Colorblind.

Where do people go when they close their eyes? And what do people see when they dream? What is it about this place that makes us yearn for a better understanding of the things we know literally nothing about? Do we dream the same things? Do we constantly crave the same feelings? Why does it make you feel safer to be wrapped around in someone else's arms? Why does it make you go faster when someone who let you fall is watching you move? What exactly is it that makes us hope for adventure? And why do we have to ask so many questions to get to it? Our hearts are all heavy but why does it want to be with another heavy heart? Is it compassion? Understanding? Our are we seriously too blind to see the irony? We're all broken enough to be humble. But that's the thing- we're all broken. We all allow ourselves a minute to be overwhelmed and smothered with that constant buzzing feeling of wondering what if. We all make excuses and we all think we are so much more enlightened than everyone around us, and maybe we are, but who are we to assume that? We all have escapes, each different in their own way-just like the cogs and gears grinding within our constant buzzing brains. AND WHY CANT WE JUST TURN IT OFF. Just for one.fucking.second. For a chance to breathe? We're facing the clock, and we're facing some sick fuck sending us to do their bidding dressed like a wretched animal with no sense of what is going on. We're blind, and we think we see see in color. We're deaf and we think we can taste musical symphonies. We take every single tick-every single tock- every single piece of tragedy and trauma- and we put it in a golden locket and hang it from our necks until one day we're literally hanging from our necks. Such beauty wrapped around in such horror. Horror is subjective. You can't love until you can hate- or maybe you cant hate until you can love. and what is the meaning of either? WHO GIVES A SHIT. We're constantly drifting out to sea trying to escape our made up world like we're part of the goddamn truman show. We fill our bodies with chemicals and our minds with noise in order to try and branch out from the "normal" way of thinking and where exactly does it get us? In a worse state of self-loathing and contradicting morality. BUT ITS SO WORTH IT. Isn't it? Thats why we do what we do. That's why we love wreckage. Destruction is art. You are the scum of this planet. Every single one of us are, and that pure simplistic beauty is why we keep the vibrations rumbling on this ever so patient planet. If I'm not under your skin by now, then stop wasting your own time. There isn't anything except for nothing. Its simple and complex and we cannot stand it. We are the errand boys for someone who functions the exact same way we do. Someone who eats like we do, shits like we do, and dreams the same way we do. Or maybe not. You muster up every bit of courage you've been storing just to make it to the end of your driveway just to turn back around and hide in your glass home. Its disgusting but its oh so beautiful. Our minds are conformed to this sense of how to do things the "right way." Writing is subjective. Love is subjective. Hate isn't. why do we all have different views on what we think love is, but we all agree on the definition of hate? Why do we get married to people we can't stand and want to screw the life out of the ones we hate? We get excited when things go our way and we throw tantrums when they don't. Where is our common ground? What do you see when you lay your head on your pillow and hope your dreams are as vivid and exciting as the night before? Who do we see in our dreams? Will we ever love someone. will we ever connect with someone. will we ever get over our own needs in a chance to be with someone we don't even know? Ive picked out all my favorite flavors in my bag of candy. All that is left are the oranges and purples. They'll probably be thrown away... but maybe I'll dream about them when its time to escape my reality yet again for the night. And maybe I'll dream about you too... and maybe you'll have the same dream...and maybe when we wake up it will be erased from our memories. Maybe it actually happened in an alternate universe. Maybe we were together for one time. one night. somewhere. maybe.

Theworld.

Somewhere there is basic purity hidden within the depths and confines of your DNA molecules. How is that for poetry? Its a give and take process, really. Give a little here, take a little there. And yeah, maybe I give a little more than I take. I throw off the balance. It bites me. My problem lies somewhere within the fact that my hopes dreams and disappointments all are kept within the same place. Maybe that way I know how to keep them in balance instead. My imagination exceeds so greatly, that I choose to sleep almost half the day just so I can see what kind of beautiful and fucked up dreams it will produce. And that's just when I'm asleep. When I'm awake, I'm never thinking of the reality that is around me, more along the lines of constantly playing some enhanced form of entertainment. If you knew my brain, you would say I'm creepy. But thats the beauty of it. I can think of the strangest situations while you're talking to me about your day and you would never know. I've figured out that I am a mix between a hopeless romantic and an existentialist and the two are constantly battling each other no matter where I go or what I do. Its as simple as the smell of a shirt or the anger response from something that my logic can't compete with. And while I'm struggling internally, I realize that this is just a process people go through. Keep quiet, I tell myself. And when everything around you is swelling up to the crevices of your body you remember one thing. You. Keep it in check. Remember your guidelines and your rules and fuck everything else. This is the way I move. This is my motivation for something more; something better. And that something better is not within the blood cells of another human albeit right or wrong. And while everyone else is busy arguing over religion and politics, I will be arguing with myself over something that matters. Humanity. where is it? Benefit of the doubt. Its right here. I will save the world one day. If not the whole thing, at least my own. Which brings me to my new motto that my imagination came up with somewhere between half awake and half dreaming. Never stop loving world. Even when the world stops loving you. And it that doesn't push your buttons of curiosity, then your place in the human race has exited my thoughts and dreams.

