Journal Entry #15: Dear ______

There goes my heart again. I wave goodbye to the wayside as I watch it fade away into an outline growing only smaller and smaller, and in time, entirely out of my sight; just one more time, like a song on a fucking repeat. What’s worse is that I watched aimlessly and almost cluelessly as I watched you slowly tie your knots around it; precisely, with a smile; with elegance, like you had no bad intention at all. Maybe you didn't, so I guess that you just forgot to think a little deeper than three inches below the surface. Still much less than I thought that you would, and still more than enough for me to drown in, and more than enough to fill my lungs and end my day dreams about how maybe this time, would be different. Maybe this time, it would all add up. Maybe, you would finally make it all add up. I mean, it has to, right? You're 'all grown up' now; or so you say and think. It's nothing but one more part of my heart ripped off from just another break in the disparate cement streets, where it bounced up and down from that rope that you tied around it and drug it by. I picture you; smiling, watching every detail about every inch of string that you wrap around it. I watch you refine it. I watch you look at me and smile while you say, “Just one more go around Jamey. Just one more time. But I promise that this will be worse than all of the others.” I watch as you smile into my wearying eyes without breaking your stare, and I watch as my heart is tossed from this freight train of patience, constancy, heart, and persistence: All of the things that I held out for you for so long; for whom I remember you being.

I keep saying that two years just isn't enough time for you to change as much as you have, while one of those years doesn't even count, really. The words “I want to be with you for a long, long time James” have shaken me to the point where I can't focus onto the world clearly, and the words “I won't change on you” have been branded into the back wall of my mind for so long, yet I've watched you pose in front of that wall and those words while I slowly watched you change. And those words faded from your memory with every stance that you so unknowingly and knowingly took in front of it, and threw into my face. But I refused to let go, despite how you refused to turn around and remember those words. If anyone is going to give an assuring definition of love, it will be me. I'm not just another vain individual; I'm not. But why do I feel like I'm one of the only few who live by this still? I don't want to fall in love to wake up two years later to be something completely different and completely worse than what I was; not by my own fault or declining self-change, or either by a mistake where I let someone trick me into thinking that they're something other than what they really are. That's not love, and I could never do that to somebody. I'm not even sure if I would even recognize you in my own bed anymore. What's worse than turning to say 'I love you,' but you find a stranger in your sheets instead? It's when you realize that that stranger was the person that you loved, but their eyes are different; the colors mismatch; their words aren't their usual words, and for some reason you find all of the faults that never appeared to you before. Maybe because they weren't there before. Suddenly, you find yourself lost in the new chasms and cracks that are for some reason now clearly distinguished on their face. And all in a matter of what can seem to be the shortest episode that you have ever experienced, your skin, and your sheets grow cold, and your mind grows lonely. I've been craving your comfort for far too long, and I'm still starving for it, and I'm so tired of that. I found myself bent over your absence, dry heaving until my insides ached. Now I find myself doing the same over the permanence that will likely come with that absence now.

But I'm exhausted. I stumble to hold my now torn up heart into the cavity inside of my chest, but it's now small frame keeps slipping out of place. Maybe what you need is for me to let it roll out, onto this keyboard, to spell out every single thing that makes it beat. But English can't justify it, just like English can't justify anyone else's feelings. No language can; nothing can touch its entirety. I'm even convinced that tearing out my own heart and handing it to you wouldn't even justify what I feel. That is why I told you that I loved you; despite its obvious limited letters and words, I had a pronounced and voluminous definition attached with it; attached to you. One that, in simple truth and without arrogance, towered above the majorities. It was the exact one that you wanted; not by my decision, but yours. You knew that it meant this, because I made it clear to you. But for some reason, the severity of a lot of things that go along with these types of emotions are now so usually overlooked by the common person, and mine was overlooked by you. I described its every shape and form; its every intent and wanting, yet for some odd reason, you must have heard some skimmed and watered down version. Either that, or you let your mind dull it down into a fraction's worth of its true meaning, which seems much more likely. Where are the ears that used to hear me so well? Where are your ears that used to beg me for my words? For my thoughts? For the reassurances that what I called my heart, was also yours? Maybe, just maybe, you're still hiding from the feelings that you have been hiding and protecting yourself from for so long, for fear of the worst outcomes. Maybe, just maybe, you've learned to finally keep a composed posture with your back boldly in their face, far more than I have ever known you to be able to pull off before; maybe, just maybe. Or maybe, just maybe, I now have too much hope doused into my 'maybes.'

So my hands tremble, my eyelids shut, and my heart grows heavy when I now remember it. I picture your face, and for a split second I find myself elated and on top of the world, and then the realities and the emptiness of your absence overwhelms it, and I begin to pull myself up off of the floor.

The scenery of somewhere else
I wish things were that simple,
That leaving solves everything
That departing covers mistakes you've made,
The wrong turns you took years ago,
That leaving solves everything
The scenery of somewhere else
I wish things were that simple,
That leaving solves everything
That departing covers mistakes you've made,
The wrong turns you took years ago,
That leaving solves everything

I have a secret to admit to you. I am tired of holding back. But it was somewhat of a secret to myself as well: I failed to realize (Or maybe even refused) that this entire time where I found myself growing more okay to be without you by the day, I really was subconsciously, waiting for you; waiting for you to reach the point of seeing what you needed to see; what I wanted you to see. So now for a deeper truth: I was waiting for you, I knew it, but I wouldn't admit it wholeheartedly to myself. You always made your steps forward. You always called with an apology, an I miss you, a restart, and an advance. And the truth is that I never left. I just wanted to see your persistence; a fight for me. Even just a heartfelt phrase; a small movement forward of good intent which would have ultimately outweighed the world. What I didn't see then, I see now on a much bigger picture and scale. I stayed so angry at you. I wouldn't accept your actions for what they really were. I'm sick from beating myself up from it, but even sicker from this reality that my stomach won't digest. The silence of my phone is twice the weight on my shoulders, when I know that you won't be calling; at least not for what I have waited for it to be.

It tears me apart not knowing whether our ultimate departing from each other was mostly mine or your fault, despite that we both played key roles in it. At least I'm man enough to admit that the fault could be leaning towards me, or even that it may be all of my fault for some reasons which I'm oblivious to or unaware of. And at least I told you this, and at least I gave you this, which is more than I can say for you.

So what's a lonely individual who focuses on doing the right things have left to do afterward? Sit around and wait until they're ready again, no matter the hurt, and no matter the length of time that it takes. I'm not like the bad ones, and I don't use people for my own selfish comfort when it is clear that most people don’t want to be used that way. As for the ones that do, I hope that you can find a higher place for yourself in life, and in your own mind; you deserve that.

I picked my heart up from those tracks that you threw me under. What little bit was left, I shoved back into my chest and swallowed my tongue for the fear that I'll discover more of these things that are now setting me apart from you. Every entry that I write, I grow a hatred for a new word which has made its way into our present; detachment, fault, departing, so on and so on. And every time that I hear these words outside and inside of my head, I think of you, and all of the emotions follow. They sway up and down, up and down, up and down, and up and down, until I can grasp a hold of the nearest object, and level myself back into a state which is agreeable to anything but nauseous.

I miss seeing your back breaking from not your quaint judgment or your hollow depths, but instead from the weight of your heart towards its good will and wanting in this life and everyone in it.

There was some other kind of life inside of you; something special. And I hope that you're only hiding it from me now, instead of the possibility that it may have gone away, because the world needs what I saw in you.

I miss your innocence; the one and the kind that I would never deceive or deprave you of; the one that I would break every limb in my body protecting.

I miss the artist that I once saw so brightly in you. The one that I hope to God, never dims. And I miss the artist that you brought out in me.

You're not a bad person now. That's not my point. I just think that I'm in love with something which I think you no longer are; What I used to know that you weren't; what I've been waiting for you to prove again that you are not, but you have yet to. So don't you see? This is exactly what I was so afraid of; exactly what change like yours does; exactly what I believed would never happen between us. Maybe others, but not us. After all, you promised, remember? I do.

I'm on the ledge of an endless drop. I stand near it and creep my eyes just above the break in the earth to see what exactly is at the bottom. I hope for an ocean, a beach, even the rocks, but I can't see a thing. I can't hear a thing. I find my feet and ankles locked to fight the wind and gusts which push me so much closer. I try to balance, but too much of my own effort throws me off, and I slip. And with one last ounce of hope, I grasp the ledge before I begin my fall. I find myself here, finally hanging by an effort which I shouldn't even be attempting for your lack of attempts. I've stood so closely to this ledge for so long, but hesitated to bring myself near it. You have one final chance, but my grip grows weaker by the moment for the fear and understanding that I will probably never see the day where you come, extend your hand, and pull me up from atop this immense misunderstanding between your heart and mine. Because I am still here, despite how much or how little, and don't you dare tell me that's not love. Don't you dare insult the hells that I have walked, stumbled, and crawled through for you. And don't you dare insult the hells that I am still willing for you. Here is your entry where I define love by the wounds, cuts, scrapes, anguish, bruises, damages, distress, gashes, grievances, harms, lesions, torments, traumas, and burns which consume my body.
Here it is written on paper; spelled out, spaced out, thought out, and felt out: Your forever.

