note : the * is an indication to tell readers that the perspective of the story has switched to another character.
But then, he's always been like this. In all the years I've known him, I can honestly say, with one hundred percent certainty, that he viewed me as his only true friend. It wasn't like he didn't get along with other people, in fact you would think the opposite. There was no person he couldn't talk to, somehow, someway there would always be something he could talk to you about. But deep down, I could tell that despite being seemingly extroverted, he never really let himself become attached to anybody but me.
Many people who know him would refute what I say because he has shared personal problems with them, but does that really mean he's attached himself to them? I think not. Because as easily as he could talk to anyone about his own personal problems, he could easily move on and find someone else to talk to once that person could no longer fill the need of an open ear. And he knew this too. He found this habit of his to be very parasitic and this disgusted him, but his emotional needs quickly overrode any feelings of guilt within his conscience.
You might wonder then, how is it I know I myself am not like any of these other people who he simply moved on from and my answer would be simple, because once he ran out of people he could talk to, he would find his way back to speaking to me. And despite the personal guilt he felt from all the problems he laid down on me, I would embrace him and try to comfort him.
There is no other person I have known longer than him, and as his best friend I will always be there for him. He knows this, but he hasn't fully understood this fact.
*
My ego, it torments me this very minute. Oh how I knew that this torment would come to be once I fed it and yet... I chose to feed it anyway. Why you might ask did I let this happen? Hope, that is my answer. Despite overwhelming odds against me and knowing the realistic possibilities of what I set out to do, I still chose to do so all because of hope. What hope can do for a poor person like me is limitless. Hope filled my head with dreams, fantasies and fleeting moments of happiness.
Through all this, there was a voice in the back of my head telling me where this winding path would lead to and that I did not want to be there. But I chose to ignore this voice and instead I intoxicated my ego with illusions and fantasies until my mind was numb from the happiness that made my heart race.
But now, reality has set in. I can no longer conjure up those dreams and fantasies anymore and my ego is starving. As it starves it releases its negative waste on my mind as sickening, depressing thoughts begin to swell and warp my mind. With no hope in sight, I now fight a losing battle in my mind as the negative thoughts become overwhelming. I know I need to let it out, but I have no one I can turn to.
That is a lie. I do have one person I can turn to, but I do not wish to turn to him unless I can find no one else. I have always turned to him with my problems when no one else was there and I fear that turning to him once again will only annoy him and push him away from me. I cannot afford that to happen. He is my best friend, my only friend and I value his friendship too much to lose it.
There is no one I can talk to, but as my problem consumes my every thought I become painfully aware of the reason of why things have turned out like this. It's a sad joke, being able to comprehend how one thing led to another, and why this affects that, but then not being able to solve that very same problem. It's a joke really, how this circumstance that seemed so complex was, in reality, nothing more than a problem spawned from a simple desire. And that desire is to be loved.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Tranformers: Rewritten
I've written this mainly because I've seen Revenge of the Fallen now 4 times and am extremely annoyed by the shoddy writing which leaves many inconsistencies with the 1st film.
Far off in a distant galaxy a planet, now known as "Cybertron", is engulfed in an energy blast emanating from a giant cube like relic covered in ancient markings. Seven sentient mechanical beings emerge from the resulting energy blast. These seven beings are what we now call the original "Primes". The seven beings begin their study of the cube, which they have named the "All Spark" and from their studies they learn how to manipulate the energy of the cube, which they call "energon", and eventually begin recording their history within the cube's energies. From here they name themselves, the "Autobots". Thus they begin their work to replicate and reproduce their race.
In the years that followed the "Autobots" flourished and prospered on their home world of "Cybertron" but as with all races, the prosperity and peace did not last. As the population of their race grew the demand for "energon", for which the "Autobots" needed to survive, could not be fulfilled through the energies of the "All Spark" and thus the seven "Primes" began to search out for new sources of "energon". It is here that they look towards the stars of the universe for their new source of "energon". The "Primes" develop a machine that is able to convert a stars into "All Spark" like cubes; however, these artificial "All Spark" cubes could not last as long, nor could they support, as many "Autobots" as the "Primes" has desired and so the need to search out more stars suitable enough for the "Autobots" began. It is here that the "Primes" issued the directive to not convert stars with which nearby planets contained life.
Over time, the "Autobots" began to encounter more and more star systems that contained life and the list of nearby stars without life dwindled as the demand for "energon" only increased. From here the seven "Primes" decide to send out and expeditionary force to find distant stars for more "energon". One "Prime" and a contingent of "Autobots" would be sent to a distant system to find "energon". A "Prime" is selected and he along with a contingent of "Autobots" set out on their journey only to find more and more systems with planets inhabited by life. As the "Prime" receives word that more and more "Autobots" back on "Cybertron" are beginning to suffer from the "energon" shortages, he decides to break the "Prime Directive" of never converting the energy of a sun with which it has a planet filled with life.
The "Prime" and his "Autobot" contingency land on the planet "Earth" where he constructs the "energon" conversion machine. Here he demands for total obedience from his contingent of "Autobots" as he explains his justification for breaking the "Prime Directive". It was either these primitive "humans" or their "Autobot" brethren back on Cybertron. All the "Autobots" agree on a pact of secrecy for this action, except one. This "Autobot's" name was "Jetfire" and he sets out to return to "Cybertron" to report this breaking of the "Prime Directive".
"Jetfire" returns to "Cybertron" and alerts the six other "Primes" of the 7th's betrayal. They now label him the "Fallen". The six "Primes" establish an army to confront The "Fallen" and his contingent of "Autobot" followers.
"Jetfire", the six "Primes" and their army arrive on earth to confront the "Fallen" and his followers and a great war ensues. Shocked at the betrayal of "Jetfire" the "Fallen" pursues him first during the battle and manages to imprison him within the Earth's surface along with the "Matrix of Leadership". However, things are not great for the "Fallen" and his forces as they are greatly outnumbered by the Primes and their forces. The "Fallen" and his forces are eventually subdued and are returned to "Cybertron" to face trial for their crime of breaking the "Prime Directive".
The "Fallen" is exiled and imprisoned on an asteroid and left to drift forever through space while his surviving followers are imprisoned, shut down and buried throughout "Cybertron".
During the post-"Fallen" years the six "Primes" develop a machine that amplifies the "All Sparks" energies thus providing ample energy for the population of "Cybertron"
From there the six remaining "Primes" decide that now is the time to let the new generation of Autobots, their direct descendants, to lead as they themselves set off on their own journey search out the origins of the "All Spark". Originally two candidates were chosen prior to their activation. The first candidate was "Optimus", the direct descendant of the first "Prime". The second candidate was "Megatron", the direct descendant of the "Fallen". The six "Primes" fearing the potential that "Megatron" may one day set out to free his imprisoned ancestor and so they choose "Optimus" to be the future leader of the "Autobots".
Upon their activation "Megatron" and other fellow descendants of the "Fallen" become segregated from the rest of the "Autobot" population. "Megatron" and his brethren are given false reasons for their segregation and are treated poorly by the previous generation of "Autobots". "Optimus" sees these actions as unjust towards "Megatron" and his brethren as they themselves have not done anything wrong. As such "Optimus" attempts to bridge the gap between the segregated cultures and appoints "Megatron" as the high protector of the "All Spark". Despite this new appointment many of the older generation do not look favourably upon "Megatron" clearly favour "Optimus Prime". This causes "Megatron" to resent "Optimus Prime".