This war was worth this.

I've been doing alright. better, actually. Some lady started talking about suicide and I had to go into the bathroom so I wouldn't have to hear her and think about it. It was too late. My mind kept going back to what I've been working so hard to repress. I've forgiven you. I never meant to make it about me. But damn if that wasn't something they don't prepare you for. Maybe I obsess over things, people, places, music. I'm just looking for a type of fulfillment in my life. More so than monetary value and pleasure. More like a warm welcoming "you belong right here" feeling. I'm Just not getting it. Anywhere... We're all flawed beauties. But only the true beautiful can accept that. And yes, our vanity is so overcome, we need checkpoints to keep us going. Everyone can delve into a nonsensical world with underlying themes of basic human morality, but once you come back, you remember its nonsensical and everyone lost their conscience when they lost their virginities. In the back of our minds, there is always another place we'd like to be. For some reason. That reason always involves a person we've connected with in some way, whether we know it or not. I bet you're in Canada right now. Listening to Sublime smoking an artificial cigarette reading a book on basic philosophy or an existentialist Camus play. I'm done. I can't keep coming back to this. Its underlying message haunts me and if I don't put both my feet forward, I'll never trust anybody ever again. As if choosing artificial happiness over my heart didn't do enough... We're growing up. Its inevitable. And nobody told us how to. We're doing this by ear. Nobody ever knows if what their doing is right wrong or somewhere in between. Stop being so picky. So judgmental, harsh. I'm trying to do this shit the best I can. No one told me how. The same questions are being asked, just not as frequently. The stars look the same and the stories have the same endings, but we keep fingering through the pages trying to figure out if we've missed something... Something will speak to us. And nobody ever tries to figure it out like I do. I want to know you. I want to know how you think, what you feel, and what gives you goosebumps. And sometimes nothing feels better than another broken soul's embrace. As if a mutual, "I get it." The fireworks-- I remember. I remember the phone calls. The barefoot sidewalks. The books and the sharpies. The angst. The music. Hoping summer will last forever. I remember. I want someone to remember with me. I'm holding out for it. Its like the cut-grass feeling. I think somewhere along the lines everyone else forgot. They forgot the tragedies, the jokes, the running so fast it felt like a million tiny needles were stabbing your lungs and heart. Holding back everything you could that turned into nothing. Yes, I'm okay. I never thought I'd get hit. I thought I'd get away. You all forgot the windmills and the tulips. If there were any left. I want an embrace. And maybe my fingertips are finally feeling relieved, maybe my dreams are holding my only essence of anything and everything I am made up of. Every morsel, atom, cell of me. Maybe its on overload. The sticky hot summer days are starting to rub me the wrong way, but this is me and this is who I am. And this? This is only the beginning.

I don't believe it makes me real.

