Good Morning

Greeted by gold
beating back the shade
It's a new day,
good morning.

The comfort of my covers
I do not wish to stray
To stay, with you,
Beneath the cover of weight

Grasped by society's demands,
I see you little, and you do I
Just a little longer now
And time will be endless,
spent with you.

Cheer

People have Christmas all wrong. It's not about the Black Friday sales, the gifts, or the perfectly hosted party. It's about how the first snow falls gently on colorfully lighted houses. It's about the carols that bring joy and cheer. It's about being with family, friends, loved ones- and cherishing every moment of it.

Society is so blind these days. So greedy. So rude. It makes me sad.

"So I was lost. Go count the cost before you go."

As quickly as you came, you went. So it goes again and again. That connection is gone, and I feel such unbearable pain when I see the truth in front of me. I was watching old home videos of us from several years back, way before all of this. We were being stupid and goofy, singing along to ridiculous songs. Pictures we took together. Old videos from your dance recitals that I took. I'd say we were close to being best friends, regardless of our many sisterly fights. You'll never know how much I miss those days, how much I miss our pointless fights, how much I'd give up anything to get those back in exchange for this one.

I think about you a lot, too much for my own insanity. I cry a lot. Simply falling to pieces while you live your happy, perfect life in Campaign is what crushes me the most. I've been forgotten by my baby sister and she loathes me. And the only reason why I reveal all this is because I know that you don't care enough to read any of this anymore.

I wonder if we'll ever be the same.

Untitled

I honestly believe that I may be the only person in the world with the capability of deeply caring about other people. I observe others with distaste and notice how selfish they are. How blind. The state of the human race truly is upsetting. I sacrifice everything for people I love, so much so, that I have even become selfish to myself. Sometimes I wish I didn't care so much and I wish that I could be even more selfish, so that I can be happy like the rest of the world.

I suppose that this could all tie into my loneliness. For the majority of my life, I was in the darkest and scariest, loneliest place. Now that I've found at least one person, I cling when he leaves me. I don't want to go back. It's not fair to him, I realize. I can't help myself, as much as a horrid excuse that is. Somewhere in my head thinks that if I do anything I can for people, maybe they won't leave me. Maybe I won't be alone. My mind has been permanently scarred, I believe, and when I try to explain the confusing things I do I feel like an idiot.

Welcome Home

On a fine day like many others
you would return for a moment
just a flicker, a reintroduction
or a simple pass
In my heart,
I wish it would last

I missed you, welcome home
and you would bid me the same
We'd discuss your success
and I'd tend to your struggles

Alas, all that I wish
that wasn't a figment
conjured in my very mind

I see it as a bright picture,
full of radiant color- shunning despair
my despair, for I know not of you

I've come to terms now-
I don't matter, I am easily replaced
I exist only to hinder
the perfection of your life

I sincerely hope,
that some day soon,
you will come back to this home
and I will not open it's doors-
to a stranger.

"How I long, how I long to grow old."

Waiting for life to get easier is like asking the sun to never shine again. I don't think I'm capable of happiness, I think that I subconsciously shield it from myself as if it would do me harm. I wish I didn't feel like I was going insane with each passing day.

"Hold me fast, I'm a hopeless wanderer."

My life isn't difficult. It sucks more than a lot of the time, but one would agree that I have a decent life. Even typing those words and I feel like I'm spewing bullshit. Each life is as difficult as it is depending on the type of person that you are. No, I don't starve or crave water day in and day out, but everyone lives in a different world, a world only that person knows. And I believe that my life is heading for the worst. Things, things things- keep piling up on my shoulders and the weight is so unbearable that I feel the strain in my heart, as if I could feel the weight directly on the little weak thing. My chest feels as though it is constructed only of pointy objects, and every time I move an inch I feel the pain of sadness. It's different this time, in the way that I wait around for my pain to subside like it did so many times before, when I know that it won't. It's different in the way that I don't have the energy or care to talk to anybody about it. It's different in the way that things that should normally cheer me up don't. I am scattered. Spacey. Quiet. Slow. Blank. And it frightens me.

I wish I didn't feel like an only child. You told me that you didn't have time for unhappy people, that I had to be happy with myself before I could be happy with people. How sad that you don't realize that I need my sister back in my life to be happy. How sad that you can kick family to the curb when they need you most. How unbearably sad that I realize now how cold you have become.

In these two weeks of total darkness, my imagination has run wild. I thought up a scenario one time where that son of a bitch who changed you happened to stroll up to my register while I was working. Sometimes I'd imagine his mom with him, sometimes it would just be him. He'd be clueless, and I'd be shaking with fury. I'd say what I was supposed to say to each customer: "Hello, how are you today?" but through gritted teeth. He'd say "fine", and I'd say, "Well, that's fucking unfortunate." He'd stare at me and then I'd let it all out. I'd scream at him, I'd tell him that because of him, I no longer have a sister in my life. That because of him, my baby sister is cold and hateful. I'd scream that it's all his fault, it's all his fucking fault. Sometimes I'd imagine him guilty, sometimes I would imagine him quiet. Then I'd hand him his bag and say, "Have a fucking horrible day."

Happiness. It's not only our goal but our duty to find the things that make us happy. For some it comes easy, and for others it doesn't. It's all trial and error until we find it. That's what I've been doing and I feel that the process is hurting someone close to me.

I don't have a clue as to what I'm doing.

Nothing Will Ever Change

It's been a while since I've been this...disconnected. It's not like I time these things or expect them to happen. If anything I try to avoid it completely. But I feel too much, care too much to suppress my total and utter sadness. It's rather frustrating, but part of who I am. I find myself sobbing by myself sometimes, about what I couldn't say. Perhaps I sob for my own self pity, because I'm just that ridiculous. No, I don't think so. I sob because I'm lonely in a crowd of people. I sob because I can't even trust those closest to me to understand me and keep me from falling deeper and deeper into a shithole. I sob because I can talk all day about the sadness I feel and none of it subsides. I sob because I feel like the people closest to me don't take my mental pain seriously enough. I sob because I have people who tell me they care about me but do nothing to show for it. And maybe I'm just a big whiner, who knows. But this is the truth that no one else cares to know.

Hey, this is crazy, but...

Hey, this is crazy, but...I drunk texted you yesterday morning and I'm not sure what to say to you next time I see you? Let me explain. This guy I've met before at these things, we were talking animatedly about relationships. I remembered, once upon a really long time ago, you asking me if I knew anybody that I could hook you up with. Well you see, this guy just got out of a bad relationship and was currently dealing with it. I didn't suggest that he date you, but for whatever reason I started talking about you and how you got out of a bad relationship too and how he had changed who you were. I sobbed a little and told him how I wish I had my sister back as I proceeded to show him pictures of you from my phone. He commented, "She's cute." and that was it.

I still have your handwritten "El Scorcho" lyrics on a piece of notebook paper hanging on my bulletin board. You always wrote me little things. And I've kept every drawing as well. Sometimes when I really miss you, I sit in this chair and look through everything you've ever given me. Makes me feel like I still have a connection to who you were.

