Above all else.

End of Selfishness

In the end,
It was all my
Selfishness
That kept you imprisoned.

I know I was prone to
Flinging your feelings 'round
As if they were toys
And I but an angry child
Shattering
Smashing
Until all those emotions
Ceased to function in you.
They lay broken in
Tragically beautiful shards
Glistening in the light
But devoid of their life.
All because of
Selfishness.

To make the matters worse,
I had the glue to
Fix you and make you whole again,
And yet I simply walked away
To leave you to fix yourself.
No amount of apologies
Will ever make you whole.
But now I hope to try.

I admit I never treated
Your interests with the same care
I gave to my own.
Maybe it was my insecure fears
That prevented me from
Behaving properly,
Or perhaps it was that blasted
Selfishness
Playing me like an instrument
Over and over
Until the notes became real
And the truth became the notes.
All thanks to
Selfishness.

Gentle lyrics forever lost
Sweet truth shrouded in deception
Reality laced with darkness
Turning love into a quarrel of words
And turning me into a dreaded monster
That caused such pain and fear.
How could I ever forgive myself
For the creature I've become?
And how could you?
And could you?

I give honesty to the concept
That most of the fights were my instigation
Testing the water for limits
That I could not see,
But always pushing beyond those limits
When they were acheieved,
Just to see how far I could push.
Blatantly playing with fragile feelings
All because of my
Selfishness.

Even when you'd fire back at me
And I knowingly deserved every stab,
I'd hold it against you until
Apologies were rendered.
Apologies that I instead
Should have
Given
And not
Receieved.

But today I've decided to put
An end to all of my
Selfishness.
Today I've decided to take matters
Into my own shaking hands,
Throwing away the
Selfishness
That keeps me on this damned path.

Today I decided to give you
Every chance in the world that you
Never had with me,
A chance to live your life
Without the fear of
Shattering
To pieces;
A chance to live
The way you want to without
Someone always chiding
In the background;
A chance to live without
Hiding behind a shield
Because deep down you know
That I'm
Selfish.

Today is
The end of
Selfishness.

Some Morning Prose.

Gotta love randomly getting the blues.

Acting

Staring out the window expression blank
A mind trapped in a body lost in space
Drifting aimlessly in a sea of thoughts.

Waterfalls forming.
The clouds are greying.

Everyone around her has their happiness
Everyone around her has their joy.
But where is hers?

Has it vanished into the depths of the soul
That inhabits her fragile form?

Did she accidentally let it fall away
Unable to catch it before it fell down the chasm,
Never to return?

A gifted actress this young girl has become.
Plastering makeup smiles written in
False-colored lipsticks.
Painting enthusiasm in her gentle green globes
Tinting them with tons of eyeshadow
Drawing pseudo-happiness in mascara on her lashes.
Blushing her cheeks pink with artistic laughter
That is simply all for show.

She memorized her lines to perform
A set of lyrics inked in blue
With all the truths scratched out in red
Never to be seen by the ones she loves the most.

Because nobody needs to know it's all for show.

Putting on her ratty dancing shoes,
She looks out towards the stage
Preparing for another fantastic performance
That'll leave everyone applauding,

Cheering for a poser,
A liar,
A fake.

She spins and twirls gracefully,
Each movement manipulated so she can avoid
The oceans of sorrow drowning her slowly
The flames of jealously burning her relentless.

How is it possible that fire and water
Have teamed together to cause this distress?
Has life just turned this far against her
That dueling elements drop their quarrels
Just to cause her this?

Dangling and dancing,
Beautiful puppet
All dolled up in her finery...

Performing her dance of lies...

Reading a poem of deceit...

Never will they know her true feelings.

She's just acting,
And it's all for the show.

Story Piece: Bane of Devastation.

As I've not gotten this far into The Bane of Devastation quite yet, this story piece will be stored here until I get to where I plan to put it.

Bane of Devastation: We're in This Together, Now

He was walking alone towards the docks, his hands buried deep in his pockets. His eyes were directed downward, watching his feet as they trudged along the ground. He was tired and a little bit buzzed from having spent the evening at the inn, and his focus was on everything but his surroundings. Well, no. They were on the mysterious person that kept raiding his ship at night. He had turned the woman into the authorities when he finally captured her in his trap, but he wasn't convinced that they could keep her. She was small, yes, but she was strong and vicious. She had threatened him with swords on more than one occasion and had easily broken away anytime he put his hands on her. She was like a serpent -- slippery and deadly.

But also intriguing. But he knew better than to play with a serpent, so he decided to stop thinking about it. He had several trade runs to make in the morning, else his boss would be upset. Although it was strange that his boss would be upset with him -- he was, after all, the best trader they had. He always made it before or right on time, having absolutely no tardies to his name. His only problem was lately that strange woman had been raiding some of his hold...

There I go thinking about her again, he thought to himself, shaking his head as if he could toss the thoughts out of his head. Is it possible that I have a...

"No," he said aloud. "Impossible." Surely he didn't have a puppy-love crush on that venomous vixen. Besides that, he already had a woman to call his own. A control freak of a woman who insisted on knowing where he went every time he left for sea. An extremely possessive woman who yelled and screamed and threw things at him if he ever came home late. He rolled up one of his sleeves and gingerly touched the large scrape on his forearm. She had caused that, he thought to himself with a scowl crossing his weary face.


"You're never here when I say you should be," she had screamed. "You're lucky that I love you, else you wouldn't have a bed to call your own at night!"


He blinked slowly, robotically. He knew that was meant to be a threat, but it... it just wasn't. She had grabbed a vase and threw it at him with a great violence, and he had brought his arms up to his face defensively. The vase struck his arms and shattered, a large piece of shrapnel causing the scrape that he was now slowly rubbing. He had remembered looking at her with a confused and wounded expression as he gripped the bleeding wound, but she had pointed to the door and insisted he find another place to stay that night. And he had pathetically submitted and did as he was told, sleeping on a ship and crawling back to her the next day, begging for forgiveness.

But why? Was he just that afraid of being alone in the world? So terrified of singlehood that he allowed himself to be continuously abused by someone that his heart resented? His gentle eyes looked down at the ground again and threatened to water, and he growled at himself quietly for his weakness.

He didn't have long to dwell. A faint sound hit his ears, and he immediately jerked his head up and looked around. It was a strange sound -- a creaking, cracking noise. He couldn't say he'd ever heard such a thing before. He blinked when he realized the nighttime world around him had become strangely hazy, the air coated with a thick, heavy fog that held a very strange hue. It was a dark blackish red haze that felt nearly hot on his skin. His eyes widened with terror as he became aware of what was going on. He began running now, trying desperately to get to the safety of his ship as the cracking and creaking grew louder in his ears.

As he arrived to the docks a shadow leapt down before him, causing him to yelp and scramble backwards. He was greeted by a pair of hovering blue flames. His own eyes widened even more as he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. The flames entered the light of a torch, revealing the flames to be in the empty eye sockets of a six-foot tall skeleton wielding a rusty, bloodied long sword. The skeleton looked down at him and smiled wickedly with its fiery eyes, slowly moving its skinless arm to point its blade at him.

His heart was racing so fast he was afraid it was about to explode. He dug his nails into the ground and scrambled backwards even faster, hearing nothing but the heavy pounding of his terrified heart in his ears. His breath was so shallow it was as if he were getting no oxygen at all -- he was strangling himself with his own fear.

The skeleton spoke in a dark, twisted, warbling voice. "Perhaps ye know where the Medallion is?"

"I... I know... no-nothing," the young man stammered in response, still clawing his way backwards. He suddenly bumped into something and looked up to see another skeleton looking down at him with the same dead, fiery eyes.

"Then we have no use for ye," the second skeleton spoke simply, "except for a new recruit."

The young man closed his eyes tight and attempted to curl up, but found bony, clawlike nails digging into his throat. He found himself effortlessly thrust upward to his feet. The claws dug in, and he felt his pulse vibrating against the bones that held him. He swore he felt himself bleeding.

Suddenly a dagger flew through the haze and sheared the bony arm of the young man's captor off. He fell to his knees clutching his throat, afraid he may be bleeding. His eyes darted around frantically, looking for who had come to his aid. He spied a rather small figure draped in a black cloak standing up in the trees nearby.

Could it be...?

The figure jumped down from the trees and stood wordlessly where it landed a few yards away. The skeletons turned towards it, abandoning their harrassment of the frightened young man.

"Who are ye?" One of the skeletons asked in an ominous voice.

The figure took a few steps forward towards the skeletons, still saying nothing. He wondered if he were maybe having some kind of alcohol-induced nightmare and he would soon awaken in his bed, shaking with fright but laughing at himself for being so afraid of his imagination. He had let go of his throat and was simply sitting on the ground, watching the scene unfold.

"We'll ask again," the second skeleton threatened. "Who are ye?"

The cloaked figure suddenly extended its left arm, a strange purple glow emanating from its palm.

He leaned forward a little, curious as to what he was seeing. He knew magic didn't exist... so how was that person creating that light? An alchemy trick? Furthermore, was that person a friend or foe? Perhaps he should get to his feet and run away.

The cloaked figure suddenly tossed the purple light into the air and caught it, its whole body suddenly erupting into a great amethyst flame. The figure reached to its side and grabbed what looked like a saber. Suddenly the blade of the saber transformed into a grand purple flame. His eyes were wide with shock. Was that figure a... demon?