Sometimes, I may not understand why I think the things I do, or make the actions I make. I'd rather feel the pain than let others hurt. There is something deep within my heart. It's either a hole, or its made of gold. The universe never makes sense, thats a given...but me? Of all people to understand myself, it should be me, right? My fingers are dry now, but I know that the juices are pumping somewhere in there and if I dig and sweat and work, it will come...right? How much longer before I'm in that summer filled with stars and glories and laughter and ghosts. Is this really happening? I want to give you everything within me. Problem is, I don't think there is anything. I want my Chicago back. I'll even fathom the days were everything hurt so much. I felt something then. The crisp air, the lovely free spirit... where is she? everyone is tired and run down. This isn't how I should grow up. This breaks all the barriers. We see double moons and we dance in the water and we go numb and think we're having a stroke. We miss the things we want trying to enhance our time. We sit in our car, listening to the same songs over and over watching our cigarettes burn WAITING for you to come back. But you won't. You could just hold me and tell me you love me. You could stop. Stop it. You choose a manifestation of happiness, not even real happiness over me. Do you know what you did? It takes a whole knew level to lower a person so low they are unhappy with their selves...for years. And hey darling? If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky. I will wait and hold my heart between skylines and scenic. Why? I'm a dreamer. I grew up on This Lullaby and Teen Angel. My heart aches out of my screen less window for the boy next door who won't look at me until I'm all grown up. My favorite is gone. Can't chase that dream anymore. My hair cuticles are raised as I question this and that and everything in between. Eventually. You held me in the floor. Where were you when I NEEDED YOU. I don't need anybody, right? Everyone is singing, for you. FOR YOU. All of them. Bite your tongue. One day I will run down the halls barefoot so fast I CAN FUCKING FLY. We are all caged birds, right? Caged, wingless birds. Just chirping away. I never thought you'd be the one to let me down, and I can't even be mad at you, even though I am. These wings are frayed and the feathers are scattered. Find them and turn them into confetti, hoping for big city dreams. i need to move. This place is damaging to everyone who stays in it. Earn money. What is money, anyway? Is everyone singing yet? I want you to come home. I want to hear you talk again. I want my daddy. Its hard, you know? And no one really thinks about it. Sometimes it gets so surreal that I can't tell the difference between reality and dreams. Except, my dreams contain my happiness. Even when skaters roll around murdering people and we have a giant skate party...And then there's you. You, you, you...remember? Remember the tulips? No one believes me. what is there? letters? scratches? paint? love? hate? What's the difference? Some people touch your lives. I wonder if anybody drives around looking for me. There needs to be away out of here. I need to get out of this town. Once I do, I will never come back.

The path unto this heart is lit up with corpses.

My dreams are getting stranger and the moon is making people weird, but somethings remain clear to me. I am so sorry that it stings. But, I'd rather it sting than scar and that's worth so much more than you even realize. It's alright to just accept your surroundings and learn to be happy with them, but there's only so much waiting left before everything changes and I become enlightened. My future husband is in the hands of someone who's prettier than me. I won't get married. Something is always wrong. I'm afraid. I'm too afraid that I'll never obtain my Chicago or my sweetest downfall ever again. What I don't understand is how boggled our minds get with such petty, unimportant things but we seem to misplace the stuff that matters. Our hearts become heavy and our feelings get hurt. There isn't always an explanation or reason as to why people treat others the way they do. Humans don't respect each other. And as we've evolved, we've spun so far out of control that such inhumane things occur in our society on a regular basis, that not much shocks anybody anymore. And although there are words to soothe the mind, thoughts to ease the pain, melodies to keep the wandering echoes of the mind at bay, sometimes it just isn't enough. Sometimes it will never be enough. We don't strive to be better to other people. We strive to make ourselves happy. Happy is and never will be always attainable. It comes and goes like the weather. Our constant changing should match our judgement of others, but it doesn't. Sometimes there are people who will never stop hurting you,, never stop letting you down, never stop making you unpleasant, and yet you never stop loving them. This is such a scary thought. Who wants to never stop loving someone who mentally scarred you? One or two or three is enough. That's when you stop. Stop falling in love. Stop searching for friendship beyond the casualties. Stop looking for someone to hold you and tell you that everything is going to be alright, when you both know it isn't. Your insecurities add up. That's okay. One day there will be someone patient and kind enough to wait on you and break down your walls no matter what happens. But then again, its only a matter of time before they start doing the same. Maybe humans weren't meant to be monogamous. Its only a matter of time before you stop questioning everyone else's sanity, and you start questioning your own. Sure fun is great. But don't let it keep you stuck in the same spot. There is so much beauty beyond the world and some people just ignore it and live their whole lives with no desire to see it. How can someone just live in the same spot their whole life and not even pursue a career? It gets old when someone decides to judge you based on things they don't even know about you, when their own lives are by no means any better. It gets old crying to yourself simply because you're lonely. You'd rather be lonely than let down again. Reflect. Stop worrying about so much dumb shit that you completely forget about something that means a lot to you. One step at a time. One step at a time... But it hurts. I put so much time and effort into something I love only to be let down and hurt. I'm awake and feel the ache. Its like a big hole in my chest. How could you do that to me? Take the one thing I have left away from me? I don't have an ear to listen to me. They say they will be they don't. People can't stand me and I don't even know why. Then they pretend like they don't know what I'm talking about. It's your fault. You did this and you did it on purpose. Happy now? You win. I'm so close to the edge but I'm holding back with all my might. I am going to snap if something doesn't change. I try so hard to fit the mold and try so hard to break it at the same time. I need to get out of here. I need to run away. My void is empty because I choose it but sometimes it unbearable. And we go through this with our heads high and our shoulders wide but we keep our secrets inside us. We keep them in and never say a word. All we want is someone to share our pain. Why does it have to be this way. Why do people have to leave us and hurt us and expect us to pick up the pieces all by our selves? I am still waiting for a letter to a former lover. I still want to scratch all the paint off my walls to find it. I am still waiting for the ghosts to come back just to tell me how beautiful I am on the inside and that they're sorry they had to leave and that they'll be back soon. The time machine, the rewind button, I am still holding off on that, wishing as hard as I can as if my life is a movie and people can reverse time or switch bodies. This heart is heavy. Its a lot heavier than you'd imagine. Nobody takes that into consideration. The ringing in my ears reminds me of the girl who never cared. My burning stomach reminds me of the boy who never listened. My beating heart hurts for the boy who gave up. My fuzzy brain remembers the one who I'll never stop wishing for. My hands long for the touch of the boy who didn't keep his promise. I'm trying. We're all trying. The maze is confusing us and tricking us and consistently reminding us of our parodies and falsities. My birds hold up my motto and will forever keep reminding me of how absolutely strong I am and who I am. It gets lonely. It gets sad. But its just another day. Just another sad night filled with quandaries and fairytale dreams and wishes. It will pass as always. But somewhere albeit in this universe or not, there is someone who's heart matches mine. And as for tonight, I will remorse their efforts. I shall long for those summer nights of 2008 with the stars, my father, the love, and the ghosts. I have not been as content since. The movies I can watch, the songs I can hear, but its never the same. Nothing ever is.