Good 'ol Days

Been thinking lately, about loneliness. How stupid it is that it can still thrive when there's loved ones all around you. I'm missing something, another point of view. I think it's friendship. Not friends you meet through a boyfriend, your own friends that you worked hard to establish a relationship with. Girl friends, someone you can talk to about really dumb girl things that don't mean anything. I met all my "friends" through my boyfriend. It wasn't hard to get along because 1. they're boys, girls are stupid and 2. well, I see them often because my boyfriend does. I've been thinking about friendships that seem a thousand years old, way back in that place we call high school. We aren't friends anymore, I lost my way and so did she. The other just talks to me occasionally. There wasn't a single thing we didn't do together, the three of us. I miss those days.

I'll never stop appreciating everything my mother is.

Today I made a remarkable breakthrough with my mother, about something that I have been wanting her to recognize and understand for herself. You see, she has always requested my effort into fixing things with my younger sister, no matter how many times she has hurt me and no matter the fact that she was the cause of distress in our relationship. Before, I would try and try- I would do anything I could to make things more normal, because it's what my mother wanted and I knew that it would make her happy. But every time I was set up for failure, all of my effort thrown in my face. Today, she requested that I try again since my sister and I haven't spoken a word since she left for college. I whole heatedly explained the pain I go through each time I try and get knocked down, how I have learned from experience and now I've just given up. I told her that I understood why she had these expectations of me. I'm her oldest daughter and therefore I should be the better person, the better role model. I told her I couldn't do it anymore because of fear. And right then she realized it. She said, "I have asked you a lot to try with your sister. And you have tried. Maybe it's time I ask her to try." It was the most wonderful feeling for my mother to finally understand how I felt about all this. It's hard for her to understand sometimes and I realize that. But I know now that if I keep trying to explain the facts, she will begin to see. And her sight is all that I could ever ask for.

Questioning

I look around and find, again, that I don't belong here. There are those with clear goals in mind and those with countless opportunities to choose from. I am one of the few people who lingers on the list of programs you can get into here at College of Dupage. I've gone through the list maybe a hundred times, trying to picture myself with a goofy chef's hat or perhaps a quill and parchment. None stick to mind. Each time I wake up early for another day of seemingly pointless education, the more I don't want to be there. I'd be much more enthused about going if I had an idea in mind of what I wanted to do with my future. And to be honest, maybe I'm beginning to realize that I don't want to do anything. Maybe I just want a simple life, with a simple job, so that I can focus on raising a family. Maybe that's what I really want. But there are too many people to let down, and I'm not ready to handle certain guilt again. I'm just hoping that what I should be doing will jump out at me and say, "HEY, THIS IS IT!" But that's only wishful thinking.

Something else that gets me down about college and my future: my blatant lack of effort and setting high goals for myself. Most of the people I graduated with in high school are either striving for the best or making sure that they're on the path to greatness. Me, I'm just trying to get by. I don't dislike those people for doing better than me, not at all, I'm more envious of their determination and intelligence. Besides, it's my own fault anyway for being where I am today. I can't blame anyone but myself. And it takes a lot of courage to change such deep habits, but courage is just something I don't quite have.

Alone Again

Alone again to contend with my troubles. Just me, my troubles, and the cold I developed from yesterday's hysteria. My state of being alone is no fault of anyone this time, but nevertheless, it is still loneliness. I've hardened my mind, there's no way I'll cave. I cave because I'm too good a person and want to keep helping those who hurt me over and over. Because I feel like there is hope for them to change their ways. But through experience, change has never happened, and my endless servitude to these people is wasted time and time again.

It's a simple moral I hold that those you help should feel gratitude towards you and help you in return. But I suppose not everyone knows this simple act of human kindness. It's like what I've been learning in ethics class- one of the ethical theories is Individual Subjectivism. Moral goodness is defined by what an individual feels like doing. And any other individual's contrasting morals will be seen as wrong by the first individual. So maybe my moral isn't quite universal, I see that, but somehow it has to be right.

Home Alone, Just Me and My Troubles

And just as immediate and unrelenting as it had so many times before, the rush of it comes over me again- the staggering pain, the flimsy body, the numbed mind- all of it so quaintly familiar and oh so heavy. I'd take a bullet in exchange for such agonizing pain. The ability to care is no quality, no good characteristic of a person, it is just a very complex weakness. Because it is so easy to care for someone, but it is even easier for that someone to let you down, to give nothing in return. That truly is the most painful thing. I reexamine the last two years of my life and see something that could have been great.

I find myself glancing out my window, hoping to see you coming back, giving yourself a second chance to prove how much you say you care. But you aren't there, you left knowing that pain and sadness would be my company. The most heinous of crimes. No one should be left alone to contend with pain and sadness, it's one of the most putrid acts a human can commit. I'd have rather given an arm or leg than leave you in the state of mind you have left me in. Nothing, not even the forces of God or nature could have made me leave you. Little did you know that all the words of love you spouted, any meaning of it, was gone the second you stepped out that door.

You talk a lot for someone who supposedly cares and loves. You can say the same things a thousand times, a thousand different ways, and at first it might be inviting. But over time, consistent talk and no action make your words empty. Your mouth is just a broken record. 

And this thing I write on often- you don't care of it enough to remember to give it a glance, knowing how much it would mean to me.

Puppy Love

I knew that it would happen soon. We were already rocky, but I knew just one more stress out and the truth would be revealed. We don't feel the same anymore and we've changed. I stress out and get angry more and he loses his effortlessly maintained patience. This wasn't how I envisioned it would go, but I suppose back then, love made me light headed. No, we were supposed to be happy all the time, we were supposed to be perfect, we were supposed to be the pair that would face mainstream relationship problems head on and get through them. We were supposed to be together forever. But forever is a very long time.

My Teachers

It's been a while...and that's because it's been a while since I've had the time to say anything. It's been busy, and that's an understatement. I'm tired most days and everyday I feel more like my parents when they come home from work- I just want to wind down and vegetate. School begins this Tuesday and I'm not particularly excited, and not particularly dreading it. As of right now I'm going with a flow and I take things as they go.

I've temporarily become an only child starting today. I remember counting down the days until it would happen. I kept telling myself it's what each member in my family needed. My parents wouldn't be treated poorly anymore, and in turn, they wouldn't facilitate the bad character that continues to grow within her still. And for us, there would be no more confrontations, and therefore, no more arguing. It's best. I hope with every ounce of my soul that she will come away from her foul personality and become genuinely good. Consistently good, not just sometimes or when she feels like it. I've learned this, and guilt, sadness, and self hatred were my teachers when I had finally realized what I was doing to people I love. Please, while you're away, learn and grow. For your sake and ours.

Not Quite Yet

Here I am again, putting off my blog posts about Jude and my new job. It's not that I hate those situations and don't want to write about them, it's not that at all, it's just the fact that those updates are long stories that I've probably told a hundred times already in person. I guess you can blame my laziness?

Apology to No One

What can I say? I've been putting this post off because it's a mother-of-all-updates kind of post. It's been hectic since I last blogged, and even now I dread to recount it all in writing. I can't let myself get behind again or I'll end up writing nothing because all of my updates keep piling up. But does it matter anyway? Nobody reads this thing, the proof is all there in my blog's statistics. But even so, I feel a certain duty to myself to report all that I experience.

