to convey the message we bring.
She had always known a story would come of her experiences with that curious boy. In fact she had started one, once, a while back. She suspected it was sitting somewhere in her room, though its precise whereabouts were unknown. Probably suffocating beneath layers of discarded memories. She wasn't too perturbed, it was garbage now anyways. Written in a tongue of sickly hopefulness, rendered obsolete.
It was hard, sitting there with him tired in my arms, all bruised and beaten down. I had always been the hopeless optimist, struggling to hope beyond hope. He had really seared the desolate truth into me this time. I studied his calm face as he slept. My eyes were drawn to his numerous injuries with dismay. Mottled purple stemmed from the inner corners of his eyes, which themselves were too bloodshot to be healthy. His nose had swollen beyond recognition and dried blood was still visible, caught behind the bristle of his mustache. He bore the unsettling resemblance to some mutated chipmunk with his left cheek well past a normal size. I contemplated how much he meant to me. Enough to make me want to cry over his subverted appearance. I held his hand in mine, my fingers absent-mindedly tracing the swollen veins protruding from his pale skin, my mind languorous with fatigue.
We had changed seats numerous times, always looking for something more agreeable. He decided on a padded bench and he laid down, listless, his head on my lap, and fell asleep once again. I sat silent and still, readying myself for the numbness of not moving. The door opened again but I didn't lift my head; all anticipation had been drained of me."Brent Parker?" My head snapped up in disbelief, which stirred him from his slumber."It's your turn.." I spoke when i saw his eyes open in blurry-eyed confusion. He looked around, stunned, then quickly got to his feet and walked uncertainly towards the door in an amazed stupor.
My hebetude was replaced with a more hopeful outlook, my near-comatose state vanishing. I was hoping that this was the beginning of the end; that we'd be out in an hour at most. My dad cut through my wishful thinking like a knife through soft butter.
"This could still take another five hours for all we know" he readjusted himself so he could see the hockey game being replayed on one of the television screens affixed high on the wall. I sighed. He was right, of course. I bunched up the coat he had left in the waiting room and used it as a pillow, not caring about the dried blood that covered most of it. I perused through some discarded magazines and newspapers, and settled on an article about memories on the neural level. I felt unusually intelligent as I understood the vocabulary; axons, post-synaptic terminals and dendrites. Despite my unmotivated nature, the human body intrigued me and I was always wanting to understand more and more about myself through science. Having said this I contradicted myself by hating hospitals health care and most medical breakthroughs. The emergency room was a joke, I had waited in those sterilized hallways for nearly twenty four hours just to find out there was nothing seriously wrong with me. Now I was on the outside looking in, wondering what he was going through, if he would have the same results as me.
The article was only a few pages long and consumed little of the endless hours dragging on. I looked at the clock hung high behind the "emergency care admitting" desk. 11:16. Only? I slumped back against the bench. I laughed inwardly as I realized I'd gotten my 11:11 wish before I'd wished for it; he'd been admitted to see a doctor. I wish I could have gone with him beyond those double doors. I had a gnawing anxiety growing in the pit of my stomach that refused to let me fall asleep. I craned my neck on the off-chance I could catch a glimpse of him, but I knew my efforts were futile. So I covered my face with my coat and tried to sleep but my stomach was too disquieted to cooperate. I was unaware of how long it had been but the thought of revealing my eyes to the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs deterred me.
My mind had long gone on a tangent of incoherrent thoughts when my father's voice disturbed me.
"Here he comes.." i immediately sat up and turned my head in the direction of those double doors through which he had left me- I looked at the clock, 1:48 am- over two hours ago. he advanced in a painfully slow manner, his face looking just as decrepit as before that it made me cringe. I sat impatiently, awaiting the verdict.
"Nothing's broke" a woosh of relief left my lungs. He continued, "Just some minor tissue dammage but it should fix itself within a few weeks." I smiled, eased of my earlier worries, got up and gave him a hug.
"I'm so glad you're OK.." He gave me a big squeeze then released me from his embrace.
"Me too. I'm so lucky to have you...in my worst hour and you're still here for me."
"Of course. Especialy in your worst hour I'm here for you." It was true. Despite the fact I'd been sitting in this room for eight hours, it felt inconsequencial now that I had him safe in my arms again, the relief of his health a worthy prize.
