Posts
A frozen winter morning,
My heart is frozen still-
Once warm and beating,
Now cold and seeping,
Sinking deeper in my soul.
One day brings another,
The sun rises once again,
Brings a little warmth to me in the end-
And even though I feel its heat
My feet are still frozen,
And my arms are stuck to the seat-
I may never move again,
Never to feel free again-
Lost within the end of it all
Lost within the freezing breeze
That tremours through my soul,
Calling out for you-
But you've gone deaf,
And may never hear my call-
The world is blind to sadness
And full of deep remorse
Every girl smiles a fake smile
And every boy talks awhile-
Saying this and that and how are you
But in the end its just to do-
A simple little sentence to warm
My fragile heart-
Just a little voice to keep my soul afloat-
A dream within a dream,
A voice within my mind-
I can dream of all the times
When I once felt that maybe,
Maybe, there was a chance
But that’s all gone-
And im alone at last.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Empty Morning Wish
my heart is full of empty spaces
lonely graces, unknown faces-
sinking deeper, falling fast-
my life is over, dead at last.
i saw the morning sunrise
glisten in your eyes
but now theyre full of flies
and i cant help but cry.
your beauty, your grace-
left outside this place,
this lonely sanctuary
is the tomb of all thats merry.
once upon a time,
i used to always smile
but now i've lost the will
its my happiness you kill.
i am a dreamer, without a heart,
a famous actor, without a part-
i am a writer, without a pen,
a lover, without a women.
i ask the morning graces
why put pain in all their faces?
why turn the world upside down
and give the world a frown?
happiness has seeped away
looking for a better day
but those days are long away
please come back, come and stay.
my heart is full of empty spaces,
lonely graces, unknown places-
in the end the world falls still
living in a love that kills.
lonely graces, unknown faces-
sinking deeper, falling fast-
my life is over, dead at last.
i saw the morning sunrise
glisten in your eyes
but now theyre full of flies
and i cant help but cry.
your beauty, your grace-
left outside this place,
this lonely sanctuary
is the tomb of all thats merry.
once upon a time,
i used to always smile
but now i've lost the will
its my happiness you kill.
i am a dreamer, without a heart,
a famous actor, without a part-
i am a writer, without a pen,
a lover, without a women.
i ask the morning graces
why put pain in all their faces?
why turn the world upside down
and give the world a frown?
happiness has seeped away
looking for a better day
but those days are long away
please come back, come and stay.
my heart is full of empty spaces,
lonely graces, unknown places-
in the end the world falls still
living in a love that kills.
Friday, September 26, 2008
A Boy of Doubt
Ping.
Silence.
That is the sound of solitude, of loneliness. The razor fell out of my hands like butter smeared between my fingers. I grab my arm with the other, trying to control the violent shaking that will not cease.
The endless torment of being alone engulfs your mind. It changes you. It splits you. That is how Manic came to be. Manic, you see, is the nickname I give to my other personality. His name suits him, as his personality consists of sanity, suicide, and manic depression. He is my ultimate undoing and my Achilles’ heel.
She joined my life soon after. Her nails sharp like razor blades, her hair red as blood. Her silver dress has a silver belt that connects the top and bottom. Her beauty keeps me warm; especially when Manic comes to visit.
The weary mind of confusion is easily taken in by the constant murmuring of pain.
I spend my time alone in my room, with nothing but myself to be with. In the corner of the room sits my girl in that silver dress, silent and invisible to all eyes but mine. Every passing moment is another moment of loneliness… a constant reminder of who I am.
I can hear the cars whizzing by, the sound of a dog barking and the clicking of new shoes against the pavement outside. I am in my own little world, a secret place where no one else can enter. Only by breaking my link to my world can the girl in the silver dress truly appear. Manic rips me from my happiness at every turn, his strength much greater then my distraught will to go on.
I can feel the silence in my heart, the sound of nothingness echoes through my body and out my fear dried mouth. Its not that I want to stay this way, its just I have nothing left. It keeps me warm, it keeps me safe. Her silver dress shines in my eyes as she glides across my arm. Another shitty day, an even shittier place.
Metaphoric lingo keeps me safe from the outside world. It’s not worth the time of the “normal” person to understand the Chronic’s jargon. Learning and understanding is the enemy of the common person. No time to waste on others, no time for anything but themselves.
So I sit alone, misunderstood and lonesome, with nothing but a beautiful girl in a silver dress to keep me company.
