Alienate

I'm detached again, disconnected, I can't seem to find a way to bring back an old pretend overused and abused habit. Surrounded by people in a dark crowded room, everyone conversing about nothing; that's all there is to it... they're all nothing, this means nothing to me, absolutely nothing. The same absurd thoughts of alienation got a hold of me, I can't no longer act... I'm too tired, weary and restless, acting has become a drag; that's all there is to it... dragging myself everyday to be something... just anything.

They'll almost always immediately ask you about pain; what experiences have you had in your life that would justify that look in your eyes, they'll expect you to give a reason; a solid, valid reason or else they'll disapprove and reject you almost always immediately. I've never had a reason and I wish I did; maybe only then would I be fine with whatever it is that's stopping me from being fine. To some sadness is a way of life; sadness is what being fine is like. And those who ask can never understand what it's like to have this constant war in your mind.

I can't give him anything I haven't given already to someone else, perhaps it was him whom I should have waited for, perhaps it was him who was capable of opening me up for more, perhaps I was his in a different story that'll never be told.

I'm detached again, disconnected, the room is filling in and I'm by the side pretending, everything fades then comes back again, without a taste or thrill of suspense and I'm just another finally reaching the end. 

Strangers

Strangers and even though
I write these words for you to know
I'll leave a scar where it hurts the most
And blame the lies you've never told
Suffering I'll try it too
I'll even name it after you
All of this I'll do and more
To keep these memories forever sore

Strangers and let's pretend
To keep a distance till the end
But when you're far enough to think
And a thought of me is lurking in
Please, I beg of you to let me in
And find a place for me to sink
Even though I won't attempt;
I'll block you out in self defence
But I remind you to not forget
I only push what's hard to neglect

Strangers and nothing more?

Strange to know we'll never know

If I could say what's on my mind

'I want you here all the time'

But since this no longer a design
My mind will change a second time
And I don't know how else to go
Still; I'd hate for you to let me go

Strangers but don't say it yet
Stranger; this I'll confess
A place for you
My heart has kept
But I'd be lying when I say
I'll be waiting for you someday. 

Never

Never fall in love with writers; they'll never love you back. A path that is untracked; till it's discovered and crossed by. A mystery that intrigues; till it reveals its means. A poem that is written for someone else's needs. A story to be finished; only to be able to breathe. Everything you are is a means to an end it seems. 

Never fall in love with writers; they are the ones you can never satisfy. Their words would mean everything to you; but these words are only written because they'll never say it to you. Their actions are false and every little thing they do, means absolutely nothing because they'll regret it and deny it to be true. Their touch will often break you; on purpose it seems. Everything you are is a part of a sick scheme. 

Never fall in love with writers; they'll love you more in words. A character that "only bleeds" with "weak knees" and needs a "helping hand to see" A character to be "saved" and it's only refuge is to "escape" A character that is a "mistake" still an opportunity they must take. Everything you are is a desire to a different taste.  

Never fall in love with writers; their only thrill is to seek pain. Lure you in with words they've designed for this game, give and only take when its not theirs to claim. Promises they'll make and wait for the right time for it to break. And remorse will never show until its just too late. Everything they are is a sad and broken state; what's the point of sadness anyway if it never stayed? 

Never fall in love with writers; pray you'll never do. They'll make you long for something that's never coming true.

Contact

"I don't like this game anymore." He said as he shifted his weight to face the opposite direction, he thought about walking towards the door, leaving her behind for good, and the many times this thought had crossed his mind; it never seemed more ridiculous than now.

"Please don't treat me this way." Her plea came as predictable to him as his thought of leaving, he had heard it all before; this, all of this... nothing is exciting, nothing is new. nothing at all.
She reached her hand out to touch his shoulder, only the tip of her fingers brushing onto his shirt in their always shaky-hesitated manner. He couldn't deny the electric shock that ran through him as he felt a small portion of her flesh coming into contact with his, he was never able to deny the way she could make him feel, he was always attracted to her, even now as he's seated beside her in a bed he shared with many other women; women that surpassed her in ways he was always made aware of, women that were fixed up to be compatible, women of exotic natures, women of intensive and extensive beauty, women of brains and women who were just plain easy, still as these strange faces clouded his mind begging him to remember a different, a much better time, he couldn't deny the fact that none of these other women ever came close to her. None of them.

"You can never hurt me." She spoke in her quite assertive voice, slowly moving the palm of her hand to his neck and locking him in. He closed his eyes and exhaled, she was now sitting on her knees, behind him on the bed, reaching out with her other hand and interlocking her fingers. You can't hurt me if I hurt you first her thoughts seemed to be saying.

"You don't know me very well." He spoke in his usual weary voice, which she predicted he would have adopted by now, he thought that being concerned for her, saved her a great deal of troubling, but little did he knew that she wanted the troubles just as much as she wanted him. I don't want the good if I can't have the bad and the ugly as well. Her thoughts spoke clearly to her.

"I know you well enough."

"You think you do..."
"I know I do."

"No, you don't. I'm not right for you."
"Who said I wanted right?"

"I'm wrong for you. I'll always be wrong for you."
"I don't care."

"One day you will."
"That day isn't today."

As she spoke her last words she released him, he opened his eyes and sighed heavily, everything surrounding him seemed heavy; the air, the room, the bed, the floor. Everything seemed unbearable, everything seemed tiring, everything seemed impossible. And it was to him. It always was.

The thought of leaving her was unbearable, the thought of being with her was tiring and the thought of loving her was impossible.

He turned around to face her, to mouth the words of a well practiced farewell... looking into her eyes, feeling the air moving around them, he was silent, she was silent and only silence was spoken.

