Ashes

Sun light is vaguely visible through the drapes, painting circles across the ashen carpet. I squeeze the comforter tightly,
praying for darkness once again. Images from the night before flood through my mind, tainting it with visions of death and
darkness. I numbly reach around for my arms to hug myself before the cold does it for me. Pressing my lips together in shame,
I slowly sit up. My feet barely reach the ground, but they don't want to. It's as if thorns and salt cover the surface,
begging it's victim on for a taste of sweet revenge in it's destruction. Everything is wrong. Shivers rock my body slowly,
as if on a meter. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be anywhere. My room smells like smoke and ash and tears. My
mouth is dry and salty. I lick my lips twice. Dry blood is smeared across my arms. I turn around. Sure enough, there are
stains on my sheets. Rings from coffee for the past two weeks stain my night stain as well as a trail of innocence lost
along with it's little helper. I cringe inwardly, yearning for things to be over. Night after night, I fall asleep to the
same pattern. Night after night, I cry myself to sleep crying for death to cary me on it's midnight wings far away from
people who hurt me. And night after night, I lash out on myself. I lash and lash because it's what I deserve. I lash
because I am the reason why I am a mess. I am the reason why you're ruined. I am the reason for everything. I am a large
chunk cut of space. My feet take up more than a foot's width of worth. My arms dangle in oxygen used for animals and trees.
And I'm cold. I'm so cold. My breath is frigid, encasing everyone around me in cut out boulders of glass. I shape them.
I carve into their brains and cut into their bodies. I feed on their souls and break them in two. I am the cause to all
your problems.
I push myself out of bed. I live alone. A small one bedroom apartment encases me in darkness, closing me away from the world.
I'm free to roam in peace, destroying life in the process. Bills stack the countertops, cluttering the small kitchen. Ash
is sprinkled half-hazardly everything I step. Burns smear the carpet in angry lines. I scuff my big toe on one, sliding past
the bathroom.
I barely make it before I'm pushing last night out of me. Before I make it to the toilet, it's on the floor, and I'm curled
over. My stomach is churning violently, missing regular meals. It was never taught to hate itself. Organs can be conditioned
so easily.

The Cold

It grips you and pulls on your face. Your lids drop, your head rolls, and your arms somehow find themselves pulled against your knees. You sit back; a towel raised to your cheek. You don't care to remember. The reasons why you're here. And when you close your eyes, you're not there. You're far away from here. It's all so easy then. So effortless. So close...yet so far away.

Your lips tremble, you're scared, but you try not show fear. You're alone. It's the moment you've realized everyone has left you. You're by yourself. No one is there for you. But you got your back. Soon, it'll all be over. It'll be easy....it'll be gone. It'll be painless.

With realization, you don't do it for the attention. To hell with that. You know people aren't watching you. They "trust" you. They think you're a pretty okay kid. You're doing alright. Nice grades, decent to their parents, studious. What could possibly go wrong? And what would they care? All they need is their perfect little child and their life is complete. But yours isn't. Far from it. What completes life, anyway? Lies, deceit, and hate? Loneliness?

Ice runs through my veins, and for the first time, I don't have the air conditioner on.

First, I found a quote that would be most suitable here. One that expresses what I'm feeling beyond what I can express myself.

"Did you ever hear a song on the radio and think, oh I am so going home right now to download it?" I nod. He continues. "And then you do, and theoretically you should be psyched, right? I mean, here is this song you heard and wanted to - you know- own, right away. But then...Then you listen to it again and it's like the magic isn't there. You thought this chord or that lyric was so incredible, but then it wasn't."

There are a few minor differences here. He's talking about a girl and I happen to be talking about a boy.

>>I wanted this. I couldn't imagine anything more. The rush of my skin, the sound of his voice....but - nothing. I don't feel anything. My skin doesn't grow goosebumps when I call his name, my heart doesn't jump or flutter when I hold his hand, and my voice doesn't get caught in my throat when I'm near him. I feel like my heart stopped feeling when we tied the knot. The day the title came into play, the magic was gone. It was as if it had evaporated into thin air. Where'd it go? Gone. Away from me.