She sits on my desk, secluded from everything else, my life spent on nothing but staying alive. I coasted through High School, nothing hard to do there. Now in college the toll of my plague begins to take its toll; the truth of absolute loneliness engulfs me in a fiery mist of darkness and smoke as everyone else skips hand in hand. Dragging me out of my world to show me how truly ungrateful the world is to have such abilities and emotions in their lives. Love is a gift, one that they seem to take advantage of.
I can only wish, as my wish do, to be just like my wishes; and wish to come true: words written across my journal, across my walls and through my head. My wishes are so long, so complex and so extraneous that I doubt I will ever fulfill them. Happiness is a wish that seems so far from me that I can’t help but fall part.
A dark shadow follows me through my train of thoughts… an unknown entity calls me and leads me where I want to go. I find myself walking through the cafeteria at my high school… curious of why I even bother. From across the cafeteria I can see the shimmer of a light. More curious, I follow the seemingly cleared pathway leading to your feet. And so my story continues…
I met you at school, we ate lunch together. You barely even noticed my existence. On the other hand, I barely even accept it. I can see the glow in your eyes and the humble wisdom in your heart. You are intelligent, beautiful, and all the words that would ever describe an angel from above.
If heaven does exist, you will be the one to make all others jealous. I don’t know why I even bother; I see that look in your eyes, and that yearning in everyone else’s. Everyone wants to be with you… everyone wants to be happy. I could see myself with you, your hand wrapped around mine, in bliss.
Someone like you could help me win; someone like you could help me defeat what I’ve been fighting so hard against: absolute destruction. My soul pleads for more, to see you and hear you and feel you.
Every second with you is like a million pounds of pressure lifted off my fragile back. My blood grows warm and my heart is fuller of life. Time spent with you, is time spent healing. Manic is my enemy, and we are at war. His weapon? The girl in the silver dress. My weapon? Well, I don’t really have one; but still I fight back in the hopes that you might join my cause and be mine.
Even my thoughts of loneliness and depression are swept away by the thought of you in my arms. To fall asleep next to such a beautiful creature would be to touch the moon with my fingers, nearly impossible, but, through the determination and the hope of my heart, I can do it.
I talked to you, and you hugged me. It was amazing. It stopped me from doing a lot of things that I would have later regretted. Your simple touch is enough to keep me from the loneliness of my silver dressed woman. I can still feel your arms wrap around me and protect me, your warmth keeps me warm even as I take this cold journey home. I showed you my life, the work that keeps me running, the most personal thing I have ever written.
Only two others have ever read what I’ve shown you. You liked it, you told me so; you even quoted me in your AIM profile. I feel special. I feel different.
Every day that passes by gets better and better as I see you walk in your moonwalk like state, your hair flowing in the wind. We walk into your room together, and just sit and talk. We talk and talk and talk, spilling everything I’ve ever seen felt and heard onto your lap like a rusty old tin can. You can throw it way, or polish it up. You chose the latter, and that makes me euphoric. I get up to leave, and you walk up to me, a smile on your face. I stare into the beauty of your eyes, curious, hopeful. I can feel your breathe on my neck. Slowly… without a sound or solid expression… I feel your head moving towards mine; our lips touch. A spark of electricity flies between us as we connect.
Amazing. I didn’t even see it coming, but I’m so glad that it did.
Instantly, Manic dies in a fiery accident. The heat and passion of love corrupted and destroyed him. The feeling of acceptance and love gives me the strength to send the razor in the corner of my room out the window, never to bother me or shine in my eyes again. And with it, Manic is finally gone for good. As my dreams have wished and prayed; I am finally free from my chronic plague, my chronic depression.
And all I can say is: “Thank You.”
Silence.
That is the sound of solitude, of loneliness. The razor fell out of my hands like butter smeared between my fingers. I grab my arm with the other, trying to control the violent shaking that will not cease.
The endless torment of being alone engulfs your mind. It changes you. It splits you. That is how Manic came to be. Manic, you see, is the nickname I give to my other personality. His name suits him, as his personality consists of sanity, suicide, and manic depression. He is my ultimate undoing and my Achilles’ heel.
She joined my life soon after. Her nails sharp like razor blades, her hair red as blood. Her silver dress has a silver belt that connects the top and bottom. Her beauty keeps me warm; especially when Manic comes to visit.
The weary mind of confusion is easily taken in by the constant murmuring of pain.
I spend my time alone in my room, with nothing but myself to be with. In the corner of the room sits my girl in that silver dress, silent and invisible to all eyes but mine. Every passing moment is another moment of loneliness… a constant reminder of who I am.
