Ω

So a few days ago, I mentally returned from a vacation to this town and just a few moments ago, I realized that I'm going through yet another psychosis. I see this train coming at me, racing down a fized track where it will reach me, a collision written in the stars, and I will once again see things through a haze. The voice tells me it's 10:34PM, and that they're live to air from a certain nightclub until 2AM, every Sunday and then her voice trails off as I shut off the annoying radio, irritated by the constant drone it creates in this room. At the same time, I find it incredibly strange sitting alone in a room, staring blankly at nothing while my fingers move up and down,in sync with the thoughts in my head...It's the 22nd of November, 2009 but what does that mean, really? Nothing. A few days ago I remember sitting in a Japanese restaurant with two people who were concealing a secret from me. They eventually confessed and it was through that revelation that I deducted; I have, once again, done things backwards. So then this led me to wonder what I had done to induce such things, so many times over. It's always the wrong damn person who falls for me as I chase someone else. Don't you get it, I will never like you in that way, and I don't know what I do to make all these people think I am interested in being anything more than friends with them. What the fuck? No, it's honestly frustrating to have to hurt people's feelings and say, sorry, but I feel nothing for you and I can guarantee that I never will, and then end up having to go through that same conversation again with someone else a little while after. I don't even think I feel horrible this time around. You can't force people to do anything. I don't choose what I feel. So what there's people waiting right here beside me but all I see is the one so far away that only my apt eye would catch his glances and smiles? So what if I know I'll reject his love as well, so what if the minute he turns around to me I brush him off like he wasn't even there? So what if I want to do this the hard way? I'll never be happy, I'll never be satisfied. I've paved my own way to hell and now that I can accept that, I can sit back and enjoy the walk to destruction. I look for excuses out of loving people...but really, it's not that hard because often times people set themselves up for rejection. It's far too easy to reject your calls and does it mean anhything to you that I can just hang up on you with out thinking about it twice? How many ways can you tell someone to leave you alone? What else can I say, besides 'stop calling', 'leave me alone', 'get a life', 'find something better to do', 'okay, thanks, bye'..?! So I don't know what to do now. It's kind of a slutty dress, a deep v-neck exposing my sternum and thoracic ribs where a cleavage ought to be. I haven't been taking my vitamin supplements for the last couple of days. Not because I don't want to, it just seems to slip my mind. Between finishing a presentation on *, making a joint and composing a fable, it's understandable that little things like eating and sleeping lose their place in my mind and blend into the world of forgotten necessities. I've got to get it off my mind that I feel nothing. This universe, this galaxy, this solar system, this planet, this country, this province, this town, this street, this house, this room, this chair, these clothes are all things I am aware of yet they don't mean anything. It's 11:15PM and I'm playing with a rubber band and wasting staples, destroying things that people use to keep other things from getting lost: note the irony. This is exactly as I had described it two years ago. There's nothing here, the life in me has vanished, stolen by another dimension and though you can easily locate my postion on a map, you have to realize that geographical position means nothing because when we exist, we exist on a higher level, yet it is just as chaotic up here. A stream of consciousness only comprehendable by those who supply it with the water it requires to ebb and flow, occasionally splashing over onto the pavement as your shadow. I hear laughter echoing in the distance. My body is tired and I can no longer focus my eyes. Despite the rest of my body preparing itself for slumber, my mind is dimensions away and it knows no time or space so I sit here, breathe slowly with a smirk on my face. My dad asked me why I was smiling earlier this evening, as if there should be a reason. Bliss requires no explanation beause it is through the rationalization of happiness that we see there is no reason to be happy. The truth is naked, cold and sad, but as much as I try to control the muscles in my face, I smile blindly for quite simply no reason at all.

This has been one of the saddest weeks I have ever lived through. There was too many tears in too many people's eyes and a visible dark gloom hung in the air.
I had been feeling different for a while as if that haircut gave me a new identity. Everything got to my head it seems and it took all of this to get me back to what I'm used to; deep, melancholic lyrics and a constant tie in the stomach and lump in the throat, all while appreciating anyone who's willing give me a smile.
So I feel like I'm back. I want to cry some more, hug anyone who's willing to hold me and brighten my own day when the sun fails to deliver.


Somewhere along the way, my hopefulness turned to sadness,
Somewhere along the way, my sadness turned to bitterness,
Somewhere along the way, my bitterness turned to anger,
Somewhere along the way, my anger turned to vengeance.

And the ones that I made pay were never the ones who deserved it,
And the ones who deserved it, they'll never understand it,

How could you be so perfect for me?
Why can't you ignore the things I did before?

Somewhere along the way, exacting vengeance gave excitement,
Somewhere along the way, that excitement turned to pleasure,
Somewhere along the way, that pleasure turned to madness,
Sooner or later that kind of madness turns into pain.

