Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Metaphorical Forks

One day I found myself staring at a fork, this fork wasn't a normal fork though- it was represented as a metaphor of my life. I encountered this fork while dragging my feet in the dirt of the path I was pursuing. In the beginning the fork's size was minute, I would't had noticed if I hadn't been looking for one. Gradually the fork grew though.  Its width expanding to rival the path I was currently on. How nonsensical this was.
I couldn't help but sit and consider what both paths had to offer, although the fork seemed to favor the newer of the two. The way the sun reflected off the prong closest to this unexplored trail was intoxicating, I couldn't help but allow my bare foot to brush against the soft powder that covered the new path. As lovely as it felt, it wasn't enough to completely deter me, but it was enough for me to ponder more.
The seconds rustled away with the breeze, but I still was unable to decide which path to chose.
A little man appeared beside the old path, he was bonkers; completely insistent that I stay with him- on the other side appeared a non-eccentric cat. How odd, this feline didn't seem to want to persuade me at all. I was struck dumb but found myself compelled to appeal to this pussy cat so that he'd at acknowledge me. The nonchalance he addressed me with was preferable to the erratic attention being offered by the odd, little man.
How tempting it was to just sit there and gander at the two, but the hours flew away with the clouds and twilight was approaching.
My decision was simple, I plucked the fork from the road, placed it in my pocket and continued through the weeds. Today I would not need a set path, I would make my own trail on this Earth.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Memory Evoking Music

Isn’t it interesting how music affects our moods? Its ability to evoke repressed emotions can be overwhelming on rainy days.
The song plays in the background and I’m unable to fend off the thoughts it brings. Without my consent, I’m in two places at once and time no longer exists. The lyrics echo from far away, reminding me that the changes occurring are the spawn of my decisions.
Seconds trickle by before I’m aware I’m walking past him; my rehearsed smile is practiced and permanent. No one has a chance of noticing my eyes glisten from the tears that are falling on the inside. A familiar tingling sensation travels through me and I know you’re looking at me. I swallow and fight to control the acid; with rehearsed discipline I raise my head, but I can’t force my eyes to meet yours. I’m not ashamed of my choices, but I’m afraid you will be. I hold my breath and remind myself, “These tears are mine.”
A moment has elapsed; you’re still here, watching me as the silent screams echo in my head. My throat is beginning to ache from fighting my apprehension. I’m convulsing inside, the sickness is overwhelming but I’m fighting to remain composed. My time with you is the only chance I have to forget--to forget that I’m drowning inside.
I know it’s not fair, but you’re stuck saving me from myself. The dry tears pool inside; their shadows will themselves to be present on my skin. My throat opens enough to allow the words to escape. Those words I’ve been too afraid to say are finally spoken. You accept my confession, but I still wonder, “Will it be OK?”

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Revelations of Falling

Sometimes we chose to fall because it’s the closest we can get to flying.
Thirty stories. That’s supposed to mean something--why doesn’t it? I stare at this large structure and I suppose I should feel afraid, but I don’t. I must feel what it’s like.
The journey up is slow and I notice air is chillier as I ascend, but I disregard the numbing sensation on my exposed skin.
I chose this.
I’m unable to distinguish the figures of people below me; I can only discern the orbs of lights. My chest is starting to ache and my stomach is beginning to twinge but I ignore it and continue my climb.
I chose this.
Finally, I reach my destination at the top. My body is trembling from the frigid weather but that doesn’t matter, because this was my choice. I’m suspended above ground and I can’t help being intoxicated by the surrounding beauty. However, I feel the brute inception of self-preservation; my nerves are working to ensure there is no vacancy in my mind for valiant ideas. For the first time I look straight down and realize extremity of my elevation. I can feel the acid bubbling up my esophagus. It warrants no consideration though; it’s too late. My decision is final.
I force my eyes to look out into the distance and appreciate the allure of the lights. It helps; I can swallow my caustic creation and continue to eviscerate my apprehension. I realize knowing that I chose this soothes me, so I mentally recite it over and over again. It becomes my mantra.
I chose this.
I’m ready.
I let go-
And I fall.
I can’t feel anything. There are no thoughts occupying my mind. I can’t scream or close my eyes. I can no longer control anything. I’m unable to fathom that I am no longer breathing. It seems that my body has taken my last breath hostage, and due to the time that has elapsed, my last heart beat induces a neglected epiphany: the realization that this won’t be so terrible. I’m already dying. This is the start of my perturbation, but it’s endurable because I wanted to know what it feels like to fly, even briefly, before I lost myself.
I know gravity is pulling me down, but feeling the force of the breeze beneath me is distracting.
Milliseconds have disguised themselves as minutes.
I know impact is near; I can see it, but I can’t close my eyes.
I chose this.
I feel the impact. The last breath my body had been holding hostage is released. Time has never seemed so relative. Compared to my life, it’s startling how quickly this has ended. However, I’m incapable of summoning regret or remorse.
I chose this.
Now I know what it feels like to fly, because I chose to fall.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Inspiring Reflection

This is a paper revolving around my most recent epiphany referred to in "Reflections". Yes, it's been pointed out that my conclusion makes a  bit of a leap but I'm sure that's due to me trying to justify my actions to myself as a source of comfort.