It is after this appointment that "Megatron" experiences visions of a transformer imprisoned on an asteroid. "Megatron" sets out to search for this mysterious transformer and eventually is guided towards him. He discovers that the transformer is none other than his ancestor, the "Fallen". Here, the "Fallen" enlightens "Megatron" of how the six "Primes" betrayed him and his descendants and how he was justified in breaking the "Prime Directive". Enraged at this revelation "Megatron" vows to return to "Cybertron" to rally his brethren, overthrow "Optimus Prime" and his "Autobot" comrades and return with the "All Spark" to resurrect the weakened "Fallen". Here he renames himself and his brethren the "Decepticons" as they have been deceived.
"Megatron" and his "Decepticon" forces begin their violent uprising coercing other "Autobots" to either join them or die. "Optimus Prime" musters what forces he can, but the "Decepticons" have already gained control of a large portion of "Cybertron" and are struggling to maintain control of what they have left. "Optimus Prime" knows that the target is the "All Spark" and hides the "All Spark" in a concealed facility. He leaves one of his most trusted commanders in "Bumblebee" along with a small force to guard the facility so as to give the impression that the facility is unimportant. This is meant to buy the "Autobots" enough time to send the "All Spark" into space so as to draw the war away from the planet which has been ravaged by the war.
However, this masquerade fails and "Megatron" becomes aware of the "All Spark's" location and launches his forces to assault the facility. "Bumblebee" and his small force valiantly fight until the very end and are successful in holding the "Decepticons" off until the "All Spark" is launched. "Bumblebee" is severely damaged in the battle as he himself took on "Megatron". "Optimus Prime" and reinforcements arrive on the scene to find "Bumblebee" as the only survivor.
By this time "Megatron" and his "Decepticon" forces abandon the war torn planet and establish a new base on the asteroid where the "Fallen" has been imprisoned. "Megatron" himself leaves ahead of the other "Decepticons" to pursue the "All Spark" and discovers that it has been sent to the planet "Earth". "Megatron" pursues it fanatically and winds up crash landing in the polar ice cap leaving him in a frozen prison until his discovery by "Captain Witwicky" near the end of the 19th century.
Far off in a distant galaxy a planet, now known as "Cybertron", is engulfed in an energy blast emanating from a giant cube like relic covered in ancient markings. Seven sentient mechanical beings emerge from the resulting energy blast. These seven beings are what we now call the original "Primes". The seven beings begin their study of the cube, which they have named the "All Spark" and from their studies they learn how to manipulate the energy of the cube, which they call "energon", and eventually begin recording their history within the cube's energies. From here they name themselves, the "Autobots". Thus they begin their work to replicate and reproduce their race.
In the years that followed the "Autobots" flourished and prospered on their home world of "Cybertron" but as with all races, the prosperity and peace did not last. As the population of their race grew the demand for "energon", for which the "Autobots" needed to survive, could not be fulfilled through the energies of the "All Spark" and thus the seven "Primes" began to search out for new sources of "energon". It is here that they look towards the stars of the universe for their new source of "energon". The "Primes" develop a machine that is able to convert a stars into "All Spark" like cubes; however, these artificial "All Spark" cubes could not last as long, nor could they support, as many "Autobots" as the "Primes" has desired and so the need to search out more stars suitable enough for the "Autobots" began. It is here that the "Primes" issued the directive to not convert stars with which nearby planets contained life.
Over time, the "Autobots" began to encounter more and more star systems that contained life and the list of nearby stars without life dwindled as the demand for "energon" only increased. From here the seven "Primes" decide to send out and expeditionary force to find distant stars for more "energon". One "Prime" and a contingent of "Autobots" would be sent to a distant system to find "energon". A "Prime" is selected and he along with a contingent of "Autobots" set out on their journey only to find more and more systems with planets inhabited by life. As the "Prime" receives word that more and more "Autobots" back on "Cybertron" are beginning to suffer from the "energon" shortages, he decides to break the "Prime Directive" of never converting the energy of a sun with which it has a planet filled with life.
The "Prime" and his "Autobot" contingency land on the planet "Earth" where he constructs the "energon" conversion machine. Here he demands for total obedience from his contingent of "Autobots" as he explains his justification for breaking the "Prime Directive". It was either these primitive "humans" or their "Autobot" brethren back on Cybertron. All the "Autobots" agree on a pact of secrecy for this action, except one. This "Autobot's" name was "Jetfire" and he sets out to return to "Cybertron" to report this breaking of the "Prime Directive".
"Jetfire" returns to "Cybertron" and alerts the six other "Primes" of the 7th's betrayal. They now label him the "Fallen". The six "Primes" establish an army to confront The "Fallen" and his contingent of "Autobot" followers.
"Jetfire", the six "Primes" and their army arrive on earth to confront the "Fallen" and his followers and a great war ensues. Shocked at the betrayal of "Jetfire" the "Fallen" pursues him first during the battle and manages to imprison him within the Earth's surface along with the "Matrix of Leadership". However, things are not great for the "Fallen" and his forces as they are greatly outnumbered by the Primes and their forces. The "Fallen" and his forces are eventually subdued and are returned to "Cybertron" to face trial for their crime of breaking the "Prime Directive".
The "Fallen" is exiled and imprisoned on an asteroid and left to drift forever through space while his surviving followers are imprisoned, shut down and buried throughout "Cybertron".
During the post-"Fallen" years the six "Primes" develop a machine that amplifies the "All Sparks" energies thus providing ample energy for the population of "Cybertron"
From there the six remaining "Primes" decide that now is the time to let the new generation of Autobots, their direct descendants, to lead as they themselves set off on their own journey search out the origins of the "All Spark". Originally two candidates were chosen prior to their activation. The first candidate was "Optimus", the direct descendant of the first "Prime". The second candidate was "Megatron", the direct descendant of the "Fallen". The six "Primes" fearing the potential that "Megatron" may one day set out to free his imprisoned ancestor and so they choose "Optimus" to be the future leader of the "Autobots".
Upon their activation "Megatron" and other fellow descendants of the "Fallen" become segregated from the rest of the "Autobot" population. "Megatron" and his brethren are given false reasons for their segregation and are treated poorly by the previous generation of "Autobots". "Optimus" sees these actions as unjust towards "Megatron" and his brethren as they themselves have not done anything wrong. As such "Optimus" attempts to bridge the gap between the segregated cultures and appoints "Megatron" as the high protector of the "All Spark". Despite this new appointment many of the older generation do not look favourably upon "Megatron" clearly favour "Optimus Prime". This causes "Megatron" to resent "Optimus Prime".
It is after this appointment that "Megatron" experiences visions of a transformer imprisoned on an asteroid. "Megatron" sets out to search for this mysterious transformer and eventually is guided towards him. He discovers that the transformer is none other than his ancestor, the "Fallen". Here, the "Fallen" enlightens "Megatron" of how the six "Primes" betrayed him and his descendants and how he was justified in breaking the "Prime Directive". Enraged at this revelation "Megatron" vows to return to "Cybertron" to rally his brethren, overthrow "Optimus Prime" and his "Autobot" comrades and return with the "All Spark" to resurrect the weakened "Fallen". Here he renames himself and his brethren the "Decepticons" as they have been deceived.