I think we'll know when we find the right ones. When the conversation is effortless, yet meaningful. When your hands touch, yet an electric current fuses through your bodies, making you feel like one. And when you lock eyes. A soft smile playing at your lips; your heart will flutter, your skin will tingle, and the moment will feel perfect. Until then, we're just a bunch of teenagers wanting nothing more than a "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" so our friends think we're cool. It's sickening. I feel like I'm being used as a title. I don't want that. In fact, if I thought it was right, I would take that title right off my main page and start from scratch. I want so bad to find someone to start that scratch from.

We're young. No wrinkles mark our faces, no sun spots align our skin, and no gray hairs. We're coming into the world head first. None of us know exactly what to expect. We feed off of others, watching their every move and copying it almost exactly. We're all just mirrors. Visions of someone else wanting to be more. We don't know what love is. Yet we all say it. Sure, we love our parents and our siblings. But do we know the meaning of true love? No. It's rare to find. And I'm not talking about a fairytale. This love is different. Behind the scenes, there's blood, sweat, and tears all the same. There's pain and heartache. But from the beginning, there's a solid foundation. You know it's true. You trust the person completely and let him in. You don't look back, nor do you want to. You find every moment perfect and wish that it will never end. But until I've found him, I'm a loveless teenager, wanting nothing more than to complete school with A's and B's.

I just feel the need to write.

I don't know what to do. I can't seem to find my path. It's gone. It's foggy and over grown with weeds. What happens if the right one walks on the path, but you're already tied down to the ground with your roots? Should you go for it? I can't comprehend what to do. These thoughts feel like a thousand bees, each one stinging me over and over again. Sure I have a conscience that says all this is wrong. All of this is against nature. I should be following my path. But what if the overgrown trees and the dark, foggy path looks tempting? Each slithering snake beholds a fruit just for you? Should you take it? It will replenish you, but you may feel guilty in the end. But, what if love was on your side? What if this was the chance you were waiting for your entire life? You would go after it, right?

I fear I've fallen into a trap. I've lied to myself, and by doing so, I've lied to the people closest to me. These feelings are still unknown, but I'm positive they won't grow to what we expect. They simply can't. I've seen better. I've known better. I want better. I yearn for something unexplained by society. I want something that isn't experienced by the people of a nature so shielded, that it hasn't even been recorded.

>> Random posting.

Flying in Consolation

Wings. Earthly, beating, feathery wings. Flapping and swirling the dry air in spirals, following deep into the ground. Crushed beneath the foot, molded to the particles of earthen rock. Dust covered, but illuminated by the buttery sunshine.

I'm talking about love.

I don't think we can explain it until we've experienced. I've experienced something so close, I feel the need to spill everything out on this black word document. I don't know much. My years are young like the feeling that has taken me other, soul and body. I feel like I can't breath. I can't think. My thoughts are clouded, shielded by some unknown force, pulling my body underneath a sheath of onyx painted waters. Each turn within the ocean is unexpected. New. Fresh.

Sure, there are very beautiful fish swimming all around me. Their scales shine blistering blues and soft purple glitter bounce off their scales, blinding the average eye. But I don't mind. I don't see them. I can only see him. He's unlike anything. He's there. Always. I push him away, wanting nothing to do with love and these stupid, made up relationships. But he's not moving. Oh, how I wish this was true.

I want him there. I want the butterflies to fill my stomach. The scarlet blush to return to my cheeks. The droplets of sweat to bead my forehead and palms. I want him. He's unexplainable. It's as if he's the ground and I'm the tree. I'm rooted to him, but when someone pulls me away from him, I can't live. My life doesn't have a purpose without the soil. Without the nutrients to grow, I can't go on. I need those. I need him.

