Chapter One

I met him on a Summer night. It was warm outside, so warm that the heat seemed as though it was becoming dew on my skin. I felt like a glass with heated water in it. I felt stuck. I wasn't comfortable and the girls I was with...well, their presence left something to be desired if you know what I mean but I suppose that's the price you pay for popularity. I never was able to share the thoughts I felt, it was always about the latest diet trends and all the bitches we went to school with. The truth is, we were the real bitches but we were also the sad cases. I think that somewhere deep below the surface (because they push it so far below) they had real emotions and legitimate thoughts about things that weren't just materialistic and monotonous. Anyway, we decided to walk down from one of the girl's lake houses to the lake and meet some of their friends from the football team. Although I was new to the school, I had gotten in to this group by sheer luck. I had always had a nice sense of style, or at least kept up with the trends, and one of the group's many peons had noticed me and immediately accept me as one of their own. I guess we sound a lot like a pack of wolves, and honestly, we were a lot like a pack of wolves. I've always had this deep perception of people, and it has led me to see and accept that we truly are animals. We may speak and walk but we are no different from animals. We do what suits us and what needs to be done for ourselves, above anything else, other than when a parent may tries to save their young or something along those lines. The one thing we do have over wolves, dogs, monkeys, etc...is a clear knowledge of what we are doing. They kill simply because they need food. It is not an act of cruelty, whereas we kill simply to kill. We are a world that longs for destruction.

Now, as you can tell, the inner monologue in my head is rarely about boys or why I'm not as thin as the girl on the cover of that one magazine with that one article about how she lost weight which will probably be totally contradicted by another article in this week's magazine about how "what's inside matters." If what was inside mattered, I'd be a hell of a lot farther than where I am in the middle of this small town, with people I don't even remotely care to be around, walking down to a lake filled with trash to meet boys that probably have the IQ of eight year olds. I was destined for so much more. However, I am a realist.

Unchain my heart and open the cage doors to my soul.

Embrace all of me, said my voice in your ear like a summer's night under the stars.

All Quiet On The Western Front

I see them marching back, muddy and disgruntled…I see the blood on their clothes, their faces and skin. Some are wounded and injured, some smell like death. I can see the blood, wet and warm. I can taste the blood in my mouth. I see the men, sitting around the tents they have set up, talking and rousing around with each other. I hear their stories, the men’s aspirations that will never be fulfilled and just ramblings of the men. I smell sweat, grease, blood, and soil. I don’t taste much, except some of the food that they describe and grease.

What I am with you is comfortable, content in a state of knowing and not knowing. I know that you love me, I do not know how deeply that love goes or how brightly it's fire burns. I analyze every word you say and each gesture you make, I am trying to blindly assume what you will do next but you continuously suprise me, though I can not differentiate between whether these suprises are good or bad. Black and white. There can never be a gray with you because we can never find a balance. We are all the way, inhibitionless and filled with passion or desolate and distance. As much as I say I will not wait, I will, until the end of time.

On days like this, I feel like I’m in touch with this earth. All that is around me is a part of me and part of the life I lead, along with every other human being. I was given all I needed and need by this earth and for that, I am thankful and appreciative. For that, other worries and material things in life fade for only mere moments but what seems like an eternity of carefree living.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder than beauty is subject, it is one’s perception of what is beautiful. So, who are we to decide what beauty is if we all have different opinions of it? Not only that, but the mind can imagine. To imagine is to see things that are not there or to create a larger story around a completely non-complex object. People say they do not understand what I see in you, perhaps I am blinded by Love; perhaps I imagine you being the utter perfection that you are when you are not truly that. Because I have created this inner beauty within you it is reflected in your exterior. When they look u[on you, they do not see what I see. I know, in the bottom of my heart and from the middle of my soul that no one has ever seen you as I have seen and continue to see you. Sometimes I wonder if you can even be real when all of you, all of your beautiful mind and all of the beautiful moments you have created seem so surreal. If that is true, I am no John Nash and I could never forget you.

As it rises, I rise with it. It falls, I fall. My world consists of adrenaline and horror for a few mere moments. Despite all of this, I’m not afraid and this moment is not the immediate thought in my head. I am ready. As my life passes by before me, almost movie-like or river-like I suppose in the way that it flows and suddenly ebbs, I have not accomplished much. I have accomplished, however, unconditionally loving someone, unconditionally loving you which has been enough for me. The music is stilll playing, “Forever is a promise I am willing to make, as long as I always find beautiful oblivion when I touch your lips. It’s a promise I will give as long as there is untamed fire in this kiss.” This love song is to you. I am fine now, I will wait as I have always waited. And as I draw my last breath while careening towards my fate, I smile.