I hate you. It makes me laugh. I'm struggling internally. I'm trying to put two feet forward with a grin on my face. The problem is all these sentences begin with "I." There are monumental icons on this planet that our minds cannot even fathom. You think life is so bad? Really. Look where you are for juuuust a minute. I'm working for a goal. I want to see Chile's cave's and an aurora. I want to so scuba diving and see the depths of the ocean life; skydiving and see the world from up above. The meadows, the forests, the deserts, the storms. I want to see and feel it all. Maybe after THAT you can say your life is awful. Except you won't. That's the real tragedy of the American hero. If your life is bad, then get off your ass and make it good. Everyone is so sick and tired of hearing you complain. I understand that now. And I'm sorry. And I forgive you. I think all of you are infinitely more enlightened than you realize; either that or you're all the polar opposite. Let's all agree to do great things with ourselves. We've all already wasted so much time. Let's start out simple. We shall begin with ceasing to eliminate the positive in our lives. Something is positive, you push it out because it's interfering in your comfort zone. We must accept our faults, apologize, and do nice things for other people to make up for them. Everyday is a new day. A new chance to STOP SULKING and appreciate the greater things around you. And yeah, I hate you. But I will get over it in time. I wish I never met you to be honest. You've been nothing but selfish even when I forgave you for it (without an apology.) And you keep going. You are a sell out, but you couldn't even do that well. I might be vain and shallow at times, but at least I have a realty check. I am so sick and tired of all these boys claiming to be men failing to even try to realize who THEY are before they try to figure out me. YOU WILL NEVER FIGURE ME OUT. That's the real tragedy. That's the reason you all go crazy. But that's okay, I keep myself close. If I let anybody get in, they take my personal shit and they use it against me. So even though you think you figured it out or think you got in close, you didn't. I am the same dismantled red head. Essentially. The difference is I grew up. I started caring for other people. Even still, I miss that girl. She got close. She figured it out. Things come and go. You reap what you sow.

You were fake, I was great, nothing personal.

That feeling when you get hit in the stomach and you can't breathe... you can't think... you just feel pain. That's what this is. You're all the same. "I can post this because I know you won't read it." See? Same. Why do we question who we are. We're fake. We have fake nails, fake hair, fake tan, fake smile, fake eyebrows, fake eye colors, fake paints for our face as if our eyelids are color by numbers. So, I lied. You did too. You screamed at god but knew he wasn't there to hear you. So let's pretend and play our little games and say "bye" as if it really meas anything to anyone anymore. Just like "love." As if we even know how to define that word to an extra-terrestrial. Can we please just get over ourselves for just a fucking minute? Every impulse sitting in my heart that keeps beating too fast because of the pills I'm supposed to take is awaiting for some form of appreciation. My life is a thankless and unrecognized job. Whose isn't. When you erase me, did you remember to meet me again? I believe that movies and songs can save your life. Maybe I'm just classified as an adrenaline junkie. Maybe I rely on apologizes too much. Did I really think you could have been a different person? The tips of her tattoos looked like yours and I missed you. missed you so much. You ruined my life but were my best friend. Who can really blame anybody else for their own issues. I guess the ever long question of whether or not we'll be okay burnt into my brain so thick that I'll never quit asking it. But then again, maybe its burnt just as thick into yours, too.