little more glue everytime it breaks

forgiveness?

forgiveness is a grey area. walks the line between contempt and pride.
simple words envolped in a complex dance between sincerity and bitterness.

it is easier to forgive when you are guilty, because the sooner you forgive the sooner the forgeting process can start
or is it just that as soon as fogiveness is mutaul and has erased the awkward ness you are free to make more mistakes.

the light turned red upon accusal
and is now green with forgiveness.

are they mistakes if you are not ashamed of them?
maybe even proud of them in a warped way.
like finding salvation in secrets.

because when people think they can see through you
and no matter how hard you object (because they can also see "clear through"
your objection), when surrounded by those people,
you harbor secrets.

they start to define you,
the problem comes when you are defined by the things others can't see.
because if you are not what they are seeing,
what are they seeing?
its a rough skeleton, what you allow people to see, i know i have been here before, i'm just comming from a different angle.

so when eventually one is defined by secrets
they start to feel isolated, they want to let some people in,
so you do, you let in a few, then a few more, a secret society of secrets, how cute.

well when those few you let in slip up
thre are no more secrets,
just rumors, acusations, when all you were doing is trying to find a way to define yourself in a comfortable numbness.
there is a great deal of safety one can mine into the dangerous buisness of secrets.

well the cats out of the bag,
pandora opend the box

and you play the forgiveness game
so when mutal forgiveness has been given
what is to stop you from fallin gback into the habbit of secrets

if for so long that is the lense you saw yourself through
it will be undoubtly hard to walk away from it, them - - secrets.

and what if i admit to being sorry to save face
but arn't?
are you then dishonest?
its another secret and you cant resolve secrets with secrets.

it's a bad cycle.
and i am sure you can see where this is going
but i find it fascinating
that human beings manage to dig these graves for themselves.

we all do it
to some extent
wether on a grander or smaller scale
it's happens

people get hurt,
people descive
people get better

wash.rinse.repeat.

what i want to know is why?
and how do we prevent it.

i hope that made sense.

a film everybody saw

gone.
miles and hours away,
gone.

i'm alittle empty.
like every processable emotion melted out of me
i'm alittle hungrey
because i know nothing will satisfy this restlessness
i'm alittle hollow
punch me and i bet i won't bleed
and i'm obviously alittle overdramatic


it was all i anticipated
and nothing i was ready for.

i wish there had been more sentimentality
but its all about walls
and the fine line between a goodbye and an ending
those grey area's the two of us are so good at finding.

and thats that.
nothing more to it
nothing less than all of this
it happens
it matters
and it's been a long time comming.

here's to picking up the pieces
that's all thats left.

pandora's bottle

clear and desicive
hear touch taste
your goodbye
a made up ending
cliche and stale
hand you my words
invisable ink
salut to the irony
dramatic, staged
documented and reviewed
your mouth
my tounge
the lies in between
raise a glass to us
and all we failed to be
you'll thank me later
with you're breath
staggering away
true to life
or is it hell
when you don't want to remember
leaving me alone?


- - sometimes when things mean to much to me, this much to me, i can't express them poeticly.
and i hate that. emotional writers block - when there is just to much.
above all i despise that [about myself.]

tomorrow?
tomorrow.

decaying beautifully

isn't it funny?
how things fall apart
just as they start to fade away.

it never ends.
never stops
and i'm sick
sick full of it
sick. of . it

invisable ink

turn around
walk away, backwards
you'll see my scars
the tatoo's you left me
i can see the trace
of my secrets
on every inch
of your face
even with the smoke
from this burning bridge
in my eyes.
can't you smell it?
the sweat of you and me
melting in this fire
taken away by
selfish you.
a souvinir
because i could never leave a mark
not even a bruise
though god knows i tried
we cant close this book
there isn't an ending
the last sentance's fragment
a burned bridge
(but) a copy on both sides
pick me up on a rainy day
say you'll miss me
and mean it.
because it's more
than being near you.

who's going to drive you home?

"...you say goodbye when underneith's your one belief."

so i was thinking.
about motivation. inspiration.
in class today, i found my self back in the same place i started from.
like always...

understand:

i dance to help me rationalize things.
deal with things.
remember.
forget.
fly.

to rationalize and to deal with is not to let go.
it's to manipulate emotions into a productive catalyst.
it's motivation to move through space.

the problem is...
when one single person is the source of your inspiration,
you recall the face, the emotions - - be they anger, passion, love, restlessness - -
they are readily and easily pulled to the surface.

they are deliberatly acessible
you put them there.

how do you get over something that is such a prevalent part of your every day.
everyday because i have class almost every day and lets just say my surroundings for the past year have been anything but inspiring.