And right now you're worlds away. There's more to it than just the miles that part us. Right now I expect you to be sitting with your like-minded apostles in circles spinning clockwise. A weekly event. All taken too young and I see you as the Footman. Lost to the mists of time. The preparer, the organizer, the setting them all up one by one and passing them along. Though I've been known to dabble in those depths I could never comprehend. I hate it and I've told you that I hate it. In the end I got my wish but I'm still so afraid. I want you to make me cry. What will happen when I see you for the first time? It breaks me to know I haven't known you. Will I turn away from the monster you make yourself to be? Nothing's worse than seeing you worse than me.
here's the best way i can explain it.
you start off completely ripped apart.
but with your defiance you slowly start to stich yourself back up
with a thread of well-needed distractions.
and you've managed to tidy your mind
sweep it all into some dark crevice
until one misguied step,
one thought back to that hole
and you're ripped at the seams again.
each time it happens it gets so much harder to fix.
And in all honesty I don't see the allure in it at all.
It's the first time I've ever felt this lonely,
Wish someone cure this pain
It's funny when you think it's gonna work out
Till you chose weed over me you’re so lame
I thought you were cool until the point,
Up until the point you didn't call me when you said you would
Finally figured out you're all the same,
Always coming up with some kind of story
Every time I try to make you smile,
You're always feeling sorry for yourself
Every time I try to make you laugh,
You can't your too tough
You think you're loveless
Is that too much that I’m askin for?
Thought you'd come around when I ignored you,
Sorta thought you'd have the decency to change
But babe I guess you didn't take that warning,
’Cause I'm not about to look at your face again
Can't you see that you lie to yourself?
You can't see the world through a mirror
It won't be too late when the smoke clears’
Cause I, I am still here
Tu ne comprendrais rien
et c'est la façon dont j'en veux.
vouz avez aperçu rien.
Moi, je suis quelque chose qui mérite plus que vous faites.
Change ta ton de voix
avant que je fasse quelque chose que nous deux regretterait.
want you to tell me i'm beautiful. create a withstanding
intimacy between us. i need to feel your closeness
the amiguity of my words, more than one way
we can see it, read it, understand. they are
going to tell you, if only you can see what it is.
Frightening. no set rules or logic. it's all up to me.
will you listen to what i have to say? or will you just hear?
i dont know what you will
get out of this. if you can even see through
this the way it is meant to be. we
both could. anyone could. maybe you do know
but maybe you don't. neither of us will know, only
with faith, and maybe with your
so much has changed but i'm so afraid that it's stayed the same.
"if it wasnt for you and emma i'd have gone to bc"
back to that time when things were so messed up
maybe they still are. maybe i'm blissfully unaware.
I know i'm crazy, i'm insecure, i'm hopelessly self destructive.
but i don't want to be fooled again. maybe it wont even happen.
but atleast if it does it doesn't come as such a shock.
haha ya right. like that will make it any better
We see things as they really are to the best of our capacity, but maybe we're not as great as we think. Maybe we're completely oblivious to some greater being out there. Like the ants and the plants are to us and all our greatness. Maybe the galaxies talk to eachother. There's no end to the possibilites and instead of making me feel hopelessly small, it makes me feel more a part of something. I'm just on this ride, with nowhere to go no, one to be, because it doesn't matter in the least. Just flowing on with life wherever it takes me.
letting my mind lead me on a trail of pleasant sensations.
I can't wait for the spring to come and make rivers of it all.
and I wont need to worry about dirtying my fancies.
I revelled in my miniature stature, ofunimportance.
I found stars, I found stairs
and hidden little paths.
I rummaged around my bag for chapstick.
solitary, but I had no one else to be.
exploring the brambles,
my fancies in shambles.
My knees torn and worn away
but my heart light and feathered.
the sky, the pale white glow of eternity
the Smoke rising off The horizon
the Weeds, clinging to my velcro
And that faint Smile clinging To Myself
[capitalization is important]
[I had to write this from memory because I'd had it on my phone, but it was erased when it died]
You don't need anybody to tell you who you are or what you are. You are what you are!
i'm searching john lennon quotes. getting lost in other's words is healing. Gets me out of my head every so often. Give me sanctuary, I need asylum. Place me somewhere with no responsibilities, no inadequacies or apprehensions. Let me be seen as real and that is all i will need. where no one's pressumptions affect me. I am my own entity, reserved and asunder.
I need you. Open me up, break down my inhibitions. let me be real and let yourself love me for what is really there. [ this isnt meant for just one person. i cant chose between you all.]
The love of reality is my favorite. Offer up your guise for freedom. Love the monster you've been hiding and others will follow suit.
“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”