That's Me, the Fool

After all this time you're still the same. You'd think that after months of pain you put me through, you'd try to make it up to me. Guess not.

Yeah.

I'm terrified and excited to attend orientation for my new job tomorrow, it's a really strange high. I hope it all goes well and they like me. After all, they chose me out of a few people. There must have been something in me that they liked. I keep thinking about this weird scenario in my head that after a few months or a year working there, I'll go up to the manager who hired me and ask, "What made you pick me to hire?" I've always been really curious as to why someone chose me whenever I got a new job. I don't know if I'd ever ask though. On another note . . .

If you're skinny-fat, what exactly does that make me? I had no idea the term even existed. I guess it's just another modern invention to make the rest of us feel like crap.

Take THAT, crappy economy!

Finally- a well deserved break! I can freaking live again. I can stop worrying about bills and college. I can stop worrying about disappointing people. Three months of stress, endless self hatred, and a whole lot of hard work, and it all doesn't even matter anymore.

I got a job.

How can something so simple cause such a hindrance in life when you don't have it? Well, it does. And as easy as a pain it can be without it, it can easily be something freeing when you get it. Bliss is all I see, a weight that has over welcomed it's stay has finally lifted and I feel oh so free. I am determined to impress the people I will work with. I'm going to be the best that I can be, because all of my hard work to get where I am has payed off.

Unhappiness is Forged

I'm unhappy with myself a lot of times. Don't know why I've always been such a downer about myself. It'd be easier to just . . . not be. But many years have cemented the habit in my head and I know it's impossible for me to think otherwise. It's even more unbearable observing others who are exactly what I want to be. It's almost crushing, and I wonder why it is that they get to be that way and I can't.

1. I wish I was skinny.
2. I wish I had the money to dress the way I want.
3. I wish I had the creativity to dress the way I want.
4. I wish I had a job.
5. I wish I could decide my future career.
6. I wish I had more manageable hair.
7. I wish I didn't live in a dump where people get shot and raped all the time.
8. I wish I had my own dog and cat.
9. I wish I was more confident.
10. I wish I was more crafty and artistic.

11. I wish I was a better writer.

Woe is me, right? It could be so much worse. I could have no legs and an eye patch. But come on, everyone's got things they wish they could change about themselves. It isn't a crime nor tragedy, and I understand that if you want things changed you've got to do it yourself. However, some things are just unchangeable.

Ratty Updates

So the boys have become massive compared to their baby forms a few months ago. However, the three of us have run into a bit of a rough patch. I asked Rat Forum about my specific problems and they were quite helpful. I'm going to try the ideas they gave me for a while to see if there will be any improvement on their behavior. On another note, their cage needs some revamping/remodeling. It's a little to boring for their tastes, lol.

Voilà

Here it is folks- the lime shrimp avocado pasta salad I've been bragging about making. I haven't tried it yet, just sampled the flavor, and I think it's gonna be tasty. This is where I got the recipe.

Brad's Story

This right here. Things like that truly amaze me. It's been a while since I've read anything inspiring. What I would give to do something fantastic and use my experiences to write a tale of my adventures. I think that's where raw, great writing comes from. But to muster the guts to change your own life- that's the challenging part. I wish that I could do something extraordinary, something that would inspire others. Alas, I am as ordinary as they come and am held back by ordinary things.

I try to envision myself in Brad's shoes and I find that it just doesn't work. If someone pulled a knife on me while I was alone at a train station at night and I retaliated by pulling a knife as well, like Brad did, I don't think the stranger would back off. Danger is more . . . apparent, I feel, for women. It's the whole "women are weaker than men" thing. The idea today is that women are much easier to take down than men. As much as I don't want to admit it's true, it's true to say the stranger with the knife. It's quite sad how the separation of gender hold women back (totally not trying to be a feminist kook here). I mean, Brad's couchsurfing experiences could also be a danger for a women. On the other hand, maybe danger is selective. Maybe it hasn't anything to do with gender at all. Maybe Brad got lucky and danger could happen to anyone.

Anyway, just thought I'd share Brad's amazing story. He's actually inspired a few other people to go out and do something extraordinary.

Names

I love my name. Is that weird?

I love the simplicity and the uniqueness of it, I love how pretty it sounds when it's said. Thanks, mom and dad, for choosing such a great name for me. :)

Hello, Random Insomnia

The extent of insomnia I've experienced up until now is waking up several times in the middle of the night. Last night was a huge exception, and I can't really explain it. I just remember being so awake that I could literally stay up forever (and I did). I couldn't understand why I wasn't tired, but wired. Maybe it was because I read some creepy shit about stupid spiders last night on reddit (search: goodbye sleep) and felt all crawly afterwards. Anyway, the whole thing was frustrating and I didn't fall asleep until after Greg's school alarm went off at 7am this morning . . . what's worse is that I only got three hours of sleep and that was it. Not being able to sleep is rare for me. I wonder what's got me?

Foundation

I firmly believe that some people are born with a knack for something, a skill that later on they realize and harness to it's full potential. I also believe that I wasn't born one of these people. Others will argue that a person is good at something by becoming good at it. But honestly, if you take a look at all of these talented people in the world, they're skilled because of the foundation they were born with. Through effortless practice, they became even more skilled. There is so much that I want to be good at, like art or writing or music. But people born without the foundation for those things won't have the potential to do them. I know what you're thinking- that's ridiculous. And I know that I can't sit idly by wishing that I was good at this or that, I have to go for it. But what stops me every time is the thought that I'm not good enough.

Untitled

An old ticket in hand
and the future in my pocket
All aboard the ship of dreams

I've seen them all before
of a similar nature
Strapping young men
Intelligent young women

Synced hearts equipped
to take on the world

We all waved and howled
as the ship set sail
on a blanket of blue

The ship left the dock,
but I wasn't on it

I'm better off ashore

Culinary Madness

I've been cooking like a fool lately . . . looking up recipes and trying them out. Trying out new things. Next up, lime shrimp avocado pasta salad. Yum. I should really put up pictures of this stuff.

Babies, Babies, Everywhere

I know right? What a totally random and strange topic for me to write about . . . But I had this amazing dream this morning where I was just brimming with total and complete happiness. Like teary-eyed happiness. In my dream . . . I was a mother to a baby girl and a baby boy. Two beautiful, curly headed children. Greg usually wakes me up in the morning before he goes to school or work, but this morning I barely payed attention to his goodbye because I was right in the middle of this reverie. I mumbled an "I love you, have a great day" and went back to sleep as fast as I could. I did soon enough, and there it was again- the same glorious reverie. I swear, I must have been smiling in my sleep because I was smiling so much in my dream. I was so happy with my babies and Greg. I woke up several times in the morning, each time trying with all my might to go back to sleep and enter the same dream again. It was so . . . great. I'm only 21 years old, I shouldn't be thinking about this sort of thing. But considering the relationship I have with Greg and just the thought of how ridiculously adorable our children will be, I can't help it. Is it weird that I can't wait to be a mother? I know my priorities, though. I can't bring children into my horribly poor lifestyle. I'll wait for now, but hopefully for not too long.