i depend on my love, and frustration, and even hate for him.
not healthy necessarily, i mean a healthy way to deal with these emotions sure,
but not a healthy way to depend on someone.
not a healthy source of continuouse inpiration.

but you know... i have the whole situation, all of my emotions, most everything, figured out.
its rationalized irrationally in my mind, and i know exactly what it was, would have been, could have been, won't be and will be.
it's refreshing in someways to be so aware.

but this awareness leads me to the undeniable fact
i have to say goodbye to him next week.
he'll be states away.

selfishly enough i am afraid i will lack in inspiration.
and even more, i am afraid i will pull at every last heart string so that i can move with a purpose, and in the process hurt myself. (emotionally of course.)
i won't get over it if i have to keep pulling in to the surface.

all of this delays the "healing" process, but no one else inspires me.
it's to late to stop it now.
it's ritual.
i depend on it.

quite the paradox.

i don't know how to say goodbye to him.
i never have.

the only one who knows that side of me,
the only one that never deserved my trust,
but ironicly the only one i have ever trusted.

independant, and reliable due to content, sources shared with me recentlly that they could admit that it was obviously love.
- - mutual love.

for once an admitance that i didn't fabricate the whole thing
because if you knew the people around me that is what you would think.
finally acknowledgement of the fact that i too love and hurt.

there is a strength that both of us draws from the fear, the niave passion, the tension, between us.
what happens when that travels across borders?

this space is needed.
a long time coming.

i just don't know where to go from here.

the only truth that sticks

the people that i thought i knew,
i really thought i trusted...

changed.

i shouldn't say "the people"
it's just one person.

when you look at this person, one of your best friends, and you ask
"who are you?!?!"

what do you do?
where do you go?

people take for granted that you will always be there.
because i am somewhat laid back...
doesn't mean things don't bother me.

did she ever think that maybe i was alittle mad?
alittle mad not even nessicarily that she did it,
mad because she didn't feel guilty,
didnt deem it important enough, relevant enough, to tell me!!?

it's drama,
i hate it.

but there is a point.
another fine line,
the line between above it and numb to it.
gettting walked on, brushed aside, steped over.

there are certin things that deserve a reaction,
that should and will make you angry.

who says you should not necessairly embrace that anger?
it's a human emotion just like anyother
and it is one that should be confronted, not bottled.

i'm great at bottling.
not causing waves.

but you can only turn your back so many times.
things should, will, need to bother you.

and it does. but what can i do?
it doesn't bother her.

i hate this,
tension.
i hate tension, useless, selfish tension.

i want it to matter.
matter to her that i hurt, that this time it was all her fault.

if there is anger and tension.
it should be usefull, productive.
you should both learn something.

right.
it should matter

and it doesn't.
it's funny, how you think you know people.

and more often than not
the people that you
think you really know
are the most complete
strangers.

why?
isn't that backwards?

or is it par for the course?

we're not in Kansas anymore

i hate this place.
it feels so much like home,
and then it holds out on you.

next year.
- - its not even next year anymore
it's two weeks.

its a battle.
battle is overly dramatic
i digress,
a fight.

i'm done blaming people.
i guess thats progress.

but still...

it's the two of us - - like always
"against the world"
our world atleast.
the only world we've known.

funny - - terrifying
how a change,
a big but simple change,
can throw you off.

it's not the same.
and i've spent the last year looking for the simple mined cosistancy that has escaped me.
or that never really exsisted.
but nonetheless there was something tangable.

ritual. consistancy.


it is/was ritual.
it was dependable.
it was a different kind of love, sure
it was a home. a family. but love all the same.

a place of passions and tensions
thats real
that ties people together

so where'd the passion go?
where are the strings?

thats the thing,
there are no more strings
nothing to tie me there anymore

but it was something, no, the only thing i depended on.
and it was ripped away.

i guess it's unhealthy to depend soley on one thing
but i thought since it was a place
it was different.
supise. i was wrong.


i was unaware that places and situations could break your heart.
i thought i was a human quality.

no.
it's not.

i've spent the last year trying to rebuild,
but i don't have the power or the pieces.

so i just deal with it.
thats life. you deal with things. you know this.

doesnt mean i have to like it.
we've been through this.

i know.
but it still sucks.

here we go. one more year.

offstage lines

i never used to be able to bury my emotions.
- - i used to be crystal clear - -
now i know how to hide them.

turn them off.

and that scares me.
that scares me because that means i am like him,
in more ways than i ever wanted to be.




is being safe worth all of this?
no, it's not.

burried mirrors

i feel like the way people precieve me is completly inacturate.
lindsay was right when she said that "most people just don't understand" me.

i guess i never realized it before.

i think i would like myself alot better if i were not bogged down by precocieved notions.
it's like living inside the lines that the people around you have colored in.
and they all precieve you differently.
the way they want to precieve you.

