muscles slowly clenching as well, until the balloon detached itself from me and disappeared. And so I continue the trudge through the dust all the way to my house, which certainly never felt like home. Another night of intimidating Moonlight passes by.
I wake to find the balloon there again. Except now it was glued to my hand. The day went on similarly to yesterday with an unsettling amount of Stares. My tongue-gaurding calcium began to slowly show itself. Suddenly, the balloon seem to have enough, it knew I didn't have any right to it. It tore itself away from my hand. I felt nothing as the glue tore away at my shell of a body but it still hurt. As the balloon began it's vertical escape the girl appears again. Her resonence began to consume me, a piece of me had been longing for her presence. She grabs the balloon again, still just as surprising as before. With it in hand she steps towards me, saying how she never wanted a balloon despite how fitting she is for one. She locks her hand into mine sealing the balloon in place. It must have been hers, but why? Why would she try so hard to give this to me? That answer I still don't know. But her hand has still never left me, she follows by my side making sure I hold on to this helium balloon she calls happiness.

Clarity. I

Tunnel Vision, it's this odd occurrence that lead's to a plethora of idiocy in decision making. It causes a person to literally not see something five feet in front of them. It prevents those who want things from realizing they already have what they're searching for. It is a fogginess of time wasting the revolves around trying to shove yourself into every other person's life when they clearly want nothing to do with you. This fog prevents you from seeing that someone has already accepted you as a person. And that this meaningful conversation escapade has been using a broken compass to guide you. North has been right in front of you the whole time. What's north you ask? A snake. A Boa more specifically. And this Boa has always been there always platonically loving you, always making you laugh, always listening to you, always reading your poems right away, and most of all always fixing your earrings. This Boa has never abandoned you yet your fog is so thick that you've never taken notice to how much companionship and security has been possible for the last three years. All along the reptilian has slowly became more and more like family to you and has a venom that's sweet with no sting.
The lightbulb has finally clicked, you see it now. It lies in wake glaring at you with jouful eyes. What's scary is the lack of anxiety around the Boa even though you're terrified to go near any of the others.
Finally you see the open unhinged jaw lunging towards you, and you smile as the venom fills your bloodstream. You can finally rest peacefully and happily; for all that the Boa has done for you. You have achieved, Clarity. 

Denial

For the most part I completely agreed with the social stigma that exes are supposed to be these demonic human beings whom of which you never want to see or hear from again. People that suddenly are supposed to mean nothing to you even if they used to be the only thing holding you upright.
-------------------------------------

After the last month and a half I couldn't disagree with that idea more. I don't talk to her anywhere near as much as when we were together— when I was happy. Even if that's the case if I allowed myself, I would still be texting her day and night. I still talk about her just as reverent as before. I'll still bring her up and talk about just how amazing everything was— was.... When we were together if I subtracted the hormones really I had the greatest friend in the world and I've realized that's the part of her I can't stand living without— sure I find a random excuse to text her and pretend like everything is back to normal— Oh god how those few minutes become so refreshing!

The saddest part is that I'm too afraid to admit how much I just simply miss talking with her. That special bond, it's just something you can't search for and replace. No Matter the number of nameless hips, sushi dinners, and outdated pick up lines gone through I know none of them could live up to her. So I get irritated, act like it's their fault when in fact I'm trying to recreate the past; feeling obligated to move on by my passing surroundings. I have to sit there and pretend like she doesn't Still have the power to make me fall to my knees and sob.
I know I can't relive the past. It's never been anyone's fault. The universe is uncontrollable. No matter how much of grip on reality us humans think we have something in the atmosphere won't hesitate to rip it away from us. I have to sit there and decide whether it's just simply missing her or if I've somehow fallen in love with our memories. Even knowing all that a part of me is convinced that somehow some Blondie can fix all that, as if a simple 'blow and go' from that girl that says we're only friends can distract from the loneliness, somehow this idea that I've lied  myself into believing that a 'meaningful conversation' with all these other people could magically equate to that Flower-Named Goddess I still catch myself worshipping on accident—My scars constantly twitch expecting a new younger sibling to force itself into the foster home of suffering that is this body. They won't get one. This time is different. This whole time has always been different. This time... I have nothing to deny anymore.

Apathy

I feel nailed down to my bed by the weight of anxiety. I feel no tiredness yet I have no motivation to move from my bed until well into the afternoon. Food stopped tasting good. Gallons upon gallons of caffeine is the only thing that can get me to move anymore. And to hell with any sort of libido just the sheer mention of it is damn near sickening. I somehow find a motionless, white, ceiling more fun to watch than any show or movie. All of the joy has vanished.
Company of other humans can be a pleasant distraction. That is, if I'm Willing to burden them with my horrid presence. Perhaps me viewing myself as a bother to everyone causes it to become more accurate of a thought each day. Or perhaps I've just always been this pointless of a person. I can't even muster up the motivation to die, probably the best ending for everyone. If I'm not moping, I'm just silent, I can't help but bring my issues into every conversation just adding unnecessary weight to everyone else's lives . It's impossible for my sanity to win. The whole situation is a big paradox. If I don't express it I'll feel like shit. But when I pester people for help I feel like shit for bothering them. Everyone's life is hard, not just my own. Still knowing that Doesn't seem to change a thing. What the fuck.