The figure leapt forward, firing a small orb of purple light at one of the skeletons. Immediately the skeleton began to contract, quake, and pulsate in a manner that was both frightening and morbidly curious. Suddenly it exploded into a million bone shards, all except for its skull. The cloaked figure grabbed the skull and held it out for the other skeleton to see.

"You're next," the figure spoke to the other skeleton in a voice that was feminine... and strangely familiar to the young man.

"Ye saved us the trouble of tracking ye down," the other skeleton replied in a strange air of calmness. "Surrender the Medallion an' perhaps ye'll be spared."

The figure scoffed, launching forward with its amethyst-colored flame sword drawn. It crossed blades with the skeleton, and a fierce swordfight ensued. The young man watched in awe and shock, still not quite sure he was fully awake. He slowly rose to his feet yet didn't retreat into the night as he had planned. It seemed the cloaked figure was on his side.

The skeleton's sword was knocked away from it, and the cloaked figure stepped forward ominously, its left hand alight with a purple light. "Now to send you back to the hell from whence you came," the cloaked figure spoke gently. It launched another ball of light from its hand, firing directly towards the skeleton.

The skeleton, instead of curling up defensively, grabbed the young man and turned him into a human shield. The blast of purple light slammed into the frightened human, turning his vision completely purple. He suddenly felt as if he were levitating above the ground, and, to his distress, discovered that he was. The cloaked figure was looking up at him, as was the skeleton. His body felt a great force causing him to quiver and pulsate horridly, and he wondered if he were about to explode like the first skeleton had. Suddenly there was a feeling as if something were reaching through his chest and his ribs, clutching his heart with a horrible violence. His eyes began to roll backwards and he felt his life ebbing away. But as quickly as that feeling came, he felt a great surge of strength and energy rush into his body. His hands were suddenly alight with the same purple flames as the cloaked figure.

The skeleton had turned its attention away from the levitating young man and instead launched a vicious assault on the cloaked figure, knocking it to the ground. It grabbed one of the figure's daggers and held it up above its head, preparing to strike the final blow.

The young man stared at his hands. He looked at the skeleton, seeing it suddenly as a blue-colored object. The cloaked figure was a dark purple, and the rest of the world was simply grey. For a reason he wasn't sure of, he could sense that purple-colored objects were allies and blue-colored objects were enemies. Something very strange had just occurred to him, and he had a feeling that his life would never be the same. His heart and mind were telling him he had to do something to save the cloaked figure. He looked back at his hands and yelped softly as a purple orb of light formed in the palm of his right hand. He stared at the skeleton, his eyes wide as it was beginning to slash the dagger downward.

The young man growled softly to himself and involuntarily threw his right hand forward, launching the orb at the skeleton. His eyes widened as his strike made contact and the skeleton stumbled backwards, quaking and pulsating in that sickly curious manner as the first one had. It exploded into shards, all for the skull. The skull launched itself at the young man, who found himself catching it despite himself. He slowly lowered back to the ground and his vision returned to its normal state. A great surge of strength rushed out of his body, and he felt light-headed and weak. He stumbled and staggered, falling to his knees.

The cloaked figure easily caught him before he made it that far. The figure very gently lowered him to a sitting position on the ground and sat in front of him, gently stroking the side of his face with its hand. Despite his uncertainty of this person's intentions, he felt comforted and leaned his face somewhat against the figure's hand.

"Are you okay?" The figure asked. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to strike you."

"Who... who are you?" He asked instead.

The figure grabbed the hood of its cloak and removed it. A pair of large but gentle dark green eyes met his own blue ones. The face was small, pale, and its features were delicate. The hair was long, pulled back into a ponytail, and was the color of blood. He recognized her as the woman from his ship.

"You... it... it's you," he gasped, pointing a trembling finger at her. "From... from my... my ship."

She gently placed a finger against his lips, quieting him. "Shh. You're weak."

He turned his head away, not done talking. "Who... are you?"

"My name is Luca," she said, finally introducing herself. "You are?"

"Phil," he replied. "Why were... why were you... always stealing stuff..."

Luca smiled at him. "Hush, Phil. You need to rest and regain your strength." She rose to her feet, offering her hand to him. "Where do you call home? I'll help you get there."

He weakly looked up at her. The woman who had been so nasty and mean to him had such a strong change of heart. What did she want? "Why... are you... are you being so... nice... to me?"

"Because, Phil," her smile turned into a sad expression. "We're in this together now."

"In what?"

"I'll explain it when you've recovered," she explained. "To say the least, Phil... you're a miracle."

"Why?"

"I already told you -- I'll explain when you're better." She reached her hand toward him again. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere safe so you can rest."

He looked at her hand and then at her. Something told him to trust her. Weakly, he nodded his head and took her hand, awkwardly rising to his feet. He was unsteady and woozy, hardly able to stand on his own. Luca gently wrapped an arm around his waist -- she was significantly shorter than he -- and held onto him tightly. Despite himself, he found himself leaning against her.

"Thank you," he murmured weakly.

"No problem," she replied. "Remember. We're in this together now."

He was quiet a moment, and then nodded again. "You're right, Luca. We are."

Slowly and carefully, the two made their way towards the ship Phil was planning to spend his night on.

A Depressed Vent.

Sometimes I feel so alone in the world.

I'm always the third wheel in social gatherings. That damn, damn awkward third wheel. The one no one wants to be. That's me.

When I hear my sister go on about how her friends and her are all so tight... that they call themselves a family...

When I hear my boyfriend go on about his friends and all their escapades and fun times...

I smile and I laugh at their stories, and I feel glad that they have such happy times in their lives.

But at the same time, I hurt inside. It feels like another dagger gets pushed into my heart, and another piece of my soul seems to die. I feel... so alone.

Sometimes I just want to scream, "Shut up! How can you be so insensitive!"

And then I realize it's not their fault. It's mine. But then again, I can't make my own friends. My friends either turn around and desert me, stab me in the back, or otherwise don't care for me unless it benefits them. It's not like I don't try... I just always end up alone in the end. The "friends" I have are people I know through my sister or my boyfriend, and those "friends" don't give me the time of day unless either my sister or my boyfriend are present. The rest of the time? I'm nobody. I don't exist. I don't count as a person.

I guess being alone was always how I was intended to be.

Tonight I watched my sister flirting with a crush of hers. And watched him flirt back. And I felt vulgar for being there... as if I didn't belong. While we were all out, I hung back a few feet and found myself completely ignored. Completely unneeded. I kinda stared down at my shoes and decided to put on the pseudo-hyper Dani act, not wanting anyone to notice that I knew I didn't belong.

I don't feel needed, whether it's my sister or my boyfriend. Both of them have other people they can turn to if they don't want to tolerate me. Who do I have when I wind up in the same situation?

...Myself, and that's it.

My boyfriend had something wrong with him tonight, and he absolutely refused to tell me what it was. I guess I wasn't worthy of knowing. When I pressed for an answer, he simply disappeared. I came home and, upon realizing this, wanted to cry. Instead I threw myself into emotional eating until I was nearly sick to my stomach, and then I decided I needed a distraction. Asked my sister if she wanted to go buy a present for our dad together.

But it's hard to spend time with someone who is always texting other people at the same time.

My sister and her friends are planning to throw a "formal" gathering sometime soon. Apparently they're planning to invite dates. If it winds up where people are bringing dates, I'm refusing to go. I'd rather be alone without having a roomful of people reminding me just how fucking alone I really am. The very concept of having to sit there and put on a fake happy face and pretend I don't feel lonely... that I don't hurt... it shatters me in a way I didn't expect it would.

I had to leave my sister and claim I was tired so I could come lay in my bed and cry. And cry I have throughout this entire entry. And I will probably continue the tears until I have cried myself into an awkward sleep.

Sometimes I wish I could be the one with people always texting me, like my sister is. Sometimes I wish I could be the one everyone wants to spend time with, like my boyfriend is. Sometimes I wish I wasn't simply a "package deal" with someone else. I understand that the gesture is to keep me from feeling left out, but in the end it feels like I'm getting nothing but pity invites and pity "friends." You know, pity invites because whoever I'm "packaged" with doesn't want me to feel completely left out; so-called friends who only get to "know" me because my "package partner" forces them to do so.

What's wrong with me? Why don't people want to spend time with me? Why don't people text me at random times? Why don't people fall at my feet, begging me to do stuff with them? Am I not important... am I not special?

I don't feel loved. I say "I love you" to people and they don't care to reply.

I don't feel wanted. I'm expendable. If something or someone more fun comes around, I can simply be pushed to the back burner. After all, my life revolves around waiting for people to notice me, so I'll always be around. Pathetically waiting like some kind of lost puppy.

I don't feel needed. I'm replacable. I've woken up several times to find plans that I thought were meant to go one way being cancelled or changed without my knowledge... I guess because my opinion truly doesn't count. Maybe this is something I just need to accept.

I want to feel loved. I want to feel wanted. I want to feel needed. I want to feel special. I want to feel worth something. For once I want to be someone's main priority, not just an after-thought.

I feel so alone in the world lately, and everything about me is in ruins. I used to think I was strong and resilient... that I could tolerate a high amount of pain...

But I've either grown weak, or I've taken too much. The pain in my heart and soul has become so immense that I'm slowly losing my spark for life. I'm slowly slipping into a state of daylong naps just so I don't have to deal with myself... And so others don't have to worry about pity-inviting me along to places. They have better things to do with their time than focus on me.

