Good?

Is it a good thing to post less, or a good thing to post more?

Are more things going wrong?
Or am I gathering up more courage to say more things?

Which is it?

Are things getting better or worse?

Somehow

It's like you knew

the poison I was feeding my mind

and decided

to alleviate it

yet

Tempted.

I'm tempted to just slip away for a while

avoid their care and smiles

I want to stop mooching

I want to s t o p .

Yet you've forgotten, haven't you?

and I'm hiding it well.

Distaste

There's a distaste in my mouth

yet

there's a certain remaining fondness in my mind

from recorded memories

that can never be fictionalized

Hey,

are we friends?

are we are we?

and you, my dear fluffy-haired friend

I can read your message loud and clear

I am not important to you

not really

but that's fine by me

I have other people whom I am important to

who I matter to

who don't

carelessly do

what you do

I'm just...how shall we say?

convenient?

so fucking convenient, aren't I?

like a moldable doll

that never says no

yet always refuses

you can't get close to me

no no no no no no

you'll never get what you want

not until you start caring

And he moved away. And I never saw or heard from him again.

Such is life, I suppose.

Yes, you care, and are concerned for the time being, but soon you forget
you forget

and time slips on
the issue still there, hiding, forgotten

I'm screaming at you but you aren't listening
you aren't listening

You..

It's like you just know that I'm mad at you

but really, it isn't all that noticeable

you're just being you, and I'm approving of a certain side that I see

and the one I am left with is the one I am sticking with

I wonder if you know

that this is it

I wonder if you understand

the importance of this last year

next year, I could disappear off the face of the planet

you could never hear from me again

but I'd still be out there, existing

without you

I wonder if you understand

how easy it is for me to let go

because, really, I don't have to deal with people I don't want to deal with

next year

It's easy to let go of someone

you'll never have to see or think about again

get rid of all familiar things and memories

start afresh, start anew

THEY'RE ACROSS THE FREAKING COUNTRY

IT DOESN'T MATTER IF THE BOTH OF YOU FUCKED THINGS UP

IT'S OVER, IT'S GONE, AND YOU CAN PRETEND IT DOESN'T MATTER

BUT REALLY, IT DOES SOMETIMES

AND EVERY TIME YOU SEE HIS NAME

EVERY TIME YOU SCROLL THROUGH THE NUMBERS ON YOUR PHONE

AND SEE HIS NAME

YOU JUST CAN'T FORGET, CAN YOU

YOU JUST CAN'T LET GO OF PEOPLE SO EASILY

AND YOU'RE STILL FRIENDS ON FACEBOOK

THOUGH YOU REFUSE TO INTERACT WITH HIM

AND HE REFUSES TO INTERACT WITH YOU,

NOT THAT HE EVER STARTED A CONVERSATION WITH YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE

AND THE PLACE WHERE YOU MET IS NO LONGER A SAFE, HAPPY PLACE FOR YOU

YOU'VE ABANDONED THAT PLACE, TOO

TRYING TO FORGET IT ALL

BUT REMINDERS HIDE HERE AND THERE

AND YOU CAN'T ESCAPE

but

that's not who we're talking about, is it?

and you refuse to let go of the memories, don't you?

you can't delete his number from your phone.

you can't erase the memories from your mind.

anyways

next year

the future

I feel...pathetic compared to all of you

I'm just a fuck-up

I didn't do anything right

didn't do all of my work, didn't pass all of my classes all of the time, didn't meet the deadline

and tried not to care

..

it didn't work

I care too much about the results

about your results

about my results

about failed potential, possibilites

like that old guy who still lives with his parents

pathetic, pathetic pathetic

sometimes I think I'll never amount to anything

sometimes I wonder if amounting to anything is even possible for me at this point

after so much screw-upss

though

next year it's a fresh slate

though I'll probably fuck that up too

I always start positive, swear I'll get better

and then I don't

I never ever do

and you.

what is this thing we're doing?

what is it what is it what is it

what does it mean?

does it mean anything at all?

do I mean anything at all?

you're never ever ever there

You.

I'm afraid this year is going to end on a note of distaste.

And you know what? There aren't going to be any years to follow this, to make me like you again. Seems the cycle shall end on a bad note, not that I mind, really. All the negatives always outweigh the positives.

The funny thing is, the other cycle ended in the opposite. Sucks for you, I suppose.

Not that you ever really valued me as a friend anyways.

Past and Present

We used to be such good friends...

we used to have such good times...

but things change

people change

and things die

The Hidden Dark Side of Things

She shows up, uncomfortably, bag in hand filled with convenient distractions for when things could potentially get awkward while she is stranded here. Her eyes dart around the room, a friendly smile on her face as an uncertain look wavers in her eyes. The host leads her into the kitchen, where she deposits her contribution to the snack stash and to the dinner funds. Eyes take in the Styrofoam cups, the wooden table, the old tiled floor. Attention fixes to the strange gadget hanging on the wall, red numbers blaring mysterious information she understands not.