"Megatron" and his "Decepticon" forces begin their violent uprising coercing other "Autobots" to either join them or die. "Optimus Prime" musters what forces he can, but the "Decepticons" have already gained control of a large portion of "Cybertron" and are struggling to maintain control of what they have left. "Optimus Prime" knows that the target is the "All Spark" and hides the "All Spark" in a concealed facility. He leaves one of his most trusted commanders in "Bumblebee" along with a small force to guard the facility so as to give the impression that the facility is unimportant. This is meant to buy the "Autobots" enough time to send the "All Spark" into space so as to draw the war away from the planet which has been ravaged by the war.
However, this masquerade fails and "Megatron" becomes aware of the "All Spark's" location and launches his forces to assault the facility. "Bumblebee" and his small force valiantly fight until the very end and are successful in holding the "Decepticons" off until the "All Spark" is launched. "Bumblebee" is severely damaged in the battle as he himself took on "Megatron". "Optimus Prime" and reinforcements arrive on the scene to find "Bumblebee" as the only survivor.
By this time "Megatron" and his "Decepticon" forces abandon the war torn planet and establish a new base on the asteroid where the "Fallen" has been imprisoned. "Megatron" himself leaves ahead of the other "Decepticons" to pursue the "All Spark" and discovers that it has been sent to the planet "Earth". "Megatron" pursues it fanatically and winds up crash landing in the polar ice cap leaving him in a frozen prison until his discovery by "Captain Witwicky" near the end of the 19th century.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Quick Quotes
"You fall in love with body parts, I connect mentally,
With my female counterpart before we bound physically,"
With my female counterpart before we bound physically,"
Sunday, October 25, 2009
I'm So Weak
My inspiration for this poem came from Beau Sia's "I'm So Deep"
I'm so weak that I can't do 5 straight push ups
I'm so weak that any girl in this audience can probably beat me in arm wrestling
I'm so weak that I have to take a breather after eating
I'm so weak that walking to the bus stop gets me drenched in sweat
I'm so weak because of well... my broken leg
I'm so weak that I'm using my leg as an excuse
I'm so weak that traveling around this city is exhausting
I'm so weak that I give up on a project before I even start
I'm so weak that I lose all focus or thoughts of school as soon as I leave the building
I'm so weak that I rely on friends to decide where I want to go
I'm so weak that I took the easy way out of finishing high school
I'm so weak that I give in to an impulse merely because I have enough cash
I'm so weak that I don't stand up for myself
I'm so weak that I use poetry to voice my thoughts
I'm so weak that I'm probably trembling in the inside
I'm so weak that I take even compliments as insults
I'm so weak that I'll probably rush off stage after I'm done
I'm so weak that I realize my own faults but don't do anything about them
I'm so weak that this poem is merely a variation of I'm So Deep
I'm so weak that I couldn't think of a proper ending to this poem
And there you have it, I'll probably add more to it once I think of more stuff.
I'm so weak that I can't do 5 straight push ups
I'm so weak that any girl in this audience can probably beat me in arm wrestling
I'm so weak that I have to take a breather after eating
I'm so weak that walking to the bus stop gets me drenched in sweat
I'm so weak because of well... my broken leg
I'm so weak that I'm using my leg as an excuse
I'm so weak that traveling around this city is exhausting
I'm so weak that I give up on a project before I even start
I'm so weak that I lose all focus or thoughts of school as soon as I leave the building
I'm so weak that I rely on friends to decide where I want to go
I'm so weak that I took the easy way out of finishing high school
I'm so weak that I give in to an impulse merely because I have enough cash
I'm so weak that I don't stand up for myself
I'm so weak that I use poetry to voice my thoughts
I'm so weak that I'm probably trembling in the inside
I'm so weak that I take even compliments as insults
I'm so weak that I'll probably rush off stage after I'm done
I'm so weak that I realize my own faults but don't do anything about them
I'm so weak that this poem is merely a variation of I'm So Deep
I'm so weak that I couldn't think of a proper ending to this poem
And there you have it, I'll probably add more to it once I think of more stuff.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Beau Sia
Simply put, I love this guy and I wouldn't say he's inspired any of my works but he inspires me to keep going at poetry and try and diversify my work.
Boredom Visualized
So this is just to tell people who do read this, that I do have a second blog now focusing on videos that will hopefully entertain you. Check it out, it's called "Boredom Visualized".
Friday, October 23, 2009
Something I've Been Thinking About
Okay so here's the situation:
Suppose it can be determined whether or not someone has permanent amnesia with absolutely no possible way for the person's past memories to return. With that being said the person who has amnesia is no longer the person all those around them remember. The person is completely different and has a different persona, mannerisms and etc. Now with those details out of the way, let's say someone intentionally caused said permanent amnesia. By causing someone to be in that state of permanent amnesia could that person be charged with "murder"?
Now by most definitions murder is defined as taking away a person's life against their will or killing a human being. With the situation above, causing someone to be in a permanent state of amnesia would fall into the category of murder for me. Now for those reading this you may jump out and say that the person suffering amnesia is still alive, but murder is not defined by bodily destruction, mutilation and etc. It is the act of taking away a life or killing a human being, keyword being well, being.
What I'm getting at is that when someone goes through amnesia they are no longer the same person people have memories attributed to the body the person going through amnesia. Bear in mind that this is under the situation that there is permanent amnesia with absolutely NO chance of the memories returning. Thus the person before the amnesia no longer exists and has, for lack of a better word, died. That life can no longer return and is instead replaced by a new persona. Therefore wouldn't the act of putting someone into that permanent state of amnesia be considered, to be in face, "murder"?.
Just a thought that came to my head mind you, but it's an interesting thought don't you agree?
Suppose it can be determined whether or not someone has permanent amnesia with absolutely no possible way for the person's past memories to return. With that being said the person who has amnesia is no longer the person all those around them remember. The person is completely different and has a different persona, mannerisms and etc. Now with those details out of the way, let's say someone intentionally caused said permanent amnesia. By causing someone to be in that state of permanent amnesia could that person be charged with "murder"?
Now by most definitions murder is defined as taking away a person's life against their will or killing a human being. With the situation above, causing someone to be in a permanent state of amnesia would fall into the category of murder for me. Now for those reading this you may jump out and say that the person suffering amnesia is still alive, but murder is not defined by bodily destruction, mutilation and etc. It is the act of taking away a life or killing a human being, keyword being well, being.
What I'm getting at is that when someone goes through amnesia they are no longer the same person people have memories attributed to the body the person going through amnesia. Bear in mind that this is under the situation that there is permanent amnesia with absolutely NO chance of the memories returning. Thus the person before the amnesia no longer exists and has, for lack of a better word, died. That life can no longer return and is instead replaced by a new persona. Therefore wouldn't the act of putting someone into that permanent state of amnesia be considered, to be in face, "murder"?.
Just a thought that came to my head mind you, but it's an interesting thought don't you agree?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
I love these 2
check out their youtube channels for more:
Victor Kim - http://www.youtube.com/user/victorvictorkim
Lydia Paek - http://www.youtube.com/user/JUUKKES
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Short Story Pilot
So this is just a short story pilot idea. Hopefully you all enjoy it.