I can hear the cars whizzing by, the sound of a dog barking and the clicking of new shoes against the pavement outside. I am in my own little world, a secret place where no one else can enter. Only by breaking my link to my world can the girl in the silver dress truly appear. Manic rips me from my happiness at every turn, his strength much greater then my distraught will to go on.
I can feel the silence in my heart, the sound of nothingness echoes through my body and out my fear dried mouth. Its not that I want to stay this way, its just I have nothing left. It keeps me warm, it keeps me safe. Her silver dress shines in my eyes as she glides across my arm. Another shitty day, an even shittier place.
Metaphoric lingo keeps me safe from the outside world. It’s not worth the time of the “normal” person to understand the Chronic’s jargon. Learning and understanding is the enemy of the common person. No time to waste on others, no time for anything but themselves.
So I sit alone, misunderstood and lonesome, with nothing but a beautiful girl in a silver dress to keep me company.
She sits on my desk, secluded from everything else, my life spent on nothing but staying alive. I coasted through High School, nothing hard to do there. Now in college the toll of my plague begins to take its toll; the truth of absolute loneliness engulfs me in a fiery mist of darkness and smoke as everyone else skips hand in hand. Dragging me out of my world to show me how truly ungrateful the world is to have such abilities and emotions in their lives. Love is a gift, one that they seem to take advantage of.
I can only wish, as my wish do, to be just like my wishes; and wish to come true: words written across my journal, across my walls and through my head. My wishes are so long, so complex and so extraneous that I doubt I will ever fulfill them. Happiness is a wish that seems so far from me that I can’t help but fall part.
A dark shadow follows me through my train of thoughts… an unknown entity calls me and leads me where I want to go. I find myself walking through the cafeteria at my high school… curious of why I even bother. From across the cafeteria I can see the shimmer of a light. More curious, I follow the seemingly cleared pathway leading to your feet. And so my story continues…
I met you at school, we ate lunch together. You barely even noticed my existence. On the other hand, I barely even accept it. I can see the glow in your eyes and the humble wisdom in your heart. You are intelligent, beautiful, and all the words that would ever describe an angel from above.
If heaven does exist, you will be the one to make all others jealous. I don’t know why I even bother; I see that look in your eyes, and that yearning in everyone else’s. Everyone wants to be with you… everyone wants to be happy. I could see myself with you, your hand wrapped around mine, in bliss.
Someone like you could help me win; someone like you could help me defeat what I’ve been fighting so hard against: absolute destruction. My soul pleads for more, to see you and hear you and feel you.
Every second with you is like a million pounds of pressure lifted off my fragile back. My blood grows warm and my heart is fuller of life. Time spent with you, is time spent healing. Manic is my enemy, and we are at war. His weapon? The girl in the silver dress. My weapon? Well, I don’t really have one; but still I fight back in the hopes that you might join my cause and be mine.
Even my thoughts of loneliness and depression are swept away by the thought of you in my arms. To fall asleep next to such a beautiful creature would be to touch the moon with my fingers, nearly impossible, but, through the determination and the hope of my heart, I can do it.
I talked to you, and you hugged me. It was amazing. It stopped me from doing a lot of things that I would have later regretted. Your simple touch is enough to keep me from the loneliness of my silver dressed woman. I can still feel your arms wrap around me and protect me, your warmth keeps me warm even as I take this cold journey home. I showed you my life, the work that keeps me running, the most personal thing I have ever written.
Only two others have ever read what I’ve shown you. You liked it, you told me so; you even quoted me in your AIM profile. I feel special. I feel different.
Every day that passes by gets better and better as I see you walk in your moonwalk like state, your hair flowing in the wind. We walk into your room together, and just sit and talk. We talk and talk and talk, spilling everything I’ve ever seen felt and heard onto your lap like a rusty old tin can. You can throw it way, or polish it up. You chose the latter, and that makes me euphoric. I get up to leave, and you walk up to me, a smile on your face. I stare into the beauty of your eyes, curious, hopeful. I can feel your breathe on my neck. Slowly… without a sound or solid expression… I feel your head moving towards mine; our lips touch. A spark of electricity flies between us as we connect.
Amazing. I didn’t even see it coming, but I’m so glad that it did.
Instantly, Manic dies in a fiery accident. The heat and passion of love corrupted and destroyed him. The feeling of acceptance and love gives me the strength to send the razor in the corner of my room out the window, never to bother me or shine in my eyes again. And with it, Manic is finally gone for good. As my dreams have wished and prayed; I am finally free from my chronic plague, my chronic depression.