On Christmas, I didn't sing one song.
On New Years, I didn't count down one single second.
On Valentines, I numbed every emotion that I had inside of me, and I dulled my sights to distort the endless “I love you's” that littered the place. I was happy for them, but sad for what I hope isn't just a ghost that I've been chasing.
And my recent birthday, only six days ago, felt as empty as the last, despite the countless people that I heard from. This year again, I didn't even hear from you once; not even six days later, despite our recent efforts just days before.

I think that it's time to finally get the point. You have me at my bare; my optimism shattered. You're the only one that I would give this to, but it's time to take my steps forward, and finally and unfortunately, my steps away from us. One day my grip from this ledge will let loose entirely, even though the thought of you fading away from me by my own actions makes me weak in my knees and in my stomach. So here's where I begin to rebuild the optimism which I thrive off of; the optimism that I always keep, but sometimes find myself lacking from your lack of care.

So despite as much as you have hurt me,
I still don't want to hurt you

And as off-beat as you are from me now;
As distant as you seem to be from the times that we called ours;
Where I found and often find myself still standing, waiting, remembering everything.

I still love you

And as much as you may have forgotten about us
Or how petty you may grow to see it to have been
And as far as you may fade and convince yourself that it was something smaller than what it really was

I still love you

And as much as you may not love me,
I still love you.
So here I am again. Spelled out, spaced out, thought out, and felt out: Your forever.

Mon coeur,
Je n'ai pas oublié.


Goodbye.


You've left me with such a silent world,
Where evenings are calm, but I'm restless
And my breath has become as thin as the wind

Not even the mighty sky could fill the space you left behind
Not even when it rains
No, nothing takes your place
Your emptiness too great to fill

I have been holding my breath,
For too many nights in a row,
And somewhere on coastlines unknown to me
You paint your dreams,
With reds and blues and greens
Yea you're painting daffodils by the sea,
Without me

Today in a breeze I sensed your perfume
But you were nowhere near
And in reverie,
I felt you holding me
And even in my dreams I shake from the fear
Of truth being swept away
By the rhythm of the waves I whisper in your ears

I have been holding my breath,
For too many nights in a row,
And somewhere on coastlines unknown to me
You paint your dreams,
With reds and blues and greens.
Yea you're painting daffodils growing by the sea,
Without me

I would give away
The sweetest memories,
If I could just be with you again
Be with you again

I have been holding my breath,
For too many nights in a row,
And somewhere on coastlines unknown to me
You paint your dreams,
With reds and blues and greens.
Yea you're painting daffodils growing by the sea,
Without me

Last night I dreamt you were with me,
Finally I could breathe



























*Lyrics credited to Jeniferever and Daphne Loves Derby

De Facto

Is your love really love?
Is my love really love?
I think our love isn't love,
Unless it's love to the end.

Journal Entry #14: Wake up before it gets worse

The morning of day twenty-eight:

These dreams, their taunting, and their ridicule. I hate their teasing with their detachments to our realities and how they can completely change what we are feeling the moment that we wake up, or even while we find ourselves in the dream itself; the story of my life. I have had days ruined before I have even woken up for them, all because of this. Days ruined because I have dreamt of something that I did not have, or because I dreamt of something that I did have, only to wake to find out that I really did not.

Last night I dreamt as hard as I have in quite some time, and I feel upside-down because of it. At the peaks of certain points, I sank into one of the lowest lows that I have ever experienced in my lifetime; where I had no hope as I watched one of my closest and best friend’s freedom being instantly taken from him, and there was not a single thing that I could do about it, to feeling one of the utmost highest highs that I have ever experienced in my lifetime, where I found myself right next to you; enwrapped and pressed into you, as you were into me; where we settled into repose; where our confusions clarified; and where our anger subsided. And for the first time in a long time, I felt right again; I felt okay; and I was happy with everything in life, like we all constantly search for. But those sentences are understatements, as that even understates itself: It took every bad feeling that anything about me could contrive, away from me, and away from this place. Nothing could break through this armor; what dressed me into the boy that loved you with every ounce of himself; nothing. Not hate, not anger, not misunderstanding; not bullets, or depravation, or demoralization; fires or unfaithfulness; not even this loneliness or this inadequacy that has been tugging at my sleeves for all of this time.

This feeling; this nightmare; what came before these moments with you was wiped out to its entirety when I took one look to find you right in front of me: You lit everything in my world up. And as for being alive, people do not know what it is to live, until you live something like this. So here it comes again, are you ready? Because I am not; I never am, but it does not wait for me: That avalanche of emotion that starts from my head and works its way down, sweeping all sense, self-integrity, self-respect, and reason right from me. The very reason that tells me to leave the ground that I have been standing, defending, and waiting on, waiting for responses from. But at the same time, the very reason that reminds me of my stances’ worth, values, and possibilities.

Despite it, still, I do not hang my head in shame because of it. I do not, and I will not. Here is where so many others fail, because their hearts are at a silent sleep. Some, you cannot even hear no matter how hard that you may try. They are just these quiet and inaudible beatings because the essences that are inside of them, that are meant to live loudly, are never even breathing, while mine is screaming and tugging to jump out of my chest and show you everything about itself: Me, stripped down, bare. Here is the physical description of what my emotions look like and every message and wanting that they carry so closely. Here is love, and here is its face spelled out in description from everything that has built up along my ways; everything that I have been begging to show and make clear to you. But I think that what you see is a hazy silhouette of what it really, truly is. You have to focus; put your attention towards it; acknowledge it and see it for what it really is. Define the lines and the shapes and direct your eyes away from any light that misconstrues your perception of it. See me, for me, and stop covering your eyes. Stop being so scared to open them. Just trust me, and unveil to yourself what is right in front of you. I’ll be honest here, if before I never believed in meant-to-be or simply the possibility and potential for something to actually grow into it, I do now. That potential has to be as boldly in your face as it is mine.

I randomly awoke in a sweat and my shirt was drenched, like I had been running for miles. The fan above me was blowing on high and my body was shivering from the mixture of the sweat and the cold air. Nightmares really do not come too often for me, but when they do they are not in the form of some ‘creature’ or 'thing.' Instead, this one was in the form of a vision of my best friend being arrested and losing all of his freedom as quickly as he was born and brought into this place. I remember vividly the look that he gave me, and I could see in his eyes all that he felt. You know that you are feeling an emotion that is speaking volumes when you can clearly show it on only your face, without having to mention it. That one choice that you made in life that puts you in that position usually always tends to never be worth it, because well, it wasn’t. Hard drugs, crime, rape, etc. etc; I just feel so bad for anyone that feels the need to follow through with these (Especially those who do so intensely) and for those who were raised to know nothing better. That is one of life’s most unfair points. Who the hell would I be if I had not had the parenting that I was given at my younger and most impressionable ages? I could be one of the worst souls in this world if I had not had my mother, my father, and step-father.

Anthony, one of my best friends and whom this dream dealt with, would in no way ever deserve what this nightmare was giving him. His face…I will just never forget it and the look that he had on it; it's a dragging list. And the worst part is that there was not a thing that I could do about it. Not a single, fucking thing. One of the very few people that have stuck by my side, assisted me in my life in more ways than you could imagine, and who has helped so many people in so many ways, well I watched as they took him away. His eyes were begging for me to do something; anything; and although that I would never do it, the thought crossed my mind of helping him make his escape from those policeman. I, and the world, lost my stepfather in 2004, and the feeling came across me that I would not let these people wrongfully take another person out of society, that society needs so horribly to better itself. I cannot remember why it had happened to him, or what he had done. I just felt and knew that it was wrong. I felt his unjustified shame that the shackling of handcuffs tend to give off, and I then felt fear for him; for everything that would follow this situation that he was in. And in an instant, his face faded, and I awoke into my cold sweat, and to the creaking and waving fan. I sprung to my feet off of the couch that I was sleeping on at Anthony’s apartment for the night, and ran to his doorway. I looked, and sighed: Relief, oh relief. What a freeing feeling. Anthony was still asleep in his own bed. It was a calming feeling to reassure that relief.