At seventeen

I've learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
Women with nothing to lose;
That accept and obey all the rules
Women with nothing to give;
But perfect bodies polished and trimmed
Women who swore to love the only one
And still desire a different one
Women that don't speak or raise their voice
Sitting in silence throughout the noise.

I've learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
Girls growing up to seek and please
Older men who crave all that is they see
Girls that learn that happiness is achieved
When a man is satisfied beneath the sheets
Girls who trained themselves to speak of nothing
But compliments and praise and shallow words like these.

I've learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
Women that raise their girls not to see
The evil to come with every lie a man speaks
Women that raise their girls to be
The perfect image taken out of a man's fantasy
Women that raise their girls to believe
They are worth nothing
Until a man claims them;
They'll no longer be.

I've learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
The more you're loved, the unhappier you'll be
The more you're loved, the lonelier you'll feel
No one will know, no one will believe
All beauty queens are broken
By the time they're seventeen. 

Fragments

Is it "irony" that Price Tag by Jessie J

played in every single clothing store

I went into?

I was never one of those people to believe in making resolutions, I mean ever since I've made one to become a vegetarian back in the day (I was seventeen) and I've actually survived an entire period of three weeks! I was excruciated. No more. Just say no. Or yes. Whatever. I feel like when you set a time to achieve a particular goal you're only setting yourself up for failure, especially when it's not a goal but a number of goals. People tend to go crazy with the time to change the old habits routine. 

Change isn't always desirable. That is a fact. Change more than often brings negative results. Change can also be useful in letting you figure out exactly where you stand and where you would like to be standing. Change isn't always about you, though. No, sometimes change is for someone else. And that's the worst kind of change. I have been struggling with this idea for awhile now, did I really change or am I only just now beginning to understand my nature better? I think that's a question we should all ask ourselves every once and awhile. I've found a unique sense of comfort in the answer. 

Love is always tricky for me to discuss, only because I don't know it to discuss it. I believe that lust and attraction are powerful enough in deceiving the hopefuls into believing in forever. Nothing lasts forever. That's not an excuse. That's a fact. We don't start something knowing that when it ends it would hurt, we start something because we know that the period between the start and the finish would be worth it. Think about all the memories that would stand the course of time. Isn't that what life is all about? People come and go, that's guaranteed. One thing they can't take away with them is the memories. Ask yourself; would you rather miss out, or miss them eventually? I've found a unique sense of comfort in the answer. 

Life isn't about defining yourself, it's about putting yourself in experiences that would help define you. We all feel lost and confused more often than we should or would like to, and that's okay. Nothing is simple. Life isn't a test you pass or fail. We don't have to have all the answers, and I'm sure having all the answers wouldn't make things any simpler. I'd like to think of life as fragments; of lost family albums, of an old house I once grew up in and is now nothing more than a building, of old lovers even though the word love was always reserved, of old mates and childhood friends that are becoming strangers everyday, of favourite books and favourite bands that made me believe I was cool, of the first time I've cut my hair and the many times I've regretted it, of the teacher that encouraged me and made me discover I could write, of all the memories of the past even the ones I wish would pass, of all the memories of the present and the ones to come after that. The meaning of life is comfort. Finding a unique sense of comfort in everything. 

Notion

If only you knew how difficult it is for me to think about you, you won’t be treating me this way. I know we’re not meant to be, a girl like you would never settle for me. I don’t mean to bash you, please don’t be offended, I’m only stating a fact this world has set centuries ago. Can you indulge me for a bit? I’m not asking for much, or perhaps I am; why should you give me your time in the first place? I know and I’m sorry.

From the first day I’ve met you I knew there was something about you that was different, how cliché of me to say that right? What is a guaranteed way to get a woman’s attention? Tell her she’s different from all the others. Every woman wants to feel special but you never did and that was different.

I approached you and started a conversation that I was not at all interested in I can’t even remember what I said to you but what I do remember is your eyes that kept hovering the place and the space surrounding us, not once did you look at me. ‘Maybe it is a trick?’ my selfish mind was offended, ‘Is she playing hard to get?’ my selfish heart was wounded. ‘I give up’ I lied to myself, and we went separate ways.

I kept thinking about you when I knew absolutely nothing about you. It first began with a simple idea in my mind to ease my aching heart; did I mention before that I was selfish? I made you up in my mind; I gave you a childhood that left you neglected that way it won’t be hard to love you. I gave you teenage years that left you troubled and angry that way it would be my duty to save you. I gave you a haunting past that you never spoke of that way you would remain forever a mystery. I gave you everything that I could ever possibly give someone... and what can you actually give someone? Absolutely nothing.

‘This is not right’ it was never right. My mind was fighting to keep me sane, to remind me that the girl didn’t exists that it was my lonely heart looking for a mean to keep me in the dark. But I couldn’t stop, ‘You’re in my head’ and you were; it was your face, it was those eyes that ruined me. It was your fault and it will always be.

‘Where are you now?’ I wonder if you still visit. Maybe you do but they forget to tell me. My mind is numb and it has been this way for days; it’s the pills, the fucking pills! ‘You’re here’ why are you all dressed in black? You know I like to see you in colors. Why are you crying? Please tell me, I can fix it. I was born to make you happy. What do you mean I’m dying? I can’t be I take my medicine every day. Come sit beside me dear, I don’t like this distance between us. You’re blurry, why can’t I see you clearly? It’s the pills, the fucking pills always working, preventing me from seeing you. You’re getting more and more blurry; please hold my hand before you go I don’t know when I’ll see you again. I can’t breathe, why can’t I breathe? It’s the pills, the fucking pills!

I’m dying, don’t leave me. I did this, I admit I did this, but I did it for us. I can be with you now in our world that I’ve created for us, we can be together. Darling, don’t cry. I finally realized what I needed to do to be happy.