everyone likes to think they know you.
and everyone likes to think they chose the right colors to fill you in with.

it's like a portrait.
a self portrait will turn out much different
than a portrait painted by a stranger
wich is different than a portrait painted by a friend.

life is made up of painting different portraits
assigning people different colors.

someone told me that they precieved me a "extermely bubbly and exsesivly happy"
i was appauled and amused.
bubbly would be a perfect antonym in my mind.

this person has known me 4+ years and has me all wrong.
makes you wonder how well you know the people around you.
how well you judge people.

someone else described my exact personality to me.
the exact way i thought of myself.
he had only known me 3 weeks.

it's strange
certin people only see a certin side of you.
people will, to a degree, see what they want to see.
make you who they want you to be - - think you should be - - in their own minds.

you may not even know the you they see.
and that may explain the awful adivce they volunteer.
or the critisim they voice.
they will give you every tool to make you who they want you to be.
they want you to live up to their first impression, their ideal impression.

it's almost selfish.
to try to mold a person into your personal perception.
but everyone does it,
it's subcosious.

its natural to want the people around you
to agree with your beliefs.
to see the way you see.

i just can't help but wonder why it is impossible to see - - precieve - - with an objective eye.

i know every experiance we have
every person we meet
changes the way we see and precieve things
- - like changing the perscription on your glasses.
with the risk of throwing a tacky metaphore out here,
it's like chaning the perscription on you life.

but how can we grow without losing that objectivity?
children see through objective eyes,
where do those eyes go?

is it in conjuction with the loss of inocence, niavity?
or is it that the world, that man kind, and culture jade us?

and how do you stop it?

i think it would be refreshing to see with clear eyes.
to really see from outside of myself.

i know it's cliche.
but it is fascinating, don't you agree?

pointless flares

i feel like people just drive me backwards.
back there.

i put, for the first time in a l o n g time, effort into getting over it. around it. through it.
i wanted to be.i really really did.

you know why?
because i met someone who inspired me to be strong, who made me like who i was, and who was generally interested in me and my well being.
that was new to me. both of us needing eachother and equal amount - - that was new. that was nice- -

where'd it go?

wish i knew.
i understand that you need space to cool off
i get that. i do.
over a week with no word after a summer full of once, sometimes twice, daily phonecalls or shared space.

thats not fair. and i dont care if thats selfish. it's true.
people never realize, when they need someone, how much the other person needs them too.
you don't need the fact that the other person needs you. no, people - - like me - - don't thrive on being needed.
i thrive on the wanting to need another person. wanting to hear, see, converse with another human being.
i wanted so much what i had finally found.

now he's droped off the face of the planet...

exactly.
for once i was starting feel again.
really wanting to feel again.
[ i think he was too, but won't admit it ]
he realized the routine we had fallen into was inspiring mutal feelings.
and of course we cant have that.
atleast that's what it seems like.
thats how i precieve it because thats what has happened before.

it's the goddamn baggage. the ghosts. the past.

so where do you go when you take that free fall from almost trusting a feeling again to crashing back down to where you were. - numb. [numb but safe.]

you go back to the only place where you have ever felt anything "real"
or atleast real to you.
part of you hates that you are there.
hates that you want it again.
part of you just wants to stop the numbness.
bury yourself in familiar, allbeit painful, "love."

all of a sudden you find yourself wanting everything you've been stealing away from for the past year.

you came out. you tried. and it's starting to hurt.
better run back to where its "safe"

- - a safe that is anything but - -

i just want to stop running.
i'm tired.

...just send me a sign. a flare. a smoke signal. something?
please.

can't say it better

" Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect to someday suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? Then why do we feel it even when the observation tower comes equiped with a sturdy hand rail? No, vertigo is something other than the fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us that tempts us. It is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves."

- - The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Milan Kundra

call me when you get this

i remember why i don't get my hopes up.
because it hurts like hell when you start to lose it
- -lose hope i mean - -

you start out numb and looking for sustinance

you find something that breaks the hard exterior...strikes a match in you again.

you start to hope. you start to feel.

you hang on to this hope so hard your nuckles turn white.

maybe it's a strangle hold on hope. maybe the situation becomes complicated. maybe you have to have faith in someone again. it tests your boundries, your readiness to move forward.

your waiting for him to want to move forward as well.
hell - - you're just waiting for him to call.

you become numb to waiting.

so are you really any farther ahead of where you started?

i'm so restless - fighting with myself not to give up.
not to see with the same jade eyes i always hide behind.

i don't want to give up faith in this but i need alittle help.
i need a smoke signal. a flare. something.

because really...
when you become numb to hope what else is there?
exactly.

why does this have to be so hard?
maybe it's hard because its worth it.
or maybe that's just what you want to think.