An Impasse

Interview #5: Khols

Currently, everything is painfully hovering within midair. It's out of my control, yes, but it's irritating. I did the best that I could and now it's up to others. I just need to know. I need to know so that I can breakdown once again and trudge on. Or I need to know so that I can celebrate and finally declare an unyielding hardship over. I try not to think about how much hinged on that one interview, just like I tried not to think about it before I did the interview. I went in there fully intent on demolishing it. And I think I might have.

On another note, I am discovering with great sadness my lack of interest in college. I've already decided that it isn't due to laziness brought on by dropping out of my summer course or the fact that I haven't attended for a long period of time in a while. I've found that it's because of discouragement, and the thought that I don't fit in with these people who would give an arm or leg to get a degree in something they deeply care about. The issue I'm beginning to see is one of pure interest. I can't fully agree with myself on a degree that would be fulfilling to me. Am I wrong to choose based solely on that? I suppose that if I wanted an easy life in the future, I shouldn't pick a career that is fulfilling. But, who wants to be miserable doing something they don't care about for the rest of their life? Sometimes I feel like if I wait long enough, the path that I know I should take will light up before me sooner or later. After discussing all this with a friend, she expressed how you cannot wait for it to come to you, you have to go get it. That even with a little interest in something, you have to get more interested. And she's right, but that goes back to the whole "will it be fulfilling" thing if I'm forcing myself to be interested in something. She feels that with enough willingness to try to be interested in it, you eventually will be.

I don't know, it's a confusing time for me right now, and I just hope that it will all be clear soon.

:]

My rats boggled at me today for the first time. I'm the happiest mom in the world.

Strange Reveries

I can't even express just how messed up my dreams have been lately. I don't know if it's the cool air and the heat of the summer mixing at night, making me sleep uncomfortably because I'm overheating and cold at the same time...or what. But boy, the things that go through my head while I sleep amaze me when I wake from them. Sometimes I believe I'm crazy or something. I'm not sure, there must be some kind of explanation. The way I'm interpreting the dream I had last night is something will happen to one of my family members due to the actions of another family member and it will be catastrophic. And then something will happen to me, I will obtain some kind of ailment. There was no death, fortunately, but there were a lot of tears and screaming, which was creepy enough.

Reality

What more can I possibly do to up my chances of getting a job? Can't I catch a break just once? It's almost been three months. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up- every dime is worth a fortune to me now and I absolutely HATE it. I don't want to worry every second whether or not I'm going to be able to live comfortably in the next few weeks. Because that's just about how much of my savings is left, enough for the next few weeks. After that, then what? My dad says he has a plan and tells me not to worry about it. Don't worry about it? Really? That's a joke. Not only are my money problems affecting me, they will be affecting other people soon as well when I can't pay my half of the rent and bills. And when every cent is gone, I can't go to school anymore because I pay out of pocket. Don't worry? Whatever, I'm very worried.

Wake up and face the truth...as bleak as it is.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one brave enough to see the truth of it all. Most other people are either blind or careless of it because of fear. Everyone feels like they need a purpose, a reason to keep going. Something that tells them that all of it isn't worthless. There's nothing wrong with that, but you can't ignore the truth that...nothing really matters. Everything we know is nothing. We are all built with our unique expiration date. We are all told from birth the sequence we must live. And we all end up striving for the common goal, the common life, when we all know that sooner or later we are going to die.

How cruel to be given such a temporary existence. And what's worse is how long our species have been on this earth with absolutely nothing to show for. If you really think that a strong military, advanced technology, and a civilized society is something to show for, that's just ridiculous. I see a force of murderers, a lazy future, and a society of people with sticks shoved so far up their asses. But I'm not even sure what something is good to show for. I don't know where we went wrong. Who's decision was it to declare this world one of competition, greed, money, war, hate? The list goes on. Who decided such structure and etiquette. Children must get an education in order to get a job to make lots and lots of money because that will surely make them happy. That is so unbelievably screwed up. All we're doing is raising generations and generations of money hungry assholes. Oh, but look at me. None of that really matters anyway, does it?

Another Day in Loserville

Application #20: Nordstrom Rack

Just like dust in the wind, I solemnly observe my fortune wither away. All I can do is watch all my planning, my state of life, my dreams, my future- scatter away from me in a simple breeze. For all these significant things are directly possible with a steady income, something I no longer have. I can only keep trying and hoping that I might find something before my funds completely expire. Past that, I'm not sure what would happen. It's dark, because that's exactly what it will be- nothing. I will have nothing and therefore I will be nothing. I feel the pressure of limited time bearing down on me as if I were a child in trouble. And a child in trouble, I am. 

"Love was always cruel."

Before I met you, I had already come to terms with myself that I might as well get used to being happy alone. This is a white blank page and a swelling rage for showing me the glorious glimmer of hope but then painfully snatching that away.

We were the same. We knew not of the warmth of love and it's beauty, we hadn't a clue of companionship and dependability, and most unfortunately of all we knew too much of something called loneliness. It had started as an idea planted inside our unsuspecting heads. Young and naive as we were, we accepted it. We were two explorers who had stumbled upon precious, undiscovered territory. Most of what was happening in reality I cannot recall because I used to live in a blissful reverie. The effects of the idea had done it's way with me, so I was often lost in my pool of thoughts, my head swollen with imagery of the future. I realize now though that we had taken the idea two very different ways. He had kept it at that: just an idea, while my mind flooded with all sorts of possibilities. You would cast your line out knowing that I'd be reeled in every single time. And when I waited for your line or coaxed it myself, you wouldn't cast. I see now that you desired my attention but denied my affections. Both of our plants had been watered with misconceptions and shined down on by mediocrity. The ending result sprouted two artificial flowers. I plucked that fake flower from my head and gave it a home inside my heart. And I took great care of that stupid little flower. So tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart. You had left your own plastic flower dying in your head because you were beginning to see again- the reality. But the way you viewed this reality was irrational in my eyes. You designed an excuse that wouldn't permit us. I didn't want to believe your change in heart until it finally broke through my reverie and shattered it. I was thrown into inner chaos, and the sham had spread an illness in my heart I had never known before. I had never carried something so heavy in my life. And my fake flower I had looked after for so long- it crumbled and died. You did not think when you sent me to the brink. My face had become someone else's, my vision gray and unfocused. I despised the taste of food and observed my frame shrinking as the days passed oh so slow. I had stopped caring about everything. I was losing myself and I didn't know how to stop it. There was a design, an alignment, a cry of my heart to see, the beauty of love as it was made to be. I know we had been nothing more than an idea, but it had brought me into that circle of happiness where everyone else was gathered. I just wanted to be part of that.