I'm going to crawl back into my lonely little hole. It seems that this barren little wasteland is the only place I belong in the world.

Kind of sucks, but I guess someone had to be alone.

Too bad it has to be me.

No matter how you look at it, I'm alone.

But at least it's me that's suffering and not someone I care for.

There's always that, I suppose.

Consider Me Gone.

I won't come around again.

You depress me with your silence.

You break my heart with your lack of concern or consideration.

I feel like an idiot for spending the weekend wondering what I did to you. You've got no further interest in me and my life -- your silence and distance tells the truth, even when you're unwilling.

I feel stupid for nearly texting you over the night when I was suffering all that pain. It's obvious that you don't care. I promise you won't be receiving anymore updates about my health in the future. Even if I wind up going to the emergency room, dying on the floor... there will be no more updates. I'll stop wasting your time and my money with an unnecessary effort.

I'm the world's biggest idiot because I let myself become convinced everything is my fault and that I'm the one to blame. Well, goddamnit, I'm not falling for the crap anymore. Everything is NOT my fault, and I'm NOT to blame for everything. I'm tired of apologizing for stuff I shouldn't have to apologize for, and I'm tired of licking and kissing the toes of someone who doesn't give a damn about me and my life.

I'm the world's biggest idiot because I let myself believe you actually cared for me. I see it now -- you don't. The past four days have solidified my fear and given it credibility. If you don't want to care about my life, I won't be around for you to not care about. It's as simple as that. I'll shift my attention towards the people who actually DO care about me; the people who actually DO want me around. People who actually DO worry about my health and well-being. People I DON'T have to apologize to every other day. People who DON'T consider me abusive and nasty.

Fuck it. I'm not letting my heart get stepped on again. Go find yourself another stupid person to emotionally ruin and destroy, because you aren't ruining me ever again.

Consider me gone.

Have a nice life.

For the Last Time.

Sometimes you can't hold onto things forever.

Especially when your holding on hurts someone else, repeatedly and relentlessly.

It's past the time for me to stop thinking about myself and start thinking about the other people around me. I've been far too selfish for far too long, and it's caused me to cause a massive amount of misery, pain, turmoil, and grief to someone who doesn't deserve it. Well, I've decided that I'm not going to do it anymore. Again. Ever.

I've been immature, thoughtless, cold, abrasive, selfish, and wrong. About everything. And it's all simply because things weren't going my way.

And, to be honest, they probably never will.

As it turns out, I'm the solitary reason that the daily fights ensued. I was always the one starting things, because I just couldn't simply be happy. No, I had to always find something to complain about. Something to be stupidly angry over. Even if I had to pull something out from a day, week, or month ago. I just couldn't be happy. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. I just couldn't be a good partner.

I couldn't find hobbies that were acceptable. I couldn't make friends that were acceptable. My activities and friends were the source of multitudes of arguments. And then I turned around and couldn't be accepting of his hobbies and friends, and his were better than mine. I let my jealousy and lack of ability to make anything decent out of myself overtake my common sense, and I became hostile and cruel.

I know now that there's a reason he told me that he had more fun with his friends than he did with me... and it's because anyone would be more fun than a selfish, self-centered brat like me. I used to be angry at the statement, but now I see its truthfulness and validity staring me square in the face. And I can't be angry at honesty.

The whole thing boils down to me being in the wrong no matter which way I turned. I was always slamming things in his face, rubbing his nose in mistakes he never made, shoving statements and accusations down his throat. Everything I said I wouldn't do to someone. It's a wonder to me that he didn't just tell me to fuck off and die in a fire, because I would've told someone abusing me so harshly to do just that. And deep down I know I should do just that. Go fuck off and die in a fire.

I sometimes wish I could do just that. Lay in my room and be engulfed in flames. God knows I'd deserve every ounce of pain that I felt. Or maybe I should force myself to face my fear of drowning. I'd deserve every bit of fear that rushed through my body. I should be beaten within an inch of my life, so that maybe I'd suffer enough brain damage that I'd never be able to think clearly enough to start a fight ever again. So that all I could do was lay in a bed, wasting space like the horrible failure I truly am. Wasting away in a hospital somewhere, locked away from the world so that I can't cause anymore grief. If only I could.

The fact of the matter is, I am incapable of love. I'm incapable of being a good, loving, caring, selfless partner. I'm selfish and refused to give up the source of all the fighting. I allowed my greed to overwhelm me. I thought I could have it all, and now I'm having to see that I can't. And I won't.

So I apologize to him, for all of the turmoil I put him through. All the times I hurt him. All the times I brought him near or to tears. All the times that I verbally assaulted him unprovoked and just because I felt like it. I apologize to him that I was so jealous and greedy for his time that I couldn't make myself like a single thing he did that didn't or couldn't involve me. I knew that if I ever were to produce an ultimatum: pick your hobbies or pick me... I wouldn't be chosen. Well now I'm going to make it so that he doesn't have to choose. He can keep his hobbies, his friends, and his life. He deserves to. He deserves to be happy.

He'll never have to worry about me starting another fight with him for no reason. He'll never have to fear me again. He'll never have to waste his time, energy, and life on me ever again. He can have all the fun he wants and rightfully deserves, and he'll never have to be burdened with the thought that I'm lurking in the shadows, waiting to ruin his day. Because that's all I ever did. His friends won't have to hear about the constant abuse he suffered at the hands of the person who was supposed to protect and respect him. They won't have to hate me -- they can laugh about how stupid I was instead. They can all celebrate my exit from the picture.

I've ruined his life for the last time.

Another Post That'll Go Unread.

Here I go again, writing up something that won't be read by anyone but me. Oh well, at least I'm getting it off my chest.

Today I get to debut my makeover to my family. And while there's a slight bit of excitement brewing in me, there's also a bit of resentment boiling about as well. It's a very crushing blow to one's ego when you get excited about showing somebody something and they either (1) tell you they care and then really don't, (2) get your hopes up that they're as pleased about it as you are and then crash you down, or (3) continuously create reasons as to not bother seeing it. Self-esteem gets knocked down another level, yay.

I did invest a lot of time, money, and energy in this entire thing... and it's been a big upset that my enthusiasm was so squashed. I guess this is why I should never get excited about anything... lesson learned.

Another thing I need to do is take a permanent vow of silence, and just never speak again. Apparently I can't say anything without upsetting somebody, and I'm tired of all the drama that comes with me opening my face. I seriously need to surgically detach my foot and shove it down my throat and sew my mouth shut, because that's all I ever seem to do.

I also need to learn to let things go. It's difficult to hold a conversation with someone the morning after a fight for me. Mainly because I'm selfish and mean and want that person to suffer for hurting or upsetting me. I want them to know that I've been wounded and that I'm angry over it. I've learned to stop waiting for apologies because they never come and it winds up becoming another disappointment on an ever-expanding list. Then again, maybe I don't deserve the respect of an apology... I apparently don't deserve the respect of a mature, adult conversation that settles the dispute and closes the case, so to speak, so why should I think I deserve any apologies, either? If I'd get a conversation (that I DON'T have to instigate myself) or an apology, I'd be more willing to let go of grudges and move on. But since I never get either, I hold on to every petty thing. I guess I'm a true female after all.

But here's something that I don't understand. (And probably never will.) I wind up being left behind. A lot. And apparently I'm not meant to have someone to go to when I begin to get lonely. Apparently I'm meant to be deserted and meant to tolerate the isolation and loneliness on my own, and then sit there and listen to all the great, fun times that I miss out on. And apparently I'm meant to smile and enjoy every minute of it.

Instead, I have broken the rule. I have a best friend that I spend a lot of time with. A best friend who calls me every single day, without me ever having to ask, beg, or otherwise plead. A best friend who, while he annoys the living crap out of me, genuinely cares about me and genuinely wants to spend time with me. A best friend who actually enjoys some of the same hobbies that I do (video games and idiotic YouTube videos). A best friend who has a lot of inside jokes with me because of all the amounts of time we spend together. A best friend who actually notices when I'm not around, and misses me (and isn't ashamed to tell me so!). A best friend who actually makes me feel like I'm worth something.

Yes, I am very close to him -- we were a "couple" for a while at one point in time. Yes, I love him dearly and would hate it if anything were to happen to him. Yes, I don't know what I'd do with myself if I ever lost him. Yes, I talk about him a lot -- but not anywhere near as much as I could. Why do I talk about him so much? Because he and I spend time together. Quality time together where we both are paying equal attention to each other rather than me being drowned out in thirty-thousand other conversations and activities. I talk a lot about anyone who I spend a ton of time with... it's just how I am. Is it sad that I talk more about my best friend than my own boyfriend? Yes, it really is. But you know what... there's nothing I can do about it.

I'm sorry that I naturally gravitate towards people who actually want to give me time and attention.

...

Actually, no. I'm not sorry about it. I shouldn't have to apologize for finding another outlet to fulfill a need of mine that would otherwise go neglected if I didn't. So no. I'm not going to apologize about it.

As sad (and harsh) as it sounds, if I had to choose between the two, I would probably choose my best friend. Not because I feel a romantic attraction to him (I consider him as a brother), but because I know that if I chose against him, I'd spend a lot of time alone... and I'm not a solitary person. I would rather be single and have a best friend who loves to spend time with me than ever be in a relationship where I was constantly left behind and then forced to listen to retellings of "amazingly awesome and fun!" things that I'm not a part of. If I didn't have my best friend, I'd lose my mind.

