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18 forever.

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I want to remember people how they were. The exact image they portrayed, very long ago in a nostalgic paradise. Where time stood still and you remained in your pristine condition.  If only photographs could talk, would I be able to point you out completely. Storytelling is far to good to tell, then by photographic memory.

That’s where I keep you.

Locked away in the vaults of my memory. Hidden in the crevices of my brain, locked away under stories and memories. It doesn’t matter what I do, I continue to search for you. Across the country, across the state, across the faces of the people I loved. Maybe it has always been you. Maybe it was this illusion of staying in one place or coming back home to something. It didn’t matter. People will scan across these words thinking its about a specific person and it’s not. Sometimes there’s that one person you want to forget but you keep being reminded of. Sometimes you want to keep stories personal, and as you get older you can’t keep things to yourself anymore.

I watch buildings change. I watch people grow up. I look at places that meant the world to me, go through different variations of themselves that they become nonexistent. I watch the cities I spent my youth in become gentrified garbage, instead of the kitschy places they used to be. I love the nostalgia, I love the stories, and I know they can’t go on forever. Buildings change, people grow up, and even people we once loved have a reality. Sometimes I think I love you, and then I become the 18 year old with bold expectations. Now a days it’s just a silly notion of my youth. Silly memories of never wanting to grow up. Staying up all night, looking up at the stars, and wishing to be in bigger cities with the people that meant the most to you.

You have become different heroic expectations in many aspects of my stories. Lingering in and out of my mind, coming and going just as you please. Some days I want badly to hate you, but I can’t. Other times I just wished you never existed. Deep down a part of me knows that I am officially crazy. The person I believe you to be and the person you really are, are two different people. This image I keep of you doesn’t exist to anyone else but myself. I feel crazy to even believe who I think you are. The thing with fantasies is that people’s realities are far to realistic. To know who you truly are in reality, kills the dream I have conjured up in my mind. You existed to me. Even if no one believes me. Every hero I write is based on stories of the past and the person I believed you to be. But the past is the past, I can’t keep searching for you in faces of people that no longer exist. I can’t keep holding a candle to a person that is kept only in stories of a nostalgic paradise. When you grow up, you have to let go of the things you once loved. Making way for new memories and journeys, new loves and expectations. Maybe I will always be just jealous cause we’re young and in love, but I have to grow up some time.

18-year-olds grow up to be 33-year-olds. Even you had to grow up some time. You’ll always be the hero at the end of every one of my stories.

Always.

10.22.2013

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50 Bucks.

Money means nothing when you have it. When you’re struggling, even the tiniest mishaps cause you to break. I have never been one to never have money. Even when I don’t have it, it still doesn’t affect me. However, I am no stranger to human emotions and human errors. If I had it my way, I just wouldn’t complain about anything. I wouldn’t put my heart out there to get broken and all that other nonsense. Of course everything all started when I lost a 50 dollar bill, somewhere between my room and my car. The more I searched for it, the further away it went from me.

Its not that I lost money, not that I shouldn’t be losing money. Its that moment when everything in life feels like it’s hanging on by a thread. One more thing to add to the list of unlucky messes. This never ending cycle of bad luck that continues to follow me. 50 bucks is nothing, but at that moment it was everything. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Before I knew it, it opened up my heart and brain to all sorts of heartbreaking things. Because this would happen to me. Of course it would happen to me. Why wouldn’t this happen to me? Of course when I need something it’s not there. Then the water works form and I am back where I started from. It’s so easy for people to believe because I never say anything I don’t feel my emotions. I am only human, if only they knew how I really felt. I find myself getting upset when people tell me I don’t understand or I haven’t been in their situation. Then I find myself feeling rather selfish.

Really? Because you lived my life right?

The more things happen in my life I think about these cards I was dealt. I think about the number of times I have to fall to get right back up again. I wonder how much longer until the scabs on my knees heal, til it’s back where I started from. I am upset. I am upset that I feel like no matter what I do, I am stuck thinking that I have to deal with all this bullshit. Like clockwork people need me when it’s convenient for them. People spew out all their bullshit and I take it. But I’m the bad guy? I am always the bad guy.