The bar is underneath my fingers; sweat on my hands, adrenaline running through me. I am looking in to eyes, all full of emotions but none of them the same. My hands begin to slip, only because my mind is occupoed by the audience watching. Life is a stage with my downfall as the main attraction. I will not faulter, I’ve never been one to let go. I apologize for not giving you a downward spiraling show.

Stop saying you miss the people we were. People grow up, people change. That’s why it is called a life cycle, that’s why they talk in your science classes about Growth & Development. From birth, we are made to grow and change. Not only our bodies, but our minds as well. Humans just coincidentally have opinions that change in time as well. To beleive that we should not change is to close your mind and end your spirit, long before it was meant to be ended. To close your mind is to end your life, despite whether you are still breathing or not. You can go through your life each and every day and never be alive. Do not forget that, or you will sleep beneath the cracks and fall under the feet of those who walks those sidewalks with liveliness and vibrance. You’re as good as dead right this moment.

There she goes, walking in to the same darkness, although she knows her heels will be snapped at the mouth of the trap. The wolf is ahead of her, inside of the woods. His eyes glow in the starry night, his glare is inescapable. As she walks towards him, certain she is walking to her death, flashes of what her future could have been and might have been flicker in her mind. She sees a child, a boy who could not be older than 5. He is sweet and fragile, the most innocent thing she has ever seen. He will never exist. She sees her daughter, sympathetic and aweinspiring. Her conception, birth and life will never occur. She is letting each and every promise be broken with each step she takes. While she knows this, she does not care. She continues walking, he snarls. He is preparing for his attack, she is nowhere close to cowering or hesitating. She comes closer to the wolf, and she sees bits and pieces of her past play in her mind. She sees the happiness and sadness she has known. She sees her greatest downfall and she sees what he once was. She sees Love and as she takes her final steps toward him, she is not afraid of the monster he has become because she truly believes that allowing him to ruin her will bring him back. She will sacrifice herself, as she has before. The last step is taken, she is beyond the point of no return. There is no more past or future. As he opens his massive jaw, she sees a glimpse of his eyes, he looks as though he is going to kiss her and she lifts her arms to the sky in acquiescence. His teeth snap shut.

My mind compensates with questions when I am upset. Nothing in this world is black or white, it is gray. We are all gray. What matters to you does not matter to the girl in her Bentley or the girl living down the street from out of a box. Although the word unique has never been a part of my vocabulary or seemed relevent to anyone to myself, our m minds are each unique. To hear your thoughts, to know your mind is to read a book that I have not before.

Physical attraction is merely a concept. Attraction is based off of thoughts and opinions on what is beautiful and what is this word, "attractive." I am physically attracted to both men and women. There are reasons for both, some are contradicting and some are the same. Always however, he is somewhere in the middle. He finds a midway and is perfection in my eyes. ~ Women are soft. They are warm and soft. Their lips are comfortable. It sounds odd but when I am kissing her, it reminds me of happier times with my mother. It reminds me of childhood, the good times in it at least. On the inside though, they are hard. They are harder than anything I have ever known and stronger than anyone could ever comprehend. Men rarely show their true emotions, at least the men that I know but women force themselves to have none. We love you but we force it under the surface. You would never know half of the thoughts that race through our mind each and every moment because we do not show you. We wear eternal masks, perhaps a different one for each day of the week. Strength, softness and elegane wrapped up in to a beautiful, thoughtful, obstinate women. Men are strong as well, but only on the outside. They seem to lack self-restraint, or in some ways notably much more so than women. They are violent, powerful but always in a different way. They are physically powerful but mentally, it is rare that possess and accept knowledge of themselves. Their desire is rageful, they would use us until we could no longer be used if they had the means to do so. I love that a man will force me in to submission, albeit I need not be. Over the years, the English word "man" has had many different meanings. It meant the one, husband, human, adult male, person, love, etc...The men are the hunters, they are the first humans that are always noticed. Words have been derived from man, it is a prefix and suffix. Despite the fact that there would be nothing in this world without women, there would also be nothing without man. With him though, he is soft and he is strong. I have seen feelings, that other "men" rarely show. He is this society's definition and perception of a "man" and what a man should be in my eyes, more than anyone else I have ever known, even my own father.

