September 2nd

I was so angry I stood, forgetting why I sat; so angry I stopped, forgetting why I walked; so angry I unclenched my fist, forgetting what's done with free, angry fingers. I thought I knew what was wrong with you. I thought I knew the catch. In a world of uncertain, changing things- a world of terrible, untrustable things you were the light. You were the good, the wholesome relief, a breath of safe air. You were the unchangeable human being that leaked around fast conversions, absorbing the tremors, and leaving this to ease into something new. I thought I knew what was wrong with you, and it was chained in a corner of you, cold, and you were ashamed just like oddly amazing people always are, always seem to be. But here we stand, looking, both of us losing sight of who you actually are, actually used to be. This isn't brave, isn't an act justifiable. Not an act of self sacrifice, it's a sell out story, a jest to be wiped off lips like harlot lipstick, and just as disappointing.

Come On

You in 100 Words

Adorable, sweet, hilarious, with big knowing eyes and a cute guilty smile. He's quirky, quiet, evens me out. He's what I didn't realize that I always wanted, and now know I won't be happy without. It's the noise not noticed until it stops, the fog not seen until it's gone- this unsuspecting reliance I've found, and just like any other addiction, you scare me. I'm afraid of being stuck, someone who may not try to get rid of me, or when I don't know what comes next. I'm afraid of the dark, deep water, sometimes heights, and now- just you.

Novelty

Defend yourself with words and armor, upturned noses or clothes for hiding. Hit new victims with flashy comebacks and dig a hole to burrow in. Cover your face and shame, and whatever else is in reach; save a little dignity if there's any left to spare. Find your defense, plan B, instant escape; find a wormhole out. Dissipate into small spaces- locate a place to hide. But here's to hiding in plain sight, where everyone can see and no one seems to notice- to blending into the crowd, not the wall- to making new scenery, don't match the old. It's the new best art form, this certain blending, and it's catching on like unfindable fire. Beg for attention that you don't want, and you won't get it. You can take all the notice you'd like to not have and no one will let you have any. Nameless daydreams and secret places can conceal a person only so long. Why try?

Fractions in 100 Words

People are pieces or wholes. I know someone who's just him- he doesn't need anybody else. He doesn't mind other people, and won't seek them out. I found an acquaintance who's always a half. Constantly searching for a temporary soulmate, she'll only become content when she can find someone to make her whole. And while no one tends to take notice or care if they're broken or bandaged.. or just fractional segments in something much larger, it's comforting to know that even if it gets hard rolling along as a half circle, there's someone else thinking the very same thing.

Scare Me

Nothing terrifies a soul more than that which can't be reasoned with, that which isn't known. It's scary, what you can't yet see or feel- what you can't predict. It's like the stage's dark fourth wall, where the pitch black, motionless susurrus is expecting- waiting to be pleased.
I'm no fortune teller; I can't tell you what happens next. So forgive me rhyme and reason; I can't reason with your eyes or smile, negotiate with your voice, besides. You may as well leave sense behind, it doesn't want to witness the irrational. This isn't a screenplay- you won't lose lives -just sanity, hearts, reasons to smile- and those are replaceable anyway.

I'm going to say some words,
and some will come out wrong.
They may not fit together,
they're just pieces of a song,
But some should come out right,
and those I want to say.
Don't leave me standing by myself,
and don't let this slip away.


I want to say I love you,
and I've got you figured out.
I've memorized your gestures,
How you figit, full of doubt.


I could read you at a glance,
But I act like I don't see.
I'm still scared of feeling,
of losing who to be-
I'm know I'm afraid of the dark,
deep water, and high heights,
But now I think you scare me-
a fear I can't yet fight.

Little Blue Journals