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I've never understood and probably never will, how such a beautiful, wonderful thing can kill, or how it can hurt and hate, how it can dissipate, the most  complex piece of art, is none other than the human heart.

Jul. 11th, 2009

I don't know anymore than this:

if you live you die.
if you die, you're dead.

if you live you experience things both good and bad.
the bad sometimes makes you appreciate the good, but not always.

this speaks nothing of the good, just for itself.
the good makes you happy.

happiness we value.
value is man-made.

man-made things break.
happiness breaks.

we will all be broken and dead.

Rocks

I used to collect rocks. The rock tumbler machine (put rocks from the ground in and add soe active ingredient magic pouch, let it spin in it for what feels like a year and beautiful, colourful, smooth stones come out) was one of my favorite things. I had quarts, fools gold (lots of fools gold), and a million others with things I can't even remember the names of. I loved looking at the colours and feeling the smooth rocks in my palm and then comparing the shapes of the jagged ones. The nicer ones hung in a display box on my wall, while the rest resided in little felt draw-string bags.
It's been ages since I've collected and I'm sure the rock tumbler machine left me at a garage sale a long time ago. I haven't taken the time to look at shapes of rocks, much less the colours. But suddenly I am realizing that I have tons of little stones everywhere. You can't see them and you probably never will, but I have pockets and purses and suitcases filled with them. They're small, but they're weighing me down and I can't help but to keep holding onto them. I hate their weight and the pain they've given me- small stones add up to make a large boulder- but at the same time there's something beautiful about them... there's a reality. There's nothing more real than a rock, whether it hurts you as you stub your toe on it, or whether you skip it across a beautiful lake- helping it make it's way around the world, there's something worthwhile about a rock.

Untitled

In the night i see the light
hides in the sun
days hide reality
lies to your face
eyes to eyes
night
look away
truth spills from lips
cold and harsh
ice breaking glass
smooth now jaged
rain falls
drips in the sand
waves crashing in
washes away footprints
left by
you.

Ticking Clocks

So here I sit in my kitchen. Nobody else here, no music playing or TV for background noise. Just silence and the ticking clock. I don't feel sad, I don't feel happy, I feel like I'm sitting in silence. I am. The ticking of the clock is the only way I'm even aware that time is passing. I assume it's passing. It ticks and ticks and I sit and sit and it's nice. I'm in my robe- bless this robe, it's my favorite ever. It's comfortable. I feel comfortable. The clock's ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. Normally it would drive me insane, but today, with the light making a glare on the pictures framed in front of me, I like having nothing besides the tick, tick, tick as my neurology sits in front of me. This is the most at peace I've felt in a long time. I'm not sure I feel anything. I used to feel this lack of feeling all the time. I think I've missed it. It's not that great really, but nothing hurts you when you feel like this. Nothing bothers you. You miss some things- mostly the thrill of emotion. But for now, this is all I need... the ticking clock. Because if I needed anything else, I'd only be let down.

Breathe

Breathe the brisk cold air
Did you feel it?
It burns.

Breathe.
Slow.
Soft.
In.
Out.

That pain-
That's nothing
Just a reminder

Breathe.
Slow.
Soft.
In.
Out.

It kills to need it
But it keeps you alive
You need the pain

Breathe.
Slow.
Soft.
In.
Out.

It'll only hurt for so long
But don't believe it's left
You'll just be numb

So...

Breathe.
Slow.
Soft.
In.
Out.

Eventually it'll stop
When you're six feet deep
So hold on

Breathe.
Slow.
Soft.
In.
Out.

It'll be nothing more than a memory.
I don't remember when I started loosing faith in humanity, but that's where I've found myself stuck right now. I'm a compassionate person and really can't help but to be that way... but honestly I wish I wasn't. I know some very amazing people- a good number of them are my friends. But really I look at the world and I just want to know what the hell happened and why is everyone and everything so fucked up. How do people get such fucked up and shot to hell ideas and opinions? How can people be so illogical? And how the fuck can people become such cut-throat dickheads? What happened to compassion and understanding and love? What happened to giving people a helping hand? What happened to giving a fuck about someone besides yourself? Everyone's entitled to moments of selfishness... but really? Let's define a moment.

 a minute portion or point of time (according to Merriam-Websters Dictionary).

