Monday, June 14, 2010

The Greatest

Boarding the flight I could only think of the fear that had been slowly creeping into my spirit…what was I doing, is this for the best, or is this just to hold off the flooding waters if only for awhile. No longer can I let my life be controlled by my inability to find what I want; no longer can I be a victim to a world that only pushes for destruction and humiliation. The time came for me to move on, and though it has been one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to made, I’ve made it, and hopefully it’ll put me back on that track I got off of so long ago.

I know I’m not the best person, but that doesn’t make me the worst. I’m trying to learn the proper actions and steps needed to survive just like everyone else, and damn him if he thinks that it’s only a selfish act—I know I would understand if the situation was reversed…at least I hope I would. I’ve been torn down, and humiliated, I’ve been made into something I never wanted to be, and though I never had the strength I always desired, this is a way for me to reclaim what I’ve lost, I shall stand strong, I shall not waver, I shall hold steady like pillars made of stone, and as the wind threatens to blow me down, I will meet it straight on and let it pass through me to the great beyond. Once I dreamt about becoming the great model of my spirit, and though that was taken from me, I gave it up freely. It’s a hard fact to accept, and it’s even harder to say, but now that I know where to rebuild from, and it's a starting point, something which is more than most have.

I know I’ll leave and everything will change, but it’s not that it hasn’t already, so what is it that I’m really leaving behind? Nothing more than the pain and constant alienating circumstances that have done enough to bruise my soul. I may disappear, then again I may never come back, but if there is time for my return, I will be someone different, someone stronger, I will be the greater representation of all that I could be.

Wet and Rustling

They had met in the fall some years back. He had begun to fall deeper into pits of his own despair; once he had been kind, caring, funny, cordial… now only pain, anger and remorse, were left. She was just beginning her journey trying to figure out who she was, who she wanted to become—both of their lives had led them to this same point, to this mutual junction.

She would watch him as he slept, it seemed to be the only time she saw any sense of serenity within him, anything that didn’t appear to be some sense of internal torment. Despite not being given an opening to a happier state of existence, she knew there was something more to him, it only needed to be pulled out.

Though he didn’t intend to have such a forlorn disposition on a constant basis, he was so far into his despair he could no longer recognize the difference, his pessimism had claimed a dominant role over him, and he was no longer in control, subservient to the wants and desires of everything which plagued him he couldn’t even see a light anymore. As the days would go by he would grow a little more hopeful, seeing the beauty gleaming from her eyes, hearing the joy in her laughter, there would be a rebirth of hope, if only little by little—hopefully by the point it began to morph into something more permanent it wouldn’t be too late for them.

She could see that there was something deeper in him, that there was much more there than just a broken spirit, and it’s for these reasons she decided to bite her cheek and hopefully stick around long enough to catch a glimpse at his true potential. Unfortunately it’s hard to take risk with a pessimist…

Years would go by, and things did inevitably change. The irony of the situation would be found in their complete role reversals. She had done an amazing job bringing light back to his spirit, but she no longer could feel such hope as she once did. It was now he trying to fight to hold on, it was now him trying to prove everyone wrong. They were damned from the start; he was a fool to think that it would change in the end.

50 MPH

They were in foreign territory. Their lives seemed to never correspond with one another, and for once it felt like everything was falling into place, it felt like this may actually work and things may turn out for the better. In the car they sat, traveling to wish a close friend happy birthday in an area that seemed like barren wasteland, there was nothing out there, miles and miles of fields. The lights from the city were a far off luminescence that grew dimmer with each mile marker.

He had always had more of an adventurous side, she was much more reserved, but at the very least open to him getting his fun in, she was never one to hold him back, then again she was never one to push either…there was an unusual atmosphere between them. It had taken a long time for them to grow comfortable with one another, they were no longer in that period, where they were constantly trying to impress each other, they could finally let themselves be open and free to whatever it is that was coming next.