I'm tired of feeling like the bad guy for spending my time with someone who actually cares and wants to spend time with me. I really am.

I love it when people show their true colors. Especially when it opens my eyes and shows that I've been falling for a lie.

I also love it when people turn into fucking cowards and run away. How pathetic, can't even man up and hold a conversation? Instead you gotta run away and hide under your silly little covers like that's going to make it all go away? Lemme tell you something, little kid: It don't fucking work that way with me.

I fucking hate the Ostrich Theory. "Oh, if I stick my head up my ass and ignore the whole situation, then it'll go away." Uh, no. It doesn't fucking work that way. You wanna stick your head in the sand and ignore me because what I have to say isn't what you want to hear at the time, yet you expect me to give you all the attention in the world when something's bothering you? Let me break this to you, too, because apparently you're wearing some seriously rose-tinted glasses: The. World. Does. NOT. Revolve. Around. You.

And if you're expecting me to cater to a selfish little child, think the fuck again. I'm looking for an equal partnership, I'm not looking to babysit an immature, selfish, tempermental child. If I wanted to babysit a child, I'd go work at a fucking daycare. You know, where little children are supposed to be. You think you're grown up -- Grown ups don't fucking run away from a discussion. Grown ups don't put their fingers in their ears and scream "Lalalala!" until the other person gets tired of it and gives up trying. Grown ups actually have an actual interest in the lives of their partners... that, or they admit to that person that things are done and they don't give a shit. Which one are you? If you don't give a shit anymore then fucking tell me to my face so I'll back the fuck off and stop wasting my breath revealing my hopes and dreams to a goddamn brick wall. Okay? Thanks.

You know what I have a knack for? Finding selfish workaholics who could honestly care less what I have to say or how I feel at any given time. People who simply want me around when it's convenient for them and wouldn't care less if I fell off the fucking planet the rest of the time. In fact, they'd probably like it if I fell off the face of the earth because then they wouldn't have to sacrifice any of their precious time on me. And what's so fucking hilarious to me is that when I finally get tired of their shit and actually start to grow a spine and decide I want to find something better, they whine and cry and pitch their little baby fits of "Please don't go, I love you!"

...Love? This is how you show love? Wow, I'd hate to see how you show your hatred.

You know what I also have? Staircase Syndrome. I admit it. I let people take advantage of me, emotionally rape the shit out of me on a daily basis, beat me down mentally/emotionally, and otherwise manipulate me into staying trapped in a situation that's ultimate going to destroy my self-esteem, self-respect, and self-confidence. I try so fucking hard to make everyone happy that I'm essentially going to commit emotional suicide. I've already committed mental suicide, having to force myself to "dumb down" for the benefit of people who can't understand my supposedly "advanced" vocabulary and logic... Apparently killing myself emotionally isn't going to be any big loss to anyone, either. I should've guessed that my emotions never meant shit to anyone. I was such an idiot for ever falling for that lie. Nobody's going to care about me except for myself and my family.
But whatever.

What sucks about me is how badly I've let all of this get to me. I relapsed back into getting stoned "recreationally" because it's the only thing that makes me forget about this horrible misery I put up with. I get so angry and/or depressed at the end of each evening, after another stupid round of fighting, that I resort to blasting my brains out with medications so I don't have to feel like shit all night. So I won't cry again. So I won't get tempted to hang myself by the throat with a fucking headset cord. So I won't punch the walls until my knuckles bleed. So I won't scream and sob into a pillow until I suffocate into unconsciousness. I don't go around getting blasted because it's fun... I go around getting blasted because it numbs the heartache and pain I suffer on a daily fucking basis.

Heartache and pain that comes from catering to the whims of someone who probably wouldn't know how to react if he was ever treated the way he treats me. Then again, he'd probably just fucking run away if I ever tried. But what can you do... there isn't any point trying to help a coward who refuses to see that he's wrong.

You know how I see it? You want to go around doing dangerous shit and not care that I don't like it -- fine. I'm going to go around doing dangerous shit and not care that you don't like it as well. Fair is fair... get over it.

And if you can't get over it... you know where the door is. I'm not going to change my ways because it's more than obvious that you aren't going to change yours. Relationships are fucking compromise -- give and take -- and you're NOT willing to play. So I officially refuse to play, too.

All I wanted was for you to actually show an interest in my life. Even if you fucking faked it for my benefit. But nope. You couldn't be assed. It was apparently far too much work for you to bother doing. So instead you shoved another dagger in my heart and twisted it around. I hope that you enjoy twisting those daggers around, I really do. But don't think that you're going to get to get away with it forever... because, whether you've bothered to notice it or not, I'm rapidly getting tired of trying to get through to you. Apparently you don't want anyone to get through to you, and I oughta just give up.

Don't ever expect me to tell you about my dreams ever again. Don't ever expect me to ask for your opinion on any decisions I've been mulling over -- in fact, don't ever expect me to go so far as to even fucking mentioning them ever again. Don't ever expect me to tell you about my day anymore. I'm not going to waste my energy and your precious and valuable time on something so worthless and boring to you. So do yourself a happy little victory dance...

You won! Congratulations! Go out and celebrate with all your friends -- apparently you have more fun with them than you do me, anyway! You even said that yourself, to my face!

(So don't even dare try to deny that you did.)

Go out and spend your time with the people you actually give a shit about, because you sure as hell don't give a shit about me. Actually, no, I take that back -- you give half a shit about me when it's convenient for you. When you're bored and apparently your real friends aren't around... only then am I worth something to you. And even then you can't even part from your precious other hobbies long enough to talk to me.

I really have to ask: Why do you bother keeping me around? You obviously have much better things to do with your life. You obviously don't need me -- and barely seem to want me -- so why bother?

The funny thing is... if I were to disappear tomorrow, it wouldn't affect you. You'd still go out with your friends and have a kickass time doing whatever the fuck it is you and your more-important friends do. You wouldn't even bother wasting the time thinking about me. You like to tell me that it would bother you immensely and tragically depress you... but it wouldn't be immense or tragic enough to ever tear you away from your social affairs. Yeah, that's definitely proving how much I mean to you. But you know what? That's okay. That's absolutely okay. Who am I to tear someone away from their real love? I know I'm just a fake love... it's taken a lot of time to come to grips with that fact, but I finally have. I'm just a fake love. Probably a temporary one, too. But hey... I don't have to be worth anything to anybody. I'm fine being a complete waste of space... I spent my entire teenage life as one... why should I ever think it would change now that I'm 21?

Anyway, enjoy your victory celebration. You finally managed to make me realize I need to shut up about my life -- my hopes, dreams, aspirations, desires, etc. You finally got the bitch to shut her mouth.

Congratulations -- You broke the spirit that I thought was unbreakable. Way to go... you definitely should be patting yourself on the back right now. You managed to do the impossible.

Congratulations on a job well done.

My White Flag.

I surrender.

I should never have expected a serious discussion to occur. Once again I find myself being given another promise that wasn't kept. I'm going to get another excuse in return. Or I'll be given nothing. Fucking ostrich theory.

Goddamn this. Goddamn this all.

I'm taking what's left of my sanity, my dignity, and my heart. I'm taking it, locking it away, and never giving it away ever again. Fuck this, having my heart stomped on and broken on a repeated basis. Fuck it.

This is my white flag.

I'm done.

Trying to Gather My Thoughts.

So it seems that the latest belief is that I can turn off my feelings whenever I want. Apparently, the latest story is that I don't want you around.

How backwards.

If I recall correctly, I'm the one always begging for more time together. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm usually the one who cries over the lack of time we spend together. It strikes me as a little odd -- and rather hurtful, actually -- that I would be accused of being the one who wants the distance.

Yes, it was true that I wanted my distance over the weekend. I was angry over the weekend at having been left alone for an entire week. I was angry and I didn't want to have anything to do with you then because I wanted you to know I was upset. What I'm getting out of all of this is that I'm not allowed to be angry... that if I'm angry, I immediately have left you for dead.

If only it were that easy.

The truth of the matter is, I have no control over my feelings. If they decide I want to be upset, then I'll be upset. If they decide I'm going to boil over and erupt, then that's what'll happen. However, the one thing I know for sure about my feelings is that they take longer than a week for me to change my opinion on a situation. And I've had months of feeling dejected, ignored, and otherwise isolated to motivate me to change my way. Remember when I was the one always trying to get you to say "I love you" to me, and how you brushed my feelings off? How you absolutely refused to say it back?

It hurts when the one you love rejects you, doesn't it? Maybe now you understand a little bit better.

I've watched these tides turn for months now. Anytime we're together it's nothing but a ticking time bomb to see who explodes first. Who deals the first blow. Who can hurt the other one the hardest; who can make the other one angry/frustrated/upset enough to cry first. And there's no way you'll ever convince me that a happy partnership runs this way... I'll never believe it. Sure, we have a day or two where things are great and fun, like they used to be...

But I've said it before and I'll say it again: One or two days of contentment do not make up for five or six days of hurt and anger.

Another thing that has irked me is how everyone is so willing to tell me that I can't make a single decision on my own. I'm sorry, I mean a single right decision on my own. Everyone is convinced that my decisions are immediately wrong, especially when my decisions don't fit what any given person wants out of me. So what have I become -- some kind of puppet who has to please everyone but herself? When will any of my decisions be "good" or "right," when I give up my free will and free thinking just to shut up the masses? Is that what everyone wants out of me, to be a mindless follower? I hate to break it to you, but that gets very old, very fast.

