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.

Brooding Prose.

Finality

I throw up my bloodied arms in frustration
I toss the flag of white dripping now with red
Screaming out with the pain of devastation
My heart explodes from the disease within my head.

And the explosion rings out across the landscape
A loud popping of sorts, an ugly little sound
Demons come in and begin to tear apart and rape
Any of the emotions I've got left lying around.

The explosion has ripped open my chest
Revealing a pulsing mass that's throbs futily
The demons dig in and rip apart the flesh
Tearing out my heart and devouring it entirely.

My body quivers as I watch my own expiration
I'm trembling as the demons consume me whole
My lungs are pulled out, I've lost respiration
My cries are now strangled out of my control.

A set of claws head now for my eyes
Which stare on, paralyzed with fear
The claws gouge them out with in only one try
The empty sockets erupt in bloody tears.

More sharpened nails plunge into my skin
Effectively pinning me to the ground below
The monsters are tearing out everything within
Throat torn in half, my voice has nowhere to go.

My body finally slows it fruitless shivering
Acknowledging that the soul within is dead
One more strangled note echoes, quivering
And then from my body separates my head.

The demons step back to watch as I decease
Laughing now at the empty mass that I've become
Tearing me apart they found was a task of ease
And with one last convulsion, to death I succumb.

My dismembered body is tossed into a grave
As empty as the inside of my broken chest
They bury my remains without a marker to save
My place, but perhaps it was for the best.

Upon the blanket of my eternal bed
No flowers or plants will ever bloom...
The grasses are simply brown instead
Just like the walls of my forever room.

Passersby will never know of that day
The tragedy forever will go unheard
A fairy tale story that slowly fell astray
Until it became a tragic tale disturbed.

Within my little cavern, away I slowly rot
Until I've wasted away down to the bone
I've become the story that everyone forgot...
My struggle to love became forever unknown.

I'll never be visited by people who ever cared
And I'll never partake in a conversation with another
I'm destined to be the life of which people were spared
When I was destroyed by hatred and its brothers.

My whole life turned into one tragic tale
Of someone who wanted to love so desperately
But failed miserably and suffered through hell
Until she finally was forced to face finality.

Back to Writing.

That's right, I'm back to my old tricks on the writing front.

Inspired off a dream I had last night.

As gruesome as this poem is...

No. I'll let you see for yourself.

Nightmare Dead

It all started with an eruption --
An explosion that rocked the world
A love now twisted with corruption
Shook two lovers to the very soul.

And then it happened in a flash!
The sky let loose with awful screams
An attack is released, the victims are thrashed
Their blood pouring in gushing streams.

She twisted and writhed in the utmost pain
But couldn't escape the vicious onslaught
Killed is the girl with a gash to the brain
He tries to run away, but he has forgot

That the demons have spied him running away
They leap forward and throw him to the ground
Holding him down and forcing him to stay
Ripping his throat so he can't make a sound.

And just like that, these two lovers have died
And just like that, their world is shattered
Because there was nowhere these two could hide
Their hearts on the ground now are spattered.

But the hearts continue to pulse relentlessly
Throbbing, gushing masses of bleeding romance
Spurting out gasping streams of blood incessantly
Still holding on for perhaps a second chance.

Their bodies are torn completely to shreds
Their limbs scattered across the barren lands
And while physically so, these souls aren't dead
They wish they could make the other understand

That these sacrifices didn't have to be made
That these ghastly murders didn't have to occur
The hearts still pound, hoping to be saved
And then from the depths, a light begins to stir

A ray of light lunges out from the crimson dirt
And forces its way to the haven in the sky
Finds the wandering souls and eases all of the hurt
Healing the wounds that made them both say goodbye.

Their bodies are renewed and brought back to being
With the insertion of the hearts that refused to expire
Nobody could believe what they were seeing...
These two lost souls began again to respire!

They sat upright, eyes meeting and holding gaze
Since the death that threw them so far apart
They held each other tight for the first time in days
Never feeling luckier for a chance to restart.

In her eyes, the spilling of overjoyed tears
With a gentle hand, he wipes them from her face
He reassures her now of all of their future years
Together as one, never again to be displaced.

Together they rise and look up at the day
For the first time in ages, two sincere smiles
It felt like it had been forever they were astray
And the journey was one of a million miles

But in the end, like a tale of fantasy
Together they had seen all of it through.
And now together they will always be
Spending eternity in a love so true.

Finally at night they will have a peaceful sleep
When they settle together and rest their heads
Spinning out of control forever in a love so deep
Now that the horrible nightmare is dead.

It's going to be okay.

It's all going to be okay.

♥♥♥