I once told a friend that love was a lot like playing hangman. A game filled with the unknown, a game where one guess can either complete the picture or leave you out to hang and dry. And now, that very same friend is in front of me, one wrong guess away from losing that metaphorical game. It was already night when he came over to my place after he called saying he needed to talk. As soon as I opened the door to greet him I could already see he was on the verge of breaking down. He came to talk about the girl he had been telling me about for the past while.
There was this girl he fell for and though he knew from past experiences that unless he was sure she felt the same about him, he would merely be repeating the same masochistic routine of blinding himself in a fantasy. He knew what he would be getting himself into and what the consequences would be if he allowed himself to be blinded, and despite knowing how painful it would be on himself should his aspirations fail he chose to go through with it anyways. As he poured out his heart to me about why he chose to do so his voice became hysterical with emotion. I still remember his rhetoric to try and find some comfort and reassurance from me,
"Why?! Why just this once did I even think I had a chance to change something that was bound to happen. I should have faced reality much sooner so that I wouldn't have to go through this pain all over again. Why for her did I think things would be different?!"
Despite this, I could tell he still hung on to some bit of hope and it was heartbreaking to see this happening to him. I really had no idea what to do to comfort him. I had met the girl before and she was really nice, I could tell why he fell for her and for a while even I thought this time would go well for him because whenever I saw them interact they really did click. So to see him here in this state I was really shocked to have him tell me he believed she did not feel the same way about him. All I could do was place my hand on his shoulder as he sat with his head in his arms.
Seeing him like this it really got me to think about him. He was one of the nicest guys I knew, it really was a shock to me to find out just how bad he was with the opposite sex. It's not like he couldn't get along with them or anything. Now that I think about it, it was just that whenever he found a girl he really liked he didn't know how to go about things. But growing up with him it is understandable. To start off with he had low self-esteem and despite having a lot of great qualities he never had the confidence to fully exploit them and so he would always believe there was nothing a girl would like about him. He's wrong though.
I once told a friend that love was a lot like playing hangman. A game filled with the unknown, a game where one guess can either complete the picture or leave you out to hang and dry. And now, that very same friend is in front of me, one wrong guess away from losing that metaphorical game. It was already night when he came over to my place after he called saying he needed to talk. As soon as I opened the door to greet him I could already see he was on the verge of breaking down. He came to talk about the girl he had been telling me about for the past while.
There was this girl he fell for and though he knew from past experiences that unless he was sure she felt the same about him, he would merely be repeating the same masochistic routine of blinding himself in a fantasy. He knew what he would be getting himself into and what the consequences would be if he allowed himself to be blinded, and despite knowing how painful it would be on himself should his aspirations fail he chose to go through with it anyways. As he poured out his heart to me about why he chose to do so his voice became hysterical with emotion. I still remember his rhetoric to try and find some comfort and reassurance from me,
"Why?! Why just this once did I even think I had a chance to change something that was bound to happen. I should have faced reality much sooner so that I wouldn't have to go through this pain all over again. Why for her did I think things would be different?!"
Despite this, I could tell he still hung on to some bit of hope and it was heartbreaking to see this happening to him. I really had no idea what to do to comfort him. I had met the girl before and she was really nice, I could tell why he fell for her and for a while even I thought this time would go well for him because whenever I saw them interact they really did click. So to see him here in this state I was really shocked to have him tell me he believed she did not feel the same way about him. All I could do was place my hand on his shoulder as he sat with his head in his arms.
Seeing him like this it really got me to think about him. He was one of the nicest guys I knew, it really was a shock to me to find out just how bad he was with the opposite sex. It's not like he couldn't get along with them or anything. Now that I think about it, it was just that whenever he found a girl he really liked he didn't know how to go about things. But growing up with him it is understandable. To start off with he had low self-esteem and despite having a lot of great qualities he never had the confidence to fully exploit them and so he would always believe there was nothing a girl would like about him. He's wrong though.
Quick Quotes
"Love is a lot like playing hangman, fun to poke and guess around for the right answer, or you just outright hang yourself to dry"
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
M-PaoWord Poetry - Life Without A Father
Grew up without a father,
Because the bastard didn't care to bother,
About his new son in his life,
Just up and left my mom because she wasn't his wife,
Went back to his home,
And left me all alone,
With my authoritative mother,
Who only knew how to be strict and would always smother,
Me with her own love,
And this is the beginning of a story I rarely speak of,
But this is how I was raised,
One mother, always busy, not time to give her son praise,
I wasn't much to begin with,
But how could I be when I'm a love child to begin with,
This may come off as a shock to you,
But I swear it's all true,
And the six years into my life,
Some man made my mom into his wife,
Not through marriage but through common law,
I now had a stepfather, I should've been in awe,
But the bastard was no different,
Just another man who remained indifferent,
To my needs as a growing boy,
Not once did he solely indulge me, not even with a dollar store toy,
Sure I got some stuff from him like a bike and a jacket,
But there was no love or thought in it,
He got the bike because he could use it,
And then there was the sale when bought my jacket,
No good memories form in my thoughts,
Just a memory of him threatening me to leave me in a parking lot,
Yes that's right, the bastard wanted to leave me there and rot,
Fear traumatizing me and freezing me to the spot,
No the best memory I know,
Just til we jump three years into the snow,
But before that, that memory was way back in grade four,
Now three years later be prepared for what's in store,
Back in a house league playing ball,
Knee bent backwards, took a hard fall,
Pain throbbing in knee,
Lying on the ground in pain, not a sight he cared to see,
No trip to the hospital to see what was wrong,
Just thoughtless words like "it's nothing, you're a boy, you should be strong"
Mother wasn't around to see how thoughtless he was,
Never told her either because that's what a thoughtful son does,
Didn't want any conflict or pain for her,
Because she had someone that could properly support her,
But back to the story set in grade seven,
It was in the dead of winter and my life was far from heaven,
A hyper extended knee with no tools for support,
Raised as an obedient son, so I had no retort,
To demand for help from him,
Walking on an injured leg it was as if hell was where I was in,
Six more years I later I just learned not to care,
Twelve years living under the same roof with no feelings to bare,
I learned to not hate him,
I just became indifferent to him,
It's just every now and then I wonder what it would've been like to have a father,
Someone that cared about me and didn't see me as a bother,
Because I'm scared to be a dad one day,
I wouldn't even know where to begin, what I'd do or say,
But I want to be a father so that I can give something I never had,
Because being raised by only one parent can get really sad,
And now I have nothing more to say,
Just that I found out I was a love child, back on my eighteenth father's day,
Because the bastard didn't care to bother,
About his new son in his life,
Just up and left my mom because she wasn't his wife,
Went back to his home,
And left me all alone,
With my authoritative mother,
Who only knew how to be strict and would always smother,
Me with her own love,
And this is the beginning of a story I rarely speak of,
But this is how I was raised,
One mother, always busy, not time to give her son praise,
I wasn't much to begin with,
But how could I be when I'm a love child to begin with,
This may come off as a shock to you,
But I swear it's all true,
And the six years into my life,
Some man made my mom into his wife,
Not through marriage but through common law,