And all I can say is: “Thank You.”
Journals of a Broken Hand
Today was the strangest day of my life. The colours whizzed past my eyes like a boy lost on the side of a highway. Bursts of red and green, mixed with the flashing of headlights… zooming across my face, breaking my concentration every time I remembered how to think.
I have found it impossible to accumulate broken dreams, if I never have any to begin with. You cannot break what does not exist, and so my spirit shall never be broken. I travel down through my mind… lost between the cars and the trucks, the honking and the passing. Each car leaving with every exit, only to be replaced four fold, with cars flying up the on ramps to my brain.
I travel till I come to my eyes… fixated on a beautiful face, fixated on a face of purity and loyalty. My eyes grow and squint, trying to find the perfect focus for such a wonder as her face. If only I could feel my heart… if only I could feel the beat or the pulse of my blood through my body, if only I could feel something… anything.
But I lie here, lifeless and alone… with nothing but the constant murmur of pain to keep my sanity in check.
And so my eyes stare, and my brain thinks, and the world spins around… what a strange feeling this is, to be broken in a fixed up world.
And so I see myself, sitting here, alone and unnoticed…. ostracized from the world. Through the darkness, I can still see her face, placed within the back of my head… hidden but still visible, just enough to keep me alive. The blood flows through me, but I cannot feel it… my bones are broken, but I cannot see it. And so I lay here, in the absolute, waiting for the sincerity of forgiveness… of love… or death.
I have lived the life of a bird with broken wings; the ability to do just what I was made for has been taken away. All my life, I have been broken, I have been… different. All my life, I could not fly. All I could ever do is sit, and watch as the world spins around me in the sky… floating hundreds of feet above me, as I lie in nothingness. Smeared with dirt and ash, my eyes burn, a single tear of solitude falls to my hand, and I stare as the droplet runs down the side of my hand to the ground. The wind picks up, and the world flies away, leaving me here, covered in shit.
I have found it impossible to accumulate broken dreams, if I never have any to begin with. You cannot break what does not exist, and so my spirit shall never be broken. I travel down through my mind… lost between the cars and the trucks, the honking and the passing. Each car leaving with every exit, only to be replaced four fold, with cars flying up the on ramps to my brain.
I travel till I come to my eyes… fixated on a beautiful face, fixated on a face of purity and loyalty. My eyes grow and squint, trying to find the perfect focus for such a wonder as her face. If only I could feel my heart… if only I could feel the beat or the pulse of my blood through my body, if only I could feel something… anything.
But I lie here, lifeless and alone… with nothing but the constant murmur of pain to keep my sanity in check.
And so my eyes stare, and my brain thinks, and the world spins around… what a strange feeling this is, to be broken in a fixed up world.
And so I see myself, sitting here, alone and unnoticed…. ostracized from the world. Through the darkness, I can still see her face, placed within the back of my head… hidden but still visible, just enough to keep me alive. The blood flows through me, but I cannot feel it… my bones are broken, but I cannot see it. And so I lay here, in the absolute, waiting for the sincerity of forgiveness… of love… or death.
I have lived the life of a bird with broken wings; the ability to do just what I was made for has been taken away. All my life, I have been broken, I have been… different. All my life, I could not fly. All I could ever do is sit, and watch as the world spins around me in the sky… floating hundreds of feet above me, as I lie in nothingness. Smeared with dirt and ash, my eyes burn, a single tear of solitude falls to my hand, and I stare as the droplet runs down the side of my hand to the ground. The wind picks up, and the world flies away, leaving me here, covered in shit.
Pieces of Time
My memories encompass my mind, my dreams, my life. Every second ticks by one after another, never ending- every moment new and fresh; but gone before you even have time to grasp it. Our lives are full of memories; full of thoughts, ideas, all these different things that make us who we are. Without them, we would be nothing.
Everyday I wake up, every day I go to sleep(most of the time), and every day I dream of moments past, pieces of the time i shared with all the different people that have helped to mold me to who I am today.
I have had good relationships, bad relationships; I've made friends and foes; but through it all I would never give up a second or a memory, not a single one.
My life is a dreamboat of experiences and moments; each moment leading up to the next - each moment followed by another, until we grow to the final moment of our lives; the final breath, the final striking moment of our lives before it is all over, and what happens next? We may never know.