When you’re hurting you think of every fucked up thing that has happened to you. The people that used you, the people that want something from you, the people that have such a miserable life that they make you feel just as they are. I am fucking tired of it. Everyone else plays this victim card very well and I am always the villain. I allowed these people to take advantage of the good in my life to be left with nothing. I know everything is one big test, but these same people continue to find me. Then come the mountain of apologizes. How can you say sorry to something that’s already been said? Something that’s already formed such a huge scar in my heart. But I am the bad guy? These same people just get this huge “get out of jail” card, and I am left with all the bullshit ashes of old life. Why do I have to clean up the pieces, and everyone else starts fresh and new?

I am just tired of being this second or third choice to people. I am tired of always having to be the punching bag. I am tired of the same thing happening over and over again. Sometimes I wonder what’s even worth it anymore. Everything I do just gets fucked up in the end. I am not saying that everyone else has it easier, its just sometimes I think people forget that everyone has feelings too. With everything that’s happened this past year it’s hard not to look at the bigger picture. Shit sucks right now but maybe in a year from now it will all change. I guess even if I have to cry my eyes out in a parking garage, it shows I still have feelings. I fell hard today but I am the one that gets back up again. That’s life. Life is one huge mix up of emotions but in the end it does get better.

All this because I lost 50 bucks. It’s funny how emotions work.

6/7/2013

I wrote this after a very bad terrible day of losing 50 bucks (which I later found underneath my drivers seat of my car). After I posted this, I was sent home from work for being a terrible mess. I spent the whole weekend then week, in a huge shade of sadness. I am happy to report that things did change after that. Anything can be a trigger to open up a mountain of sadness and emotion. I am no stranger to that but people always find it rather surprising. I can hide emotions just like the next person, but I am not immune to them. It’s all just a process of understand what makes us who we are. Things in life do get better, only if we want them too. I can’t help if I have a bad day, it just makes a good day even better. 

Wonderland.

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If reality were as perfect as our dreams, we’d never fall asleep. We’d formulate ways to stay closer to the ground, instead of reaching for the stars. Dreaming has a way of making you believe things so impossible could be real. How vivid the sounds, how vivacious the colors, and how beautiful the people in all their splendor. If only we could stay in this dream state for a little while longer. Just a little bit longer.

Flashing lights and we
Took a wrong turn and we
Fell down a rabbit hole.

It’s silly to believe that dreams could feel this realistic, when you know deep down you’re bond to wake up. Still I find myself believing in this unrealistic nonsense that somewhere in my subconscious, this could be real. Because in dreams is the only way that you and I exist. The only way that I truly believe had we made a play, this could have lasted. The only image I remember of you is so perfectly etched in my memory. Perfectly perfect in all your splendor as dreams intended for you to be. The real world would never let me have you. Reality was too much to bare and my obsession of fears could never allow you near.

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Still I reached for you and there you appear. Magic rabbits out of a hat, watching the colors of this story turn from vivid blues to vibrant greens. Dreams are our wonderland. Perfectly perplexed chaotic perfection. Watching ourselves run from one end of the mind to another. Spotlighting our mind to believe that this is exactly what we wanted in the end. Fears in reality take away the clouds of dreams. The tremor shakes in my hands stand still whenever you find me. I know I’ll have to come down from this, I know eventually I’ll have to come back home.

I reached for you but you were gone
I knew I had to go back home

The problems with dreaming is waking up to reality. Seeing things as they really need to be. If only reality were as wonderful as our dreams. Our dreams that shield us from our unimaginative reality. Its in dreams that we can run away. Its in dreams we are free to do as we imagine and believe. It’s in dreams I can believe that we have a chance when reality tells me other wise. Maybe I just have to let you go. A day will come when I reach for you and you’ll be gone. Wonderland is never suppose to be perfect, even behind smiles we find the lies and the cracks through the concrete. Still I just want to pretend that you’re perfectly perfected, even if this is our wonderland. Even in dreams we find reality, and in reality we find our madness. Wonderland you tricked me into believing that dreams could be as pure as perfection. Instead you made me mad in the process.