Together we'll sing songs and tell exaggerated stories,
About the way we feel today in the night and in the morning.

Take all your fears, pretend they're all true,
Take all your plans, pretend they fell through.
But that's what it's like,
That's what it's like for most people in this world.
.
Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
What if I did and I'm a fool you see
No one knows this more than me
'cause I come clean

Hold me till I die
Meet you on the other side

It's because I know that I don't deserve a second chance. I'm not worth persistent kindness and as I try to focus my eyes on your name flashing on the bottom of the screen, I get nervous all over again. Why would someone like you be interested in my well-being? My fingers fumble accross the keyboard, shaking with the nervosity of making a typing error and looking like an idiot. I craft each message so that I keep you talking, attempting to avert the focus from me to you because I'm trying so hard not to look as selfish as I really have been. So you say you'll be right back, you need to check up on the score of the Raptor's game and I sit and count my breaths, trying to imagine your actions as your fingers leave the keyboard, my foot bouncing up and down because it's been 3 minutes, 4 minutes, 5 minutes since your last message. You return and we continue this small-talk, out responses are rusted with time. I can't bare this conversing any longer so I say I should really get to bed, I must avoid being late for class, but both you and I know that I won't be going to sleep anytime soon. You wish me well and I hold my breath as I watch the little bar at the bottom of the screen that says 'blankk is writing a message...', my shame grows because I know exactly what you're going to say next. You say that it was nice talking to me and I say okay, wish you goodnight and I tell you I'll see you around. You say sure thing, because you know as well as I do that never keep a promise and that if my past behaviour is any indication, I'll be avoiding your stare and we won't talk again until the next time I cross your mind and you wonder, how have I been lately? So here's to you, and every other person who has had the decency to after 3 years, keep genuine interest in me even after all the shit I've thrown at the people who least deserve it.
I've found myself in a position that I can't quite map out. What I thought was a direct path has rerouted into an abyss and I'm back to where I began. Lost, lethargic and let down, I fight to keep my eye lids open and I force myself to pull back the corners of my mouth and pose for this frame. It's the beginning of another end, the worst of the worst, and I can't contain my distaste for everthing this picture will represent in the future but I'll find it within me to stop myself from expressing in detail the magnitude of this dissent.

Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head?
And does he sing to you incessantly from the space between your bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at school with his feet inside your shoes,
Looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you?

Oh, does he know that place below your neck is your favorite to be touched?
And does he cry through broken sentences like, "I love you far too much"?

Does he lay awake listening to your breath, worried you smoke too many cigarettes?
Is he coughing now on a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile there's a thousand more
You won't ever see, but must hold inside yourself eternally.

Well, I drug your ghost across the country and we plotted out my death.
In every city, memories would whisper "Here is where you rest..."
I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees
And I settled for a telephone, sang into your machine:
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,"

And I kissed a girl with a broken jaw that her father gave to her
She had eyes bright enough to burn me,
They reminded me of yours.

And in a story told, she was a little girl in a red-rouge, sun-bruised field
And there were rows of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed
And it rose like thunder, clapped under our hands
And it stretched for centuries to a diary entry's end
Where I wrote: "You make me happy, when skies are gray
You make me happy, oh, when skies are gray
They're gray and gray,"

Well, the clock's heart, it hangs inside its open chest with its hands stretched outward
The calendar hanging itself
But I will not weep for those dying days.
For all the ones who left, there's a few that stayed
And they found me here and pulled me from the grass where I was laid...

So I thought I should fill you in on what's been going on this past few weeks. As you'd probably guess, I haven't been that strong.
Isn't this exactly where you'd like me?
The first thing you should know is that he payed me a visit last night. I think it was between the hours of 5 and 6 when we collided. We just looked at each other and there wasn't a single sound, but the sound of us breathing each other in. It was nice, the way everything seemed to pause for a minute. All sound and colour disappeared and we were left in a state of controlled lust. And then the next thing I knew, I was asking him to take a walk. Another 'him', another walk, it seems that walking is the only way I can deal with situations. I remember feeling his arm against mine and he felt warm and strong. Soon enough, walking turned into running andI don't know what happened after, but he disappeared and I was left alone.
That pain is back again. I'm sure you know which one I'm talking about. The aching, the pounding, the thinking,the breathing, the lack of concentration. But please, don't be too alarmed. I know what I'm doing and I'm aware that I cannot prolong this strange affair. It's not in my hands.
I'm exactly where you'd like me.
I'm trusting you with this revelation because only you can understand what I mean. If anyone else knew, I surely would not hear the end of it. I can only imagine the looks on people's faces, nevermind what they'd say if they knew. No matter how many warnings or well intentioned words of advice I'd be given, it'd all be a waste of breath.
I smile and nod. I am calm because this is not something I chose. I do not ask for his visits but I do admit to waltzing along in his chase. We go back and forth, I find my self wandering over to him and other times I spot him lingering around me, or I look up just in time for our eyes to meet in an forbidden embrace.
What a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore.
So then I walked out the doors only to have the truth hollered at me, ''Sinner! Oh my gosh, you even look like a sinner! I know you're a sinner, get over here'' and I knew by the most honest of ways that I'm tainted, ashamed and helpless.
This is a fever I can't sweat out.