Awake my soul. But oh happy day, when I should feast my eyes upon a real live angel with the purest of blue eyes. In that moment, I knew. I knew that none of what I was going through mattered. I knew that the anguish was necesarry, that my suffering was life's way of making me hold out a little longer- so that I could meet the one whom I'd be with for the rest of my life. The one who would save me from my sorrows. I had finally discovered the answer I had been searching for, that love, it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free. You were incredibly persistent and patient with my troubles, and if you hadn't come along, I don't think that I would have gotten better so quickly. To the other, I only say this: Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart. Weep little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start. Take all the courage you have left, wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head. Frightened. You were a frightened mouse, stunned with fear when you realized you were getting close to someone. That sudden withdrawal killed me more than you will ever know. You need to learn to accept the fact that where you invest your love, you invest your life. If you cannot accept this truth, perhaps it was best that you did not pursue me. Fear got the best of you dear, and now you are alone.

Blood Beats Water

Stumbled upon this old entry of mine I wrote a long time ago. I found it among my drafts. It seems fitting now.


Hate is poison. When we were kids, we often threw that word at each other but never meant it. It means something to me now, and when you use it against me it's a stake to the heart. It's not something that can be taken lightly. Once you say it, it's engraved forever in the heart and mind of the person who you set aim to. Your inner turmoil: roots tainted with hatred overgrowing and crushing you from the inside out. It will destroy every fiber of who you are if you let it reign free.

"There's a chip on your shoulder, girl
and by God it'll make you fall
if you let it take a part of your soul.

And due to a pressing concern that only YOU know about, you've left us- your family- dazed in the rage path you left behind. You complain about lack of communication in our unit. Don't be a hypocrite and do exactly what you whine about. You must DO what you preach.

I see the love in your brother's eyes
and the love in your mother's cries-
Sister don't test the ones you love.

Sister don't let go-
Sister don't let go of us.

So if this is what you initially wanted, you will receive. You can dig up garbage I've done in the past but nothing will ever equal to what you've done. You're turning your back on blood for something you mistakenly feel is far better. Nothing will ever replace your family no matter how hard you try to find candidates. And when you've finished taking a sledge hammer to our family portrait, you will feel the familiar feeling of regret setting in once again. But apologies won't suffice this time.

Cause your roots will rot away
and your fruit, it wont grow.
Your bark will wear thin, body hollow.

I did nothing but try to aid you in your adolescent quest for answers. I will be the first to say it because I'm not a coward like you, who runs away from the truth. He may bring you happiness, but if a person has enough influence on you to turn you against your own blood, I only hope that some day soon you will realize how disturbing that truly is. The piercing words I won't ever let you take back are mine to keep for a lifetime. So I'm finished trying. From here on out, you're on your own. This song was always intended for you, not me.

Don't test the ones you love
it'll only tear us down.
If you want to feel alive
then learn to love your ground."

Brothers & Hugs

Here are some updated pictures of Reno and Rusty. They certainly have gotten big!

All That is Said

Some things in my life are still not going the way that I want them to...but I'm happy. :)

The Past is Just Past

Warm days like this remind me of our summer days together. The smell of heat and the light breeze seem to be the only things that haven't changed. We, on the other hand, are a different story. More and more each day I am reminded of our memories by simple scenes or objects that I encounter. And I imagine it's because your absence in my life has recently disappeared, as if it had never happened. You did not creep, you jumped back into my life and it's left me reeling and confused. I'm not yet sure if I can accept it. You communicate with me as if you had been my sister this whole time, except with slight caution, like you're testing the water or something. Like you're seeing how far you can let whatever you hid for so long go. I'm not sure if I can forgive so soon, but then I remember my own self on a lost course similar to your own. I recall the anguish, the hatred of myself as I finally realized the damage I had done to the people I was supposed to care about. I held that pain for quite a while, but then figured out that the only way to fix things was to begin healing.

The other night, sitting on those rickety old bleachers I had sat in several hundred times before got me thinking. I would have never forgiven myself if I had not attended such an important milestone in your life.

Six

Six months. Six times that I will miss something important to you. Six times that I will miss your laugh. Six more times that we won't speak. Six times we won't look at each other. Six times we will claim to be an only child. Six more times that we will forget each other's face. Six times we replace each other's love with something else. I despise the number six, but reaching years will be more devastating.

All That Was is Now

Little sister, dear,
do come near:
Tell me, how goes your heart?
Is it twisted, soured from tart?

I wish that you could only see

the rot from which you flee
Are you not worn-
from the torn?

Do you carry as much callous as I?
From the malice in your eye?
Little sister, dear,
do you know of my hidden fear?

For us, the future is bleak
And we stand at a certain peak
Little sister, dear, the way back down
isn't quite sound

That which I yearn
is for you to learn
to call my own, a little space
in your heart's embrace

"Last week I had the strangest dream; where everything was exactly how it seemed."

I dreamt of you last night and I wish that I didn't. I wish that I didn't because I wanted it to be true. You looked the same but older and prettier, as if that were possible. You and I along with our family members were gathered at a circular table on a balcony overlooking a beautiful tropical scene. You needed help with something, and against my better judgement, I offered you my help because no one else would. I followed you on the streets of that tropical place- it reminded me of our trip to Hawaii- and we came upon a marvelous building that you said you now lived in. I thought to myself, how successful you had become on your own and how you had been just fine without me all these years. We entered the building and you muttered how you unfortunately had to live with two completely unliveable boys. I could tell, because our trek to your room consisted of our childhood game "Lava", where we couldn't step on spots that had lava- or in this case, the dirty laundry on the floor. You grabbed something from your room and I followed you back outside. As we exited your home, two unkempt boys walked passed. We didn't say a word, and neither did they. But I turned around suddenly and yelled, "Hey!" They turned around outside the door of the building looking dumbfounded. I animatedly pointed to you, and said, "Hey, yeah, she's my sister. Don't get any freaking ideas." I gave them a devilish look that made them shudder, and we turned away from them, giggling on our way.

It occurs to me now that in my dream, given the state of things similar to now, I would have done anything for you.

Keep it coming, world!

With tremendously great difficulty, I am trying not to become racist. I received a letter in the mail from IDES stating that, "The evidence shows the claimant is attending school on FULL TIME SCHOOL. Since the claimant's school schedule is such that it severely hampers her ability to find suitable work in a large segment of her labor market, her principle occupation is that of a student and she is considered unavailable for work and is ineligible for benefits and will be determined ineligible until she meets the eligibility requirements." 

First of all, I just want to send a heartfelt "fuck you" over to IDES for being just like every other government facility that taints this country. You clearly don't give a fuck about the people out there, like me, who work their asses off to get a good education and also work at the same time in order to afford shelter and food. You're saying that even though I was suddenly fired from a job that I thought was going to be a great opportunity for more hours and pay (and I left a perfectly stable job with less hours to go for it) and because I'm trying to get an education so that I can have a future, that means that I don't have the time to work in order to be able to live somewhere and feed myself? That doesn't make any fucking sense. So I suppose the African American who sits on their ass all day living off unemployment benefits without an education deserves this money the most? That is seriously messed up. In order to receive my benefits, are you seriously suggesting that I drop out of school in order to be "more available to work"? Do you honestly believe that all college students are still living off mommy and daddy? You're fucking wrong. When we lose a job so suddenly, it's serious. We live paycheck to paycheck, and sometimes even less that that. Without a somewhat steady income, our lives crumble instantly. That means we have one week left until we starve, half a tank of gas left until we can't transport ourselves anywhere, a month until we can't pay rent and bills. Sure, I have savings to help me. But I'm paying for school out of pocket. And now I won't be able to finish college, because there's no way I'm getting loans. Finding a job in this hell hole of an economy sucks, and now I have to do it without any sort of backup. Thanks for nothing, IDES. Screw you.