In the end in wonderland we both went mad.

It’s time for me to wake up now.

 

What kind of man.

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You held on for as long as you needed to. Leaving all the broken pieces shattered around you. This was how you loved, this was how you expressed yourself. Breaking everything in your path that didn’t need to be broken. You were far to broken to concern yourself with decaying corpses. Still you sucked the life out of every living breathing thing, consuming yourself with the living instead of fixing up your own broken path. These were your paths and your stories. Your lives with the lies that you told to make everything whole again.

You do such damage, how do you manage?
Tryna crawl in back for more

You loved too many and you loved too much. All your mistakes transferred to every single one of those broken pieces you left scattered behind. Who was to blame for your mass destruction and chaos that lay beneath you feet. Who was to blame when you loved too much and left the lifeless to fend for themselves. The glass hearts of everyone that stood in your way, shattered and scattered once you let go. You were good with letting go just when you needed too. Just enough time to live, love, and forget everything. This was how you lived and how you loved. How you broke apart every living vessel and left the corpses of broken people behind. This was how you said you loved everything until you took everything you wanted. If this is how you love, just take it back. Take everything you said back because no man could ever hurt to the point of breaking someone.

What kind of man loves like this

I was left to fend for myself and pick up all the pieces you left behind. Because it was you that said you loved but held on just when you needed to. Letting go and watching my lifeless corpse cross the channels to find you again. Swimming through the broken shattered pieces and cutting myself deep just to reach you. I bled, I fought and I cried every fucking time because this was how you loved. My own foolish broken heart didn’t know any better but to pick up the pieces and reach you again. There you dangled my lifeless corpse and started this mess all over again. I am lifeless, I am hurt, and more than anything I am scatterbrained and broken to the touch. I watched you with a noble heart, hoping that you’d come back to find me. I sat broken in disbelief and wished that you’d see through to my broken soul.

Storms pass then you see a clearing. Somewhere along the way we watch a part of ourselves reconstruct and rebuild ourselves. Stronger, better than before. You may have broke me but you never will again. You may have loved me but you never will again. No man should every hurt the ones they love. No man should ever break the paths of broken people. What kind of man loves like this, is the kind of man that will always be broken.

You will not break me again.

9/15/2012

 

Out of the woods.

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You took my hand and said If nobody knows, no one will get hurt. Keeping quietly calm and seeing who was better at the breaking. I wasn’t ready to jump from him to you, but still we found our way to play our part. Better than the rest of them. We couldn’t make it out like the best of them. We stayed behind in the misty fog hidden behind the trees of the lies we told ourselves.

The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color

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It was easy to put your photographs in the frames of my memory. For once I gave a shot a chance but I didn’t know we weren’t built to last. Your hand mimicked my hand perfectly. Still I thought we stood a chance. Not everything about us was broken. We masked our scars with the flaws of our misguided youth. We weren’t the ones to stop to smell the roses. Instead we cleaned up shiny and new, pretending that everything was alright. Then the screaming, then the lying, came the denying, to the hurt, and now the pain. Is this what you wanted? No one will ever find out. No one will ever know. I can hide the bruises of my heart and if nobody knows, no one will ever get hurt.

Remember when we couldn’t take the heat
I walked out, I said, I’m setting you free

It was never a game of choosing sides. But you chose hers and I chose mine. That was it for me. When you made the assumption that you were greater than what you were, is the same moment you lost me to her. Not everything about us was bad but we buckled under the weight of our deception. I came out black and blue and you still came out golden. I came out wanting you and still you wanted the woods with their monsters and liesThe monsters of your words still chase me into the woods. Through the fog and into the misty trails. How did I let this go so far? How do I get out of here and know I am safe from the bullshit misconceptions of love? I’ll never make it out of here alive.

Tell me when the coast is the clear.

Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we in the clear yet?
In the clear yet, good

tswift

 

3/17/2006