I walked away, grabbed my night bag, headed to the bathroom, and I changed my clothing before I fell back asleep. I found myself warm and content again; not drenched in a sweat with a heavy pounding heart. It was a good feeling to come attached with my next dream, especially after my previous one. And I do not mean simply just a dream where your mind wanders with seamless ideas and memories or constructed visions that defy reality and its sense. I mean more than that; a fulfilling dream; like when you were a child and there was one thing in your life that mattered; one thing that would make your life make sense and that you could only see yourself being happy with. Whether it was to be an astronaut, a pilot, an animal veterinarian, or what have you. This, in my world, was a dream, but also a dream-come-true in its own dynamic:

Somewhere in my head, I looked really, really hard for you. And somewhere in my head, I found you, suddenly right in front of me. You were standing with the small of your back in perfect arch, a perfect form, facing me and my direction. Your wide eyes were fixed onto mine, as mine were onto yours. I lifted my hand to meet yours, as you did the same, and we smiled as we found that we were only several steps away from our arm’s length of each other. My thoughts were so readable; so predictable. And all that I could think was, “Finally, finally, finally.”

You stood in front of me, as pretty as you have always been; as gorgeously as you have always carried yourself; as elegant as any woman that I have placed my eyes onto before. I found myself lost in your stare, overwhelmed with the comfort that I have always known that I would feel when this moment came; this moment where we let go of everything that held us apart from each other. I instantly sank into the most comfort that I have ever felt and experienced. I fell into a crevice that has never seen nor experienced any evil or bad intention; only complete innocence. And in all essence to your stunning appearance, the outline, beauty, and almost unbearable symmetry of your smile, and the allure and charm of your glossy eyes speaking volumes of how you felt all on their own; in essence to all of this, my body became weightless. My mind became fearless. My soul became unbreakable. You stood so brightly that I could hardly focus onto anything that was just simply around you. Everything that I have ever wanted, every good thing that I search for every day here that this world lacks incredibly, which you can only find scattered in bits and pieces throughout the world, and every bit and piece of happiness that would come attached with these, was standing right in front of me: Finally, finally, finally.

The gaping hole that I often find in my chest was overflowing with comfort and ease as opposed to its normal emptiness. For the first time in a while, I again felt a heart inside of my body, between the outlines of my rib cage; my voids were entirely reversed. I had the strength, motivation, and will to move mountains with the smallest of efforts. I had the intellect, confidence, and tenacity to stand on a stage in front of the entire world and perform my music to even my very worst of abilities, because out of all of these people, out of the billions and billions of them, it was for you and only you; and I knew that even at my very worst, it would not have mattered to you. You would have seen and heard more than just discords and flat pitches. Just as when I saw you, I saw more than just a girl standing in my direction. But then again, I don’t know how anyone could ever take you as just that.

I approached and came closer with a heavy pounding heart, and my blood ran through my body as quickly as it ever has. Even just a moment can seem like forever when you are approaching something that means more than the world to you. And before I knew it, we were face to face and those ten steps that seemed a lifetime’s length were over. With my eyes onto yours, and yours onto mine, you smiled, and you fell into me: In that moment, in that stretch of time, I could have changed the world and every bad thing in it with the invulnerability that I felt, and all of the strengths that come along with it.

This dream was filled with hints of us spending the day and night together; fade ins and outs and short episodes between seeing my friends, introducing you to others, and experiencing things that we had promised to experience together, and even things that we had not discussed yet. It was so quick and everything seemed to go by in a blur, but what trailed was nothing less than the most gratifying feeling in the world. I even remember at one point, you were riding next to me, sitting in my passenger’s seat. With one hand on the steering wheel, and the other with your hand in mine, I had never felt so content. Addicts, imagine your utmost highest high. The one that sets you on the path that you spend the rest of your time chasing after. That cannot even compare to the feeling that I got from this, and from her.

I remember vividly sitting down with you, while you laid across me. You picked yourself up, and you brought your hands to the outlines of my jaw and pulled me in, leaning your forehead into mine. I remember closing my eyes to take in the moment and the rush that it sent through my chest. I remember you talking to me, although I do not remember clearly what you were saying. All that I know is that my chest filled with comfort more and more with every word that you spoke. I do remember one thing that you said to me, and I promised to fulfill what exactly it was that you asked of me, although I am not apt to explain it for just everyone to see. These experiences, even though they were just mental, were so moving that I felt the need to follow the promise through, even in reality. You brushed your face against mine, and there was not a hint of discomfort on or in any inch of my body. With my eyes closed, with my body weightless, and with your mind, body, and heart and their intentions in unison with mine, I kept my eyes closed, put my hands over yours which still traced the outlines of my face, and thought to myself: Finally, finally, finally…

And abruptly, in a moment, as quick as I fell asleep and slipped into that overwhelming comfort, I awoke. And for about three seconds in what we have all known to be reality, I felt that overflowing comfort that filled that seemingly endless pit in my chest. I felt an uncontrollable smile which I could not turn around for the life of me and a sense that this day had so much more meaning than the past ones; a sense of meaning and importance because I got to share it with you. And then, my moment of being lost from the confines of reality, suddenly disappeared, and my chest sank into itself. I felt the comfort pulled straight from my insides when I realized that I was staring at the white apartment walls instead of you, reintroducing that endless pit all in a matter of a single second; the ultimate high, to the ultimate low. And just like before, you had disappeared. Just like before, I turned everywhere to find you, but I couldn’t. And just like before, that happiness found its exit, and I watched it and its back as it left me before I could reach my hand out and yell for it to stop and wait; to just stop and let me say what I felt inside. And instead of the overflowing comfort, spilling out from within that empty pit, I went numb, and that pit ravined and hollowed into places that I wasn’t aware were so impressionable to this, and breakable to this. I found myself weightless again, but instead, this time it derived from emptiness. My ears begged to hear those calming words and tones that your voice has always carried, but I got nothing but silence. I listened so hard that the statics of life were the only sounds ringing clear; past the air conditioner, past the television, past the humming and buzzing of the lights, the wind, and the ocean. I listened so hard that I heard things that most people only wish to and never hear in their entire lives. But the difference and why I couldn’t appreciate them was because I would have traded them all, just to hear you instead.

Echo

Ten minutes pass me by and disappear behind me into a hazy narrow-way which we all have the pleasure of calling the past. Its footsteps echo.

“Wait…what...what was that?...” is what comes slowly stuttering out as I pick my head up quickly from my wooden desk that so eloquently invited me in for a break from this place, and all of its colors. Life fluctuates violently and the walls shake. One minute the colors are so sharp that they are piercing and the next, all of the life and liveliness in the room suddenly quiets beneath a lonely shade of gray, that overtakes this quiet room and the seemingly endless heights of the wooden slabs of the furniture that reach far above my head.

My head finds its way back down, despite how badly that my mind does not want it to, along with a line of fragmented thoughts: Here we go again; that spinning commotion that I get in my mind when it is too filled with concern; that merry-go-round of worries that throws each of its complications into my face, to fade away, and then repeat. “I have things to do,” I angrily say at myself. “So much to do….so...much….” The computer screen stares at me while I once again drift off onto this cold, wooden desk. The blank page screams at me and I hear its every tone as the cursor fades in, and out. In, and out, over and over again; much like my conscious at the moment: in, and out. I hear it and I see it, but I cannot move a muscle; even as the fragments start to fall apart even more. This cannot be good; I think that my conscious has taken the hand of my reverie, and now they are sleeping on the same side of my mind.

More footsteps. More echoes. More footsteps, and more echoes.

I hear them all go; running more than they are walking; reminding me again with every step that life does not wait for anybody. Either it is on your side, or it isn’t. Either you make it on your side, or you don’t.

So life goes, and I only hear it leave through my sporadic moments of clear thinking during these moments where my focus cannot keep up with itself: Another ten minutes, followed by another five. And then an hour following and chasing the last of those two; followed by whatever fragments of consciousness and clear thinking that I can seem to fit in between the rest of it all. And along with them goes a posting, an article, a lesson, a conversation, an essay, a test, a study session, a friendship, and so many more things. Along with them goes any ground that could be covered, to bring me further than where I was before in any aspect of my life. And dear God we just cannot have that.

My mind snaps at the next echo, and I jump to my feet. I turn to my hazy narrow-way and extend my arm and hand to grab a hold of the next opportunity or feat that is finding its way through the dense and wet air; another one finding its way straight into my life, and straight out again. Just like the girl that you wished that you had spoken to. The one that dropped your jaw and rendered you wide eyed, which who you let turn around and walk not only out of the door, but out of the life that you call yours. And it is such a shame, she was so pretty.

So I reach out, only to find nothing and to grab a hold of nothing. The handful of mist that has found a home in the air escapes my hand as I reach out, close it, and draw it back in. I open it, and I study the emptiness: “Great. Life is passing me by and I just cannot seem to stay awake for it.”