We have been molded, created, shaped; maybe even prepared - just to live long enough to experience the final blow of our lives.
I wish that we could all see our own funerals; just to see if we are truly missed or if anyone even bothers to show. Each piece of time leads to the next, a never ending train; connected at the hip... following this ongoing track until all the rails become rust and fade away, and we derail.
Everyday I wake up, every day I go to sleep(most of the time), and every day I dream of moments past, pieces of the time i shared with all the different people that have helped to mold me to who I am today.
I have had good relationships, bad relationships; I've made friends and foes; but through it all I would never give up a second or a memory, not a single one.
My life is a dreamboat of experiences and moments; each moment leading up to the next - each moment followed by another, until we grow to the final moment of our lives; the final breath, the final striking moment of our lives before it is all over, and what happens next? We may never know.
We have been molded, created, shaped; maybe even prepared - just to live long enough to experience the final blow of our lives.
I wish that we could all see our own funerals; just to see if we are truly missed or if anyone even bothers to show. Each piece of time leads to the next, a never ending train; connected at the hip... following this ongoing track until all the rails become rust and fade away, and we derail.
One Last Time-
I knew what I had done as soon as the door closed. A single tear fell from my eye as I reached into my pocket to pull out a small razor blade; just about the size of your thumb. As I smeared the razor between my fingers, making sure not to remove any of the existing blood; I could feel my heart finally begin to regulate.
Then I heard a creek come from down the stairs, it sounded like the front door opened. I quickly ran into the bathroom to grab a few peices of toilet paper to lay across my arm to keep any drip from falling down.
"Denim! Are you home? It's Dad." I could hear my Dad yelling from down below, as he took off his shoes. "If your here, come down, I want to talk to you."
"One minute! Just putting on a new shirt." Well I was putting on a new shirt, but that was only because the old one was covered in a red crust that I could not possibly hide.
And so I calmly went down the stairs, my hands and arms behind my back, my arm quivering from the friction of cloth against my newly made wounds.
"Are you feeling OK?" My dad inquired, curious of my random squirms.
"Oh, just fine, I replied" Unsure of how to answer.
"You dont look so well. Maybe I'm just tired."
"I'm sure thats it, Dad."
"Well, anyway, I just wanted to let you know that your grandmother went into the hospital, grandpa found her at 4am this morning of the ground convulsing. I guess she overdosed on Ambient or something. She hasn't woken up yet."
I stood in shock, maybe even in fear, at the news that was presented before me. I could barely withstand hearing those words again, no... not again.
"Hey Denim, whats that on your arm? Are you bleeding?"
"Oh, that" I shivered in pain, "Its nothing. Just a little cut I guess."
"We'll let me see it, I want to make sure its not infected before you put a bandaid on it."
"Oh, no, thats OK Dad, thanks anyway."
"No, please, I just want to make sure your cut wont get infected."
He took a quick jab for my arm, he missed the sleeve but rubbed hard against my wounds.
"Ouch!" I couldnt help but yell.
"Whats that? Denim! Let me see your arm right now!."
I could feel my eyes holding back a single tear as I slowly raised my sleeve to reveal the numerous cuts and slashed across my fore arm.
"Denim... explain yourself."
"I... I... I..." I didn't know what to say.
"Well... I..." Words just couldn't escape my mouth.
Finally I broke down into a waterfall of salty tears, collapsing into my fathers arms.
"I..." Sniffles, "I just couldnt stop. One, and then another, and then another... it made me feel... alive."
I can't even begin to fathom the intensity of what I said.
"Well... I..." My father was hesitant, but proceeded to speak anyway, "Is this because of grandma?"
"Well... some of it. SOme of it is because of school, and work, and... just life."
"I've been doing it for a few years now; every time I just can't figure something out; or I feel like complete shit. I do it, and I feel better... so much better."
A saw then something I never thought I would ever see in my entire life. It was like the entire spectrum of light, all condensed to the width of my father's wide eyes.
And then, without a whisper or a word, my father stood up, took a step back, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Your mother will be wondering where I am, so I better get back to the hospital to see your grandmother. If your up for it... you can come later if you like."
I just stood there, mentally deconstructed and naked in front of my father; until finally I had to speak.
"OK... I guess I'll see you later." I squeezed out my tight, exausted throat as I begged myself not to burst into tears again.
"Alright, Well... Bye."
My father turned around, walked out the door, and shut it carelessly behind him.
"Well... there's only one thing left for me here." I whispered to myself.
