| the beginning of may sometime I'm going to turn and walk away you wait til I am far along then run and come and catch my arm and say you'd die if I were gone yes I want to hear you call my name it's too easy just to say it soft I don't like my language watered down I don't like my edges rounded off I can't always wait for your circumstance to improve you know love is loose it shifts each time you move go ahead with my back against the wall give it all up or don't give it to me at all you know this could be our last night so step back, step back into the light so I can see your silhouette you know I'm not done lookin yet save your profile for the camera give me your eye to eye you know I know all your secrets and you know all of mine mostly I don't go for the soft focus and the fantasy I need something real I can think and say and see so I'm to turn and walk away you wait til I am far along then run and come and catch my arm and say you'd die if I were gone yes I'm going to turn and walk away you can watch me go or you can make me stay why do I type and type and listen to this song over and over? it makes me think. my feelings they are not, but another's they may be. it makes me think of the difference. the difference in being needy and needed. the difference between being loved and loving. who gets to choose? not I. time perhaps, the stars perhaps, chance perhaps. makes me think of still another song that I would have to change on this day. and she didn't find the words to say I love you and she couldn't find the time to say I need you makes me think of time. time together, with him, with her, for them. then my eyes look to the floor as that one feeling comes back. was I born with it? possibly. it comes with frequency, hitting at the times it need not. sick I am. sick with it. hangups I say. a few he says. yes, I know. just recently known, this can seem a trap. a selfish trap. uncomfort. intimidation. confusion. wonder. curiosity. homesickness. they plague me, threatening to stay but certainly will leave. mother knows not. father cares not. private thoughts they are, until I save them. the sixth of may this year yesterday was the fifth and today is the sixth, the only sixth of may this year. so how shall I spend it? trying not to speak, trying not to swallow, trying to sleep. a good day it is to be me. a new gift I bought for a girl who makes me unneasy. unsure. envious. jealous. a new cd I got from a company called suicide squeeze. yes, I was close. and now you know that and maybe now you see the gray behind the chestnut or the tremble behind the steadiness. but that is doubtful, it is covered, hidden, forgotten. gone. a new book I bought. brave on the rocks it is. my favorite page so far? {the betterness complex} one thing I've been noticing building in me is the betterness complex. (I like to call it that) "All Ways" striving enver soaking. everything I will never do again. pretend I'm "okay" when I feel terrible. laugh when it's not funny. whisper when I need to speak up. speak up. speak up. letting someone get close to you is an odd event. wonderful and exciting and comforting. worrying. together I am complete, not a care, not a problem, okay. apart, I am sluggish, I am quiet, I write and write with fear of letting him know. so I shall. to you: no worries. no fear. everything is perfect. my thoughts and my feelings alone don't reflect you. shouldn't. simply what I think about. sometimes the words say too much. I am scared of that. will you see me differently? will you call just to check? will you wander and wonder and feel unneasy about my mind? worry not. be you. I am me. confident. independent. and today is a good day to be me. so here's to you, my best friend, may you have a delightful day filled with timpani heartbeats. may 9, 2002 I thought she was our statistic. once in a lifetime, once in a teenage lifetime, does tragedy strike and she was our time. but who is to set the rules on life, be it the path, the length, or the quality? it could be the living who make this choice, or for the believers it could be fate, or for the faithful it could be the divine. whoever holds the reigns to this power must have been feeling restless today. one life was ended, like a door being slammed for the first time. quickly it was lived and quickly it was ended, keeping with his style. I sat on the outside of his quirky life. in my eyes, he lived for the fun of living. he spent his life listening to himself, an energetic dreamer, rather than the ancient and boring men all teenagers fear they will become. he set his own rules and he did as he pleased. he preferred music to bathing. friends to teachers. comfort to style. he was completely his own, except for that little piece he left with her. a short life it was, but at least for a bit it was graced with her. he was lucky. another is still searching for life in a maze of wires and tubes. so far, he has found it and holds to it, with a strength he always had but rarely shows. independent and confident, he leaves his footprints wherever he goes, especially where he knows they are not wanted. he sparked an interest in some, in me, and has recently united a class. infamous to most, and known to few, he made those feelings return that we had all tucked away a year ago. she remains, to watch from the outside and experience the pain the other two cannot. bombarded with questions and embraces everyday, she still convinces me that she's better off being around people. and so her family, her friends, everyone who knows her name, focuses on her well being. some days, ok is the best you can do. and some days, you can't help but think that time will not heal. maybe it doesn't, maybe it just fades your memory. it does make it easier though. a few days later graduated. not feeling much yet. woodward is gone. people are gone. some I may never see again while some I will never stop thinking about. justin says it passes. it seems difficult to leave but the hope and excitement of a new life make the old one easier to leave. I'll see. he'll see. we'll both see but hopefully not in different ways. sounds like someone is itching, he said. sounds like someone is doubling up, he said. sounds like someone's wonder is shifting, he said. what happens in those miles, those minutes it takes you?, he pondered. I'd rather not think about it, I snapped back. it sounds like you're second, he said. yes it does, I agreed. this is simply how they work, he explained. it's a flaw, he joked. sometimes I don't understand why I have to fall behind, I lamented. I'm sorry, he offered. me too, I replied. me too. so we just drove home in a comfortable and familiar silence. it can't be helped. he knows it everywhere but in his eyes and in his lips. ciego. she knows as she always has, but is torn. each step she takes in that direction takes her that much closer. closer to having, to feeling complete. I know, but think of it only when my hand can't find another's while I listen to solitude. it was nice. it is, well, the best of times. maybe it's leaving. maybe it's gone. the old man was right about me. he loves too much and chose too soon. so that leaves me, the only one tormented by the sharp end of the stick, to feel like Jami Gertz. oh well. what can you do? speak up speak up speak up wednesday wonder. it was a glorious thing to instill wonder. |