So yesterday I made the decision to get back on my medications. Yesterday I went out and bought some clothes that actually fit. Apparently me making a few positive changes for myself has delivered the message of "Go the hell away."

Uh? Confused I am.

I was wearing clothes that were two sizes too big and were practically trying to fall off me. I wanted to get some clothes that actually flattered the figure I'm attempting to have for the first time in my entire life. I'm a female... I'm supposed to want to show off my figure. And when I finally have this epiphany, and I finally start behaving like an actual girl... I'm moving on? Please, please explain the logic to me, because no matter how many times I've pondered over this I just can't make myself understand.

Besides this, if I had moved on like you're so willing to believe I have, I wouldn't be wasting my time with this entry. I wouldn't be bothering to talk to you when you beckon. You would know that I moved on. And it strikes a nerve, a pet peeve of mine if you will, that you are so readily willing and able to accuse me of this. One of my biggest pet peeves is having someone putting words in my mouth, and you've not only put words down my throat, but you've also tried to impress feelings on me as well. A word to the wise: I highly recommend that that behavior comes to an end, quickly.

So let me ask you a set of questions...

1. If I continuously disappeared without letting you know where I was going and for how long, how long would you put up with it before you grew tired of it?

2. If I made frequent promises that I wound up not keeping, how long would you tolerate it before you began to think I didn't care about your feelings?

3. If I said one thing and then turned around and did something completely contradictory to that statement, wouldn't you doubt my words?

4. If you were having a bad day and were lonely as hell, and I randomly popped in for a brief moment just to brag about how awesome my day was, and how much fun I was having with other people, knowing that I had left you alone for an extended period of time, wouldn't you be offended, hurt, and angry at me?

You need a big dose of "put yourself in someone else's shoes for a while." I'm going to turn around and put words/feelings on you -- I honestly don't think you understand just how much of an impact your actions have on other people. I really do think you need to spend some time on the receiving end of the spectrum -- the same end of the spectrum that I've been living on for the past few months. You need to get a huge dose of seeing things through someone else's eyes... you need a huge dose of feeling things through other people's heart. And while I've tried so many times to give you that experience, you've resisted me all the way... is it any wonder I've given up?

I don't think your priorities are straight... and I think you need to step back and take the time to evaluate yourself and your priorities... I think you need to take some time to figure out what you really want out of life. Not just for the distant future, but for the present and near future. I've tried to be patient and wait for you to straighten things out, but either (1) you're not going to bother sitting back and taking a closer look at things or (2) you've made up your mind already about what's more important to you and I don't register on the list.

And maybe the only way you'll take that time is if I leave. You've already established that you're afraid of me and you've never tried to convince me otherwise when I've come to the conclusion that I'm abusive... so apparently it's all true and apparently I'm skewing your outlook on things. Maybe I need to just leave and let you work things out for yourself... maybe I shouldn't bother you again until you come to me and tell me that you know for sure what you want from life.

It's a little amusing to me how I always wind up with the same kind of person: A workaholic who, after spending the entire day away, either stuffs himself into a game and ignores me, or simply goes to sleep. Every single person I've been with has been this way. He's always got somewhere better to be than with me; he's always got someone else to share his spare time with. And if he doesn't care to go out, he'll just get sucked into some sort of game and forget I exist. And then when he's done playing the game, he might chat me up for the 20 minutes he's awake before he passes out for the night. Yeah, it does wonders for the self-esteem.

Is it any wonder that I spend a lot of time with another friend of mine? I affectionately call him my "tormentor" because of the fact he spends so much time picking on me. He [tries to] keep me awake all night because he actually wants to spend time with me. We spend all kinds of time watching each other play video games (picking on each other when one of us does something stupid on said game), watching animes or stupid videos on YouTube... We spend all our time trying to annoy the hell out of each other. I never have to ask or beg him to get on Skype -- in fact, it's usually the opposite. I never have to beg him to spend time with me because he already wants to. He doesn't close himself off from me and will tell me if/when something's bothering him.

...It's sad that I can't get any of that from the person that I want it from the most.

Dabbling in Storytime.

Meh, this story has been running rampant in my mind since Sunday night. I guess it's about time I write it and get it out.

So here it is, my latest short story piece. (It might turn into a two-parter, depends on if I can't get the second part out of mind, either.)

Turning of the Tables

She stared out the large window for quite some time. Though her face bore no visible expression and her body language suggested that her mood was idle, her dark eyes spoke it all. There was no need for her to vocalize what had caused her to turn like this -- to turn into a silent, brooding wreck. She looked slowly down at her hands, which rested on her lap. Long ago had she given up wearing the symbol of her connection, and to her dismay, her subtle hinting went completely unnoticed.

Again.

But, sadly enough, she had gotten used to it. She got used to spending countless hours in this isolated little room, staring out the window and watching the people walking on the street below. Seeing real partnerships and real connections... nothing at all like what her own relationship had become. It was the same thing every day. The abandonment started early -- she almost always woke up alone in the bed she was meant to share with him. He used to leave notes telling her where he was off to and an estimate of when he might possibly be back... but not anymore. Not that she needed the notes -- she knew where he went.

He loved to lock himself away in various activities involving the politics and government, telling her quite simply, "You wouldn't be interested" and never once allowing her access into these top-secret meetings that were held in a large room one floor below her. And most of the time these meetings would run far past nightfall and nearly to midnight. Sometimes after the meetings would adjourn for the day, he'd gather up his group of friends -- or people he was conversing with in those damned meetings -- and they'd disappear for a night on the town. She'd watched him from her little perch on several occasions, and never once did he think to turn around and come back for her. She contemplated chasing after him and raising a ruckus to try and utterly humiliate him, but always found she couldn't do it.

How strange it was. A little over a year ago, she was a wild child. She spent every day and night struggling for her survival in the forested -- and highly dangerous -- outskirts of the town. She stole to provide for herself and swung a mean sword to protect herself. The only difference between the isolation she suffered then and the isolation she suffered now was that she had given up everything that had made her who she was. Lately she longed to return to the depths of the wilderness -- to give up bothering with the life of a lonely wife... to return back to the uncertainty of running from the world. How did she let herself fall so far, especially for someone who seemed to purposelly spend the majority of his time away from her? It was shameful.

She blinked once, slowly as if lost deep in thought, and then her brow furrowed. Suddenly the misery, pain, and anger could be read all over her face. She clenched her fists tight and beat them down hard on the windowsill she had spent the last two hours staring out of. This attracted the attention of a nearby maid, who immediately allowed herself into the room with a look of alarm on her face.

"Is there something the matter?" The maid asked, her eyes darting around furiously looking for signs of trouble.

The woman rose to her feet, staring the poor maid square in the eyes. "I'm fine, thank you." She shoved her way past the maid and started going down the stairs in an abrupt and sudden rush.

"Where are you going!" The maid cried out, almost panicking.

The woman stopped halfway down the stairs, but did not turn to look over her shoulder. "I'm going out," she replied quickly and coolly, her voice suggesting that was all she was going to say and she would erupt if pressed further. With that, she continued her descent down the stairs, turned a corner, and disappeared out of sight.

The maid brought a nervous hand to her mouth as she scrambled to come up with a story. He had given her very concise and stern instructions to keep an eye on his wife -- he knew that it would take more than a mere year to convert his wife from a hardened rogue into a more civilized member of society. He had been quite firm when he told the maid that he better not ever return to find his wife missing -- that there'd better be a good reason for it if it occurred, and even then she should send out a carrier bird with a message immediately following the discovery.

But the maid had simply let her go without so much as a struggle -- without so much as prying the woman's destination out of her. She knew he would be quite upset when he returned from his latest trip, and she spent the next few hours trying to create an alibi.

***

When he walked into the building, his stomach immediately dropped out. Nothing was out of the ordinary and nothing was out of its place, but something deep within told him something had gone terribly awry. He scanned the foyer repeatedly though not seeing a single thing misplaced, spotting movement out of the corner of his eye. It was the maid from earlier, who was trying to sneak past.

"What's wrong?" He asked gently, sensing she was upset.

"I..." She looked down at her hands and wrung them anxiously in her apron. She loved him like her own son and was not about to be dishonest with him. He had taken her in without so much as a single credential to her name, saving her and her family from the depths of poverty.

"Hmm?" He blinked, looking concerned.

"It... it's your wife."

His eyes immediately widened and his disposition changed. "What about her? Where is she?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He sprinted up the stairs towards the library, where he almost always found her when he couldn't find her anywhere else, throwing open the door without so much as a single knock. He immediately spied the desk that she normally sat at, feeling his whole body turn cold as he found nobody there. He whirled back around and looked at the maid, who had decided to follow after him.

"What happened while I was gone?" He pressed, his voice quavering. "Where is she?"

The maid looked down at her hands again.

"Where is she!" He snapped, more frightened than angry. "Did something happen to her? Why didn't you send me a notice?"

"Pl-please, calm down," the maid insisted. "Nothing foul happened here. She left of her own will a short while ago."

He was already starting down the steps. "Where?" He asked again. "And why?"

"I... I'm sorry, but I don't know."

He stopped and spun around, looking distraught and angry. "Why not."

"I'm sorry, sir, but she just wouldn't tell me. I asked repeatedly, but all she told me was that she was going out. She didn't say where to or for how long."

