Chinks and Chains

"Let your clarity define you".

My life is like an aged mirror, one whose time and the elements has inflitrated the glass and distorted the reflection, changing the features.

I'm not sure I'd recognize a straight line if you gave one to me.

Have you ever closed your eyes and pictured what your heart feels like? Its surreal to see and feel a heart breaking.

Are these chinks? Creating a full set of armour made out of them. There can't be a chink when your being is made from them. You see them as steel and in their own way, they are.

You say I'm out of touch, but I've been stuck in this box for too long now.
Theres a trap door in the back I use to escape, so when you accuse me, just know I'm not really there.
Scratch your worthless message into the wall though I doubt I'll even read it.


...Slipping into an alternate reality...
...The only breath of fresh air life's alotted me...

Holding it in until the stars appear.

Does something ever just strike you as so familiar that something deep inside stirs, begging to tell you the whole story, and yet you can't place it?

I think I figured out part I, but II is still lost somewhere in my subconscious.
--
The hallway I stare down reminds me that life can be {almost} enchanted afterall.

In that precious small town, the train whistle spoke to me when I needed it the most. The shrill assurance of possiblity was always a welcome sound; its promises lifted my spirits every chance it had. There was never any motive for empty lies. The feeling of honesty and hope is a favorite pastime in memories recalled; worth falling in love with over and over.

So sorry to hear about your laryngitis and broken fingers. I'd love to hear from you as soon as your cured.

Make Sure the Fortune That You Seek is the Fortune That You Need

Phase One:

Appreciated for brains and talent. Never given a second glance, much less a first.

Phase Two:

Advantage taken of my "good" looks and body that looked perfect in tight jeans. No one took the time to realize I had a personality or intellect worth noticing. Just a pretty [ordinary] face.

Phase Three:

As the realization of one begins, the other quickly fades. Only by the few.

Phase Four:

Terrified that I don't possess either anymore. Both have just evaporated with the quickest passage of time to ever exist.

I fought so hard to get out of P1. P2 snuck right up on me without realizing what was happeneing. Elated, flabergasted, disgusted, and dissapointed all in one foul swoop. I thought the natural progression would include P1, not throw it completly to the side. There was a very short gap between P2 and P4. Miniscule. There was no sweet spot, only a short slide up on both sides before they crashed together. Now I've got neither. My thoughts and words are a jumbled mess and I couldn't tell you which was up and which was down to save my pride.

Mind and body have slipped away. My greatest fear is that I'll be worthless to you, just a shadow of my former self. The stories and these pages will continue to exist but only in a novel sort of way. I'm really not smart [anymore] and what if I'm never pretty [again?]? I'm so young and so old at the very same time.

The rest of life terrifies me if I've already lived the "best years" and even they didn't come close to right.

Why is ordinary such a repulsive word?

What if I was perfect and now you don't even see me standing there in front of you? I'd open my mouth, but I'd rather seem a fool than remove all doubt.

Did I destory me? Who/what was it? Am I really ruined?

What happens when a problem has become the status quo? Is it even considered a problem anymore? Or is it rendered un-touchable/fixable? Must we just cut the loss and move on, tainted as we are?



Its a cold and its a very broken Hallelujah

Sometimes life sends you a beating in the head, with a nice black eye to match and a kick in the gut for good measure. Attached is a note that reads "Fuck Off. Yours Truly, The blood you thought would never thin".

My world shattered again tonight. I'm not sure where the glue will come from this time because I'm fresh out.

Drove nowhere tonight just to get away. I put the cruise control on partly because I'm too exhausted and mostly because I knew I'd use the car as a weapon if I didn't. I had my moments but the rest of the time I just took in the night air, sweet with flowers and fire. The familiarity of that stretch of rural road and the hum of the tires was comforting. Turned around before I really wanted to because I knew I'd be too tired and would probably do something stupid if I went any farther and then tried to come back home.

I'd rather tomorrow be forgotton than to be remembered for something painful. Buying my first lottery ticket to commemorate the date. It'll probably be a bust, but what better day to buy one for the first time? Surely somehow that ticket will bring me good fortune.

Doesn't it feel like the stars are going to collide tomorrow?

Blue pills and red wine taken past pallid, soaked, lips make a sleepy mix.

"Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most beautiful prizes slip through it." --George Duhamel

I've lost a lot through the holes in those nets. I'm having trouble remembering myself, much less you. And I'm sorry. I knew you once, I knew you really well. I'm sure I still do. But I've got to figure myself out for now. Dredge up the good and the bad because this is just mundane and sad. I feel just plain pittiful. I mean so little to myself anymore, so how could I mean anything to you? And its clear that its the case. How did I loose so much? The shreds and tatters of my old life/dreams/happiness is what means anything anymore.
I appreciate how pointless and irritating it is to wish for 'things the way they were'. I hate changing my comforts probably more than the average person, but I try not to dwell, because its sounds like nails on a chalkboard to complain about something that simply cannot be changed. There is no time machine. But I do miss my old self. I'll never get her back, and its probably a good thing, but how I miss just seeing glimpses of her in present me. In my evolution as a person I've always been able to use the weaker versions of myself and develop into the next phase of me. Only now I feel abandoned. My old selves have foresaken me for the playland where schizophrenics drop off their voices when they start taking medication. She pops in for a visit now and then, and it helps when people who knew me back then remind me with stories or observations of how I used to be. Then I can catch a glimer, in that "oh yeah! I remember now" nostalgic kind of way. I know shes not gone, just so far away. Maybe shes waiting for me to change, to get a grip on life. Thats when she was at her best, when I had a great grip on life. I bet thats what she's waiting on. Only my hands are so slippery from the slope where I've taken up residence. For now I'm just a shell.