This overnight stocking job sure as hell takes its toll. It is so draining that I find myself either at work or passed out in my bed that is far too big for only one person, or wherever a welcoming surface finds itself in front of me, much like this desk. I sleep, and life stands in a line and walks right past me as I lay there; one after the other; one new acquaintance, one new friend, one bettering situation, another writing, and another party; once again, another chance to better any certain aspect of my life. They look down to me as I slip into just another dream that I will in all likeliness not remember, they look back up, and then they take their steps to move on, like I do not even exist. And that is the feeling that they leave me with.

These opportunities are what keep me alive, or at least what is on the inside of me. Chasing and claiming these opportunities and making the best out of them is what keeps me going. Just like anybody’s life, things get hectic, and as of lately that is how they have seemed to stay. Don’t get me wrong, it is not like everything is going wrong in my life; it is not like that at all; it never is. But after such a buildup of unfortunate things one on top of the other and one after the other, I always turn to my social side and life’s opportunities to completely level whatever bad feeling may come attached with those unfortunate things. And simply, I refuse to be another person whose job has beat them down and destroyed the child inside of them. Life should not be so mechanical. I mean, this is only a job to bring me through college until I have all of my degrees, but regardless, I cannot sacrifice the obtaining of those degrees simply because I need a job in college. There are plenty more to do out there that will not cost me half of my life; I need that. The emptiness that I get from you is often momentarily filled by the moments that I seize and take a hold of. And without that my heart feels twice as heavy, and things are twice as hard.

One moment I will take in a deep breath to level my head with the amount of happiness that I feel from my friends and from my family, and the next, a cloud suddenly grows over my head and its grays and dark shades of color slowly creep over this scene, inch by inch, foot by foot, and limb by limb.

While I am at work, a package of painkillers slips out of my hands that I am trying to put into its rightful place. But luckily, my sarcasm tends to survive through the worst of things. “Fuck off life,” I respond with that outrageous level of sarcasm, followed by another self-driven laugh that my sarcasm tends to give me. But it is funny though; my laughter is a relief, and suddenly my mind opens up and the restraints and chains wrapped tightly around my mind let loose, all from the simple three words. The sarcasm turns into realism where needed; where I forgot to keep it alive, but only towards the oppressing parts of life such as the annoyance of my truck having to have three clutches replaced in the last year, due to illegitimate, thieving ‘mechanics.’ Now I am an extra $1800 out because a good majority of people just cannot do business right in our day and age. Pardon my language, but you know what?

Fuck off life, for putting those thieves in my path to scam me.

Fuck off life, for my battery dying and leaving me stranded in the deserts of bum fucked Egypt.

Fuck off life, for keeping me from my friends and best friends.

Fuck off life, for keeping me from my regular and wanted workout diet and routine, causing me to become a skinny little bitch.

Fuck off life, for keeping me from meeting these other girls who could possibly show me something that so many others simply cannot.

Fuck off life, for keeping me from having a positive outlook for even the shortest time that you did.

Fuck off life, for trying to kill the child inside of me. My heart has bigger aspirations and more life inside of it, than even you do.

Fuck off life, for trying to take your bearing toll on me, because I simply refuse to let you.

It is relieving. Finally, a mind waking moment to snap me out of this trance-like state that I have been stuck in; where my body operates, but my mind is empty. Now, once again, my body operates and my mind is full. My loves and my passions await me and my writings are one of them. My optimism and forward looking far outweigh your hindrances, reality. You see life, you are not meant to be so gloom; it is all in how you look at it, and all in how you look at you.

I owe the deepest apology to my passion of writing which I abandoned for a short time, but it will never be more than that again. You were a ghost ship living in my mind and drifting along our antecedents, but not anymore.

The worries of life want you focused around its darkest points as they tie anchors to your neck and try to weigh you down, and keep you there. These points take a hold onto everyone, and shamefully I let them take too good of a hold onto me for a short while. I feel weak for that. So in lieu of it, as the dark shades creep and darken onto the world that I open my eyes to every morning, I will look to the vibrancies that still remain, and to the beauties of this life that have found their way in and around my skin; I am still surrounded by it, and it is still here, somewhere between the sadness that has overrun this world. The colors will highlight onto every object in this place and everything will once again have its beauty like I have always seen and known it to have. Simply put, I will be the one looking down to all of life’s difficulties when I have made it to that point of towering over them, which I will.

The overshadowing of these clouds will dwindle, all in due time. And as for those grays that have claimed our cement jungles, our liveliness, and our duties as decent human beings here, well I find myself stuck in a forward movement with them, because those clouds find a comfortable and fitting place above my head, despite how much that I may honestly refute and refuse their affects. With every highlight and vibrancy, every accomplishment and gain, and every happy moment and feeling of content comes a slow overshadowing afterwards, whether for a while or a short while. You see, it is because you are the final piece to this puzzle of what makes the world beautiful to me; they outline the picture, as you highlight and lead.

And simply put: The grays; the grays are me without you.

Journal Entry #13: Holiday

The evening of day twenty-six:

It’s Thanksgiving. To me, another holiday that I find myself sitting and wishing that I could share with you; another reminder about your upcoming birthday, Christmas, and everything that comes afterwards; another reminder of how much that I honestly want to be with you on them, but how in all likeliness it is not going to happen. What a horrible view to have on things, isn’t it? I am an optimist to the T, but our recent efforts and our recent actions have turned me entirely around, one hundred eighty degrees from that. I mean, I have my hopes. I always will, but I guess that I have learned not to get them up so much, or as much. I will not put myself on a twenty foot ledge to fall off of when instead I can put myself on a two foot drop where I can land and still be on my own two feet. But really, I guess the most proper way to portray it is by saying that I would not put myself on a ledge like that concerning us anymore at this current moment. This really is the only place where my spiral from an optimist resides in. Sadly, it is one way that I have learned to deal with our current situation. So for repeat number two: It’s sad, huh? So many people say that love is about holding nothing back; about taking that chance. Well, I agree. But also, I am sorry that I have learned to be able to see past most people and past most situations where that fall (That I was referring to above) is inevitable; I am not taking a leap where I know that I will land with broken legs at best. That is poor judgment and poor decision making. Throwing yourself from atop a building without a rope, and only hoping for the very best and leaving your trust left only in that is no different; instead, it is also and mostly physical instead of purely emotional.

I went to my sister’s and her boyfriend’s new home today for the holiday. His entire family was there along with mine. It was entirely enjoyable. I saw friends from high school and met my sister’s most-likely future husband’s family and we all got along great. They just bought this extremely awesome house and I am so happy for them both. My sister of all people deserves that and so does her boyfriend, Jay. Couples were everywhere, of course; giving into the holiday cheer, as well as the alcohol; eating, laughing, holding hands, partying, and just having the time of their lives. I followed suit of what was everyone’s happiness, but with myself and my family as my closest instead, of course. But between my moments of laughter, I sat there and thought about you, especially at the table where an empty seat sat across from me. I knew that you had to be off having a great Thanksgiving, and I could not have been happier for you. Because I know you, and I know how into the holidays that you are. I know how much that you care about your family and cooking and having everyone over, even if that just refers to friends. I love that about you. You are a Sagittarius to the T. I hate it when people cannot be happy for others, and even in my darkest times I would never look down on or condemn your happiness, whether it is with me or another. I would never want you sad in the tiniest bit; Never.

The whole time I found reason after reason to wish that you were with me, justified or not. And fuck I sound so repetitive. I try to keep from that, I really do. Today just seemed too pushy not to touch the topic, I guess. I just felt empty, and it somehow led to me feeling something that I have almost never felt. It’s hard to describe. I am never one for a loss of words. I can usually always find what to say to describe what I want to portray. But I guess if you read every other entry that I have written, and if you understand their entirety and the emotions and wantings that come along with them, maybe you can form an idea in your head about what kind of feeling is moving around and consuming my insides right now.

Here’s to the closing of this laptop, the blank stare into the apartment walls or night sky that will follow; the realization and ahead-of-time understanding that this feeling will probably come again, but on a much more significant holiday, that will ensue when I begin to pull the screen down on this Macintosh. Here’s to me staring at the night sky here in the next few minutes, counting the stars and trying to point out the most magnificent views of the galaxy. Most importantly, here’s to my imagination and to me closing my eyes, sharing this with you; feeling you and your warmth next to mine, speaking to each other and smiling while we whisper on about how every person at that gathering earlier, adults and children, were so jealous of us; I know that they would be, and so do you.

Journal Entry #12: Role-model? You're not my role-model; I don't care how 'perfectly' structed your jaw line is.