"How long ago was all of this?"

"Three, maybe four hours."

He entered a room that, aside from a sword rack and a long desk, bore nothing. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked one of the desk drawers. To his horrified surprise, it was empty.

"Where's the stone that I keep in here?" He questioned.

"I... I don't know, sir. You've given specific instructions for us not to touch it, so nobody has."

Then she took it when she left, he thought. So now I can't track her life force... she must have done this on purpose.

"Fine," he said to nobody, wandering to the sword rack and pulling a saber from it. He looked to the maid. "I'm going to search for her. Surely with only three or four hours head start, she couldn't have possibly gotten far."

But the dismal fact of the matter was, three or four hours was more than enough time for an experienced rogue like his wife to make quite a bit of distance. He kept trying not to tell himself this -- he began a mantra in his mind.

She'll be back soon. She'll be back soon.

Unfortunately, he couldn't convince himself to be so sure.

***

He arrived at a house hidden beneath a thick layer of vegetation. This was their hidden sanctuary and anytime in the past that she had disappeared, he would find her here. She was moody at times and would lock herself in their bedroom, and he'd have to negotiate with her through the door before she would unlock the door and let him through. He thought back to several of these instances, remembering that almost every time she'd done this to him, the first thing he did when allowed access into the room was immediately proceed to scold her. In hindsight, he was beginning to realize that wasn't the best thing for him to do.

He twisted the doorknob and found it locked. He dug around in his pocket until he found the key for the house -- but it didn't fit. He blinked, more than certain he'd chosen the right one. To be safe, he withdrew all five of the keys in his pocket and tried them all. None of them fit.

He scowled a little, unamused by the situation. He pounded on the door but received no response. Frustrated, he knelt down in front of the key and produced two metal wires from his pocket. One of the things having a thief for a wife taught him was lockpicking skills. He fiddled with the door a few moments before the lock gave way and allowed him access in. What greeted him was startling.

Not a single light was lit in the house. Normally they'd always kept one light burning, primarily because the house was also an animal sanctuary where they kept their thirty-something pets. But there was no stampeding of paws, no wild or excited barking. For a full minute, his breathing slowed to a stop as he glanced around the dark emptiness of the foyer. He finally entered the house and lit one of the lanterns. Nothing was displaced, but he still couldn't get over the fact that the dogs were missing. It sent a chill down him that turned him frigid. He peered out a back window and exhaled in relief when he saw that the dogs were simply out in the back yard.

I'm being paranoid, he thought.

He climbed up the stairs, which were also strangely dark, careful not to step on any of the cats that wrapped themselves around his legs and feet. Something was terribly wrong, and he felt it again. Why were all the lights out? Such a little thing shouldn't bother him so severely, and yet it did. He turned the doorknob to the master bedroom, blinking as it easily swung open. Another dark room. He shined his lantern into the room, finding it too to be completely empty. He walked slowly to the wardrobe and found that nothing had been disturbed -- except for one outfit.

The green and white outfit that they had affectionately nicknamed the "rogue's clothing," was gone... in its place was the beautiful green and blue outfit she had been wearing lately.

Another cold shudder. To be on the safe side, he investigated the rest of the rooms, but his search turned up empty. She had simply vanished into thin air, the only evidence of her disappearance being the changing of her clothing...

Suddenly the darkness felt crushing, and suddenly he felt extremely alone. It was a frightening sense that washed over him like a tidal wave. The changing of her clothing disturbed him immensely -- his wife was a woman of symbolism. Everything she did had a hidden meaning... and lately, he realized, he'd not been paying attention to her signs.

The abrupt leaving... the changing of the locks on the house... the trading in of her finery for her tattered and nearly ruined rogue clothes... the complete lack of telling anyone where she was going... and never offering a return date...

She's gone, he thought, shattering his previous mantra. I've lost her.

A glittering on the desk caught his eye, and he soon wished it hadn't. Sitting on the desk on the outside of the jewelry box that she had kept all of her accessories in was a white gold band with an aquamarine gemstone. He blinked very slowly, hoping that the image would disappear. It did not.

He felt his stomach drop out again. This time, his heart followed.

She really is gone, he thought, feeling the backs of his eyes beginning to burn. He dropped the lantern to the floor, not even caring if it shattered open and set the entire place ablaze. Surely being burned alive couldn't hurt anywhere near as bad as the feelings that had viciously overwhelmed him. He walked over and pick up the ring, brushing his fingers across it while distantly admiring it. He immediately remembered how small and delicate her hands and fingers were.

His movements now became slow and robotic as he placed the ring back down on the desk. He stumbled to the bed that he and her had shared together and sat down on the edge of it. Through blurry eyes, he looked down at the flickering lantern on the floor. He was immediately surrounded by cats, who all piled around their master and rubbed all over him, making weak and futile efforts to console him. He was lost in a sea of sympathetic purrs and curious mews, but he heard none of them. All he could hear was the rhythm of his heart, beating in an awkward rhythm that rocked from slow to fast. It echoed in his ears, and he was certain that during one of those reverberations, he heard it break.

He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Where would she go? Would she return to the woods to live out her life as a rogue again? Probably not, he decided dismally. It was more than apparent that he had done something terribly wrong, and his punishment was to be that she would not return. She was smart -- she probably knew that if she lingered in the woods, he would spend days trying to find her. She had probably boarded a ferry and left without the intentions of ever returning. Sure, he could spend months searching the world... and his first instinct was to do just that... but she would move around. She had spent so long running from the law that she knew staying in one place was dangerous.

He finally got up and moved a few things around. He wandered back downstairs to the foyer again, glancing over his shoulder one last time at the house he had shared with her before hesitating and extinguishing the lantern. He locked the door, closed his eyes tight, and quickly walked away. The memories were already chasing him, intending on running him down.

***

In the middle of the woods he came across her best friend. She was up in a tree a short ways, stalking the woods for lost passersby from which she could make her nightly earning. When she saw him, she quickly jumped down and ran over to meet him. The second he turned to face her, she saw the blank distance in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" She asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She felt him flinch. He looked off towards the darkness of the night, staring into nowhere. He felt tense and was shaking a bit, and she blinked. She asked again. "What's the matter?"

Wordlessly, he slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew the glittering ring. He outstretched his hand slowly but completely, blinking slow and staring harder into the distance. But his eyes had softened and his resolve was in bits.

Her eyes slowly widened. "Oh no," was all she could say.

With the same silence, he put the ring back in his pocket.

"Are you okay?" She asked after a moment.

He walked over to a tree and sat down, pressing his back hard against it. He stared down at his hands for a moment. And finally, he murmured a gentle, broken response. "No."

She tilted her head sympathetically as he brought his hands to his face and began to quake. Not knowing what else to do, she walked over slowly and brought her arms around him.

Everybody else in the world had seen the coming of the turning of the tables. Everybody but him. He'd been too lost in everything else to see it. He had pushed too hard and too far, had taken everything dear to him for granted, and never dared to see the potential consequences of his actions. And now, alone and in the dead of night, he was forced to see the reality.

He'd never felt so abandoned and alone in his life... and it finally opened his eyes.

It was just that his vision had come four hours too late.

Bedtime Musing.

Apparently I'm not very good at the Quiet Game.

I know I shouldn't be beckoning nor should I be responding, as it's done no good for anyone involved... and yet something makes me persist. I can't decide if it's just residual attachment or my necessity to be habitual, but something makes me reach out. Unfortunately, none of my efforts at reaching out have done any good... such is the irony of the whole situation. I made an effort tonight and was pushed away, and that's enough of an answer for me -- I really need to back off and let this go. Holding on is not going to do anyone any sort of good.

In the end, what was I supposed to do? I was tired of being left behind. I was tired of feeling like I was continuously being drug through the dirt. I was tired of the squabbling. I was tired of being a source of daily fear. I was tired of being the abuser. So many things built up inside of me and no matter what I tried to do, I could never make anyone understand my side of the story. And it finally all just exploded... and that final explosion ripped me into a million pieces. And right when I needed companionship the most... I was abandoned yet again.

No, I've yet to get over the feeling of abandonment and isolation. The odds are I never will because right when I get over it, I'm left alone again. Why have I allowed myself to fall into such a horrid cycle? How much good does this do to my already fragile psyche and already weak self-esteem?

It shatters them.

I no longer feel important. I no longer feel special. I no longer feel worth the time. No matter how many times someone may say I mean the world to them... if they don't occasionally prove it, it's just a lot of empty words. Empty, painful, hurtful words. Lies almost, as harsh as that sounds. Claiming that I'm so important and then immediately turning your back and leaving me completely alone for a week... that's how you prove my importance? If this is the case, I'd hate to see how you treated people you don't consider important... that's got to be hell.

The fact of the matter is... I'm selfish. I demand a lot of time and get offended when someone dares to split their time between me and something else. Especially when they get distracted by that something else and completely and utterly ignore me (or forget I exist). I require a lot of attention and will get paranoid that I'm not worthy if I don't get the amount I consider enough. And again, if I'm having to compete with other things, I often feel insignificant and unworthy. And lately, all I do is compete with -- and lose to -- other things. I've felt pretty crappy as a result... my whole state of viewing myself has degraded.

But I guess in the end none of these confessionals even matter, because everything has fallen apart anyway. I've been given my answer as to how much I mean. I've been given my answer as to how "important" it is that the whole thing be fixed. Being shunned on multiple occasions has more than told me to shut the hell up and leave it be.