And so I walked back up the stairs, an evil grin upon my face, and made my way to the door that I had just recently closed; as if just to gaze upon the luminous letters painted across the door:
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"
And so I opened the gateway, and looking deep into the darkness, I saw a single shimmering light... my eyes fixated upon it... I walked to it, entranced by its singular beauty.
And now, laying across this god forsaken floor, I find myself broken... frayed, alone. But not for long; for soon I will be with everything I could ever want to be.
And so I enter into the abyss... the lifeless progression of nothingness that no one could ever possibly imagine.
And into the shadow my soul shall lay,
Silently followed by Deaths cruel way-
his way I follow, for a better tomorrow,
to put a final end, to this bitter, bitter day.
Then I heard a creek come from down the stairs, it sounded like the front door opened. I quickly ran into the bathroom to grab a few peices of toilet paper to lay across my arm to keep any drip from falling down.
"Denim! Are you home? It's Dad." I could hear my Dad yelling from down below, as he took off his shoes. "If your here, come down, I want to talk to you."
"One minute! Just putting on a new shirt." Well I was putting on a new shirt, but that was only because the old one was covered in a red crust that I could not possibly hide.
And so I calmly went down the stairs, my hands and arms behind my back, my arm quivering from the friction of cloth against my newly made wounds.
"Are you feeling OK?" My dad inquired, curious of my random squirms.
"Oh, just fine, I replied" Unsure of how to answer.
"You dont look so well. Maybe I'm just tired."
"I'm sure thats it, Dad."
"Well, anyway, I just wanted to let you know that your grandmother went into the hospital, grandpa found her at 4am this morning of the ground convulsing. I guess she overdosed on Ambient or something. She hasn't woken up yet."
I stood in shock, maybe even in fear, at the news that was presented before me. I could barely withstand hearing those words again, no... not again.
"Hey Denim, whats that on your arm? Are you bleeding?"
"Oh, that" I shivered in pain, "Its nothing. Just a little cut I guess."
"We'll let me see it, I want to make sure its not infected before you put a bandaid on it."
"Oh, no, thats OK Dad, thanks anyway."
"No, please, I just want to make sure your cut wont get infected."
He took a quick jab for my arm, he missed the sleeve but rubbed hard against my wounds.
"Ouch!" I couldnt help but yell.
"Whats that? Denim! Let me see your arm right now!."
I could feel my eyes holding back a single tear as I slowly raised my sleeve to reveal the numerous cuts and slashed across my fore arm.
"Denim... explain yourself."
"I... I... I..." I didn't know what to say.
"Well... I..." Words just couldn't escape my mouth.
Finally I broke down into a waterfall of salty tears, collapsing into my fathers arms.
"I..." Sniffles, "I just couldnt stop. One, and then another, and then another... it made me feel... alive."
I can't even begin to fathom the intensity of what I said.
"Well... I..." My father was hesitant, but proceeded to speak anyway, "Is this because of grandma?"
"Well... some of it. SOme of it is because of school, and work, and... just life."
"I've been doing it for a few years now; every time I just can't figure something out; or I feel like complete shit. I do it, and I feel better... so much better."
A saw then something I never thought I would ever see in my entire life. It was like the entire spectrum of light, all condensed to the width of my father's wide eyes.
And then, without a whisper or a word, my father stood up, took a step back, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Your mother will be wondering where I am, so I better get back to the hospital to see your grandmother. If your up for it... you can come later if you like."
I just stood there, mentally deconstructed and naked in front of my father; until finally I had to speak.
"OK... I guess I'll see you later." I squeezed out my tight, exausted throat as I begged myself not to burst into tears again.
"Alright, Well... Bye."
My father turned around, walked out the door, and shut it carelessly behind him.
"Well... there's only one thing left for me here." I whispered to myself.
And so I walked back up the stairs, an evil grin upon my face, and made my way to the door that I had just recently closed; as if just to gaze upon the luminous letters painted across the door:
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"
And so I opened the gateway, and looking deep into the darkness, I saw a single shimmering light... my eyes fixated upon it... I walked to it, entranced by its singular beauty.
And now, laying across this god forsaken floor, I find myself broken... frayed, alone. But not for long; for soon I will be with everything I could ever want to be.
And so I enter into the abyss... the lifeless progression of nothingness that no one could ever possibly imagine.
And into the shadow my soul shall lay,
Silently followed by Deaths cruel way-
his way I follow, for a better tomorrow,
to put a final end, to this bitter, bitter day.
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