The morning of day twenty-five:

Twenty-one years into my life and I am already so annoyed with fame and celebrities; most of them at least. I get so incredibly annoyed when I hear some girl running around screaming her head off about Edward Cullin or some other most-likely douche bag who has become famous simply because of his looks. I feel the same with women celebrities as well. More so than not, I do not even find them attractive overall. Really though, how shallow can you get? You are in love with a person because of the way that they look: No wonder why relationships (And everything in between) do not usually last anymore; I dare not even quote the divorce rate statistics. It is no wonder why people cannot make a good judgment or decision about whom they want to be with. They make an entirely uneducated decision over who and what they think that someone is, and then they run around spewing things like “I can’t believe this” or “how could this happen,” when things go wrong. The answer is all too obvious, but for some reason it is entirely illusive to so many others. You may say, “I don’t care about him for only his looks.” Well what do you care about him for? His role that he played in the movie? You know, the one that another person wrote for him to act out? Yeah, that is a great way to learn about somebody and about who they really are deep down; not. I do believe that there are some justified cases out there for stuff like this, but most of the time, there is not. It is exactly how I just portrayed it (In my opinion at least): Childish, immature, disrespectable to one’s self, naïve, and so, so much more. I bet peoples’ automatic response to my writings and my ideas about it are “You’re just jealous.” I find that just as naïve and ignorant. But people seem to be over-flowing with this lately in the 2000’s so it is really no surprise to me. I just get pissed off when I see people like Brittney Spears running around, completely destroying her life, and setting it as an example for children and other people to follow. These people, especially children, really do follow it though and that is what is wrong. Do you really think that Brittney Spears knows how to handle a lasting, good relationship from everything that you have seen and come to know of her over the years? If your answer is no (Which I would hope for), then why would you agree that she should be such an idol for it? She shouldn't! Neither should 90% of the idiotic celebrities out there who think that they are some kind of a one-of-a-kind god send: What a joke. Everybody on this Earth is a god send in one way or another, and no one on this earth is better than the next person; especially because of looks; give me a break already. I do not care who you are; I will disprove your arguments in every sense. I often-time wonder if the word morality even exists anymore to the general public? I mean, if I go to a dictionary will it still be there in a new aged print? I wonder if it will be one of those fading words, on worn paper where the ink so unexpectedly and unnoticeably fell or rubbed off. Is it just one of those words slowly losing its meaning, or is its meaning slowly becoming demoralized and changing for the worse, simply because it had to adapt to the ever-growing shallow tendencies of the world and the people in it? I would not doubt that; the original meaning of morality probably hung itself a long time ago when it finally stopped to take a look around at what it has become. I find myself clinging to anyone that holds a good set of morals anymore, like I just careened into the ocean inside of a plane and these people are my life raft. I could go on about this for so long. There are so many subjects to touch on. There are so many points to make. What I wrote above is nothing but an extremely skimmed down and vague version of my argument.

My friend Jackie says the same thing; I am not really into celebrities, that is. She asked me who my celebrity crush is and I responded, “I do not have any. Why would I like someone when I know nothing about them, but the way that they look along with a very uneducated vision of who they are as a person? Yes, I admit, I may think that a woman celebrity is pretty, but that is all. She is pretty, but I do not have a crush on her even at that.” I mean, when I break it down in my head, it all really depends on your mindset and I understand that, but I do not want to find myself in that ridiculous kind of craze. I just cannot help but feel sorry for the people that do; and that sentence and statement makes me feel so low because I really mean no condescension by it, even though it is overly dressed in it. I just hate that people can be so blinded about what is right in front of them, all because they are daydreaming about something else that is as shallow as this. Her ideas on it resembled the same, and I responded with a fierce high five and higher hopes that she helped me gain.

I do not know why I seem so angry about it. I guess it just seems so simple to me. But who does not believe strongly in their own personal views? Every one of mine are just as flawed as I may believe another’s to be; I believe that you must try to keep that in mind for the sake of the respect of others (If that is your goal of course). Anyways, jealousy does play a part with it when it comes down to the right person. I mean, I do not want to hear about how the girl that I care about wants to fuck, kiss, or what have you, with some other guy. Especially when in all likeliness, that guy is a complete douche bag, and would not deserve her to begin with. Would you want to hear that? People freak out like it is some kind of control thing too; it is not. You can say and think that stuff all that you would like (You sure as hell do not need my permission), just have the respect not to say it in front of your significant other if they do not like it. It is not hard at all. But on the other hand and at the same time, I have always agreed with the fact that if someone cares about you enough and like they should when you are involved in a relationship, then it will not even cross their mind to begin with (There is a very, very fine line here though). It is not impossible. I, along with many others, do it all of the time. I am not building myself up and I am not trying to make myself seem better than anyone, because simply, I am not. But these values are easy to follow and sometimes people just need to hear that someone else out there really does practice it and believe in it, in order for them to find some sort of hope or motivation towards it. I can name you quite a few of these people that practice this day in and day out.

Anyways, I am still waiting for your call and I am growing so tired of it. Not tired as in getting over it. Tired as in I am ready for it to stop; the waiting, although I do not know if then end of it and you will ever come through. My mind goes weak when I try to process my situations over and over anymore. I really do miss you. Is it pathetic that I am still stuck on this almost a month after we were supposed to talk with each other, as promised? Is it pathetic that I am still stuck on you over a year after we have met? It is contradictive, but I do not find very much patheticalness in it, honestly. You proved for so long to be just as stuck on me, as I am on you. I do think that sometimes that it does hold quite a bit of petty poignancy, and then I remember exactly what we had. I guess a lot has happened in a year. I remember vividly, every moment that we have shared, between presence and complete absence. It has been such a back and forth chasing game, although I have to admit that I have never enjoyed chasing someone so much, or being chased, so much. Every time that I have gotten you back, it has been amazing and I am so tired of seeing you leave. I am so tired of not being able to take your hand when you try to leave or walk away, even though I know that it will probably lead to you telling me that you just need your space for a short while; that is fine, but I just want to be able to make that effort for you. I am so tired of not being able to look you in the eyes and tell you how I feel; I am so tired of giving off these unintentionally mixed signals that throw us both off of balance; I am tired of not fulfilling all of the things that we promised that we would do and fulfill; I am tired of not being able to pull you in right next to me, and I am tired of lying in an empty bed where I wish that I could turn over, and there you would be. I do miss you, I do. And I do not know if you have lost your feelings, but it seems so, more so than not, now. And all that I needed was so easy and the things that would come along with it, well there are no words to describe that and the overwhelming comfort that would come along with them. This last time that you said goodbye in the silent ways that I have known you to do, all that I needed was to see you once. Just once, and I guarantee that everything would be different right now between us; there would be no guessing anymore.

Because then I could take your hand when you try to leave and I could stop you; I could list and name as many of the countless reasons as to why your hand belongs in mine, as you would like; and I could turn over in my bed to find you laying there, where I could exhale every bad and uncomfortable emotion in my body, look you in the eyes, and tell you just how I feel.

Journal Entry #11: A touch of right vs. wrong; Or in the best terms, respect.

The early morning of day twenty-two:

This is a redo. I began to write an entry before this, drunk. It was pretty humorous. Is anyone else a drunk dialer, texter, MySpacer, Facebooker, etc. etc.? The mornings after are always so funny. But hey, I’m much more easily amused than others.

It is four in the morning and I am tired. I am just not much for sleeping tonight. I have been so down and out the last week or so. It sort of feels like my life and it’s progression is at a halt; I just have some things that I need to take care of; I have been slacking a bit lately. It is a pretty shitty thing when you are a person that looks and feels down on yourself when you are not constantly progressing in one way or another. It is easy to get yourself stuck in a rut. But what is progression anyways? I couldn’t begin to tell you how it is measured, or what its standards of acceptance are, really. I just turn to tending to my music, school, work, or scholarships one at a time when I get caught up in this; maybe even some of it all at times. It makes me really wish that I had gotten my other degrees before I had gone to Full Sail and gotten an Associates degree in Recording Arts. A little while back I decided that I wanted to become a personal trainer and physical therapist first and foremost; my ambitions about Full Sail at first were naïve and misled; it’s what I thought that I wanted most, but I realized that it is not, and that led me here. Becoming a certified personal trainer is easy, but health science takes a bit longer. I am actually considering shooting for a PhD in it and to go ahead and get it over with. Shall I decide to do that, my road there is extended significantly, although I know that it is worth it. I really should have just finished that first. Most of the places that I would be able to use Full Sail’s degree are out of this state, thriving under circumstances that agree with everything that I have learned to disagree with in life, or are depicting themselves to be something that just doesn’t seem like it would make me near as happy as I could be and should be, and that is not what I’m looking for. Whatever though, it will all work out still. At least I know how to record, mix, and develop my own music. That puts me ahead just a bit, which makes me feel better, not to mention that I have been working on my music ruthlessly for the past year or so. And I have five different side projects, which all vary into different genres; all of the way from acoustic, to hardcore, to somewhat classical and theatrical. I do every instrument on my own, and with that being said, it is hard to complete even just five separate demos all up to my personal standards in a short period of time. And by a short period of time, I mean at least a year; I am ecstatic to release it, but I know that I have to be patient. Anyways, after I graduate, I plan to be working as a personal trainer and as a physical therapist and I will attend school for botany. Out of everything, I have learned in life to do what you love. It is what makes me happy at least. Music, health, and botany may be a weird combination, but it’s my thing and I think that I will be much happier dealing with that rather than I would be waking up miserable, dressing up, forcing a smile, and going to do sales every day like my father. His break though, is that he is at least good at sales; I’m sure that it makes it much more bearable.