Friendly host-like words are spoken, she selects a cup and meticulously proclaims her name upon it. Then she slips into the back, where the other girls are lurking, watching a movie she has no attachment or interest in. She feels out of place, yet not altogether uncomfortable.

Eventually people bunch in this small, back room. Strange exchanges are made, none involving her. She throws in a sweet word or two amongst the war of dirty innuendos and jokes. She doesn't belong here.

With a deck of cards she lures a number of people out to the wooden table that is not quite round, with mismatching chairs squeezed around it. Her game is unknown, but already liked. More chairs are mismatched, squeezed around the table. The game begins, her lips moving rapidly to explain each mystery to their untouched minds, trying to get them to understand. What they begin to understand is the game, not her mystery, not her discomfort.

The door opens behind her. Hopeful eyes wander over to the door, only to be disappointed. When glancing at the list of invitees, only one of them had been her friend friend, and he had yet to show up. Until that anticipated moment, she was left here, surrounded by friendly acquaintances that would never reach the realm of friendship.

The game continued, her eyes wandering occasionally (reluctantly yet inevitably) over to the boy who had once tried to court her. He was the one who had made the decision to avoid her after it failed, to pretend that she didn't exist at all, and she was the one who had followed that created standard religiously. Not that she believed in religion anymore.

Every time she would turn a cold eye away, she could feel her internal walls building up, hating the world around her, trying to protect herself, reject the others. Trying to be safe. Unafraid.

But none of these worries seemed to matter anymore. He'd found a new object of his affection. She was no longer obligated to feel awkward around him, like she disappointed him in some unspeakable way and now he hated her for it. His girlfriend seemed to be the cure to their poisonously hostile current relationship, making the tenseness slowly get eaten away by her limited antidote that could never eradicate all of the poison.

She is the one that you can never obtain, not really. You'll feel so close, and then you'll realize that you're actually so very far away from her heart. You are only close in comparison to all the others, trying to get at her heart. And eventually you'll see that she's not letting just anyone into her heart. You'll see hints at the painful bits of her past that made her this way. So...distant. Unreachable.

You tell her about others' affection for her because you know it's better to just let them get it out and over with. She'd never notice otherwise, and really, she'll never love you or anyone else. Not in the way you love her.

It's just fleeting affection, anyways. The immature love of a teenager. Something that won't last forever. The pain will be gone soon.

Just Like You

I'm just like you

I'm scared too

of so many things

what if's and unanswered questions

people and actions

but you can't escape fear

you can only avoid it

for as long as possible

until you conquer it

(but we all know that that's impossible)

I sometimes wonder if they can see it

if they somehow just know

how afraid I am

how delicate I am

yet still, aloof

trying not to show how much I really care and notice

and thereby forming a mindset of my own

taking over the one inside

It's strange

how

different the theoretical me I conjure alone and so late at night

is from the real me, surrounded and interacting with people

or should I say, that that is the tangible me, the action side of me

as opposed to the theoretical

that doesn't seem to exist

consider the saying

"Actions speak louder than words"

then the me that ponders

does not exist

so then,

who am I?

I'm used to people receiving me coldly with unfriendly eyes
so it always surprises me to be warmly accepted when I go places/join groups

yet I always fear
the

Afraid

There is this common fear among humanity--the fear of being alone.

We're all terrified to end up completely and truly alone

yet

we can't help the doubts and reservations that form naturally in our minds

the bad always sticks worse than the good

and we forget the good in people

remembering only the bad

only the time when we'd been betrayed or heartbroken

or left all alone

again

so we can't help mistrusting people

based on our only remembered events when trusting lead to pain

forgetting all the occasions when trusting paid off

we only seem to remember pain

the pain that shapes our bodies

shapes us

though the good is made so much better by the bitter

the bad

the painful

it's funny when you can go back, and see

what caused your sources of mistrust

when all along you'd thought something was wrong with you

(or, perhaps, this is your nature, and you're merely blaming it on bad memories)

I wonder why I like apples

I really shouldn't

..

maybe they're just completely unrelated

a different, separate schema, you could say

why, I wonder,

do I decide things with such great resolve

and then go back, go back, take them away in action?

is there a memory I can trace this to?

I can't find one

yet

I think that, to an extent, I'm extremely greedy when it comes to pleasing myself

I always break my own promises

my own convictions

just to make that moment in life a little bit sweeter

(though the later time I sometimes regret)

.

and so goes the cycle

make a promise, break it, remorse, conviction to make another, repeat

..curiously enough, I can break so many promises to myself

yet none to others

if I ever broke a promise to a friend, it might crush me into little pieces on the inside

I'd be groveling for forgiveness

even when they'd already forgiven

this is why memories fade

so we can forget the things that hurt us

the things that we regret

the things we can't change, no matter what

I don't know why my brain is so wired

I should probably go to bed

this flux of emotion is