birthday

applied to walgreens; mother still disavows i am her child

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had a great time with my family
got closer to my brother
played a lot of games
got refills on all my prescriptions
rearranged both my rooms
got a new phone
met a hippie who said i had an open and caring face, and a burning and beautiful intelligence
played an awesome game of scrabble with my roommates
circumvented my mother and took money directly from my school account
paid my rent
got disowned by my mom over using money without permission
told mom i was gay
jogged 10 miles in my new shoes
collapsed in the shower, crying
took a few times my normal dose
fell asleep

?

listen to it. it's so simple. i can't see it from here, but i've seen it before. i wonder what i'd think it looked like if i hadn't. i know the sound it makes, water splashing against water. there are so many forms that can take. a waterfall. rain, though that wouldn't be only isolated to 10 stories below me. a stream, with water lightly lapping against its stone boundaries, much like a dog would lap at a bowl of water. it is so fluid, conforming to any shape we desire it to take, and so powerful, carving beautiful statements with endless patience into even the toughest of rock and boulder in its path. it is this simple substance that allows life. two hydrogen atoms covalently bonded with one atom of oxygen, 104.5 degrees apart; melting point of 0, boiling point of 100 degrees centigrade. density of almost 1 gram per cubic meter. nearly uncompressable, even under the greatest pressures at the deepest depths of the ocean. and it follows a cycle, as do all things in life. evaporation, condensation, precipitation.

so many cliches are based off water. but that argument doesn't hold water, though that's water under the bridge; just be sure to not throw the baby out with the bathwater, or else you'll be like a fish out of water.

i'm so fucking sick of everything.

most people are afraid of the truth.
i'm only afraid that people aren't telling it to me.

i am chronically underappreciated.

lol

a shot of novocaine to the heart
its walls cease shuddering with life
its warmth selfishly extinguished
an empty chasm breathes no longer

i need too much
and i don't really believe in love, no, no

an interesting thing i've noticed lately is that not many people seem to understand their relationship with me. my mother is amongst those.

i wonder if even i understand them, my assorted connections with people, the bonds i cultivate amongst my peers.

what do i feel? how can i feel? how do i turned feigned emotions into real ones?
will they ever be real? will they ever coalesce into existence simply because i wish it so?

i doubt it.

fear is the mind killer

if only you could feel as deeply as i felt
maybe then you'd understand

the violent resounding of thoughts and emotions through the otherwise empty chasm of my being
their vibrance illuminating the barren passages of my mind

hollowed when empty
hallowed when full

silence

unfiltered, unbridled
there is no barrier between me and between them
the feelings, ganging up
revolution

overwhelming reason
overwhelming me

i am succumbed
i am weak
i am fragile

i am human

compromised and inefficient
quirky and fallible
fractured
sweating
terrified

alone?

( the line begins to blur )

pain. the torture of it. the clarity of it. when it's there, it feels never ending. [it fills your being and leaves nothing else.] when it's not, it feels... empty.

pain forces you to focus. your thoughts, your emotions. your priorities. where does it hurt, why does it hurt, when will it end?

how can i make it end? what if there's nothing you can do?

pain is a test, but not one of divine intention. it's a test of your resolve, of your humanity. pain makes you confront all that is, or makes you run away from reality. it makes you experience.

there are those who are afraid of it, there are those who embrace it; those who are shy, and those who revel, but not many understand it- its intrinsic function.

there is no empiricism in this chaotic fabric we call a world, each person existing as a constant current- an amalgam of thoughts and feelings that are inexorably interwoven- there is only relativity. everything is connected, something ethereal that only a few can see- the patterns that outline our very existence. do we create them, or merely fall into them?

without pain, there would be no pleasure.

but when will it be my turn?

i understand, now. i understand. however one thing that i've learned is that though you may grasp the concept, pain's grasp is harder, tugging at your heart strings, and you weep, miserable, clutching your chest, a symbol of the fantastic irony that is the culmination of knowledge and the beautiful, torturous spark of life.

my head spins in it, and i am drained. you have a limit and none further.

it's a shame one can't excise desires from their being. life would be so much simpler if we simply didn't want.

hope is the last string i have left.

checkmate.

I'd listen to the words he'd say
but in his voice I heard decay
the plastic face forced to portray
all the insides left cold and gray
there is a place that still remains
it eats the fear it eats the pain
the sweetest price he'll have to pay
the day the whole world went away

What is this I feel, why is it so real
What am I to say
It’s only love, it’s only pain
It’s only fear, that runs through my veins
It’s all the things you can’t explain
That make us human

(this list is not comprehensive)

25. being able to breathe from both nostrils
24. breakfast at ihop
23. dinner at fridays
22. birthday cake remix
21. krispy kreme donuts

20. being impulsive (i know, right?)
19. the beach at night
18. battlestar galactica
17. tea
16. order

15. efficiency
14. mathematics
13. always being right
12. rum raisin ice cream
11. taking long baths

10. being in your pjs all day
9. wheat thins
8. house
7. vicodin
6. smelling like strawberries and cream all over

5. the movie contact
4. the necklace and bracelets allison gave me
3. getting texts from allison
2. spending time with allison
1. allison rebecca wyatt

[Number Five (Aaron Doral) and Number Six have trouble catching Caprica Sharon and Helo.]
Number Five: We've searched every street, every building. They slipped through. How's that possible?
Number Six: She thinks she loves him now. That she can't live without him. Her passion is making her more resourceful.
Number Five: It bothers you, doesn't it?
Number Six : We'll get them in the end.
Number Five: No, it bothers you that you've never experienced it.
Number Six: You saw the way Helo was when we took her away. He was pathetic.
Number Five: I can't help wondering what it would be like to feel that intensely. Even in his anguish he seemed so alive.

affliction

encased in quotations
surrounded by words
tense and punctual;
a silhouette of natures calligraphy:
where beauty kills and
perfection
fades like waves of heat,
emanating off grains of a broken mirror.
we are the hollow
selfishly loving and wandering,
lost in meaning
encased in a fragile cell:
cursed with potential
and blessed with death.