Pop, it's in. Working through my bloodstream, forcing my body to do something it normally wouldn't do. I can feel my body trying, as weak and brutalized as it has been, it can not do it on it's own. No, it is not prescribed, at least not to me. Danger doesn't seem like a factor in this equation. It frightens me a little to have no fears. A contradication, I know, but a fact none the less. My brain is working, at a rapid pace. I feel whole. If only it was not a drug making me feel this way, if only there was not you pulling me down.

:)

The sun is bright, not painful or startlingly bright but beautiful and freeing. It is shining on our eyes, our bodies are sparkling. We are in our prime and we would not give up this moment in the grass for anything. The bugs are crawling up my skin, I do not push them or injure them. I put them on to my hand and give them back their home. The dirt under my feet is soft and warm, it is right. The grass has never looked greener, not even on the other side. It is this life that I want to live, these are the moments that I want to remember. Mother Earth is whispering in my ear, she knows what I am thinking and I hear what she is saying. She is telling me to take in all of her, for she knows that I rarely appreciate her beauty as much as I should. She coos in to my ear, her voice melodic and genuine, “I am yours. You are mine. We are equal. You will use me and I will allow it, but that is because I know you would help. They will use me until I have nothing left.” I look at the souls around me. They are genuine. They are beautiful. The earth is whispering to them as well. Looking at this sky in this moment, I forget about you. I am in touch with the Earth, she is touching me. Breath on my neck, warm sunlight on my shoulders, dirt on my feet, bugs on my skin. I am home. I am bare, stripped of what this world has just begun to offer. I am back in a time that I have never been before but I feel comfortable. I have nothing, I want nothing, I am nothing. Simplicity is all my life revolves around I will grow from it. I am a plant in this earth, I will grow and develop as the sun and rain allow me too. Happiness and sadness will teach me. I will blossom.

I feel as though my skin is good enough when I am in your arms. I no longer wish to slither out of myself when your arms surround me, for beauty is engulfing me and beautiful is what I become. Your eyes, filled with lust and love, see what I myself do not. You look upon me as though I am more than I am. You turn me into what I have always wanted to be, all because of you and all for you.

Two and one. Two I love, one that may actually be beneficial to me for a change. The first, a warrior and savior, a lover and fighter. Although he is always changing his opinions and swaying between the person he is and and the person they want him to be, when we are together we are eternally stuck in the same bodies and mind-set we were in the moment that we fell in love. He hurts me, more than I have ever been hurt before but when he touches me and his finger tips seem to linger, not yet ready to leave my skin, I melt. My mind succumbs to all I never wanted ot be. I love him, he is my eternal mistake, one I am doomed to make until he no longer comes back. The second is the closest I have ever come to leaving behind the first, the closest I have ever come to overcoming the love and hate relationship that was the first. He is beautiful and always a source of interest. There are very few things about him that I would not like to pick apart and study until my eyes no longer see. Although I never hoped or believed he could love me, I wanted him to. If I’m honest with myself, he is the only other person that I prayed would find me utterly and endlessly fascinating. I strived to know things about him, what he liked and did not. I tried so hard. I’m still trying, whenever he gives me the chance to do so. The last and probably best, for my emotional state at least, does not love me but surely thinks he could. I do not love him, nor have I ever come close to loving him. He is so infatuated with the idea of someone loving him beacuse of past situations. He is marriage material and I am about passion, the connection of mind, body and soul and sharing that. Sharing who you truly are, because you know who you truly are. Self awareness and understanding of one self is what I value, but you must also be able to give yourself freely.

She is my fascination. I would love to get inside of your brain and dig up the thoughts you never knew were there, see you for what I believe you to truly be. There are emotions in the smallest things you do, flickers of different thoughts everytime you look to the left or right. You think that no one sees but we see. You smile because you are happy, you smile because you can. You are beautiful and true. You never let it all get the best of you, at least you don't make it obvious. I'm glad I held you. I meant it.

Caesar shall live forever, infamous and inspirational in the same sentence. Loved and feared was he. Those with power, those with ideals and intelligence will always be looked upon as evil. We are those that they build temples to, those with thoughts that most can not comprehend. Our minds are ever-expanding each and every moment, we need not be taught because our minds will teach themselves. You are frightened by Power, by a fear of unknown. I am not a carbon copy. I am ever growing, ever changing. My life will never end, just as Caesar’s. Life is short but Legacies are long.

This documentary inspired me to help with this cause. So few people know the truth about what is going on in Japan and to see the footage of these beautiful creatures, creatures that are possibly more intelligent than humans being slaughtered for profit. This is why I have no faith in humanity. I would lay my life down if it would save the rest of them, and I mean that whole heartedly. Greed has led us to do things that not only harm our society, but harm us as human beings and the environment that continues to provide us with life and small things that we do not appreciate each and every day. I wish I could spit in the face of each official that blatantly lied, I wish I could beat each fisherman to death. You have been caught. You are dispicable. You are fucking dispicable.