I think I've fallen. Fallen so hard there's no way to get back up. I fear I'm letting myself go. I'm letting my old me fall. I brushing away the past and sweeping up the remains. I know only good can come from this. I let him in; in my life with these meaningless problems, but he's there. I want so badly for his hand to fit perfectly in mine. But time will only tell how well those two pieces of the puzzle with collide. With light sparks with their clicking and clanking.

In Moderation

>>You would think I'd have some wacky inspiration hiding behind each title. But the truth is, the simplicity of it will blow your mind.

The confinement of our souls lie within a jar, banging against the glass. We hang there, seeing, but never experiencing. We all know it, but no one mentions it. It's a simple thought drifting through the medium of our minds and plunging it into a think fog of anxiety. It's as if you want change enough to change. We all want it, but no one makes the move. No one wants to be seen as the first person to do it. No one wants a bad image. An image that plasters itself to your skin, stitches itself into your molecular makeup. Your body doesn't respond. It likes the feel of being taken over. It enjoys the pressure of each sewn picture. Of each clasping glimmer of powder falling gently from your cheek bones.

The green is cold. It tickles against your cheek as the sun partially blinds you. The breeze flies through, swaying everything within its reach. It captures you, flying and taking control of your body. It touches your skin, kisses it with its icy lips. Closing your eyes gently, you image peace. Peace that covers not only the earth, but its people. Something that is not one; not one in this society. The sirens ring loudly throughout the area, echoing and reverberating through the atmosphere. Cars whiz off in the distance, honking horns and traffic lights. Annoyed drivers and spilled coffee mugs. Society is far from free. Are they tricking us? Deceiving us? They've given us nature but without the freedom to enjoy it. They've given us things but without the time to use them. Without the mindset to see them.

Lies. Heart filled, reaching, blinding, bloody lies. Searing through your body, but marking you without you knowing it. Their minds are in the dark. The darkness surrounds them and makes them naive. They want out, but they can't escape their natural tendencies. They know something is wrong, but they don't stop. Risking their very image, yet again, for the meaning of something they can't possibly ever understand. Everyday, lives are lain on the battle field. It's up to the rest of us to clean up the mess or take sides. Either way, you're putting yourself in the middle of something that must get terrible before it can transform into something worth while. But when it does, oh when it does, you won't regret the hard work. Our world has yet to see such exertion from the population. It's as if we've given up. Our lives are for nothing. We want money. Large, fancy homes. Rambunctious jobs. Perfect bodies and faces. We're robots, not noticing what God has put on this earth before us. What he truly has given us. Whether being the source or not. Can we deny our luck? We take everything for granted. We take relationships for granted.

Happiness is only accomplished if shared. Don't forget why you're here. Don't fall prey to the darkness that blinds us all. Feel the sun warm your skin. Let the grass tickled your feet. Allow the breeze to brush your hair against your chin. Make yourself live.

Betrayal

The most fulfilling emotion of them all. As a new turn, I'll be speaking in first person POV.

>> How do you forgive someone after it? It's the hardest emotion to look in the eye. To point out and call it on its alluring pain. I tried to become something I wasn't; I wanted a mirror, rather a poster. Something I could glue to myself. But I could see the peeling edges. Everyone could. The paper of the poster would become cut and wrinkled and peel at the edge. My own personality shown through. Something I never wanted the world to see. Something I built my entire life around hiding.

I warned so many people. I try to tell them to run. Most did; I didn't let the door hit them on their way out. The few that stayed; I showed them. I pulled back the binding on my own book. The ripped pages, the cut up ones, the chipped, rusty ones. Frayed pieces of forgotten life and unforgiven promises. It was a personality deflect undetected. Something not caught on the radar. But once those last few pages spread their own wings; everything was out. That's when it started.

They ran, of course. I didn't stop them. I didn't want to. I let them go, just like I let my life slide in transit. I'm sitting now. Watching each day, each number, each ray. The time particles collapsing on themselves. Something I didn't plan on watching. This isn't something you wish your life to portray. But it's something inevitable. It's as natural as the floating clouds in the sky or the birds soft whisper carrying the wind. It could change, but with time. Betrayal won't.