I don’t know what to write this morning. I guess I am getting to the point where I am getting tired of writing about this; in this rhetoric at least. There are so many things that I want to say, but I often forget them and replace that one idea with another. Right now though, I guess your own personal self-justification keeps running through my mind. That is what I find myself focused on at this moment, aside from the usual good things that I relive. I remember a couple times when we got into an argument and you responded “I really didn’t do anything wrong anyway,” refusing to find yourself sorry, and well, wrong. I thought, “Wow. You know maybe you did not do anything obviously wrong in your own opinion, but either way, it is something that I do not like (that is not taken out of context, unjustified, or unfair) so it is in one way or another, wrong for this relationship.” That is how I have always thought anyways towards other’s that I am in a relationship with. Whatever though. I really need to stop doing self-comparisons. I catch myself sometimes. It’s an asshole thing to do.

I don’t feel creative right now. I feel somewhat numb to things. This may be, and honestly probably is, just an easier moment. Who knows how I’ll feel when I wake up?

Journal Entry #10: Detachment

The morning of day eighteen:

“Detachment: the action or process of detaching; separation.”

This damned word. For me, staring at it is no better than putting my head inside the mouth of a starving lion; thinking about it is no different than that sinking feeling that you get when you imagine every person that you love being torn out of your life; and experiencing it, well that’s no better than having your heart ripped out by some broad or asshole that you thought that you could trust. It’s one word that stares back up at me, and I get lost in between the lines of its black letters, curves, and spaces. My mind hits a black static wall when I imagine it and slowly and then abruptly, those horrible memories surrounding it come flowing back and I find myself hating the word more so than I did just before it had crossed my mind. So I close my eyes, clench my fists, and grit my teeth, until that knot in my heart disappears; the one that those memories come attached with. Detachment: I hate this word in every sense.

I have never understood how people so easily detach themselves from others. I really just don’t get it. I mean, in certain cases, yes it can be easy and yes it may be what is called for (Such as a bad friend for example). But if you are reading this, if you are this far into these entries, you know that this is not what I am hinting at. I have never been able to just drop someone and my feelings. I have never been able to just push them aside and neglect them. I have had this happen though, as I am sure just about everyone has. I loved someone only for them to wake up one day and decide that they no longer felt the same way. And after our conversations and my words that I used to try to change her mind, they didn’t, and she detached. I thought that we were so right. I thought that we went hand in hand; like a great white with the sea, because it is absolutely nothing without the water. I was wrong about that and I am aware of that now, but that does not change the fact that I was not aware of it then. That detachment was worse than a nightmare; this time, I did not get to wake up to find out that it was only a dream. It was there every minute, taunting me and throwing itself in my face. I felt my heart ripping into two. I sat there, and felt that seam tear down inch by inch. I felt like I was exhaling bullets, because it is nothing but a war all inside of your own body at this point.

All of this lead to my learning of what I really wanted out of a girl; what I truly considered to be “amazing,” and then that lead to you. But you detached suddenly from me in such a horrible and unexpected way, and you cannot deny that. It is not a throw in the face or a blind side that is meant to attack you or make you feel low. It is just my way of expressing the realistic truth. Don’t get me wrong, I do not mean to be anything but tact; I put my life on that; everyone deserves respect, especially the people that we say that we love. But it is also my way of expressing how I just do not understand how or why it happened. I know that you remember; that first time; that one argument where I was made to believe that I was only some sort of “thing,” used to keep you happy, when you really did not even want me around. I was used “to fill a hole.” And then suddenly, you were gone. And even though they were lies, my mind turned into a skew of questions, worry, and doubt. My appearance became a forced smile while I was screaming in my own mind every question like “how did this happen” and “why did this happen?” “Why did you leave” and “why did you use me?” “I thought that you cared” and “please don’t leave this behind.” “Where did you go” and “why in this world won’t you just talk with me?” Trying to focus myself on track by saying “I don’t deserve this, fuck you for what you did,” but at the same time I knew that this couldn’t be you, because you were everything that I had hoped for; everything that was the opposite of those words. There was no closure. There were no helping words. There was no compassion. I couldn’t even find a hint of care. And it worked my mind into such a craze because I knew that something so harsh just could not come out of you, but why did it? And why did it come in my direction? The next set of questions came to mind, and it mainly consisted of “how could you” and “how could you so easily….” and so on. I am unaware of whether it is the fact that people really just do not care about another and that is why it is so easy to detach, or if they really think that their lack of heart concerning detachment is for the best? You know, if it is true that organs slowly shut down due to overall lack of use, I am surprised that some peoples’ hearts still beat. Gak gak gak! Really though, they are lucky that their emotional hearts do not tie in directly with their physical heart and its health. I just do not get some people nowadays. You were not like any of them, and that is why this was probably one of the worst things that could have happened. I did not expect it in the least, and I was completely unguarded. I knew of its existence and possibilities, but I knew nothing of how close that they really were to us, and to me. So maybe I am a fool for that; for disregarding something so important; for not paying enough attention to one of the foremost details. Or maybe on this one it was just my optimism handing out chances again, hoping for just a little bit of luck. Knowing me, I’ll side right in the middle.

Moving on does not mean that you have to put yourself or the other through the self-torture of just not seeing the person that you care(d) about. Even if it is not torture or hurtful to you, you really do not have to do that still. A lot of people seem to think this. I hate when people just throw out even their friendships without even having a solid reason to do so. Most of the time when you break up, you are losing your friend as well; often-time your best friend; even family. I do not understand how it is so easy to detach from this either. Let’s put a heroin addict in a room with loads of heroin, and see what happens when they suddenly run out! Love does not give the exact same affect obviously, but depending on how much that you care about that other person, it can be just as devastating in its very own ways. So my question is, when you care about someone so much, how do you so easily detach? I know one thing, and that is that I hate that feeling of being detached from. Shallow detachments like what I am stating are nothing but weaknesses; an easy option out for whoever is on the detaching side. I know this because I have done it before myself; once in an entirely immature relationship, where I was entirely immature, as were my feelings for the girl; I did not really care, and it hurt her. That is one reason why I question the intent and honesty of these other people’s feelings who are much, much older now than I was back then, and who seem to detach so easily still at these older ages. We should all be past this at this point; should be, that is. Maybe that is the answer to all of my confusion over this subject, maybe not. But regardless, no one ever deserves to have to go through that, regardless of age or anything else. And although it creates an impeccable life lesson, some in all honesty are just too harsh to be fair. But we all know that that is not what life is about; not about fairness. Not fairness towards ourselves from the rest of the world at least; I do not believe in that. But I do believe in fairness towards the rest of the world. I will not be the shallowness that life has proven to mostly be towards me. And with what I cannot take back from former actions, I can give back to the world with new ones. And with knowing that, I finally began to make sure that I am one person that will not do these types of things to others; not so selfishly and carelessly as I have experienced at least. No, nothing close to that.

You have detached from me several times, and it is the worst thing in the world for every one of them. But out of common sense, I guess that I have come to the realization that I do not subject enough weight into your heart for you to stay around. At the same time I think that I am wrong, and at the same time I know that that’s wrong because I just have not had a fair chance with you lately. But reality weighs much more heavily than my intuition does. I have tried to catch your attention, and honestly, catching and keeping your attention is not what is wrong, but getting you close enough for it is what is so hard. It is like you will not even look my direction out of fear of something; like a fear of me leaving. But you are not that weak; I know that you aren’t. So for better words, it’s like you will not stay focused onto me out of a fear of us simply going wrong. And it is like that fear outweighs the good and the possibilities that exist between us in your head; even though in reality, the bad is towered over by the good, story after story. I have made my attempts to even simply talk to you, and I have succeeded with results that seem to give us both so much hope, only for you to not follow up on even a phone call that may have even been promised. And then my calls go unanswered as well. It is just so weird, leveling this between love and reason. I know how to read when someone is not intrigued by me and by my words; I have that common sense. And this situation just does not read like that to me; it reads like you want everything that I do, but you are just scared. This is not a fucking pity me letter, or a fuck you response. This is not meant to hurt anyone. But it is a storm that I have had in my mind that just is not clearing up. And these questions: These “why did you leave’s” and “why won’t she call me’s” and “I thought she loved me” and “was I really just a tool” and “I thought she said that she realized things” and “why did she” and “I wonder if she’s happy” and just so many more things just keep going around and around and around. And the only thing that keeps me standing through this dizzying are the good memories and better questions like “I wonder why she called me this time” when you chose me to turn to out of nowhere at one of our lesser points, when I really didn’t expect you to anymore. You never looked for my guidance to that degree before when you have been as upset as you were. I remember you distinctly telling me that you prefer to be alone when you are mixed up in that kind of emotion, and I remember very distinctly, you proving that; so this certain turn of events made me happy, even though I absolutely hated the sound and idea of you crying and being that upset. It defined bittersweet.

