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The twisted logic flowing from my unclothed mind ceases to amaze me. Others however, seem to have a little more trouble making use of whatever clamor I seem to spew from time to time. This being said, I believe we can move onto my next topic: If you always refuse to talk to people you don’t know. Do you honestly expect to make any new friends..? Food for thought high school girls.

“All the classical music in the world cannot weep as deeply as a brokenhearted teenager,”

Although I have heard some comparisons in my life that were worth mentioning, none more so than this. Surpassing the truth of the statement itself, is the complete and ideal ingeniousness of it.  It’s almost calming in fact. Whenever I hear it, it  makes me feel slightly better about the people that I use to surround myself with. But the difference is that the people I knew, although they followed this, also followed something else.

“No matter how deep a heart has been broken, it can be filled instantly by simply convincing yourself you’re in love with someone else, thus filling the gap.”

Now this statement has always bothered me. In fact, it would be the main reason why I don’t like teenagers. The way that something you can feel is so important and loose sleep and thoughts over, can just be removed, which to me sounds crazy. Now having been threw a heartbreak myself I cant help but look down on those who, if the heartbreak is true, can come over something so easily by simply “using” another person. Now I realize that it doesn’t make me a better person by looking down on them, but I cannot help it. I’ve tried, but I can’t get it threw my head how something like that is possible.

As there is many sides to a story, there is also many types of characters in the story called life. So I can at least respect that there are such types of people out there. But I don’t understand how there can be so many. And more importantly, why is it a trait learned as a teenager? Why cant it be learned sooner, that way people can grow out of it quicker, and have a more fulfilling life. Now these are only my thoughts, not any theory’s or facts I have manipulated to fit my story… I guess i’m just curious is all.

Temporary Home

Thrown out of house and home, due to poles that come in pairs, and show the possibility of no return, I decided to ask for some help. The people who enjoy calling themselves my “friends” were of little help, and the ones who feel I should rely on them in a time of need seemed to ignore me: my questions and thoughts were literally repelled and avoided. So feeling at a loss I decided to search in the largest pool of resources that was known to me, the web. Finally I got a hit, from one very unexpected individual and her son. I was asked to come live with them for two weeks until I stored up enough money to take a place of my own under my belt. Gracious and thankful I accepted… Now due to lack of transportation of a motor type, it’s going to be a very straining two weeks, but god has granted me the opportunity. And if the only cost of it is to bike 20 miles a day, I cannot ask for more. A blessing in a shaded place, the light shown itself and all I have to do is enter it, and soak up the greatness of whats been presented to me. So I thank my shelter providers, and I thank God for having created such amazing people.

As the spring’s breath goes down your neck, the familiar ecstasy of the future, and the possibilities of the past fill you up. Looking up at the purple and grey horizon, realizing that the day is coming to an end, the only thought that goes through your mind is but a simple question. A sliver of the possibilities thrown upon you. A smile on your face and a disposed sense of happiness is soon to be all but naught. But the question still lingers. Was this life fulfilled, or will the next one have to suffice? You never know the answer till you get to the gate of life itself, that bridge to eternal slumber. Only given to those who have brought peace to not only their life, but radiated it unto others in a way that they will never know. The consequences of such a life are but simple rest. A peace unlike any other. A hope fulfillment. Like the twinkle on a candle is about to die, but finding out at the last moment your wax is being used to support others, and to help those who feel like their flame is about to burn out. That, is what true peace is. Knowledge of the past, and a hope and passion for the future. It’s a feeling that you can only get once, and it can only happen once your days have ended… But if you have not fulfilled this vial, then you must start over. From the beginning. Rebirth of a soul threw the means of a child. Transporting your life’s purpose to another individual, until you yourself have fulfilled your true dream in life, and achieved final rest… That is what life is about. And those crystal gates are calling my name, waiting, yearning, for me to come home…

Unwritten pages

The words escape my mind. The patterns and colors flowing through my head are as they once were, but also as I left them.

It’s like being shown a picture of the past, and having everything come back to you. But this time, the picture is of an actual essence, and the past is actually here. People say not to dwell on the past, but what they really mean to do is forget about it, and pretend it’s more like they read it in a book or something. It’s not of actually personal importance, but more the idea of it “has” existed. So what do you do when that book has fallen off the shelf, and is lying open right in your path. Do you pick it up and think about the contents as you put it back on the shelf… or do you dive back in, and make everything that once was, like a story your acting out. These are the questions I ask myself, and are the answers themselves. But not knowing which line up is the problem I am struggling with. Is it still considered reminiscing on the past if the past is thrown back on you? Or if the past never quite got finished? Does the past stay past, even though you want to continue living it? I feel the author side of me creeping up. I see a book that I left unfinished and I feel the need to finish it. But the problem is that in order to finish the past book, I have to stop writing the one I am currently working on… So do I continue?