I now had a stepfather, I should've been in awe,
But the bastard was no different,
Just another man who remained indifferent,
To my needs as a growing boy,
Not once did he solely indulge me, not even with a dollar store toy,
Sure I got some stuff from him like a bike and a jacket,
But there was no love or thought in it,
He got the bike because he could use it,
And then there was the sale when bought my jacket,
No good memories form in my thoughts,
Just a memory of him threatening me to leave me in a parking lot,
Yes that's right, the bastard wanted to leave me there and rot,
Fear traumatizing me and freezing me to the spot,
No the best memory I know,
Just til we jump three years into the snow,
But before that, that memory was way back in grade four,
Now three years later be prepared for what's in store,
Back in a house league playing ball,
Knee bent backwards, took a hard fall,
Pain throbbing in knee,
Lying on the ground in pain, not a sight he cared to see,
No trip to the hospital to see what was wrong,
Just thoughtless words like "it's nothing, you're a boy, you should be strong"
Mother wasn't around to see how thoughtless he was,
Never told her either because that's what a thoughtful son does,
Didn't want any conflict or pain for her,
Because she had someone that could properly support her,
But back to the story set in grade seven,
It was in the dead of winter and my life was far from heaven,
A hyper extended knee with no tools for support,
Raised as an obedient son, so I had no retort,
To demand for help from him,
Walking on an injured leg it was as if hell was where I was in,
Six more years I later I just learned not to care,
Twelve years living under the same roof with no feelings to bare,
I learned to not hate him,
I just became indifferent to him,
It's just every now and then I wonder what it would've been like to have a father,
Someone that cared about me and didn't see me as a bother,
Because I'm scared to be a dad one day,
I wouldn't even know where to begin, what I'd do or say,
But I want to be a father so that I can give something I never had,
Because being raised by only one parent can get really sad,
And now I have nothing more to say,
Just that I found out I was a love child, back on my eighteenth father's day,
Quick Quotes
"It's not the quantity of time you spend with someone, it's the quality time with them that allows you to truly understand them"
Monday, October 19, 2009
M-PaoWord Poetry
I Feel Like A Toilet
You say I'm a nice guy,
But to you, I'm just a toilet,
You say you like listening to my advice,
But really, you're just here to dump your shit,
Just being honest here, but really,
Other than that you have no need for me,
But when that time comes,
All you do is come to dump shit, that or pee,
Because when all you do is tell me your problems
It feels like you're just pissing all over my life,
Placing all your troubles before mine,
It's not like I'm not going through pain or strife,
But that's what a self-centered person does,
And what you deem me, a selfless person, doesn't do,
I'm like, "Hey what's up? How are you doing?",
And you're like, "Oh hey, nothing much. Just here to poo",
I'd like to say I deserve more than that,
Because one day you're going to end up clogging me up,
You'll be bitching and whining about what to do,
And I will take great pleasure in telling you, "Shut the fuck up",
The End
You say I'm a nice guy,
But to you, I'm just a toilet,
You say you like listening to my advice,
But really, you're just here to dump your shit,
Just being honest here, but really,
Other than that you have no need for me,
But when that time comes,
All you do is come to dump shit, that or pee,
Because when all you do is tell me your problems
It feels like you're just pissing all over my life,
Placing all your troubles before mine,
It's not like I'm not going through pain or strife,
But that's what a self-centered person does,
And what you deem me, a selfless person, doesn't do,
I'm like, "Hey what's up? How are you doing?",
And you're like, "Oh hey, nothing much. Just here to poo",
I'd like to say I deserve more than that,
Because one day you're going to end up clogging me up,
You'll be bitching and whining about what to do,
And I will take great pleasure in telling you, "Shut the fuck up",
The End
Quick Quotes for the Dat
"The only thing necessary for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing" - Edmund Burke
"What your mind doesn't know, your heart fills in" - (It's a quote from a non-recurring character on Stargate SG-1)Sunday, October 18, 2009
A new poem I wrote DURING poetry slam last night. It was such an amazing experience and it got me to write on the spot. It is kind of rough but I hope you enjoy.
What is age? What is age?
It is nothing but a chronological stage,
And just so you know I'm 19,
But what does that really mean?
I really don't know you see,
Throughout my life I've just been me,
You see, I like to act like a child,
It gives some spice to a life that is otherwise mild,
It adds a smile to my day,
Which is more than I can say,
About friends who say they're mature,
But what does it mean to be mature?
I've been given the assumption it's to take responsibility,
But whenever I see criminals go on trial all I hear is, "Not Guilty",
I know it's innocent until proven guilty,
But in my eyes all criminals are cowards to me,
But enough on that before you think I think criminals are fearful pricks,
In reality they really are no better than quarreling kids,
No offense,
I'm just sitting here on a fence,
Observing the world before my eyes,
Taking in what are the truths and picking through the lies,
But back to being a child,
Where my problems don't stack into a pile
It is nothing but a chronological stage,
And just so you know I'm 19,
But what does that really mean?
I really don't know you see,
Throughout my life I've just been me,
You see, I like to act like a child,
It gives some spice to a life that is otherwise mild,
It adds a smile to my day,
Which is more than I can say,
About friends who say they're mature,
But what does it mean to be mature?
I've been given the assumption it's to take responsibility,
But whenever I see criminals go on trial all I hear is, "Not Guilty",
I know it's innocent until proven guilty,
But in my eyes all criminals are cowards to me,
But enough on that before you think I think criminals are fearful pricks,
In reality they really are no better than quarreling kids,
No offense,
I'm just sitting here on a fence,
Observing the world before my eyes,
Taking in what are the truths and picking through the lies,
But back to being a child,
Where my problems don't stack into a pile
Friday, October 16, 2009
I never thought this would happen
So I just feel like writing down something that happened to me on a TTC bus while I was on my way home on October 14th, 2009. If for any reason those who read this don't know, I was struck by a car back on August 2nd, 2009 and so I am still recovering from a broken leg, but that is another story. Back on topic. Anyways, as I got onto the bus (the 34 Eglinton East going to Eglinton Station) I noticed that many of the front seats had already been occupied and that the front was packed with the usual people who do not feel leike moving to the back. So I decided that it would be worse for me to sit down and have other move around in front of me, thus impeding my exit 3 stops from the station and so I stood up. Now as the bus pulls out of Kennedy station and exits onto Eglinton Avenue this middle aged Caucasian woman starts screaming hysterically at the other passengers on the bus. At first I had no idea what she was screaming about but after a few seconds I understood that she was screaming for my sake. She had assumed that no one had offered me a seat as I was standing on the bus with my crutches. However, someone had offered me a seat, but as he was sitting down in front me she would not have been able to see his gesture nor would she have been able to hear his offer. At first I was freaked out because I was the cause for the commotion caused by the woman, but I appreciated her gesture, albeit mishandled on her part. Anyways, she calmed down after a bit, but not before other passengers had retorted with responses to shut up and get off the bus. I was going to apologize to the crowd on the bus for all the commotion but I thought doing so would have insulted the woman who was in earnest just being a kind person.
Anyways that's my story.
Anyways that's my story.
Just a quick note/quote/whatever you like to call it
The one who makes life difficult is yourself. Look to yourself before looking to place the blame on someone else.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
*New Update* Finally have something to write... well sorta
So I sorta have a new poem that I've written. It's nothing too special I think, but hopefully those who read it, enjoy it. Have not title yet.
I build things up,
Just to know it'll fall apart,
I close my eyes shut,
And listen to the beat of my heart,
It begins to slow,
As the poison takes effect,
I begin to feel cold,
As reality begins to set,
I took it without regard,
Thinking I could endure,
Too high I set the bar,
Because I felt so sure,
I now lie and wait,
For the cold to take me away.