"Suddenly, everything has change."

I wish that there was some powerful, measurable way to make you experience worry, to make you see that the events taking place between us are hurting us. You're a blind mouse, innocent and sweet, overlooking the damage in order to retain your optimistic facade. Confronted by this fact, you recoil from offense and continue to live the lie that you have come to know. And while the fault is on both sides equally, the only difference is that I can identify it instead of ignore it as you do. Change has shaken our world and it's up to us to stop the quaking. But your petty comebacks to the identified problems and easily offended nature are so unbelievably frustrating sometimes that all I can do is distance myself from you and the hurt you put me in. I wonder if you're even afraid of losing me anymore.

"I know you have felt much more love than you've shown."

Keep on Keeping on...

Today was overload. Stress is a nasty thing, and it tends to target those who are already down for the count. Life is so painfully unrelenting, I almost can't bear it. I suffer daily from my troubles. I don't ask for much from the people around me, but simple kind and reassuring words thrown my way is something I wouldn't mind. Understanding from another means a lot. I don't need scoffing or babying or impatience, I need someone to get my situation and either hold me or tell me it's going to be alright. Because really, that's all that keeps me going at this point. For once, I just want things to go right.

"But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from you. And we’ll live a long life."

Life is a game in which there are rules against taking large steps towards your goal. Baby steps are not sturdy, and you may fall. I like to think that I will get there someday, slowly but surely.

"To live is so startling, it leaves but little room for other occupations."

If anyone knew how to tell it straight it was Emily Dickinson. She knew how it all worked, she was superior in the knowledge of how everything is and wasn't afraid to write it aloud. She's a total inspiration and I wish that I could figure things out as easily as she did. I learn much from reading her poems but if she was only still around there's no telling what I could see. Living is far from simplistic and yet we are expected to add more and more things to our lives that it all just weighs it down and causes unhappiness in life. If only we could live with nothing else attached-- now that would be the life.

ZZZZzzzz...

So this happened a while ago. I reached my hand into the boys' igloo while they were sleeping and I started petting Reno. They don't like to be petted (they still don't) but I took a chance while they were all sleepy. As soon as I started petting him he got all noodley and he seemed to like it. Then he shifted his weight onto my hand and put his little head on top of my hand and fell right asleep as I petted him! Let's just say that day I was feeling really down and not to mention worried about their sneezies, and I just teared up because it was so darn cute and it cheered me up. I didn't think he would do that because they were still wary of us at that point. I left my hand like that for what seemed like forever. I didn't want to move because it was so adorable. I can't believe I managed to take a picture.

"I take a look around; it's evident the scene has changed."

Have I finally succumbed to society's endless waste? I have always made it a goal to not give in to the things society imprints on people, but I'm discovering that I am allowing it to happen with one of it's distortions. I look around and see billboards, posters, ads, and commercials with ravishing faces and more importantly- thin frames. A simple curve with no excess, flattering stomachs and arms. A waist someone could wrap their arms around twice if they wanted to. I often observe myself in the mirror and brutally compare myself with those pencily girls. That girl in the mirror is pretty, but it is masked by a hulking frame with over sized limbs and a gelatinous belly. I study her and with each passing second I despise her more and more. She just wants to be shaped like everyone else. She wants to have the entire beautiful package. But she knows it will never be.

Where Bad Things Come From

It is all so unpleasantly clear that I will never be at ease, that it is unlikely for me to find any sort of comfort in this horridly ungrateful "life." The ones who try the hardest are never given the peace of mind, nor the end of the glorious finish line. I curse at something invisible that directs me down this treacherous path. I swear and yell and scream at it every day, "Set me free, I just want things to go right!" I don't think that it's God-- no, it's something putrid that resides in the toxic nothingness above His home, a place where karma is a rigged arcade game and kindness fails. A place where it sits upon it's ugly throne and looks out over all the trying flickers on this world and chooses favorites to send goodness to. Am I just so unworthy, so insignificant a person to have good things happen to? When is it my chance, my break? I grow frustrated with the countless souls who tell me, "That's life, it's how it goes. You just have to keep going." Save your ridiculous babbling, I've heard it so many times before. What I need for you to tell me is HOW. How do I keep going?

Oh- unyielding woe-

Oh- unyielding woe-
the hand doth come again
out from clouds of silk-
coaled and mighty
it is eternity, decision
direction-
ruler and king-
of each flicker on this sphere
and it is most unkind-
to me.

Updates

I took the rats in a while ago for a vet visit and she prescribed baytril. I am happy to report that they have almost made a full recovery from their sneezies. :) And boy can those two EAT. They've grown twice their size in only a couple weeks. I will be posting more pictures soon.

On another note, the Universe can go screw itself. Kthxbye.

Smile

These new photos really make me smile. And I hope they make you smile too.

Sneezy Rats

Reno & Rusty have come down with the sneezies since (I think) two days ago...I'm so scared that they might be sick. Rats are notorious for getting really bad respiratory infections. I just hope it isn't that and it's just the dusty bedding (which I took out) or the pollen in the air. We do keep our windows open sometimes. They sneeze consistently and only when they are active. But that's all there is- there's no other symptoms. They eat, drink, are playful and mischievous. But I feel like I'm analyzing them so much now that they started sneezing and it's making me think that they are more lethargic than they actually are. I don't know. I just hope my babies are okay.

Sleepy Heads

My friend Josh took this picture while I was at work. Aren't they just the sweetest? Today was a great breakthrough. Rusty was already making quick progress by taking and eating treats from my hand and not running to the farthest side of the cage away from me like Reno does. But he took it a step farther today and actually sat in my hand while eating his treats. He also decided to take a stroll outside of the cage onto my arm and my shoulder. It really surprised me. I think Reno picked up a thing or two because he crawled out of the cage (although painfully stretching his body so that his back feet would still be latched onto the cage door) and ate treats from my fingers. It's funny though, because he tries to take great big bites and uses all his strength to rip those pieces away from my fingers so that he can run to the other side of the cage with it and eat it. It's so funny. :) I've noticed that they're already started to get bellies! Did Petland not feed these guys or something? Reno is a little bigger than Rusty now, but they started off the same size. It's hilarious to watch Rusty run through tight spaces and Reno to barely squeeze through them.