He looked back to see one of his best friends in the seat behind him, quietly staring out to the stars that were slowly starting to become more and more visible as the sky became darker; he looked over at her, she was staring off into the distance. It was as if all three were in there own special worlds, unfortunately he couldn’t find comfort in his thoughts, a problem that seemed to always plague him.

Going over 50 mph, on a dark abandoned road he set the cruise control. Slowly he began to open his door, and climbed out of the car. They hardly even noticed him, there wasn’t any difference as far as they were concerned. A few seconds go by, and the friend in the back turns to the front and says, “I think the turn’s coming up here in a bit…” slowly he notices that there isn’t a driver in the front seat anymore. “Uhm, where the fuck did he go… AND WHO THE HELL IS DRIVING?!?” The two remaining passages now fully broken out of their thoughts and trances, they look out the window and see their friend… their lover riding the car from the outside, as if he was parasailing through the nights winds. He pokes his head into the window and smiles. This is who he was, and though they should be scared of the myriad of possibilities that could end with their premature demised, they still held on to some sense of comfort, he was always in control, no matter how extreme the situation was. He would always keep them safe, no matter how foolish he appeared to be acting.


His days consisted of pushing all the memories out of his head. It was a difficult feat, but it needed to be done—he had grown too tired of basking in the good times, it only perpetuated the pain that would never be relived, at the very least not with her. There had been an inconsistency in their relationship, the only thing that really remained a standard; their communication skills were shit at best, and neither felt as if they were ever heard.

All he wanted was for her to return an ounce of the same affection he couldn’t go a day without showing her…all she seemed to want was for him to be ok with the situation they lived and operated in. She understood that there were things that were wrong, that there were things that needed to be worked on, just as he did, but it didn’t matter anymore, the effort that was put in was more than she ever wanted to put in, and it didn’t seem like he ever wanted to change at all.

There was never a question of how they felt for one another, there was love, there was care, but there was no passion—it’s not as if it died out, it never seem to be there to begin with. He was worn down, and too tired of fighting to hold on, it seemed as if she didn’t know how to fight even if she had wanted to. This was the perfect mixture to watch the whole thing go up in smoke, one would leave wondering if that was the best thing for themselves…for each other. The other would leave knowing that everything that could be invested had been, and then some. There could only be solace placed in the fact that at the very least neither would be naive enough to put themselves through that hell again. If ever there was a time to change, if ever there was a time to grow it was quickly approaching, and it was now up to them to find it for themselves.

Talk Show Host

He laid there in her bed, nightmares danced across his open eyelids in the darkened room—she asleep, as much as she could be. Who was he to her? Though he was always timid to be cavalier with his emotions, with letting her know how he felt, it didn’t seem to be a problem to her. Love was a word that signified anything more than like, and she had liked many a guy before him.

He would listen to how she would describe her past “loves,” and always he would wonder, how was he described when they weren’t together? What would she say about him to her old friends, to her random ex’s? Could she even convey a fraction of what he would when describing her? Or was he exactly like the rest, would he be stored away in a “special place” within her heart, with the rest of them?

His notion of love was unwavering and eternal; everything else was infatuation on a perpetual cycle. He knew he loved her, and that relied on what she would tell him, how much she supposedly loved him in return, but how could she never show it if it really was love?

They had settled into a routine of monotony routed in tired monogamy. He wanted only her, and no one else, but she didn’t seem to want him… this isn’t to imply that she wanted someone else, on the contrary, it didn’t seem like she wanted anyone at all, at least not specifically; instead she seemed to search out the comfort of another so as not to be alone. This was a cruel and unfair joke to him; to hide yourself away from solitude and search for comfort in the arms of another was a cop-out, and though he could understand the fear, it wasn’t anything he could see himself giving into so easily.

These nightmares were more surreal and menacing than anything else he had ever encountered. How was he to respond? What was he to do show her that there was something better than searching for simple comfort? There would never be enough he could show her, mainly because he didn’t seem to be the one slated to open her eyes, only to keep her attention for the passing moment.