Here in this state.
I have nothing left to say
The End
Just to know it'll fall apart,
I close my eyes shut,
And listen to the beat of my heart,
It begins to slow,
As the poison takes effect,
I begin to feel cold,
As reality begins to set,
I took it without regard,
Thinking I could endure,
Too high I set the bar,
Because I felt so sure,
I now lie and wait,
For the cold to take me away.
Here in this state.
I have nothing left to say
The End
Friday, July 10, 2009
Short story - comeplete and unedited -
"Can you draw a picture for me?", she asked. Those words and a picture are all that I have to remember her. A woman I had met many years ago when I was on the streets, lost and afraid, with no direction in life and no motivation to live. I remember those days, they were long and lonely as I sat motionless on the sun baked pavement of the city. I remember the looks of utter disgust by the few that glanced down at me. To them I was nothing more than another pathetic, jobless, parasite on the welfare system, and then there were the looks of pity by the few that took the time to leave me some money, whether it be a couple of pennies to a few dollars. When I was first on the streets, I hated receiving these looks and would often lash out at these people. This didn't help much as it only drew the attention towards the police where I would eventually be subdued and sent to a holding cell overnight only to be tossed out onto the streets the next day.
Eventually as time passed I became apathetic towards those glances at me. I just didn't have the energy anymore to show emotion. As the days wanned further on, I would occasionally see people I knew pass by me, many of them were once my closest friends back when I was in school. I would look towards them hoping that they would recognize this sad pathetic face of mine, but they didn't. I would be angered because they ignored me. They all looked happy and doing well and here I was, sitting half-dead against a concrete block begging for change. I would begin to have paranoid thoughts about why they did not come to my aid when I was in need of help, but in reality I was just too ashamed of my current situation and to prideful to ask any favour of them.
However, one day my parents happened to pass by me. When I saw them I felt a surge of emotion through me for the first time in years as tears began to form in my eyes. I do not know whether I was crying in shame at what I had become or tears of joy at the hope that they may take me home. Either way I was left crying on the streets and as I mustered up whatever strength I had to make my way towards them they took notice of me. I held my head down in shame as all I do was crawl and drag myself towards them. As I was about to look up, I expected a warm smile and greeting from them, but instead there came a shreik of horror from my mother. Even through my tear filled eyes I could see the look of fear on her face and as I looked into her eyes I could tell that she no longer recognized me. To her, the son she remembered had died long ago and all that kneeled in front of her was just another crazy bum on the streets. My father pulled her away and threw a mean hook to my jaw. I landed square on the pavement, I tasted blood in my mouth and I could tell that my father had knocked out a couple of teeth. During this whole commotion a police officer came into the fray and handcuffed me. As I was being pulled away by the officer I saw my mother crying into my father's chest as he coldly stared at me. That was the last image I saw of my parents until years later.
A few days later I was released and thrown back onto the streets. I decided here and then that I had nothing to live for anymore. I decided to commit suicide. I began to make my way towards the bridge as I had decided to jump off it and drown in the water. Slowly I began to make my way towards the bridge, fear began to settle into me. I had no idea what death would be like and the very thought of just nothingness began to make me feel queazy. I began thinking to myself, "if just one person smiles at me... I will live on no matter what else happens". However, it was late in the night and I had passed by very few people. The few people that did pass by me shoved me out of the way or simply j-walked to the other side of the street. With the little strength I had, I could not walk straight and so I swayed back and forth. Finally I had reached the middle of the bridge and no one had smiled at me. I thought to myself, "this is it". As I stumbled to get on top of the railing I slipped and bumped into something. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was warm. I figured it was just someone taking a late night stroll and that this would only aggravate the person. Perhaps their anger would be calmed if I had jumped then and now, but to my surprise the person helped me on my feet and asked me, " are you alright?". I looked up and it was a woman and to my surprise, she was smiling at me. That is when I met her.
I do not remember how I first responded to her kind words of worry for me, but I can never forget what would follow. After she had gotten me straight up she noticed that I was a bit pale in the face and had heard a small rumble coming from my stomach. She told me to sit by the railing as she would return with some food and water. I reluctantly did so as I had no energy left to move. The fear and adrenaline that had fueled my body to jump was all but spent. I barely had enough energy to keep my eyes opened. I really wondered why, now of all times, did someone choose to care about someone as insignificant and hopeless as me. Upon first glance at myself all one could see was a weary, time worn face. Heavy bags under the eyes, a long unshaven beard, long greasy hair under an old baseball cap and old torn up clothes. I was nothing more than a typical bum, so why now would anyone show the slightest bit of care? These questions constantly pounded my head like the repeating sound of a jack hammer on pavement until she returned.
As she promised, she came back with some food. It was nothing spectacular, just a jr. burger, some fries and a small drink, but as I bit down on that burger I could feel tears flowing down my cheeks. It wasn't that the food was spectularly delicious, but that I was just so grateful for this one act of kindness shown by this one woman. My gratitude could have only been expressed through those tears streaming down my cheeks. Even as the tears mixed with the oils of the burger's meat I continued to chew the burger slowly, savouring every bit of it as I could. Slowly I would chew a few fries after ever bite of the burger only to wash it down with the drink. Eventually I finished the meal. There I sat, in utter shock and amazement To find such a person in this cold city was nothing short of a miracle. Among the tens of thousands of cold stares that I received daily, I had somehow managed to find this one woman who would give me a warm smile. Not even a baby would smile at me! I felt a sense of joy and for the first time in years I could proudly say that I was happy.
During this whole commotion I had not taken notice of her reaction, but eventually I noticed that she bending over and smiling at me. She could tell just how elated I was for receiving the meal. Immediately to show my thanks I bowed down on all fours thanking her over and over again. Even though I was in such an embarassing position and thought she may have been disgusted by it, she merely continued to smile. I did not know what to say to her and as I racked my mind for something to say to her she asked me, "so, what were you doing out here late at night?". The question left me speechless as I hesistated to answer it with, "I was attempting to commit suicide". As I tried to find a more suitable answer she merely jumped out and said. "Oh, I know. You must have come here to take a look at the full moon tonight!". It was only when she said this that I noticed the full moon above. The sight left me in awe. I had never seen a full moon such as this before. It was truly one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen in my life. Unconciously my right hand reached out for the moon. As soon as I took notice I immediately drew it back so as to avoid any awkward glances from her; however, it seems she did take notice as she said, "I get it now, you stood on the railing to try and reach the moon. I'll try it too". And as she finsihed saying it, she immediately climbed onto the railing and reached out for the moon.
As she reached out for the moon she slipped, but luckily I caught her as she was falling back. With that I mustered up some courage to speak for the first time in a while. I asked her why she was out here late at night and she merely replied that she wanted to see the moon, nothing more. She said that there wasn't anywhere else in the city where the moon looked so beautiful. I asked why she was so transfixed by the moon. She didn't know why, there was just something about the sight of the moon that stirred this feeling inside of her. Suddenly, I had the urge to draw. Before my days on the streets I was an art student, but after repeated failures to gain recognition I withdrew from the school and found myself here where I am. I old the woman that if she were to bring me a pencil and paper, I would draw a picture of the moon for her. As I said this her face lit up with joy and I could tell just how happy she was. At that moment I felt a sense of pride and embarassment. One I oculd finally put what artistic skills I had to use, but at the same time this was probably the only time I've ever made a woman so happy. Without further word she ran off to fetch the two items I needed and there I was just standing by the railing look up the full moon.