I feel as though my skin is good enough when I am in your arms. I no longer wish to slither out of myself when your arms surround me, for beauty is engulfing me and beautiful is what I become. Your eyes, filled with lust and love, see what I myself do not. You look upon me as though I am more than I am. You turn me into what I have always wanted to be, all because of you and all for you.

Sexuality being wrong is like saying that breathing is unnatural.

Unwavering and true, I am. Genuinely, I would follow you until the ends of this world although you would push me to the ground in opposition. My soul is unwavering, but it is all subconcious and there is little I can do to bring those emotions to the surface. I can not pull myself to the ground, rip my body in half and heart as well to pull you back in to my mind. As long as I do not know that you are there, no tear shall fall from my eyes.

History repeats itself, every day, every year, every moment. Due to our loss of creativity and lack of ability to think our own thoughts, due to the fact that today’s society believes that we should all be the same, nothing will ever change. Look back in to history and look how often we repeat ourselves, look at what we are doing today, that is why change is so feared but so vauled. Hello 1929, welcome to 2010. We are all repeating each other. New President, Same opinions and same decisions. ”Make mistakes on your own,” they say. “Learn from your mistakes,” they say. You are learning nothing. We are too frightened. We are too nervous. We are too scared that perhaps we will step outside of the boundaries our parents and elders have created for us, and God forbid we do so or we shall be punished ever so harshly for our so-called sins.

Each move is strategically planned, the small flick of her wrist or the way she look in to the horizon hoping you will notice the sunlight in her eyes. Love is not a choice, because something that is nonexisant can not be. Beauty is a choice though, as well as infatuation. Safety and caution, that person inside of her that once considered those terms is thrown to the wind, lost to risk and carelessness. Unnoticed for so many years, she is ready to show the world the truth. She will open her head and mnie, allow you to pick her apart. Falling apart is a part of life, and one of the most fascinating. So she will plan each move until you see something in her, find a movement she does that most would think is just an insignicant gesture; when she does a shy smile in to her shoulder as though she were ashamed of her face and you can not understand why, when her wrist flicks to pick up her pencil and you are amazed at how delicately but passionately it moves. You are in awe, her hands are telling a story. Her smile is showing her soul.

"Disobedience, in the eyes of anyone who has read history, is man’s original virtue. It is through disobedience and rebellion that progress has been made."

It was and is a beautiful thing, they just defaced what it should be and made it in to something so...abscent of morals. This tradition, this expression of emotion, outpour of adoration was meant to be so much more than it has been twisted in to. Much like everything in this world, they take it for granted. They begin to misinterpret it. When he touches her skin, he feels satisfied. When she touches him, she feels a release. Although her mind knows he does not love her, for a moment she can believe that perhaps he could. This world has equated Love with physicality. Making love is not longer making love, it is fucking. You are sexually active. You are engaged in sexual intercourse. These words, so bland and meaningless. Of course they have aesthetic meaning but there is nothing below the surface, just the like the lack of emotion you are all facing each and every Saturday night on your couch with a different person. He does not love you. She does not love you. You are users, you are the used. We are the world and we are using each other, allowing ourselves to be ruined both physically and mentally for a moment of bliss that will bring so much sorrow. As she spreads her legs for you, do not forget that when you once touched me, you felt Love. Look in to her eyes and see the cold stare that I see when I look in the mirror, untouched and unfeeling. We are the world and we are using each other. I have been used until I had nothing left to use. She will do the same. We have ruined it all.

I feel so unbelievably confident lately. Nothing's holding me back anymore.

I feel as though no one thinks there own thoughts anymore. No one is unique, and it is absurd to think so and say so. The only unique people in this world are those who pull from themselves, those who reinvent, those who renew that which was lost and bring a new life to it. The unique ones are those who make the world more vibrant, with their art or words or just with themselves.

We are the unique. We are also the forgotten, the unnoticed. I will break this mold. I will conquer.

A little self medication isn’t bad, or at least I’ve never thought so. I just can’t stand that my mind has become reliant on certain things. I can't sleep without these, can't focus without these, can't live and cope without these. My body is fighting and trying so hard, my mind is stuck where these pills have put me.

I hope you can’t sleep tonight either, I hope you can’t fucking sleep.