So I will.

Message.

Releasing the Hold

It's finally time I release this grip
The time has come to let this go
Before I stumble and before I slip...
Before I let this heartbreak show...

So many times that I've been left behind
With days so lonely they drag on forever
Well damn this all, I've made up my mind...
We were never meant to be together.

And so while you're away on another escapade
I'll pack up my belongings and run away
Since you're already busy, my memory will fade
I can't say I'm sorry for not wanting to stay.

I'd suggest that you put yourself in my place
But you'd never allow to sink that low
So how can you possibly look me in the face
And ignore all the pain you've caused to grow?

Or are you so convinced that you are right
That no matter what, you can never cause pain
It must be nice to have such a biased sight
So twisted that you'll never see my disdain...

And I'm no longer expecting you to even try
I'm turning my back and taking my leave
All I have to say to you now is goodbye...
I'll be sure to be gone before the eve.

It's a forceful separation that's been overdue
It's an ending to a story never meant to be.
I can no longer go on simply waiting for you...
It's time for the both of us to be set free.

So I take the knife into my hand's palm
And I grab the cord that's kept us together bound
I shred it in half and maintain my calm
As I turn and walk away without another sound.

If I ever shed a tear because of this death
I'll be sure that you never will know;
If ever I feel the regret of having left...
I'm making sure that to you it never shows.

And so with this message I abandon this place
This is the final result of continuous desertion
I'm releasing my hold and leaving this disgrace
Of all my pointless levels of over-exertion.

Was going to write a poem here in this entry...

But I'm so far gone that words elude me.

Everything and Nothing.

I wish I could slip into a coma for the entirety of next week. As it turns out, I will literally be alone... Daddy has informed me he will be gone all week attending classes. I thought I would only be alone emotionally, but now I'm going to be alone physically, too. If I could fall into a hole and die right now, I'd jump down the pit without hesitation. The last time I felt this devastated and torn up was when my great-aunt died a few years ago, and now I have absolutely no one to console me or keep me company.

I guess it's my own fault. These next few days are going to hurt severely, I just know it.

I need to let go of my world. I've held on too tightly and both myself and my world have suffered relentless torture as a result... and I can't do it anymore. To either myself or my world. I care too much about my world and I'm tired of seeing it suffer this anguish. And I won't see it anymore... I refuse to be the reason anything suffers, no matter how attached I am. I'll force myself to break these ties because I know in the end this is what's best... for both of us...

I've turned into an abusive partner who does nothing more than demeans and insults her lover on a regular basis... and that's not right. I can't live with myself being abusive and I can't go on in a partnership where I'm causing so much pain... I can't go on being with someone who is afraid of me. Everybody deserves a chance at happiness in love, and all I'm causing is fear and pain. No more. I refuse to go on hurting someone I love. I can't cope with it anymore... I just can't...

All the misery and sorrow I'm about to feel in this upcoming week...

I deserve every ounce of it.

My only regret is that I prolonged your pain for far too long. With any luck, you'll be able to turn all the misery you felt at my hands into something more beautiful with someone who treats you the way you deserve.

No amount of apologizing will ever make the heartache I've caused you through the course of our partnership right. But do know that with every ounce of life in my body, I'm deeply sorry for all of it.

For now, I return to my lonely little corner of the world, laying alone in the darkness like I rightfully should be.

I'm so, so sorry.

So what happens when you want to say "stay" but you don't?

Because you know it won't matter if you say it or not...

You wind up feeling a massive part of you torn out violently for starters.

Next, the sudden silence takes you in rapidly and it crushes you hard.

And in the end, you wind up alone and feeling like I do now.

I'm going to take a break from my studying and cry a spell.

I don't want to be alone right now...

And I don't have any other choice.

Thought-Train.

What do you do when everything's turned wrong and all the signs are telling you to let go before you really hurt yourself?

But what do you do when it involves someone other than you, too?

All negotiations are failing. All talks are breaking apart. Conversations turn to confrontations and discussions turn to drama.

Worse still... I've become exactly the thing I hate.

I've still been lingering on the concept that there's a person out there who is actually afraid of me. Afraid. Of me. Talk about a massive stab to the ego and self-respect categories. After an hourlong talk with Mama about the entire thing, she's practically reaffirmed the nasty concept that has been running through my head for the past two weeks:

You can't salvage the unsalvagable. No amount of trying and retrying can revive something that died a long time ago. She warns that if things continue down the path they're going, the only thing that's going to happen is resentment and hate.

What's troubling is that I think the resentment has already started. There's been a lot of nights lately where I've done a lot of heavy brooding and mental yelling at myself. My dreams are haunted by subtle, symbolic messages that all point to the same thing that everything and everyone else is directing me to. My heart feels perpetually heavy and my moods are practically riding a horrible roller coaster on a daily basis.

Can this really continue? Is it really worth all of this misery, turmoil, drama, and pain? Is it worth the daily throwing of daggers and the constant spitting of venom and poison? Is it worth winning the contest of "I can make you angrier than you can make me?" Is it worth the subtle snarking and the sarcastic sniping? Is it? Is it really?

Because to me, it doesn't seem like it. It sounds more like two people are struggling against their bonds. Struggling to survive imprisonment. Longing for freedom. Praying for a better day.

So what do you do...

And why can't this be easier.

Venting Before Class.

I should've learned my lesson a few weeks back.

Things aren't going to change.

No matter how much I thought they would, they aren't and they won't.

I should've learned my lesson a few weeks back, and I should've run away. I should've run hard and fast. I should never have looked back. Looking back always trips you up, and I had to learn that lesson the hard way.

So I'm picking myself up and trying to pick the dirt out of the wounds once again, wondering how in the world I could've been so stupid. Why do I wear blinders and refuse to see things for how they really are? Is it that I'm afraid of the truth, or that I just love living a lie? I guess I like spending every day ultimately waiting for the next big disappointment, because lately that's all I do.

I apparently like getting stood up. I'm apparently not worth the time and energy it takes to say, "I'm going to be away for a bit, hold on." I'm definitely not worth keeping one's word to, because I always lay down and let people use me as a goddamn staircase. Step all over me, it doesn't matter if you hurt me, I completely understand now!

I also understand my own feelings, and they're telling me, "Hey idiot, run away before you get hurt again."

Isn't it a touch ironic that I've spent more time talking to people who don't like me as opposed to the person who supposedly loves me? I'd call it sad, but it's my own fault for putting up with it.

I guess it's worth repeating again: I should've learned my lesson a few weeks ago.

I need to find my way out of this hole before I get buried alive.

I don't think feeling like crap on a daily basis is worth it anymore.

I'm sorry, but it isn't.

Mo[u]rning Prose.

Just another poem.

I honestly don't know why I keep writing them, nobody cares any more.

Oh well. Here it is.

Second Glance

She's sitting in her corner once more
Left to wait once again for her chance
To spend the time with the one she adores...
Such is the pain of being the second glance.

She writes off the loneliness in her eyes
As simply being weakness of her mind
Eyes full of tears and lungs full of sighs
Refusing to see she'll always be left behind.

She goes about her day as an after-thought
You don't have to go out of your way for her
Because she'll come runnning whenever she's sought
She'll always be here, you are so assured.

The loss of importance won't run her away
The feeling of being a shadow, it doesn't hurt
You're so convinced that she'll always stay
So it's okay to drag her feelings through the dirt.

Meanwhile everyone's holding out prayers
That someday soon she'll see she's wrong
Second best isn't the best place out there...
But maybe she's known that all along.

One of these days she'll stand up on her own
And she'll finally walk out of the door
But her exit will probably go unknown...
By then she probably won't care any more.

And maybe when the first step is taken
She'll open her eyes and see the light
That all of the love she was once forsaken
Can be hers if she's willing to fight

For the attention of someone who actually cares
Of someone who will give her what she needs
Instead of only pretending to always be there
While all her loneliness hurts her, indeed...

She's going to wake up soon enough, you know
And she'll set off to find another chance
To find true love with someone who'll show
She's more than merely a second glance.

Short Story Time.

Featuring my two most symbolic characters, Jim and his brother Daniel.

The Last Decision

A pair of dark brown eyes winced as another yelping scream seared through the air. A set of hands gripped the railing of the bed tightly, so tightly that all the knuckles drained their color and were a ghastly white hue. The eyes closed and the shimmering of sympathetic tears glistened in the corners of the closed globes.

"You're hurting him," a soft, quavering voice declared finally. The eyes reopened, dilated with agony.

"We're doing the best we can," another voice explained calmly.

The dark eyes flickered for a moment. "You're hurting him!"

A gentle hand pressed softly down on his shoulder. Another masculine voice entered the atmosphere. "Calm down, Jim. He's fine."

The brown eyes whirled around, meeting a pair of gentle blue eyes hidden beneath glass shields. The blue eyes seemed to shiver. Jim growled lowly, "You don't feel it like I do. You don't know it like I do." His eyes misted over as they glanced back towards the bed. "You weren't there."

"Accidents happen, Jim."

The words trailed off into eternity. Accidents happen...

Accidents...


Laughter echoed through the caverns of the volcano, taunting Jim with the depths of its cruelness. Mocking him with the iciness of its temperature. But the young man stood resilient, his brown eyes unwavering as they stared down the source of the laughter -- a nasty and selfish man who sought to infiltrate the volcano's depths for the treasures hidden within.