So here’s to the optimist. I find myself living that role on a constant basis. I would much rather live my life looking forward to the good things to come, rather than the bad, no matter the size of the two when in comparison. After all, you did tell me that sometimes you can’t imagine being with anyone, but me. But see, I live that role too, but on a constant: The one where I can’t imagine being with anyone, but you.

Journal Entry #9: Memory and Heart vs. Potassium and Water

Night thirteen:

I guess by now any other person with any common sense would agree to the fact that you just don’t seem interested anymore. And I’ll admit that It took me a little while to come to terms with the fact that I only inserted the ‘I guess’ into the beginning of that sentence to humor what hopes that I have left.

I can’t believe that I am one of those people, actually caught in this situation. No offense to anybody, it’s just that it reinstates a standard that should never have been dismissed.

At this point, most people give up. But as what can sometimes be one of my flaws, you always have my benefit of the doubt, which is what you have always wanted me to give anyways. Whether I like it or not, I always stay optimistic in every situation; typically not to a fault, but with you that is another story. I just cannot stand it when people cannot and/or will not see the good in bad situations and honestly, in every situation. I’m not saying that it is easy to find yourself happy in a moment of unhappiness, but that moment of unhappiness will be much more beneficial if you pick out the good lessons out of it and amplify on their teachings. I practice this religiously. I believe that there is a good message beneath everything, as well as a bad one, and I always try to recognize them.

I got a few words out of you; fewer than I would have liked. You sounded too stressed for anyone’s own good. I’ll never let myself get upset at you when things get hectic like that. It’s unfair. The morality of understanding when not to put more stress on a certain individual (When they clearly don’t need it or cannot handle it) far outweighs the morality of me wanting to feel a better comfort at the current moment that I’m in.

I find myself in daydreams quite often; I’m one of those people; I’ll drift off to the thoughts of so many different things. Often-time I picture what it’s like to be right there next to you, instead of sitting next to all of the miles that are between us. Distance is one horrible and apathetic thing. It’s just as bad as anything that you’ll find on this earth, and no different than any emotion; when whatever on the opposite end of it has meaning to you, there is more attached to it than just a stretch of land or water that its simple name depicts it to have. And that feeling tears at you from your inside and there just is not a damn thing that you can do to guard yourself from it.

A lot of people try to build walls between their emotions in these types of instances, but they never understand how much better that it is ultimately to just let them in. They numb themselves, instead of letting their feelings feel; they focus on the first and foremost feeling of discomfort from that distance and its miniscule disheartening abilities, instead of focusing on the whole picture and the greatness that the whole picture precedes, and then they take that chance of greatness away from themselves out of fear from the first.

So while you stand there unguarded to this discomfort, all that you can do is find yourself falling into its emotion more and more, and becoming lost in it more and more every time that you think about who or what you are missing on the opposite end of that distance. You are just another countless victim of it; another one on its list, unless you can find that one thing: Closure, although it doesn’t guarantee a pure and entire satisfaction of that discomfort. I have found that the world and the majority of the people in it are lacking this incredibly, especially when it really counts and is really needed, and actually, more so when it really counts and is really needed. And not just the presence of closure from a simple branched out idea like simply missing someone or something. I mean closure, overall and as a whole, period, encompassing every emotion which includes those smaller branches such as missing someone or something (i.e. Missing someone versus loving someone).

A lot of people will not or do not think to help someone through a break up; especially one that they were just involved in themselves. You see, most of the time people say their goodbyes (If even that) and they leave each other stranded; feeling like they are suffering from the next best thing to heroin withdraws. When you love and/or care about someone that much, it’s almost no different anyways; they are just different pains with equally devastating effects. But I just do not understand it. Why just leave this person? Why just let them suffer? Why just say that “I’m sorry, there is nothing that I can do?” There is something that you can do! Why not help them? You can leave someone, but help them through it still while keeping yourself behind the lines that should not be crossed. One of my best friends is practicing this as I type this, every minute, of every day. He tells a girl and makes it clear that they are not together and that they won’t be together anymore; their relationship is done. And it is crucial for him to be honest about it, and also just as crucial for the other person that he is saying it to, to understand it and to honestly believe it, or it can be disastrous, obviously. But he is still there to talk to her. He still tells her that everything is going to be okay, and she believes it, because it is him telling her that. He still tells her that he does miss her, because he does, but he does not take it to the point where he gets her hopes up, tricks her, or lets her trick herself over a possible reconnection with each other. He just lets her know that he does care. He still tells her that she is worth every good thing in the world, because she is; just because he does not want to be with her does not by any means mean that she is worthless to anyone else, and that will never stand true, and he makes sure that she knows it. And every night, she sleeps well instead of having her face shoved into a pillow, crying herself to sleep. It doesn’t fix the initial fact that they are no longer together, but it fixes all of the horrible confusions that most break ups cause within a select individual’s mind. Like the typical response of, “There must be something wrong with me if they don’t want me.” That is such an unfair and untrue statement to let someone think, especially when they are innocent. Of course every person is different and you will have to use different approaches and techniques to do this, but that also should be obvious. You see, you owe this to this person for them having opened up to you and have given so much to you. You do not just walk away and leave someone stranded. You do not just turn your back on someone. You call yourself strong because you simply walked away from someone like this, in this specific type of situation? If so, you need to revise your definition of ‘strong,’ because it is so ironically one of the weakest definitions and meanings that you could attach to the word. I learned this from when my family turned their backs on my stepfather, which led to the death of him, and this is why I hold the saying so close. I bet so many people have learned that from someone as well, but the worst part is, they all seem to forget down the road somewhere. The “you’ll never be forgotten’s” and the “(Insert name here) will be in our hearts forever,” they just seem to dissipate over a period of time and gradually, people stop practicing or even thinking about what they have learned from that person’s death. Sadly, I have seen it happen far too many times.

I remember when I was seventeen years old, I wrote a bulletin on MySpace calling my entire high school out on their carelessness over a certain subject. We all had a dear friend who died in a car accident. His name was Robbie Buddington. The story that I was told was that he and another one of my friends were driving home from school and either an ember from a cigarette or a cigar that they were smoking lit a firework’s fuse and caused it to explode in the truck. The driver panicked and crashed into a cement light fixture, seeing that he didn’t know just what was going on. Robbie’s door was somehow jammed shut and the car quickly set a fire. The driver jumped out thinking that Robbie’s door could open, and once he noticed that Robbie was still inside, he ran back to the car and with every ounce of strength that he had in him, he tried to pull Robbie out from the window. But when the driver reached in and pulled out, most of his skin was already burnt and gone from his arms and hands from the fire; it was that intense already. Unfortunately, despite as hard as he tried, the driver could not save Robbie. Someone who had pulled over even had to run in and pull the driver off of the car, because he would not give up. Needless to say, Robbie passed away. This kid did not deserve it; this kid that never did a thing to anybody except brighten their days and make them smile. And unfortunately I’m sure that I sound as if I’m preaching, because I’m sure that just about all of us have a similar story to share. My high school was devastated though. He was a senior and I was a junior when it had originally happened. We all felt like we lost a big part of ourselves. And not because we all knew him so “dearly” like I stated. The fact is, most of us didn’t. But we heard enough about him to gather our ideas. Even his best friends literally had no stories to share where Robbie showed a weak moment, or even an angry or uncalled for moment. I saw him in the hallways always putting a smile on someone else’s face. I never once saw or heard of him doing anything remotely hurtful to anyone; only how his reaction to most people’s teasing only resulted in him teasing himself also, as to avoid unnecessary conflict; and it’s not like he had anyone to be scared of. He was even the ex-boyfriend of the first girl that I have ever been in love with and had an actual long-lasting relationship with, and he made her really happy while they were together; really happy. He was such a good person and the world lost something incredible. Half of the ‘men’ in the world don’t have the courage to do this, or even begin to do this. Most of you idiots think that taking a physical stance toward any and every single argument that is thrown your way is what makes you and defines you as a ‘man.’ No matter how minute or worthless the argument is. You are wrong, and you are hypocrisy at its worst.

