Sunday, June 27, 2010

"Lies and Inconvenient Truths."

She said it was the best thing that ever happened to her and she wished it had never ended. This is what she told herself as she cried at night thinking what she had done wrong to makes things go so wrong. A dab of her eyeliner streams down her face now, at this time, thinking and reaching the inevitable oblivion of what she had imagined would be the chaos of her unrequited heart.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

She rose from he bed (it mas the depth of night that made her the most calm at times like these), and left the huddled mass laying there lifeless beside her. The body was without life, but was not dead. She couldn't bring herself to look at it. To look at what she had done. It made her wonder ever so slightly if other people had experiences like the one she was currently having. She wondered if they had had them in the past, if they would have them in the future. She wondered if the same experiencing was concurrent with this exact feeling of pain and alienation that she was having right now.

(The body, only lifeless because she would have it so, and not lifeless in any really sense of a homicide being committed. The only homicide seemed to lie in her soul. She was tired of settling and only wondered at some point in the future, if the need to feel her emptiness with more sorrow would ever stop her from overcoming the feeling that she would eternally be alone like she was at this moment.)

She felt masculine. She acted masculine. But she was very feminine. Which allowed her to snarl them all in her traps.

She had forgotten what it was like to be nice. (Besides, nice was simply a misnomer that was added to the wealth of characterstics that resided in the perfect model of human citizenry and compassion. A model which was, let's face it, pure unadulterated fantasy.)

She had gotten to a point where she was tired of being nice, so she stopped being nice. And then she forgot how to be nice.

And really, wasn't being nice just another misnomer for being a liar at her core.

Things stopped being nice, but things didn't start getting real. This only happens in television dramas and reality programming.

So what was it she was looking for. Was she still searching? Could she ever find it?

What was that saying? From that movie?

"The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world it didn't exist."

She had tried to play that same trick, but the audience was starting to jeer the stage.

She didn't know how to be.

Do you know how to be?

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

"Confusion is sex."

Remember when I asked, "What do you say to the most beautiful girl you've ever met?"

What if that girl was you?

This is not the next great American love story.

It's only words.

(But the meaning behind the words mean more than the words themselves.)

Saturday, June 12, 2010


About a year ago I bought a camera, in some last chance desperate (and probably pathetic) attempt to find something that would connect me with the person I was last in a relationship with. With no idea of how to take a proper picture, no understanding of how it works, little more than layman's understanding of pointing and shooting, I dived in because I desperately needed to believe there was something that would magically re-spark my relationship and make everything turn out okay. I bought everything to the specification I heard her speak about because I figured I could find some sort of commonality that would allow things to at the very least to change in the way they had been and at the very most make things okay between us.

I haven't used that camera I bought yet.

And us. Well...we don't speak. (This is solely by her discretion. Let me make that perfectly clear. After working and working to keep some semblance of friendship, my only option available was eventually to just give up. I hate giving up.)

People can change or they don't. Despite the mask you want to put on things to say you've bettered yourself for the camera of the world, many times its either difficult to change the core of what we are. We can pretend to want to be different, but change requires so much more than that. I learned recently that just because you've changed the color of your make-up, it often doesn't mean that whats underneath has changed at all. Selfish, self centered, manipulative people just change the rules of the game their playing, but the game is always the same. I'm typically not one to pity people for their decisions, but I was physically reviled by how pathetic some people are, and try to use their own concept of "love" to justify their actions. At a certain point, you can only write off these actions and let them self-destruct, (or not self-destruct) of their own volition.

There's no such thing as unconditional love.

People are like snowflakes. No two people are ever the same. No two people are capable of the same experiences and reactions to what life deals us. BUt I feel like we should be capable of recognizing these differences. But often, it seems we are just too caught up in our own oeuvre to recognize the oeuvre of those around us.

I feel like the only thing left is true open-mindedness.

By this, I guess I want to realize that with no expectations, I can only ever be surprised by everything.

All I can do then, is feed my creativity in any way I can. With no expectations for what this creativity can bring me, all I can be is rewarded by it.

I don't want to be a misanthropic person, but it seems more consistent that people are more disappointing. This is not to say I'm a machine and I like anyone else don't want to foster relationships with people, or don't crave some sort of understanding from another person, but I feel as I grow older that there are less and less people capable of understanding me. I feel that I'm often too scared too try to understand those around me.

(Don't take this to mean that I believe I am this overly complex person. I don't feel like I'm anymore complex than anyone else. But then again, we're all complex.)

I'm just tired of being misunderstood. I want to be understood.

I like walking around the Charles River, thinking. I like going into stores and not feeling complicit to buy anything but feeling overwhelmed and happy in the things I am looking at. I like really simple things. Books that make me think. Movies that make me smile. A sunset. The beach.

I feel like, just recently, it's possible to appreciate everything we see with being materialistic.

I like the things I see. I don't feel any need to own them.

Just like I don't feel the need to be with someone. I like the feeling a smile gives me when I smile back. It needs to go no further than that. (Although, at times I'm often frustrated by my inability to spark any action beyond appreciation.)

I've grown a new appreciation for architecture recently. It's because it's art and structure made perfect.

Who doesn't crave some sort of structure while giving into their wilder impulses?

I'm finally starting to appreciate life.

A picture says a thousands words.

Appreciate life with me.