In his grasp, he held Jim's younger brother. The younger boy was the perfect size for crawling into the dangerous space that held the treasure the man was seeking... but the boy wouldn't oblige. And he found himself with fingers plunged deep in his throat, strangling him... yet those same dastardly fingers were the only things keeping him alive. His frail body dangled helplessly above a great chasm that plummeted a hundred feet into a cauldron of magma. The young boy remained deathly still, the only thing moving were his gentle green eyes.

Staring down Jim -- pleading and screaming for help.

In Jim's right hand was his trusted shotgun. Over the years, Jim had become quite the gifted shot with this rifle. He had practiced with it daily until he knew its every quirk and every trait. And while he had deadly accuracy, the boy had never turned the rifle's power on another living object. Countless cans and bottles had met their demise at the hand of Jim and his rifle... but never a living, breathing, pulsing object. He lifted it up and placed the butt of it against his shoulder, beginning to take his aim.

"Let my brother go," he warned, his soft and growling voice echoing off the walls of the volcano's core, "or you'll leave me no choice."

The man's awful laughter bounced off the walls. "You think you frighten me? A little boy with his toy gun? I seem to think that you are forgetting one minor detail, son..." He turned himself slightly, revealing the quivering teenager in his grasp. "If you shoot me, your brother falls down this pit."

Jim swallowed, staring into his brother's terrified eyes.

"Just shoot him, Jim," the brother whimpered. He choked as the fingers dug deeper into his throat, strangling the shivering breath out of him.

Jim's index finger slowly slid into its position against the trigger. One of his dark eyes closed, the other staring unblinking at its target -- the man's chest, directly at the heart. It happened in a split second -- the cracking explosion, the slight recoiling backwards. Jim closed his other eyes as his body jerked backwards, an electric pulse seeming to rip through his body. His eyes reopened and he watched as the bullet sailed through the air towards its victim.

Time slowed even more. Jim's eyes dilated in terror and he reached forward with one hand, dropping his trusted shotgun to the ground. The man, in slow motion, whirled himself around and threw the imprisoned younger brother into the path of the shot. Jim's eyes flinched as the shot plunged itself into the younger boy's left arm. His stomach grew sick as he heard the tearing of the skin and the shouting from his brother's throat. The younger boy's body quivered with the force of the entering shot, and Jim could see the shockwaves pulse through the boy's arm.

His first ever shot at another living thing... and instead of hitting the target, he hit his precious brother.

The rest of the incident happened in a flash -- he bent down and picked up his shotgun, firing off the rest of the shots without so much as pausing to aim or taking the time to think. Five shots penetrated the body of the older man and he released his grip on the brother before tumbling backwards and falling to his death in the pit below.

Jim again had dropped his gun, catching his brother before the gun ever hit the ground. He wrapped his arms tight around his dear brother, quivering with guilt and fright.

"Daniel," he called. "Daniel, I'm so sorry..."

Daniel managed a trembling smile at his older brother, wincing through the pain shooting through his wound. "It's okay." He inhaled through his teeth, gripping at his arm gingerly. "I promise."

The older boy fought back his tears as he picked his brother up, cradling him ever cautiously in his arms. "We'll get you help, Daniel. I promise..."


Jim's body quaked. My first ever shot at another living thing, and I hit my own brother. My little brother! He trusted his life and safety to me in that moment, and I shot him. I shot him! Now he'll always be afraid of me... Even if he says he's not, I know he will be. He swallowed hard and brought a hand to one of his dark eyes. Oh Daniel... please forgive me one day...

Another screaming yelp pierced Jim's range of hearing, and his eyes snapped open. He watched in guilty misery as the doctors continued their assault on his brother's wounded arm. Never one to be queasy, he found himself strangely nauseated by the sight of the bloody bullet as they finally dislodged it from Daniel's arm. Daniel's voice emitted another awful cry -- another shot that launched itself straight into Jim's heart. He suddenly found himself being ushered out of the room. Before he left, he ruffled his hand softly through his brother's hair.

"I'll be right outside, I promise," he offered softly.

Daniel merely nodded his head, but the fear was evident in his eyes.

"Jim? Are you okay?" The other male voice finally entered the air after a few minutes. "You've been staring at the door since they closed it."

"I shot him, Jared."

"Accidents happen," Jared offered again.

Jim began pacing frantically. "He'll never trust me again! He'll be afraid of me! I shot him, Jared! I didn't mean to, but I did and now I'll never be trustworthy again!"

Jared blinked sympathetically. "Jim..."

"I hurt the closest person to me... I can never be forgiven."

"Jim." Jared grabbed his cousin by the shoulders and forced him to be still. "Daniel knows you didn't mean to hurt him. He knows it was an accident. He knows you were looking out for him and that you were trying to protect him. He knows, Jim."

"You didn't see the look in his eyes--"

"What I saw was someone who was very relieved to see you there, Jim."

Jim was silent.

"He'll forgive you -- in fact, he probably was never upset at you to begin with. He's still going to trust you and he's still going to be your best friend. Nothing's changed, Jim. I promise you that."

Jim's body quivered.

"Daniel's going to be fine... and so are you."

Jim nodded once, halfway, and crumbled slowly into a chair with his hands up at his face. Jared quietly sat down at his cousin's side and put a comforting arm around him. Jim closed his eyes tightly beneath the shielding of his hands and allowed his emotions to run free down his face as he tried to make himself forget the repercussions of his accidental last decision.

Just a Note and a Poem.

After spending the last few days unsure what had taken my mood down so far into the depths... I got to have a conversation with someone who spoke some sense to me and cleared the picture up a little.

Thank you. Thank you so much for helping me see things more clearly. I'm beginning to feel a little better now... maybe there's hope after all.

And because I have to be cryptic and write my feelings in prose, here we go.

Clarity

Starting over was never said to be easy to do
Especially when we stood upon shaking ground
Quivering bodies we are bruised black and blue
Wondering why we even bother to stick around...

A moment of silence is shattered by an eruption
Knocking us off our feet and off our guard
Another violent burst of chaotic destruction...
Why has our survival suddenly become so hard?

Twisting and turning to avoid all the flames
Hiding behind shields and tossing verbal blades
Wounding one another without any sense of shame
The state of our love has started to degrade...

The world around us is hazy with an evil smoke
That strangles our vision and renders us blind
A nasty fog so thick that it wrangles and chokes
Until our caring for each other is left far behind...

We can't see the light at the end of the path --
The beam has been lowered and hidden from sight --
Instead the darkness wants to rip us in half
We've fallen so far... we're lost in the fight

Between one another rather than against all the odds
They're taking us under -- we're going to drown!
It's sad to think that we've become a lost cause
Sent to our deaths by the nastiness all around...

But just before the final explosion tears us apart
Before we're torn to pieces and ripped all to shreds
There is a long pause and then another restart
That renders us lifeless, we both fall down dead.

The pause then is ended, the world begins to move
The fog all around us begins to lift away
The pain is extinguished and the wounds now are soothed...
The darkness is over and we're starting a new day.

It's a brief moment in time that reveals all the faults
A little explanation for all of the recent grief
And suddenly I can say I'm a little less distraught
And suddenly I can say I'm feeling some relief

From all of the tension that was eating me alive --
The tension that engulfed not only me, but you
I can feel it deep down now, we're going to survive...
There's so much more that we can do.

The darkness kept me blind and I was lost in the haze
But with the light to guide my way, I'll be alright
I know that the healing process will take a matter of days...
But I'll keep our recovery strong in my sight.

For the past several days, I was trapped in despair
That came from a place that I couldn't comprehend
But now I feel like my life can be safely repaired
And I'm hoping that all our problems soon will end...

A source of external wisdom opened up my eyes
Taking away the fuzziness that kept me so confused
Stopping all my tears and silencing my cries
Stamping out the misery and coloring in the blues.

With my vision restored enough for me to see
I rise onto my feet and I look up at the day
Broken from the chains of my sorrow, now I am free
With clarity in my eyes, I'm now here to stay.

Third.

The Second Funeral

They didn't make it much beyond a week
Before it went back down to hell
Neither bothering now to speak
Of the impending death of the unwell.

The sickly thing gasps in shaky breath
Trying desperately to make it through
But both of them know of its death
And know there's nothing they can do

To make this thing live once more
It was the victim of deep-rooted hate
That rattled it to its wounded core...
Now it waits to meet its untimely fate.

It's a tragic thing, watching something die
Especially when they had wanted it to be
But even after these countless tries
They refuse to simply let it go free

But why do they hang on so tightly
When they know that this life has failed?
The only thing that shines so brightly
Is all the anguish that has swelled.

Is all this suffering really necessary,
And is all of it worth these tears?
If it were love, wouldn't it be contrary
To spending all their time in fear?

The casket for this body is being constructed
And the grave for the bed is being made
The people around are slowly being instructed
That this poor thing cannot be saved.

And pretty soon it'll give up and succumb
It'll finally sink into its eternal sleep
They'll fall apart and this thing will become
Another source of misery stabbing deep.

Perhaps they deserve it for being so unwilling
To let nature run its course on its own
Instead their own anger caused this killing
Of a love that'll never be known.

The bed is slowly lowered into the ground
But bells will not toll and flowers go unplaced
Instead this death is celebrated without a sound
While two lives slowly become unlaced.

The second funeral will be harder than the first
Because with this one, there will be no revival.
The depression that's impending will be the worst
Knowing that there was never a chance for survival.