Or do I pick up the old and finish what I feel I should never have let leave my hands…

Doorways

The only thought of the ill-bloomed pearl, the last reminiscence of their life. When all faded to black. An explosion of pure darkness… no, the purple haze was barely visible. Lighting just enough to realize the total darkness. The thought, the acceptance, of death. Feeling the situation around, and believing the end is naught, and accepting the situation… All others around, exhausting their minds, looking for a way out. A way to escape this hell… Thus unable to focus on the details that don’t truly matter in the situation… When one can completely accept the situation they are forced into, then, they will be able to see an exit. Or as i see it further… An entrance…

Sakura

Everything goes blank sometimes,

and all I see… Is you.
Blossoms of the Sakura tree fall all around,
and the sent of winters lapse has returned once more.

A memory flashes into my mind,

images of our past screen roll.
I feel as if my life just passed before my eyes.

And then something came hold of me,
Unknowing, I reach out and grab a pedal,

strictly out of impulse. I begin to smile.

Felling the pedal growing closer, I feel,
as if your soul just might have been placed
in the part of the earth you loved the most…

Felling as if I’m holding my hand out,
hoping to have yours latch on.
Time seems to stop.

Everything goes blank sometimes, and all I see… Is you.

Golden Leaves

The forest is the only thing that keeps me alive these days… The sound of her breath on the back of my neck, the feel of her voice as she speaks: Only but two of her beauties. Whilst the day and night go on, I sit here, breathing my very existence into thoughts of the future. Waiting for the time to come, when all will be restored, and the world set right again. For my time is coming to its end, and I feel as though this life, this, small life, is no longer needed. The only one left in my village, the last one to die out. The last, to breath.

As I walk into the exit of the tree, stopping to gaze behind into the dark abyss, I notice something new. A small bud of life, a mere sapling among the dead, sprouted from the base of the tree. Rooting itself out from the ground, showing it’s sparking golden leaves. Something the forest has left behind for me? I will never know. But for an instant I feel as though I had made a difference. That a small ray of light had engrossed my past, and shown it true meaning. Even after all the pain and suffering, days and nights, months and years, dormant. It gives life. With this, a glimmer of hope is set upon my soul, and the time where all I need to do is die feels but a fortnight away. I spend all my energy and pour my soul into this plant. This small, golden glimpse of the future.

Nothing can stop the hands of time. The clocks of fate has set itself upon me, and started to close its doors. Were I to not enter them, a very dark time would my soul be placed into. So I must wait around no longer. I write this to you in hopes that the future I held so dear might be a joyous one, and be filled with love. For even in the darkest of times, you may still go into that forest, and set eyes upon a great creation. And know. That no matter what lies ahead. There is still hope…

Around again

It’s time like these, the gray area, where people really seem to happen. Things becoming things, people, become true people. When you’re neither happy, nor say. Not angry, but not joyful. It’s the times when the world seems to stop, because it’s spinning so fast. Like the wheels on a car, when you reach a certain speed, everything seems to appear to spin backwards. Increasing in speed till everything becomes a blur, colors flowing into sounds, taste into feel. The world itself becomes so unreal. And it’s just then, that you get thrown into darkness, screeching to a halt. Breaking you down from the inside out, you start to feel it eating you. Creating the one thing you hoped to never become. Then you see a light, in all this darkness and lostness. You see hope. You call, but you have no voice, only sight. and just before all hope is lost, and faith is lost, a blink of an eye, and you wake up, and realize it was, in fact, only a dream….

Half empty

As humans, we see the world as we want in to be. And subconsciously make the visable, invisable. Covering up what we don’t want to deal with. I just finished reading a book about how a girl was abducted, and forced to do the will of her abductor on a whim for her family who would’ve been killed otherwise. And reading stuff like this really opened my mind. Yes, this type of stuff does happen, and happens alot more than anyone would care to admit.

There are things going on out there that we keep covering up. And if we don’t do something about them, it may never happen… I was once told by someone that I look up to very much, that we are one generation away from total destruction… But we are also one generation away from total grace… Now, how you preceive this is up to you. Whether you take a religious approach like me, or not, it is clear.

The world we live in is dying, physically, and mentaly. So lets change it….

Together.

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