All everyone could talk about was “Remember Robbie!” and “Carpe Diem!” He had this tattooed down his back. It translates to ‘seize the day.’ If you knew Robbie, you would understand that he lived up to that very, very well. But he changed everyone’s attitudes. Everyone became better. Everyone started to care about everyone else at the school, whether they knew them or not; regardless of race, or sex, different interests in life, or past histories. He started a movement in everybody. There are no words to describe how incredible that it was. But people change, and fucking A, I hate hearing and saying that so much. In time, they changed back, or maybe, and probably, they never changed permanently to begin with; they relapsed; they all forgot; they all stopped caring. Fights broke out again; constant arguing at lunches. It made me sick. I wrote something that I hoped would emotionally knock some sense into these people, and luckily it did, but so sadly, it was only for a short while again. It circulated all around MySpace and the MySpace’s of the kids at my high school. Everyone woke up finally and began acting out their wondrous ways again. They all began to live up to “Remember Robbie!” and “Carpe Diem!” They all began to show their hearts again. They all began to stop making fun of other people because well, look what happened to Robbie. They all began to apologize to the people that they had hurt. They all began to be better people again, until well…until they began to forget, again. I think that I can only name a few that still remember him like they had promised to. I just do not understand. How can you just forget somebody? Whether it is from love, death, or what have you? How?

This leads into my next topic: Detachment.


R.I.P. Robert P. Buddington
01/02/1987-3/04/2005

Journal Entry #8: Intermission

The morning of day thirteen:

I went and saw Copeland last night at The Plaza Theatre. They are hands down one of my favorite bands of all time. They are about to break up as well, so I caught them just in time. It was bearing though because even though they are one of my favorite bands that I have ever discovered, you and your memory are completely attached to every one of their songs. I remember falling in love with that band, while at the same time doing the same with you.

My friends that planned to go all bailed so I ended up going alone, but that never stops me from having a good time, which it didn’t. In the process of everything that was great about it though, I also came to a point of realization that I never knew that a chair-a simple random, by-chance chair-could look and feel so empty. There were rows of these theater chairs, but none of the other ones seemed to even exist during these couple of hours. But I’m predictable in these writings; and of course I am referring to the one that was right next to me; the empty one whose absence of your person, character, and meaning, that kept my attention and caught my glares more so than the actual show did. I just really wish that you could have been there next to me at that show. I don’t know why; it just meant something to me.

This is a short entry today. Not much comes to mind; or much that I can understand well enough to form into words. It’s just one of those days that I just sit and think, you know? I guess that I should probably continue with that and stop this, seeing that this page will probably just end up with countless “I miss you’s,” if I don’t, and I just might be an idiot for that.

Journal Entry #7: Is that you standing there?

The morning of day twelve:

I unintentionally skipped several days as you can tell; often-time my writing is based on my current moods and emotions, and typically it comes from an uneasy one. And the fact that I felt the weight lighten for a little while is enough proof to reassure that. But still, as a whole, it was enough to barely keep me away from writings.

I went to The Get Up Kids, Kevin Devine, and Mansions show last night at The House of Blues in Orlando. It was a blast. The Get Up Kids came out of nowhere with a reunion tour and I’m ecstatic that I was able to see them. I’ve always complained about how I never had the chance to, seeing that they broke up just a little while before. Out of the three successful crowd surfs at that show, I was one of them, haha. The crowd was kind of weak though. I guess I just thought that it would be better; I mean, it’s a reunion tour, right? Anyway, if you were there and you saw one single blonde haired kid, with a black shirt and jeans, floating amidst a crowd of two hundred people shouting at the top of his lugs for The Get Up Kids, then yes, that was me and yes, it was fucking awesome.

These two girls who were much less than acquaintances were acting entirely ridiculous towards my two friends that I went with; Jon and Shaun that is. Somewhere along the way, they bumped into them in the crowd a couple of times and the two had attitudes ever since. As we were leaving one of them yells, “Go back to UCF and die where you belong,” in Jon’s direction. We all began to laugh out of the pure stupidity that drenched her statement. But still, even aside from all of that, to all of our surprise, a separate group who was towards the same area as we were took it personally by mistake and started yelling back at the girl with twice the obscenity and twice the resentment. I’m pretty sure that she felt bad for how ecstatically hard that we all started laughing at first, but especially at that (UCF = University of Central Florida. a.k.a. “Bro’s. “ See YouTube). First off, there is nothing “bro” about my friends and I (Not that there is anything wrong with it of course, as I’ve got many close friends who fall into this category) which was the first step up her climb of mountainous humor seeing that it’s no wonder why the group next to us found it aimed in their direction, seeing that they fit the description of “Bros” far, far more than we did.

“What kind of idiot yells a statement that broad and undefined into a crowd, while only focusing onto several of the people in it,” I thought to myself while I laughed again. I pictured a small white man running into a crowd in the heart of the ghettos in Los Angeles chasing after one, single Mexican man for banging his wife or something, screaming racial obscenities towards the guy that in all actuality involves the entire Mexican population…Wtf? Idiot, right? (Small white man yelling racial obscenities + L.A. gang area = Shanking, probably in numerous areas)

No one even had to say anything and her stupidity was standing boldly in front of you like an oncoming freight train. I feel bad when people do this to themselves, I really do, and I don’t want to be the reason that they feel humiliated or torn down in any way. But she made a mistake, and a stupid mistake: She judged both Jon and Shaun without knowing either of them at all. She was pissed off because they bumped into her in the crowd (Fuck, like you can help that anyways) so she decided already that she didn’t like them for some reason that I cannot put any logic to. She gathered assumptions and obviously ignorant and incredibly uneducated ones. Just about everyone that I have ever met loves those two friends of mine especially, and they have proven that almost everywhere that they go. The sad part is, if that girl had only taken the time to just turn around and listen to them instead of make those assumptions and gather all of those completely uneducated ideas, she would have heard them both trying to tell her sorry and apologize for having bumped into her. Then she could have been +2 friends, instead of -2 (Not including the 5-8 in the other group). People act like they are fucking allergic to this or something; like if they act kindly the fucking meteor of the apocalypse is going to come barreling straight down onto their face. My two friends are two of the best people that I know and as far as I am concerned, she just threw away her opportunity to have two life blessings come into her life: What a fool. I just hope, for her own sake, that this is the only flaw that she so obviously has and boldly announces. Typically though, when you lack one morality to a degree like this, you lack many others too. But, even more importantly, for all that I know, she was probably a good person, but a bad side unfortunately showed. Wrong impressions happen all of the time. Just like her wrong impression over my friends, although hers had next to no validity.

The Get Up Kids played Campfire Kansas. It was so awesome as I had wanted to hear that one especially. For some reason it’s just one of those songs that I have always wanted you to be right there with me for. For now I’ll just keep my fingers crossed as tightly as they’ll go, but that goes without saying; mine always seem to be crossed for something. The funny thing though, is that the entire time that I was there, I caught myself scanning the crowd from time to time; I was looking for you. I didn’t want to admit it to myself at first. I know better than to get my hopes up on anything that clearly will not happen, but hearts are hard to control. And even though I know that we are far away now, I kept the back of my mind fixated on the hopes and possibility that here in this crowd of hundreds of people; here in this crowd of all of these people that I do not know; here in this room filled with complete strangers with good and bad souls whose intent and distinction is clearly written on their faces, and especially in their eyes, because you really can tell how someone is feeling from their eyes. You may roll your own set of eyes when you read that, but it is true. Some people look lost, hurt, angry, unloved, happy, and so on. You name it, it can be shown. And there within that, it can also be disguised, which most are. But there’s more to it than that; more feeling and understanding than just one simple emotion and word, and just putting a basic label on it will never truly describe its depth. But a lot of people do not understand it because they forget to look with more than just their own eyes and deeper than just the surfaces, and that outcome always leaves with a shallow answer. If you look further, you can see whether a person is crying out or if they’re in a battle with that horrible feeling of combating your own emotions only to keep your composure; whether they’re drowning in their own body or can barely breathe, scrambling on the floor because it feels like their chest is prepping to implode; whether their dreams just came true such as a young woman finally marrying the man that she loves or whether your soul is at an unimaginable pain; whether they miss someone or even if they are begging in every direction for any answer to alleviate whatever horrible feeling that’s overrun them; and even something as simple as content.

And amongst all of these people who were all of these things and everything in between, I kept that hope: That amongst all of these people, and amongst me, you just may be too; just some way, and somehow.