Every morning, after we wake up, we eventually wind up in the restroom and, while there, we look in the mirror. Most often we just glance at our reflections, but sometimes we stare. Today, I stared, long and hard. I was searching for any imperfection, any marring to give away my misdeeds from the day before- and I realized, there were none. In fact, I looked refreshed and its cause made me blush- the same shade as the other night.  Then all at once, I felt my life halt as I realized my world didn’t work the way books portrayed. What I mean is, you may sin but your reflection doesn’t alter and no one is there to force you to wear scarlet A’s.  Life is just different than I expected based off publishings from one hundred years ago. Society doesn’t seem to feel the need to punish me, a man no longer has the right to blackmail me, and it seems as karma no longer desires to harm me.
Adultery, by modern definition, means the sexual relationship between a married man and someone other than his spouse, or the sexual relationship between a married woman and someone other than her spouse.  However, originally adultery was only defined by the unfaithfulness of a married woman. The Scarlett Letter, written by Nathaniel Hawthorne in 1850, is a book that embodies this better than any other published work before its time. The novel revolves around Hester, her infidelity, and how she handled society’s presumption of her. While being married, Hester’s husband sends her to live in Boston, Massachusetts before himself. After an extended amount of time it’s assumed that Hester’s husband died on his voyage to rejoin her at the colonies and this motivates her affair with the town’s minister. It is because of her obvious pregnancy that the townspeople can deduce that she was unfaithful to her marriage.  In the town’s efforts to reprimand her they demand she wear a scarlet A as an act of social humiliation.
Nathaniel Hawthorne is not the only author to include the idea of social humiliation concurrent with infidelity. The Painted Veil by W. Somerset Maugham revolves around the same idea with the relationship of Kitty and Walter. Kitty is a young girl and a member of upper society while Walter is a more mature and serious man of bourgeois. After the pair is married, Walter has Kitty accompany him to China where he pursues his medical career. However, none of this is Kitty’s dream and she becomes bored with her situation and seeks companionship elsewhere, leading to her affair with a married man. Her husband finds out and blackmails her with exposure of her actions (which would lead to public humiliation) or to escort him to an unbearable village where cholera is rampant. Her yearning to avoid society’s rejection resigns her to travel under severe conditions with her husband.
Through the decades, hellacious adultery consequences seem to have become obsolete with morals suffering from acute degradation, as suggested by F. Scott Fitzgerald in his portrayal of 1920’s ethics, The Great Gatsby. The sin of being unfaithful is a reoccurring theme in this piece, ranging from Daisy’s husbands and his mistress, to Gatsby and his blatant attempts to seduce Daisy. However, this self-absorbed decade seemed to treat infidelity with a nonchalance the prior ones lacked, as long as such deeds weren’t too absurd. However, in this case it seems as though karma was substitution for any negative connotation the public could’ve cast upon the adulterers.
Our social standards really have changed; this I realized after a more critical evaluation of my reflection. Our generation doesn’t seem to have a consequence for my choice, and, contrary to my prior beliefs, physical evidence of my experience is lacking (aside from my current confiding). Although, I cannot help but contemplate whether I am solely responsible for my action after confessing to my partner that I was no longer in love with him. I forfeited eight months of my life to celibacy, how much longer should I wait until the other party agrees that our relationship over? How much were these women supposed to endure? My lack of remorse is disheartening and enlightening; it is also a constant reminder to myself that the life I have not yet experienced will not be how I previously perceived based off other peoples publishings.

Saturday, November 20, 2010


I woke up today after doing something wrong, and looke in the mirror. I don't know exactly what I expected to be reflected back, perhaps some type of marring of my face. Perhaps I assumed some sort of physical disfiguration would occur due to my lack of guilt; again, I'm not sure. I stood there starring, searching for something wrong, but I couldn't detect any sign that would give away my misdeed, if anything I looked refreshed from sleep. Perhaps I was searching to see if I could find evidence to prove I was wrong, something to help me define right from our societys definition of wrong, but there was nothing. Maybe such things and their definition are as grey as the sky before it rains.

Thursday, November 4, 2010


This is inspired by a guy I run into occasionally at school


I feel you before I see you
And it leaves me physically ill.
My chest tightens and everythig begins to hurt
You're like some sadistic and disabling disease
I hope you know I'll be disgusted with you forever

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Escaping History

It isn't uncommon for me to fantasize about things: would bes, could be's, and (what I believe) should  be's. I'm a moderately shallow and self-centered person so the majority (eh, 99.98%) of these fantasies revolve around me. Which leads to me wonder if I ever know what is good for me- emotionally or physically. 
Occasionally, I feel neurotic (like OCD crazy) over simple things, I'm not very trusting and I judge people. I now find me deluding myself into believing I can identify a misogynist from pathological pussy-whipped man (and attempt to avoid both characters).
 I don't think I'm fake, perhaps random and complex, but not fake.
(This intro is totally unnessecary but I feel like I have to justify me before I blog my lame, and best efforts, at poetry... wow, what does that say about my character...)
Well, there's a lot I want to say and perhaps eventually will, but this is my first blog.... so, these are my pitiful poems(yay!)

Leave me bleeding on the inside,
While I smile at you through my tears.
I'll never love you the same way,
but I don't know how to say good bye.

(okay, thats one down!!! w00t)

My insides are burning, like shadows at sunset-
slowly, becoming bleak, nonexistent.
There's nothing left for you, except an ashy kiss and empty smile.

Well, yeah... those were my awesome attempts. Hopefully this can funnel some of the creative diarrhea from the  bowel movement known as life =]