Reno & Rusty

Ratties

Well, it's certainly been a while. Maybe I got tired of "complaining"? I feel like this is all I blog about, all the bad things that happen to me. Like the fact that the window of my car was smashed in while I was in Milwaukee for St. Patrick's Day and my gps was stolen. But I won't get into that. I want to turn this blog around somehow, make it more positive and less . . . this. For my birthday from Greg (which was given early, but I'm SO fine with that lol) I received two adorable baby rats. Their names are Reno and Rusty Shackleford, or "Rusty" (Greg, haha). I've only had them for about two days and I love them already, even though they aren't too fond of me yet. I'm afraid that they'll never like me, but they'll probably come around soon. After all, I've barely had them and they're just babies. They're at the stage where they'll come up to the cage and eat treats out of my hand and climb on me a little, but that's about it. The other day I sat in the bathtub with them so they could run around and get used to my scent at the same time and today Greg and I made a makeshift rat playroom in the hallway of our apartment. We put a blanket down for the mess and blocked off the only exit. They ran around a while and climbed on us. And then one time for seriously fifteen minutes they sat in a corner and cleaned themselves, it was the cutest thing. They really make me smile. :)

Same Old Thing

I wonder if I ask for too much sometimes. I probably do, I know I do. I guess all my nitpicking is fueled by jealousy of observing others. It's a nasty quality and I wish I didn't have it. But I'd trade all these material things you've given me if I had some raw showing of what I mean to you. I guess that day will come and go with the proposal that I long for. I think that I am greedy, because you never demand anything from me. You're always content. But the difference between you and me is that I am capable of deeply showing the love I have for you by any way that I can imagine.

Vendettas

Sometimes I truly believe that we will meet somewhere and sob and hug, forgiving each others wrong done to the other. Like we used to. But as months pass, I feel that those childish days are over. It's part of growing up, I suppose, that when serious problems arise you can't just simply hug and sob it out. We're adults now, we're cold. The coldness come with more and more years spent on this hellish Earth. It influences us. I try unbelievably hard to force this influence away from whatever purity I have left that belongs to me, but it isn't so easy. I continue to fend it off, but you've lost yourself to the things around you. You will remain cold. There was a time when I thought that would happen to me, but somehow I came away from it. I know what I'm supposed to be, who I'm supposed to be. And my heart breaks every day that I see you lost on a frigid path.

"All my love was down, in a frozen ground."

I feel as though the only connection left between us is through the existence of this blog. This virtual bridge is the only way that I can convey my feelings to you without you getting angry. You know, it kills me to see that this is the only way I can talk to you anymore. I can pretend that you come here and read sometimes and never respond. It's like you're listening. I suppose in this twisted way I still have a sister. The thought is somewhat reassuring sometimes, but I know that it's only denial. But pretending is the only way that I can still claim I have a sister.

Cattails

On the eve of summer
we would sit in wait
for the horizon to melt with night

We fashioned worn rags

and black, rubber boots
Our arsenal contained
a roped net and turquoise bucket 

The window, still dewed

and chilled from a slumber
Liquid gold
touched the tips of oak trees
And we knew

We did not run,
we frolicked
in celebration of the sun

She was left, I was right
She, the piece, I, the glue
Nothing quite as mighty as blood

And when night swallowed gold
street lights guided us home
We named every toad
and giggled and joked

Then I turned and uttered
for her to hold open her hand
I gingerly placed a brown cattail
in that small, muddy palm

She appeared baffled, so I said,
"This cylinder contains your dreams.
When you are ready, break it open.
Set them free."

And those round eyes lit up
brighter than that day's sun
"Now I don't ever have to worry.
Because they're all right here.
I'll never lose them."

Annabelle

He had seen her many times before in the stale bed of sheets that resembled a cloud. Her face, always gleaming with sweat, was round and pale. Tousled, dark hair fell over her petite shoulders and partially into her glowering green eyes. Her skin was that of paper, thin and fragile to the touch. It hurt him to see such harsh lines running from her fair skin to noisy machines. He wanted nothing more than to rip away those pesky lines and free her from her cage of bones. But he would never dare, for her very life force depended upon the function of those thin lines.

It was but a month ago that she was first admitted in such a disintegrated form. A month ago he had been a mechanical ghost, lost in a confusing world. At this weak point of his life, she taught him the ways she thought the world worked. He found her captivating and insightful, and as anemic as she was, she helped him lift the weights off his shoulders. They talked very often, conversing about books mostly. He brought her flowers daily because he loved the momentary light she showed on her ill face.

He knew the complications he created for her and himself, he knew the consequences of the predicted aftermath. He was meant to facilitate her healing, which he was of course still doing, and nothing more. But only a blind man would be able to avoid such a significant hold. He loved the warmth he had yearned for so long. It was easy to forget the complexity of the situation they had been thrown into because of the temporary illusion they had made for themselves.

“Oliver, please stay with me tonight. I’m so chilled and it’s so bright in this room.” Annabelle pleaded to him as he stared out the large, rectangular window into the black abyss. He turned and looked at the shadowy, thin figure on one of the beds. He had been off duty for some time now, but something in him had made him opt to stay a few more hours. By now the night shift was already in motion, and he knew that his replacement would check on Annabelle soon.

“Of course I’ll stay with you, I’d like nothing more.” He said, smiling. He watched as she carefully shifted to the right side of the bed. He climbed in on the left. She held his left hand in both of her frigid ones, tracing the creases of hard work with a bony finger.

“I wonder if death feels like this.” She murmured softly.

“Don’t speak of such things.” Oliver said in a hushed tone.

“Will you come see Paris with me some day?” She asked, her dull eyes looking up into Oliver’s iridescent blue ones.

“Yes, of course. We’ll need to know French first, however.” He chuckled.

Annabelle pondered for a moment.

“How long would that take?”

“If you have enough determination, not too long.”

Annabelle smiled to herself. She too had never experienced the warmth that came with companionship. Even through her frozen, brittle bones she could feel it like the radiant sun on her skin. She had grown fond of Oliver quickly in the beginning, for she had fancied his kindness and smile. But with time, she observed his hardships with society and eventually felt sympathy for him as well.

‘Don’t seek acceptance from others, you will only receive endless chagrin and emptiness. You need only to seek acceptance for yourself, and that is what really matters.’

‘And of my place?’ He had asked.

‘If you do not know you’re place in this world yet, you will with time. You will figure out what you were meant to do if you only have the patience to wait for the answer. I still do not know my place.’

“Listen, Annabelle. I have something for you but you don’t have to accept it.” Oliver said slowly. She could see that there was something off in the way that he acted on this night, and it worried her ceaselessly.

“What is it?” She asked softly, watching as he fished for something in his uniform pocket. She felt her heart explode from both joy and sadness as her blank eyes took in the shape of two silver bands.

“Oliver . . .” She began, but he gently took her bony left hand and placed the silver ring around her fourth finger and did the same to his own hand.

“I know,” He murmured, “I know that this is absurd, but I want to be married to you. You have shown me this life in a new light and you’re the kindest soul I have ever encountered.”

Annabelle couldn’t speak, so she nodded her head slowly. She viewed him in the same way. He understood her silent words, and they both rested their heads on the pillow.

It was a foggy image of two visions intermingling together. A healthy and beautiful young woman with an infant stood beside a strapping young man in front of a quaint little cottage. They stood with happiness strewn across their faces and silver bands on their fingers. The image was golden and glowing like an old film, replaying the same scene over and over. But the infant is no longer to be seen and the woman turns to the man and gives a peck on his cheek and squeezes his right hand. Horror strikes the man’s features and he tries to speak, but his voice does not exist. She gives him the kindest of smiles as her image begins to fade to nothing more than an apparition. As she finally fades to nothing, the scene turns from golden to blinding snow as the man’s name is repeatedly called from outside this realm.

