Important Trivialities

16 Feb 2011

Had I but dreamt,

and in dreaming given myself over to hope,
Senses would have told me that my stayed hand spoke softly,
and though such messages tell softly, motivations speak without remorse.
Cracked joints told broken dreams told brute behaved in brazen manners their days marked.
Bookmarked pages open again, and fears rush forth anew in eyes old flames.
Flinching fingers twitch and writhe, competing to stay alive.
A staying hand, a show of faith. Do we draw beads of war, or in our inaction take greater risk?

3 Jan 2011

And I am already making things up about you, you know? Dreaming that you will make me wait to kiss you. That you will be every bit as uncatchable in 20 years as you are now.

I am imagining that you are terrible for me in all the right ways. You are reckless, you are a bandit. I want to love you because I don’t need to, I want to love you because you hurt me. You think I am attractive and interesting, you want someone to run with you, you don’t want to slow down.

I am terrified because I can understand you but I can’t be what you are. I want you to show me how. I want to worry about you and to hate the things you do.

I have learned that endings are short, but journeys are long. I don’t want you to always be mine. I want you to have doubts. To be a deer, aware of something besides itself. If it means I have to follow your trail constantly, to rise to each new challenge, I will be a better man for it.

12 Dec 2010

Sunlight lazily slips between cheap metal blinds to the left of the bed where I lay. The clock reads 1:43pm as a tear swells up before making a break for it across the surface of my skin. This was the hot, heavy kind of tear. The tear that reminds you not that you are sad, but that you have tasted defeat at your own hands. The kind of tears that of their own existence, give you reason to cry.

I’m thinking back on better days, or maybe just more favorable ones. Moments when we were both different people with such different motives. Phrases and old jokes pass by like friends no longer recognized.

I remember the day we met, which was long after the day I first saw you. I still know things I’d never told you because I didn’t know they were important. Like how hard I tried to get you to notice me before that. How the best part of my week until that point involved pining after you and imagining what you were like. Maybe my biggest regret was never mentioning that for once in my life, everything turned out exactly like it should have, exactly like the movies.

I remember that when I met you, you were dating my asshole of a best friend. He wrote you a poem after a week, and I googled it because I didn’t believe he had the intelligence to write it, and didn’t deserve to give it to you if he did. There were weeks spent in sabotage, embarrassing explanations to my mother for grass on my back, stories we told each other at night we were ashamed of in the morning. That was our first month.

But I remember the last moment we were who everyone knew we were, each others. The flight home was a struggle, how torn I was about us already, and the message you left me.
I heard your words when you picked me up that night, and the finality of what you were really saying. I got out of your car, and walked away. I walked a mile or two before going somewhere and doing something.

Now I think about all the things you expressed to me I couldn’t understand, lines from classic literature that no one will feed me anymore. Lines from Wuthering Heights about different kinds of love, and how once love has had it’s season it can come again, but it won’t be the same as before. 

And I’m thinking how things aren’t the same as before, and I’m remembering.


24 Nov 2010

I am a boy with many opinions, who happens to care about nothing in particular. I am simply a speculator.

I like to think about things that make me uncomfortable in hopes that if I do it long enough, I will no longer be uncomfortable with such ideas. And sometimes I forget why I am thinking about them, and I am just uncomfortable with the thoughts that I have.

Recently, I am beginning to realize that there is nothing lonely about being alone. This was a thought that made me uncomfortable for some time, roughly 19 years now. I think I understand this. I don’t want to be alone, if I have the choice obviously. But as it happens, my life is fairly limited in who I know, and romantically, even more so. I have dwelt on myself and why I avoid a situation including only me as its participant. I guess I am afraid that alone, I will never see things accomplished that I wish to see done. Or maybe that I will have no one to share the accomplishments with if I could, and then who would ever know? Then it occurred to me that I do things in spite of others, like dye my hair. I didn’t do it to share it with everyone, I did it because I wanted to. Maybe, I am afraid that what I am, I do not like, and finding others is a way of escaping owning up to myself. But if that were so, why is it I look for people that are of a similar nature? I must like what I am if I want more of the same.

In reality, I guess I don’t want to be alone simply because I am alone. I think it is just a case of feeling less than stale. Maybe someone new would bring in fresh perspective, circulate my moth-balled ideas.

Maybe these are just logical answers to emotional problems, and they just don’t satisfy.

But in any case, there is a ladybug fluttering around my room, and I feel obligated to liberate her. him?

22 Nov 2010

Broken Nose

Loss of balance, bleary eyesight. Things all out of place.

My footsteps waiver, and I tumble backwards. I sit down. Blood drains and drips off my chin onto my shirt. Painful shock, I know it hurts but it doesn’t feel that way.

I feel sick. 

14 Nov 2010

A few close friends tell me I should write. And honestly, I feel better when I do. But I don’t want anyone to know, really, because it makes me worry people won’t like or understand what I have to say. I can’t bring myself to just type out word documents offline, because what’s the point? So I guess the tumblr I don’t really know how to use that none of my friends know I have seems like the best option.

This weekend was lonely. My roommate Rob left to go home to go fishing and retrieve his Xbox hard-drive. I haven’t left campus. I haven’t spoken to anyone in person, come to think of it. All today I read “Hairstyles of the Damned” by Joe Meno, almost entirely start to finish.

I don’t really know what I’m doing at this college. In this state. In this City. In pre-med.  I think, I just wanted to leave, mostly. I wanted to go somewhere new and start over. I forgot what it meant though.

I don’t have the confidence to share what I think. The things I have to offer. In trying to be accepting of what others love, I have lost the courage to show them what it is I love. I am afraid of interfering. I know who I am a lot more than most, I believe, but I’m petrified of what others will think of it. 

I’m afraid to talk to girls, also.

25 Sep 2010