I am not here to live up to your expectations. Fuck your expectations. Beating me down, or attempting to at least, is not going to get you anywhere. You are not going to feel better about yourself, although you will giggle and act as though you are so pleased with yourself. The fact that you and your friends discuss me means that you must not have a legitimate friendship, because you can not talk about anything but others. You can not dig in to yourself and show parts of you that people have not seen. You must resume the same mindless chatter that the rest of the girls at your lunch table are spewing.

I feel sorry for you.

Change is an acquired taste, much like caviar. You can never be sure that you are going to get what you want. If you do, then you are happy. If not, you take what you got and you move on. The reason most people don’t like change is because they feel entitled, as I’m sure I’ve mention in some of my written thoughts before. None of you deserve it, just so you know. The definition of the word deserve is to have earned or merited; to be worthy of having. None of you are worthy, for what have you done to be so? Nothing. You are all takers. Robin Hood was a terrible influence on you all. The poor understand because they have nothing, but they also expect nothing which is why they are all so thankful when something comes along. Do you praise your “God” when you are given food, when you come home and lay in your bed? Do you even thank the person who bought all of these fantastic things for you, or are you thankful for the money you bought it with? Maybe if you sat down and thought about it you would be, but generally it just slips your mind. You are all takers. You all take advantage. I guarantee it will not be there for long. I guarantee you will suffer, and from your suffering you will be a new person. I will find a hero in you.

I will eat you alive. I will find your soul, although you have pushed it so far below the surface, and I will pull it out of you. Should’ve happened a long time ago. I am a wolf, you are a deer. I’ll pull you down, pull you under. I am not afraid of you and I will murder you. You will never escape me and I will never be frightened of you, not for a moment, for I am a wolf. I will eat you alive.

Red Carpet High~

She spoke, the woman had asked her a question and although she gave the correct answer, it seemed as though there was a question in her voice. It was not a statement. She was not a timid girl, at least it didn’t seem that way to the rest of us. She sang with poise, she walked through the halls and it seemed as though everyone were yelling her name. High school is her red carpet. But when the woman asked her that question, her knees buckled and she spoke ever so softly, as if her words were daggers that would penetrate us if her words were any louder than barely audible.

Her face, among the row of trees, is all I see. In this room I am bound, but it can not sink my soul. She is just a picture but she understands me. I am drawn to her, the sorrow in her eyes. No light, no hope. She understands. The blackness is not something I enjoy, but a part of me. Being sad has become comfortable, there are times that I long to be. I feel as if I have become everyone else. I am not myself, because I can not think beyond your boundaries. As the girl looks down, it is because she can not look up. It is a feeling I know well. I do not want to look in to the face of my attacker, although the attack is not malicious…or at least it was not intended to be.

We are all sexual beings.

animal wants, animal needs

They tell her she is beautiful but that is not how she feels. The scars on her arms remind her of the word that used to reverberate off the walls of her mind, the same words she hears when she is so rarely called beautiful and when others notice the imperfections that she feel make her hear this word. Ugly. The mirror is not her friend, in fact every time she looks in to one, she prays that every single mirrior in this world would shatter. She tries to be the best person she can be, for fear that Karma has brought this upon her…but she knows it is here to stay. She knew after the word incurable was said. She knows that she is fated to be prisoner in a skin that she wishes she could shed. They call it shallow to worry about appearances but she longs for love. A beast longing to find this beauty that all in this world seem to covet, longing to find this beauty that is spoken so highly of in another soul. A monster yearning for Love, but who could love a monster such as she?

Nine.

The most simple moments are so passionate. There is a single tear in her eyes, rather than make-up running down and dramatic music. It gets the point across, beautifully but with such a small action. When they sing, they sing with a passion I’ve never seen before. Seeing it makes me feel the way I feel when I’m on stage and I’m not even living it. I am feeling emotions, based on pictures and lies on the screen. It is emotional to me, because although they are just lies and pictures, they are real. When they speak, their words are their true emotions. It is plain and they might not use big words and they may use over-rated phrases but it is pure and untouched emotion. From somewhere inside of them, at some point in their lives, they understood these emotions and they can convey them with their tone and body language. Raw.

To listen to you speak, is to hear the whisper of the gods. On the day of your conception, all was right in this world. It was a peaceful summer day, blissful and sweet. Not as blissful and sweet as your lips, but none of us can compare each other to a summer’s day. You are an angel, even if there is no sympathy in your eyes. There was solidarity, but now there is unanimity. There is hopelessness, but despite it all, there is beauty and strength. There is beauty and strength that came from you, but also that came from a union meant to fall. We are Rome. You know yourself and I know something, something that I am interested in knowing. Your face will cross my mind each day, each moment.