“Oliver! Oliver!”

“What is it?” Oliver groaned as white turned to color. As he blinked sleep from his eyes, he looked about the now lighted room at several figures in coats that stood before him gaping and looking horrified. The closest standing by him was his fellow co-worker Winifred.

“Oliver, please come with me. Quickly.” Winifred pleaded her eyes huge and rimmed with plight. Fear struck Oliver. He was only supposed to stay a few hours with Annabelle, but he had fallen asleep.

Annabelle.

It was as if in slow motion. Each horrified face increased in horror as Oliver turned slowly to his right and set his shocked eyes on a very still Annabelle. He felt fooled only for a split second, telling himself she always slept with such stillness. And then the silence was disturbed with shrill yells. He wailed over her body, clutching her hand with the silver band. His face rushed with water as he gazed into that same peaceful face, waiting for life to spring back into it. The people around him tried to gently remove him from the lifeless body, telling him over and over that she was gone. But he didn't need to hear it aloud, he knew all along; from the moment that they had met that she was gone. From the moment he had read her illness and prognosis on his clipboard. Her whole life she was destined for this demise. She had been a girl controlled by the very bones that kept her captive- the very bones that raged its cancerous ways on her weak body.

By now Oliver was getting quite aggressive with fending off people who tried to remove him from Annabelle. So aggressive that two male doctors had to snatch him by the arms and drag him outside the room where his wails could still be heard. It caused quite the commotion, for heads popped out of nearby hospital rooms to observe what was going on. The two doctors kept their grasp on him while he struggled to get free. The head doctor was pacing back and forth in the hallway before them, his face etched with seriousness. He turned to Oliver.

“I don’t care to know why you formed such a relationship with a bone cancer patient. It’s foolish. You’re a nurse, you know what to expect in these situations and yet you still allowed it to happen.” He said, but then his face turned sympathetic. “I’m giving you three weeks to grieve, cope, whatever you have to do to get over this. Three weeks.”

Annabelle might not have known her place in the world, but Oliver did. She was sent to save him from this cruel life and himself, just as his place was to do the same for her. He didn't need three weeks to grieve. Later that night he fancied a rope around his neck to cope and joined Annabelle in the clouds. He had said he wanted to be married to Annabelle and he meant it, whether living or behind golden gates.

"Move dust through the light, to fide your name."

Ah, reflections. That point in a person's life where they must sit back in a stiff, old computer chair like myself and just remember, think. I do it too much for my own good, whether in writing or plain thought. Sometimes I wish that I could write actual pieces of literature rather than the sputtering of my ordinary, ridiculous life. I haven't written anything real in a long while. I'm sure it's one of those really bothersome and frustrating slumps that some writers experience once and a while. But one this long? Anyway, all of these recent entries in my blog haven't been submitted without great distress. I haven't been feeling well lately. Mentally, I mean. My head is fuzzy, dull, fatigued, weighed down. After years of practice, I've been quite good at subduing this pain to a dull hum. But other times it gets the best of me and before I know it I've let it escape and my chest begins to rip in half as if it's imploding. If I die from anything it'll be from Broken Heart Syndrome- a fitting disease for someone who is capable of feeling so much that they experience physical pain. Lucky me. Other people don't know that someone with a quality such as caring isn't all good. If you let it consume you too much, it controls you, and you end up worrying and having anxiety attacks until it exhausts the crap out of you. I wish I could worry about something simplistic. It always has to be complicated with me I guess. Sometimes I wish the circuits worked differently in my brain, so that I didn't have to worry or be sad about something all the time. And you know what? It wasn't until just now that I realized what I've been so sad about. I miss my baby sister. The one I went out to play in a snow storm with last year. I had to beg her just to come out with me. The one I constructed a robot costume out of foil with for three hours on Halloween. I miss longboarding with her and going to the mall with her. I miss being able to talk to her all the time about anything and she wouldn't get mad. I miss her hugs and her showing me the next amazing art project she made. I miss laughing with her and singing loudly with her like idiots. I miss exchanging new bands we've found. I miss going to the movies or just watching movies at home with her. I miss hanging out in my room with her and just talking and playing music on our computers. I miss taking pictures with her. I miss reminiscing with her. But the person who lives in that house with my parents is not my sister. She's someone else I don't recognize. She's rude and hateful to me, and she won't let me be her big sister. She snaps at me and pushes me away. She doesn't need me, she doesn't love me, she doesn't care about me. And knowing that it might always be this way hurts more than she will ever know.

A Question of Life

Is there more to life than the ordinary goals that every person strives for? I can try as hard I can to make my path unique and interesting, but it always, in some way, shape, or form, ends up heading into that direction of sameness. School, college, love, graduate, career, marriage, kids . . . is that all that I can hope for that is offered to me? I'm in no way complaining about this odd ordeal, I suppose that I'm just thinking aloud. I'm just wondering if that is all that is available for a person. If it wasn't, I wouldn't know what other options would be possible. I suppose that this cliche way is the only path that anyone knows.

It Starts With Genetics

Bonds are first genetically created. Whether humans choose to continue those bonds, improve them, or focus on them is all chosen when we grow to a mental state when we are aware of this decision. The point at which this state is achieved can happen at anytime in any person, some achieve it sooner and in others it may take some time. Sounds easy, right? However, there is a phase which usually occurs within the teenage years of human's life that may contort the reality of this decision and render them blind to their actual desires, if not controlled properly. And if left uncontrolled, there isn't much that person can do when that time has gone and passed. And the ending result I feel is worse when they finally realize this. This is how I define bonds, and I only hope that the wretched phase that plays puppeteer with your body will soon pass and you will see the light as I finally have.

Proceed

In a way, I encourage you to damage whatever is left between us. Because I am seeing something that I have been longing for a long while. I am becoming closer to them. It's unfortunate that I have to kick one relationship to the curb to establish a better one with them, but so be it. It's nice. Soon I will be an apparition of a memory to this "home." And in a few months, so will you. From there, I can see what will happen, a lot of what happens to an ordinary family. Family ties broken and thrown to the wind. But what matters is that they might finally have a chance at happiness. And me? I know I will.

And Havoc Strikes Again

You are trite, abhorrent, minuet, horrid, insignificant, despicable, lousy, wretched, nauseating, a hindrance, worthless, mediocre, pitiful, useless, abominable, disgraceful, shameful, immoral, two-bit, spineless, and hateful. You're a waste of human space and your love is only for yourself. You have manipulated the people who brought you into this world enough that they now cater to your every whim while you give nothing in return. And even more importantly than all of these unspeakable things that form your entity: you are a coward. The greatest coward ever to exist because you cannot accept the truth that you perform dishonorable deeds and treat people like scum. A once energetic, out and about, caring, and popular person now makes a filthy nest of waste on a couch and brainlessly watches garbage on the television while She cleans the filth you leave behind whenever you feel it necesarry to move your worthless form and He throws green paper with faces at you whenever you demand it. You're a lowlife.