So why the fuck aren't people maturing? Why aren't they learning things? Why are they such egotistical assholes? Why are people so coldhearted?

questions to reason, reasons to question

do things happen for a reason? maybe the reason is simply that you think them. you look for things to mean something else. so then, when something does happen that's outside of your control, you make it relate to what you want it to mean.

or maybe you dont know what you want it to mean, but the way you relate it is with a subject is how you determine a conscious awareness of your thoughts and feelings.

so are those thoughts and feelings real? or shaped? or is shaped just an insightful representation of reality previously beyond your perception?

or maybe what you "relate" is selective... you select what you want to relate because it fits to fit your thoughts or opinions or feelings on the subject.

what I'm saying is

how do you really know something? even if it's something as basic as knowing yourself, can you ever really know yourself? fully? Maybe you know a few solid boundaries, a few lines to live by. Maybe life is just nothing more than a bunch of maybes... and maybes that line up can work, and maybes that are too far of a stretch don't.... or is that too far of a stretch?

Treading Water

"Sometimes rescue comes to you. It just shows up, and you do nothing. Maybe you deserve it, maybe you don’t. But be ready, when it comes, to decide if you will take the outstretched hand and let it pull you ashore."

The lighthouse had guided me so close to harbor, but I was still terrified to actually go ashore. So long in the water makes you aware of everything. No matter how cold it is in the water, the air is always colder. My body was pruned, showing every flaw, every insecurity, but for some reason I was still swimming into the captivity of the harbor. How long could I stay here before I was noticed? How long until someone forced me out? Was it too late to just go to the lighthouse and find some shelter there until at least my skin returned to normal and I could take my time in adjusting again?

And then..... in just one glance I knew I had to get out. Not immediately. But he would try to make me. He sat on the dock and talked to me while I was in the water. He’d been in the ocean before too- he understood. Or did he? Maybe not. He’d experienced the waves, but he got out of the water. So maybe he didn’t. I still wouldn’t get out of the water. We kept talking, sometimes for a while and other times not so long. In time he became the most incredible person I had ever known. Not even the constant rocking of the waves could console your mind as well as his confident composure. His warm smile and welcoming eyes encouraged me and somewhere in the depths of my chest I felt a tugging as my heart made room for him.

 

But the tugging hurt me. Even in the saltwater, my wounds hadn’t fully healed and the pulling stretched the scars… the traces of him. And so I held back all feeling, finding some reason to leave when I felt I couldn’t hold back much longer. A bad wave, some memory swimming past me that brushed my leg, anything to help me hold back. But every time I glimpsed him at the dock, he was there. Sometimes with other girls talking to him, but he always seemed to be looking around. Could he be looking for me? Waiting for me? Surely not.

 

What he was to me consumed my mind, and I attempted turning it off. I ignored everything that resembled the slightest feeling of love for him. I was smart. You can’t get let down if you have no expectations, you can’t get hurt if you don’t care- at least not as badly. We still talked, though not as much. Then one day he asked me “do you think about me when I’m not around.” I didn’t know what to say. Why did he want to know? What was it to him if I did or didn’t? But I answered half-honestly. I said yes. What I should have said was so cliché, “if you only knew how much,” or “I can’t get you out of my head,” or, even more honest, “I think I love you, but I’m trying to forget that because I’m a weak and scared idiot who can’t accept that maybe you’re different and maybe you could be everything I’d ever want.” But I’m not sure how aware of that fact I was. I just knew I did and I didn’t want to.

 

But that question, it changed everything. I kept thinking about it. I found the logical answers to my questions “why does he want to know?” If I was right, then he did like me- and maybe, if I could be so lucky, a part of him was waiting for me. But he wouldn’t wait forever, I didn’t want him to. I began to want to be ready; I was running out of reasons to withstand my feelings.

 

¤ ¤ ¤

 

The last time I was in the water looking up at him, I was tired of it. Tired of my gross skin, of the people coming and going while I stayed in place treading water, but mostly I was tired of feeling so far away from him. I was ready. I wasn’t nervous when I climbed out. He pulled me into his embrace, holding me close. It was what was right, what should have happened so long before. I knew it then, I felt it then. We both felt it. We smiled. We danced.


group projects/papers/labs

are such shit. if you have 100 points towards labs and 5 labs, each are woth 20 points. so when you get 13/20 because one person didn't do their part it is such bullshit to the others... especially if you are the one who is first to pick the portion of the paper that you want to write (and it's the easiest part that requires NO thought) then there is not even room for an excuse.

I now have 3 points of breathing room for an A for my labwork. it shouldn't be a problem, but still sucks.


I'm taking Alex on a date next week... it's going to be a great surprise... if it all works out... I hope so! I REALLY want it to happen perfectly! The driving will suck though...