It was about half an hour until she finally returned with the pencil and paper. Upon looking at her as she returned she was bent over with her hands on her knees as she was panting, short of breath. It seemed that she had run towards the nearest convenience store and back. As she handed me the pencil and paper I searched for a suitable place to lay the paper down. Luckily there was a nice smooth surface along the railing and I quickly put myself to work. I only had one sheet of paper to work with and it had been years since I last drew something, but to return the kindness this woman showed me I put everything I had into that drawing. I focused on every little detail I could make out until finally the drawing was complete. Not since my first piece of artwork had I felt any sense of joy and accomplishment at something I had created. As I took one last look at it, I humbly gave it to the woman while saying to her that I was by no means a great artist.
As she took the paper she gazed deeply into it as she held it up to the moonlight. I stood to the side of her and that sight of her holding up my drawing to the moon stirred a feeling inside of me. Even now, years later that scene on the bridge is etched into the very fibre of my being. It was truly a beautiful sight. If there ever was such a perfect moment in my life, it was then with that woman on the bridge. She would continue to gaze at it for another ten seconds or so until she finally fold up the piece of paper and placed it in her pocket. She then asked me if I would meet her here every night. The question startled me, no doubt about that, but she was the first person to generally want my company in a long time and I had no reason to deny her request. As such, I quickly replied that I would meet her here everynight, but then I began to wonder what for and so I asked her. She said that she loved my drawing, that there was just something about it that made it special. She had no sense of art by any means, but there was just something she got from looking at my drawing. She asked me if I would contine to draw for her every night if she brought some pencils and papers. I had no reason to say no as she was the first in a very long time to appreciate my art.
And so every night following that occasion we would meet on that bridge and every night she would ask me to draw something different. What she asked me to draw each night varied. Some of the items she requested were as simple as a uniquely shaped rock, while others were a bit more complex with a ship anchored at the harbour near the bridge. I never complained though because I would at least have company, if not for her I would be dead. Whatever she asked of from me, I would obediantly comply as fast as I could. This relationship, if I may call it that, lasted for weeks on end. This very well were the happiest times in my life and I could not have asked for more. Even as she provided me with the necessary materials to complete the drawings she asked for, she would also bring some food for me as some form of payment for the drawings. At first I reluctantly accepted as she was doing too much for me, but overtime hunger can change even the most stubborn of fools. However, even with this new found food source I vowed to never let this get to my head. I would never allow myself to arrogantly rely on this woman for food no matter how generous she is. I simply couldn't, whatever little pride or dignity I had left simply wouldn't allow it.
However, even that pride and dignity wouldn't hold up all the time. Even though I call these times the happiest times of my life, it did not mean that everything was perfect. It was only when I was with her that I felt happy. The days felt like eternity until she came to the bridge. There I'd be on the bridge sitting idle and patiently waiting for her to return, as if I were some lowly yet faithful dog. Though the days felt unbearable I endured for the most part. However, on one such occasion the ever creeping sense of despair and doubt overcame me once again. Fear, anxiety and paranoia infested my thoughts as I tried to patiently wait for her return. As if her return would cleanse me of all these ill thoughts filling my head. I admit it now that back then I somewhat viewed her as a drug to heal me of all these cancerous thoughts in my head, but sometimes her simple presense was not enough as there were times I would put up a front to hide any hint of being down or depressed. So as to not giver her any reason to leave me forever. One day though, I could not hide it perfectly and she could tell. Unconciously as I drew another picture for her a tear streamed down my cheek and she took notice. It was then that she wanted to know my story.
In the short time the two of us spent together on that bridge we would rarely speak about our personal lives, not that I had much of a personal life in recent years, but for some reason she felt that this was the right time to ask. I didn't know if I could tell her. I didn't know if I wanted to tell her, but there she was, probably the only person to ever want to hear my life story. As I began to speak my voice shook as fear crept into my heart. I did not know what kind of reaction to expect from her, but I trudged on through my story. As a child I grew up in a typical nuclear family, one father, one mohter, married of course and myself, the only child. My father was a professional football player while my mother was a member of the city's own orchestra. Seeing as my parents were in highly esteemed professions it was only natural that I was raised to be just as sucessful as them. My father wanted to build his legacy as a family of sportsmen, however I was never gifted with any physical prowess needed to endure and reach the professional level. My mother on the other hand wished that I would follow in her stead and take up music, but even in music I had no talent.
It was not until my early teens that I discovered my talent for art. As I moved on through highschool I gained a sort of fandom and increase in popularity because of my art. Even my teachers in art class were impressed at my work, but I admit I became very conceited with all these complitments as I would often argue with some of the teachers or outwright skip their classes. When the time came to apply for post-secondary education I chose to apply to the top art schools in the nation. It was a lofty goal and so I constructed a portfolio I deemed one hundred percent acceptable by all schools. I was confident in my skills that I would be accepted to where ever I applied. Finally when it came to telling my parents what career I would pursue I confidently proclaimed that I would become a great artist. Though both my parents were disappointed that I could not follow in their footsteps they did their very best to be proud and supporitve of the talent I did have. Knowing this I vowed to make them proud and eagerly awaited for the letters of acceptance. Eventually they did come and I chose to go to the most prestigeous of them all.
On the first day of school I confidently walked through the main entrance anxious for my first class. I planned to wow my fellow peers and professors much like I did in highschool. As the class began I waited for an opportunity to showcase some work I had done during class when finally I got my chance. I proudly displayed it for my professor and classmates to see and as I stood there awaiting cheers and applauds from the room there only came harsh criticism from my professor as well as some sneers and snickers from some classmates. I stood there shocked, never before had a piece of art I displayed been criticized, much less mocked by others. I quietly retreated back into my seat and remained silent the rest of the class. As class ended everyone left class quietly, but I could still hear remarks about what a fool I made of myself on the first day. Finally as the professor left the classroom I stood up and took a look at what my fellow classmates had done. Their work was astounding! Though we all had the same model to work with there was just something else about their drawings that one couldn't find in mine. I was left perpexled as to what it was their drawings had that mine didn't and so I remained in class creating more and more drawings trying to capture what everyone else had. Eventually I gave up and retreated to my dorm room where my thoughts were flooded with possibilities of what the other had done that I hadn't. I couldn't find my answer.
Things didn't get better as the school year went on. I had begun skipping classes out of paranoia that my professor was just out to get me, that he and my fellow classmates couldn't handle a genius such as myself. But, as I stared more and more into my artwork I began to realize that there was nothing special about my drawings. I became disgusted with them. One night I took all of my drawings and burned them all to ashes. I did not care for them anymore. After that event I withdrew to my dormitory where I remained in bed, I believe during this period I became extremely depressed. Over the course of a few weeks I lost a large amount of weight and became addicted to anti-depressants. Those around me began to worry and soon the dean took notice of my situation. The dean found my situation as unfit to continue schooling and as a result expellemed me from the school. What was I to do? After I proudly proclaimed to make my parents proud I was now an depressed, expelled student with an addiction to anti-depressants. I couldn't bare the shame of telling my parents of my failure. It was then that I decided to turn to the streets and the rest she could make out for herself.