The pain was overpowering, every moment of every day was a chore to get through, each breath brought with it a stinging pain of realization—she was gone, and likely never to return. His life was falling to shambles, and there was little he could do to find comfort and quiet his thoughts. Little by little he slipped deeper and deeper into a proverbial lake of fire, the only acknowledgement of his existence came from this undeniable pain, aside from this he was dead to the world, he was dead to himself, and he was dead to her. Slowly the light was beginning to leave from his eyes, the joy and excitement that kept him apart from all the rest was slipping further and further from its host; his only ability to cling on to some sense of reality was to find whatever outlet that was strong enough to let him feel—feel anything, if even for just the moment.

In these moments of synthetic heartbeats he was able to see some small sense of hope and salvation, soon enough the time would pass, and he too could crawl out from the rock he now found himself under. Until then each day was a new war, the only sign of victory could be found in repeating the process upon the next sunrise, until then it was anyone’s guess whether or not he was going to make it. He knew she was going through similar heartbreak, but it made no difference to him, his pain was much more poignant than hers ever could be… at least this is how he rationalized it. It was something different to him—he wanted to fight through the wall which stopped them, he didn’t want to give up, he understood the grandeur of their relationship, and though she said she did as well, her actions would never suggest as such.

Little by little he did enough to subdue the anguish that seemed to plague his existence. Comforted by the times he made it through before, he knew that the pain was only temporary, but each time, his walls closed in, and his ground gave beneath him, all he had to look forward to was falling deeper and deeper into his own remorse.

White Blank Page

There was nothing that he could do to rectify the situation, all was lost, and there was no sense in trying to salvage what little hope may be left. She was too weak to confront him, she always had been, and he was too cold to let his heart and anger warm over. There was never a time with her that he had ever thought to be anywhere else, but to his amazement the same wasn’t true for her. She had grown tired over the same battles, the same arguments, the same outcome, but what was there for her to really complain about? He loved her with all his heart, he made sure that she knew this, that she knew how beautiful he thought she was, how kind, and sweet, but never could she give him the same reassurance. After three years he may have received a single compliment in each of them.

The pain had become something standard to him, in his solitude he found an odd sense of stability in being ignored and denied the love he sought for. He had fostered an environment of self-depreciation, which was merely perpetuated by her refusal to change. Her selfishness would sink her, and though he may have warned her against this, there was nothing she would ever do to change this simple fact.

It’s a simple remedy, at least to show that there has been some effort put forth, at least to show that there was some care taken to acknowledge the other’s wishes, but whether it was too difficult to keep up, or she really didn’t care too much, any effort was as temporary as the fleeting wind. It was nothing for him to lay next to her and give her everything, to tell her everything, he wanted her heart and affection, all she wanted was his attention.

I Never Wanted You

Take out the cork, a bottle of wine, it’ll go straight to the mind.

There’s an interesting point at the end of a relationship in which you’re forced to reevaluate where you actually fall… are you stuck in that symbolic purgatory? Torn between pining for the love lost, or rather do you begin to realize the ridiculousness of the situation and the true feelings begin to pour out?

I was head over heels for her, I would’ve done anything for you, and though I know this isn’t a sentiment that will ever be overlooked, how often was it taken into consideration? I feel as if it was something that was known there would’ve been a slew of action to preserve and fix that which was wrong… then again I am the hapless idealist, and though this is a shift from where you first found me, the point is that throughout this ordeal I was there for everything, no matter what separated us, albeit it time or distance, I was there regardless. I’ve called for your attention, I’ve called for your affection, but consistently I’ve been denied, with little rationalization to support your inaction.

I never wanted you to know how great we could be—I wanted to keep this secret to myself, and hopefully let you in on it, as we went further along, whatever it is we were always doing. I’ll never regret what we’ve done, nor will I ever forget it, however I do find myself at a point wallowing in remorse for how weak it always ends. Never has there been enough respect for me, nor for us to handle our affairs face to face, instead we’ve relied on indirect communication to accomplish our round about trials. Had I ever brought this mess to your door I would have the decency enough to do in person; I suppose it’s just one more thing that has always separated us.

