24 Hours

There are always people connected to you that you don't actually know and never will, like the girl I only know because she hit my car in a parking lot. These are the people in some strange, unclassified category. They aren't friends, in fact they aren't truly acquaintances, but they aren't strangers. They are fewer than friends and certainly fewer than strangers. It is the strangers that predominantly fill my vision every day I sit here. I often envision myself making new friends, but I envision myself doing many things. Only last night I determined I would no longer be wasteful, just as I opened my new bottle of Crest mouthwash with fluoride to attempt to preserve my difficult to care for teeth. And the very next thing I did was waste some of it by pouring too much into the little cup and not being willing to pour it back into the bottle. I watched it go down the drain as I rinsed the cup, a minute amount of purple mixed in with the vaguely cold tap water, and I felt strangely guilty. I think it was more because of my inconsistency rather than the mouth wash, but I'm not entirely sure. I'm not entirely sure of many things. I am fairly sure though that my inconsistency is the only thing that is consistent. Just like the sign I watched this morning in the cafe. I watched the intermittent lights of the Open sign; it was facing outward, but I could see it reflected in the window. It flashed ceaselessly, but it was the most steady entity present, its pattern of change a reminder of constancy. Yet not everything constant is ideal. There are times still when I almost cry just because I have to eat my ice cream alone.

Lost in Emotion

Sometimes I think of childhood, lost, and I cry;

I think of the long days all gone by –

It seems too short to say goodbye.

Sometimes I feel like I am young once more;

I cry about small things like when I was four –

It shakes me up to my very core.

Sometimes I have feelings with which I cannot relate;

Feelings of sadness, happiness, come too late –

Feelings like memories, lost, this I hate.

Sometimes I cannot comprehend what I feel;

I wonder at times if it ever was real –

Yet the memories, lost, disallow me to heal.

Sometimes I desire to reach back in the past;

Yet it is not as though I want those feelings to last –

I merely wish it didn’t pass by so fast.

Sometimes I want to remember the feeling I felt;

It comes to the surface like an untimely welt –

My heart, reason unknown, begins to melt.

Sometimes I ponder whether all feel this way;

If we all wonder why the feelings don’t stay –

If all have the feelings that don’t go away.

Sometimes I consider myself one of a kind;

No one else has to ponder as much in their mind –

No one else has to search in order to find.

Sometimes I believe no one ever could understand;

That often even I find it difficult to stand –

That when I’m lost in emotion I just need a hand.

The Different

I remember when we used to talk. We used to talk of the things that we wrote. And the things that we wrote were different. But the things that we wrote were the same. Now we never talk. And I read the things that you write and I read the things that I write and I never see the same. I see the different, is all I see. I remember when we used to talk. And our lives were different. But our lives were the same. Now we never talk. And I read the things that you write and I read the things that I write and I never see the same. I see the different, is all I see. How very different is this life, lived out by you. How very different is this life, lived out by me.

3/14

[An Imagination Growing Cold]

An imagination growing cold,

Possessing no dream or lasting hope.

I have fallen for a deeper trope:

New words proclaiming meanings old.

Imagination believed the claim,

Embellishing where falling short,

Yet never dreaming it of the sort

Of which to say, "It came

And went; no lasting dreams,

A fading hope already spent."

A feeling borrowed, or rather, lent:

The price, my heart torn at the seams.

Destroyed by words designed to rend;

The power of syllables deeply felt:

To lock a heart or defenses melt.

Some phrases spoken are hard to mend.

I search still deeper in my heart

And find I still cannot believe

The words that pierce my heart and cleave

That beating organ part from part.

I will not say, "It came and went;

No lasting dream, a fading hope,

No meaning beyond a simple trope."

I will not say, "Already spent."

Dreams growing cold: a dying ember

Ignites my soul; it lights my mind;

It forces me to look behind.

It tells me softly to remember.

1/14

Life

Sometimes I wonder where my life has gone. So much time has passed. Looking at the date it seems unfamiliar. 2008. As though it was a lifetime ago. Six years. A lot can happen in six years. You get older. You grow up. You leave behind your childhood. You leave behind your innocence. You realize the world isn't what you though it was. You realize not everyone is good. You lose your idealism. You lose your hope. You realize the people you love the most are the ones who will try to destroy you.

Cause

What makes people think they can take what they do not own, that they can use without permission, abuse without consent, steal without a word, without a warning?

This mentality surrounds me. I see it in simple things. A seat on the bus. A worthless possession. But it has expanded beyond these meaningless trifles, these acts of selfishness that bring nothing more than frustration.

A life. Many lives. Snatched away before their times. Innocence lost, stolen by those less innocent. No permission. No consent given. Stolen by actions compelled by a mindset that says, "I am all that matters."

The degradation of life fills this world. The depreciation of life. The desensitization of our minds. The things we tell ourselves to justify the actions of others and ourselves. A life lost because she didn't want a child is not a life.

This is depreciation: not understanding the worth of life. And thereby degrading it. Without appreciation for another's life, how can you truly appreciate your own? If you devalue life by taking it, what does this say about your own life?

It does not always relate to me. But I see it in the world around me. Is that not enough? The cause may not affect me, but the effect causes me to react.

Words

I let them destroy me.

The forces of words that come against me

Are met with the breaking of my heart.

I reply with tears instead of words.

I send out similar words at various times,

Never thinking of consequences.

At least others stand against them

And do not show outward signs

That words have crippled them,

If they do.

My defenses break.

I cannot stand against the torrents.

If I was stronger, I could conceal it.

If I was wiser, it would not be necessary.

Surely it is not with wisdom that I

Throw down the guards of my heart

To be so affected by a few syllables

Of speech.

What knowledge is there

That would convey to me that I should

Allow words to render me useless,

To render me empty?

What wisdom would advise me

To allow my emotions to reign over me,

Thereby allowing words to do so?

None I have ever heard of before,

And none shall I ever.

 10-7-13