is everybody in?

Sometimes we forget the calmness that is in absolute silence. Sometimes we forget what silence sounds like. After all, silence is the loudest noise there is. I can hear nothing but the sound of my breathing and the thoughts ricocheting in my mind like bullets in a metal room. There is a familiar weight on my chest and its over absolutely nothing. I feel forced to smile and not allow my feelings known because they make people uncomfortable. This whole "stay positive" way of thinking is dangerous. We are human. We bleed, we laugh, we cry, and sometimes we get really fucking pissed off. Deal with it. It's such a sad thing to know that being raw and in a natural state of being is such a taboo for the rest of the world. Not us. Not the outcasts, rejects, the broken, the beautiful. The loving. Not everyone can just jump up and run away from their problems. Trust us, we've tried and we've failed. You will do the same. You have to let people learn their own lessons and fall on their asses the way you fell on yours before they realize how selfish they actually are. As if they're the only ones to be in the spot they're in. I'm ready for everyone to stop tip toe-ing over the way other people feel. People only want to discuss anger or sadness if its their own. There are so many nuances about ourselves to which we hold value. We hope that one day people can actually see us-really see us- and the little things we appreciate about ourselves. One day, our eyes open from sleep and we realize how even though we've come so far, we're still in the same spot. I take it in stride. Sometimes, your hair grows, the texture of your face changes, and very little by little your morality morphs into something it wasn't when you were younger. I am not ready to love. I want to, but it isn't the time. The things that fascinate me haven't stopped fascinating me and I think that's a sign that I haven't reach my limit of self discovery. Is there even a limit to self discovery? The things that tie me down to this world are so different than the things that tie you. The things that tie us up. ...the thing that tie us together. Body pressed against body, Breath hot against each others' as our hearts beat faster and faster. Is innocence a thing to believe in? How simple things used to be with chalk and markers and angst all meshed up into a discombobulated pile of a person. How much can one person scream over the deep rooted holes in her hands until people fucking hear it? Who cares if they hear it. They can't fix it. Black holes can't be shut. Sometimes its hard to say what you want. The English language only has so many words. My stomach gets twisted like the wringing out of a rag but with nothing left in it to be wrung out. What is it that you expect from me? I can't be what you want me to be, I can and will only be who I want me to be and if you can't handle that then why are you even here? Don't put yourself in a situation you can't handle. Don't allow yourself to be numb when you want to feel and don't allow yourself to feel when you want to be numb. I remember walking under the moonlight with a boy smiling at me. That one smile that gave me hope. So simple. Having passion. For nothing other than myself. I remember being up further than I should have been then coming down and feeling so much that I couldn't contain myself. I, myself, am made up of little tiny bits of imagination and ingenuity. Gears and cogs grind in my brain and I can only think about slaying demons in the feudal age looking for tiny pieces of crystal that bring out inner demons, or inner purity. You won't understand it. You won't understand me, or how I think, feel, or what I see in other people. I don't want a real life fairy tale. I want a fairy tale. I go back to where my veins once pumped with anger, love, compassion, sorrow, and depression. I can feel it in the wind, and I can feel it deep in my bones. It makes my heart skip a beat. Like it did when you used to yell at me. Like it did when that phone rang inside the theatre. Copy paste, copy paste. The pieces of me from before attached to the pieces of me now. I try to keep them together. It's all we really can do is keep ourselves together. One day this world is going to break. It's going to snap in half. Every single person in this world is connected through the hardships we all go through. We all hurt, we all love, we all hate. Every single one of us, whether we want to admit it or not. Its insane how much power we all hold. One click of a button, one half assed smile, one kiss. Maybe not even a kiss, but faces only an inch away, feeling energy and heat radiating off of one another. We're all typically looking for the same thing except no one quite knows what that is. How lovely is it that we are all connected through the feelings we feel, or sometimes, trying not to feel. Sometimes you bump into broken souls. Broken souls, with broken hearts, with broken spirits. All I want to do is wrap my arms around them, run my fingers through their hair, and let them know it will be okay. No one is different though. We're all some from of broken pieces stuck together with makeshift glue. One day, we will break apart and sew ourselves shut out of fear. How easy it is for others to feel when it is just as easy for the half to not feel. How silly. Sometimes I imagine myself romanticizing a time where the melody of a certain boys voice soothed me. Like the smell of a freshly baked pastry lured you into a kitchen, the sounds of his voice lured me into his living room at 3 AM. Bare footed, Indian style on the flannel couch, my head on your shoulder meant a lot more to me than I would ever admit at the time. Sometimes the familiar scent of pheromones and honey can remind you of more simpler things. Sometimes simpler things are better. Then again, sometimes they're not. Kind of like the silence that screams in our ears right before they start ringing.