Light Houses

They never technically had spent a night together… sure they had passed out on a couch next to each other, but never had she laid to rest next to him. He didn’t know how to feel, the only person he really ever slept with had taken so much from him, he was hesitant to put himself out there again—she didn’t necessarily have the same conundrum, but there was something different in him that she saw, there was an instant peace, an instant comfort she was able to find in his arms. Was it simply infatuation? Lust? Or could it really be the beginnings of love actualized? They didn’t have much to talk about, what was there to talk about anyway? Against everyone’s advice she was there anyway, and much to his surprise she didn’t listen to anyone else.
The snow fell steadily through the night—she had drifted to sleep hours ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to do the same. Sitting up, with her wrapped around him he didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t an unattractive guy, but she was still out of his league…his thoughts wandered, thinking about what she may see in him, how he felt about her, how any of this made sense. She would rollover from time to time, just slightly, showing her face, there was always the cutest smile on it. That smile did enough to rest his mind to give him some small kernel of hope that this wasn’t some divine joke.

He didn’t want to be cavalier in his emotions, but he knew that what he was feeling for her was something so much more than infatuation. It was pure, it was innocent, it was curious in its nature, and though he knew that physically there was something bringing them together, the emotions that would keep them there were destined to be so much stronger… this thought sent a chill through his body—not knowing how to interpret this reaction, he just drifted off to sleep.

Feel the Tide

It had been months of constant battling, of internal war. His life had been teetering on that edge, having two choices; his intent had been on the lesser, whether desired or just unavoidable, that’s inevitably where he was heading. She had seen something different, something kind, and good.

He sat at the edge of the bed, the morning’s light coming through the blinds; she asleep, with the faint hint of a smile strewn across her face. Everything before the last night, seemed like a distant memory, another life, it was so foreign, but at the same time it was something that was very much a possible reality. Was he still in his induced haze, or was there something actually different happening deep within. Whatever it was, her being there was something that was undeniably tied to the new change in spirit.

He looked over to the door, paint drying on the wall next to it from the night before—the message that will always be a reminder… though on the wall, it’s only a reflection to that which is now permanently engrained within. “The kind you is without the light.” This is who he had become, this is who she knew him to be now, and though it pained him, it was completely true. He didn’t want to be that person, not for her, and especially not for himself.

He looked back her. The sun starting to dance across her eyelids, sparkling through her glorious curls, the smile still there; he knew that this was something more than some delusional thoughts of hope, there were genuine possibilities. He realized that holding on to that which he knows, that which is real he could trust in being alright, and that the tide was turning.

Anna Lee

It was to be his time of recovery, his time to move on and move passed it all, to grow strong, to wise up and realize the faults present in his current state of thought—but how could he fault himself for his actions? It’s hard to break bad habits with a sentimental heart, and she amongst all of his vices was the strongest and most dangerous aspect of his life. So many times before she had only wanted to say goodbye and let go, but he gave her such a fight, and so many reasons to stay, none of which were really her reasons, he was just convincing enough.

In her eyes he could see through to her heart, and in that heart he could see salvation for her, he could see the vast potential that stemmed further beyond her comprehension, a fact that she had blinded herself too, through years of relentless self-torment. Better than most he had known that sometimes people just need a hand, they just need a kind caring heart to pull them through to the other side, and for her, he was more than willing to be that person, but unfortunately she neither wanted nor could she recognize the state she was in. Content on the path that she was on, she wasn’t going to change for anyone let alone him. A fact he would do well to acknowledge and accept.

He would spend his days trying to fight off the urge to call her, to apologize for… well for anything, and everything, as long as it brought her back to him. Remembering the pain she caused not only to him, but to herself he was able to convince himself otherwise every time, avoiding what would inevitably be yet another mistake… at least for the moment.