I woke up Sunday afternoon after a tiring night. I walked over to the mirror and it took me a moment to realize that it was my face staring back at me; red lipstick outlining thin lips that were hiding a smirk, blackened eyes with an air of cluelessness, my hair falling around my shoulders in coils. I remember looking at my red and black eyelash extensions on my desk and feeling my fishnets under my feet where I stood. I couldn't help feeling like dispensible. Why? Because it was reflected back to me in the mirror and it only strengthened my belief that I am not worth that much.
I can't help but to wish for simple things, like people using my name to address me. Or even, holding the door open for me to pass through out of courtesy rather than as an act of obligation.
I don't know who to blame for this oddity but I hope you can bear with me through this time.

We had been out driving too long. I sat in the passenger seat as you drove us and it killed me that the night ended this way. To hear the frustration in your voice, the tension seeping through your words was such a poignant moment that I couldn't help but to go from detatched laughter to a stale look of despair. There were too many tears in too many people's eyes. I mentioned earlier during dinner that there are so many things I don't know about your past and I have to admit, it was so strange seeing the water in your eyes, sparkling from the light of the dashboard that displayed the gear was set to park. We had gone from 100K to no speed at all. In the absence of light, I depended on my hearing to deliver to me the state of your being. The soft snuffles of your sobs so unfamiliar, your hands were nothing but shadows moving to your eyes to wipe away tears of pure desperation meant that you really had enough. I didn't know whether to sit in silence or to attempt to comfort you with my inexperienced words. I trie to the best of my ability to describe to you the feeling you couldn't comprehend but my explanations had no credit. You said that hugs don't feel like they used to and kisses don't even fix anything anymore. You said something changed between you two. You expressed your anguish as to whether there's a point to it anymore and I restrained myself wisely from saying that, well in big picture there is no point. I had seen that my analytical statements had probaly gotten us to this intersection at this time so I rolled down the window at the red light to take in the autumn night. You were right. This is a beautiful season. There's a certain stillness that solidifies the fact that things have changed, perhaps more than we are aware of and each night we spend on highways and backalleys leads us to a new epiphany, a truth that we face with bitterness because we feel cheated, robbed and taken for fools.
Why is there so much darkness?

And I'm not sure what the trouble was
That started all of this
The reasons all have run away
But the feeling never did.

I've come to understand this fear of darkness many people seem to have. It's just before midnight on a Saturday and these fluoresent lights make me forget that I'm underground. Sitting in the last car of the train, I'm going through these motions backwards in what is essentially a back track of steps. I've come to anticipate where I'm headed even though it's with my back turned against the destination. A few moments of illumination outside the train as it waits at the platform while people hurry in an out, desperately trying to avoid being caught in the closing doors because being caught in between here and there is always embarrassing. I watch through the window as the the train pulls away and leaves behind the scatter of heads and arms of people who are still waiting to be taken away. I watch the image of the platform shrink, getting smaller and smaller until there's nothing but a dark tunnel. There's tension in the train, I feel the entire car anxiously draw in air as if there's a chance we won't get out. I can't even see the tracks the train is on, I just sit and focus on feeling the decrease in acceleration of the train. I listen to the creaks of metal on metal, gazing through the window and focus my eyes to see my image alone in a frenzy of people with places to be. Complacent, I examine this reflection of myself surrounded by people. I try to feel the joy of togetherness of this picture, I even attempt to shape my mouth into the closest thing to a smile for this makeshift family photo, but I'm reminded of the reality of the situation as people exit the frame. It sets in that the train has stopped because people need to leave, eventually. I turn away from the window and look at the few empty seats next to me until I realize the entire car is bare. I sit in a few moments of uncomfortable silence between the window and I before there's that expected decrease in speed which indicates that I'm nearing a journey's end, or that I'm back where it began. Depending on how you look at it, it's as if the night might as well have never even happened.

I wear a smile, I wear a laugh. In the back stage changing heads, I am a weekday on weekends and I hate my best friends. Spoken, choked up on my notes. This heart drones as I try and act adult but like a walkmen fall to pieces, all parts no heart. See me change, changes are no good. All the world's deranged and I'm left crushed. People delayed are in a rush. I'm on a roll but I might throw up, will I ruin my make-up?
See me change, changes are no good.