I sat on the ground motionless, taking deep, heavy breaths as I held my head in my arms on my knees. I could feel the tears that were streaming down my cheeks drying, but the few tears that made their way into my mouth were salty. I swallowed them down as I thought it best not to spit it out in front of her. For a while both of us remained silent. During this time I couldn't tell what was going on in her head. I feared that maybe she would have gained a lower opinion of me. I began to regret ever telling her my sad, pathetic story. Yet, at the same time I felt a sense of relief as I had earnestly reflected on my past and come to accept that where I was then, was completely due to my actions and no one else's. Just when I wanted to end the silence there came a faint hum. It was a song and as I listened to the lyrics I felt a surge of emotion as she sung the song.
I hung on to every word as I listened to the song attentively and silently. Like pretty much everyone else, I had heard this song sung many times by many singers, but this one time was different. This one time I felt something inside me click. Fresh tears began to flow from my eyes. By no means was I a religious man. I never had the slightest bit of faith in an almighty God, but at this moment I began to think that maybe there was someone out there looking out for everyone, even someone like me.
As the song finished I looked up at her. She was staring at the moon as she sung. The moon's light illuminated her face, she was very beautiful this night. Perhaps it was just the atmosphere around us, but I could swear she looked like angel. I couldn't help but look on, but as she lowered her head I moved quickly to regain some composure. I tried to wipe my eyes on the sleeves of my dirty jacket but then I felt her poking my shoulder. I looked up and she was offering me some tissue she had brought. I graciously accepted the tissue and slowly wiped away the remaining tears.
After I was done, she asked me if I liked the song. I nodded slowly to show that I did like it. She smiled. She told me it was the first time she had sung in awhile. I felt honoured to have been given the chance to hear her sing. She began to cough. I moved towards her to offer some extra tissue. She motioned to me to stay where I was and quietly said to me she was alright. When her coughing stopped she asked me if I could draw her another picture and I gladly replied I would. I asked her what she wanted me to draw tonight, and as she looked at me she gave me a melancholic smile and simply said, "me". Her smile left me perplexed but I did as she asked.
The picture was of her leaning over the bridge's railing as she stared at the moon. As I finished the picture I moved to hand it to her. She held her hand up telling me to stop. She said she wanted me to keep it and that it was time for her to go back. As she turned I said goodbye to her. She turned to say the same to me and as she turned back I thought I saw a tear in her eye. As she ran off something fell from her pocket. I went to pick it up and give it to her but she was already far away. I figured I would give it to her tomorrow. Then I took a look at what she had dropped. It was just some more tissue she had, but there was blood on it. It must have been from when she was coughing. I wondered to myself if she really was alright as I stared off into the direction she left from. And that was the last time I saw her.
By: Paolo Miguel Maquiraya
10/07/09
Hope you enjoyed reading it. Epilogue to come soon!
Eventually as time passed I became apathetic towards those glances at me. I just didn't have the energy anymore to show emotion. As the days wanned further on, I would occasionally see people I knew pass by me, many of them were once my closest friends back when I was in school. I would look towards them hoping that they would recognize this sad pathetic face of mine, but they didn't. I would be angered because they ignored me. They all looked happy and doing well and here I was, sitting half-dead against a concrete block begging for change. I would begin to have paranoid thoughts about why they did not come to my aid when I was in need of help, but in reality I was just too ashamed of my current situation and to prideful to ask any favour of them.
However, one day my parents happened to pass by me. When I saw them I felt a surge of emotion through me for the first time in years as tears began to form in my eyes. I do not know whether I was crying in shame at what I had become or tears of joy at the hope that they may take me home. Either way I was left crying on the streets and as I mustered up whatever strength I had to make my way towards them they took notice of me. I held my head down in shame as all I do was crawl and drag myself towards them. As I was about to look up, I expected a warm smile and greeting from them, but instead there came a shreik of horror from my mother. Even through my tear filled eyes I could see the look of fear on her face and as I looked into her eyes I could tell that she no longer recognized me. To her, the son she remembered had died long ago and all that kneeled in front of her was just another crazy bum on the streets. My father pulled her away and threw a mean hook to my jaw. I landed square on the pavement, I tasted blood in my mouth and I could tell that my father had knocked out a couple of teeth. During this whole commotion a police officer came into the fray and handcuffed me. As I was being pulled away by the officer I saw my mother crying into my father's chest as he coldly stared at me. That was the last image I saw of my parents until years later.
A few days later I was released and thrown back onto the streets. I decided here and then that I had nothing to live for anymore. I decided to commit suicide. I began to make my way towards the bridge as I had decided to jump off it and drown in the water. Slowly I began to make my way towards the bridge, fear began to settle into me. I had no idea what death would be like and the very thought of just nothingness began to make me feel queazy. I began thinking to myself, "if just one person smiles at me... I will live on no matter what else happens". However, it was late in the night and I had passed by very few people. The few people that did pass by me shoved me out of the way or simply j-walked to the other side of the street. With the little strength I had, I could not walk straight and so I swayed back and forth. Finally I had reached the middle of the bridge and no one had smiled at me. I thought to myself, "this is it". As I stumbled to get on top of the railing I slipped and bumped into something. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was warm. I figured it was just someone taking a late night stroll and that this would only aggravate the person. Perhaps their anger would be calmed if I had jumped then and now, but to my surprise the person helped me on my feet and asked me, " are you alright?". I looked up and it was a woman and to my surprise, she was smiling at me. That is when I met her.
I do not remember how I first responded to her kind words of worry for me, but I can never forget what would follow. After she had gotten me straight up she noticed that I was a bit pale in the face and had heard a small rumble coming from my stomach. She told me to sit by the railing as she would return with some food and water. I reluctantly did so as I had no energy left to move. The fear and adrenaline that had fueled my body to jump was all but spent. I barely had enough energy to keep my eyes opened. I really wondered why, now of all times, did someone choose to care about someone as insignificant and hopeless as me. Upon first glance at myself all one could see was a weary, time worn face. Heavy bags under the eyes, a long unshaven beard, long greasy hair under an old baseball cap and old torn up clothes. I was nothing more than a typical bum, so why now would anyone show the slightest bit of care? These questions constantly pounded my head like the repeating sound of a jack hammer on pavement until she returned.
As she promised, she came back with some food. It was nothing spectacular, just a jr. burger, some fries and a small drink, but as I bit down on that burger I could feel tears flowing down my cheeks. It wasn't that the food was spectularly delicious, but that I was just so grateful for this one act of kindness shown by this one woman. My gratitude could have only been expressed through those tears streaming down my cheeks. Even as the tears mixed with the oils of the burger's meat I continued to chew the burger slowly, savouring every bit of it as I could. Slowly I would chew a few fries after ever bite of the burger only to wash it down with the drink. Eventually I finished the meal. There I sat, in utter shock and amazement To find such a person in this cold city was nothing short of a miracle. Among the tens of thousands of cold stares that I received daily, I had somehow managed to find this one woman who would give me a warm smile. Not even a baby would smile at me! I felt a sense of joy and for the first time in years I could proudly say that I was happy.
During this whole commotion I had not taken notice of her reaction, but eventually I noticed that she bending over and smiling at me. She could tell just how elated I was for receiving the meal. Immediately to show my thanks I bowed down on all fours thanking her over and over again. Even though I was in such an embarassing position and thought she may have been disgusted by it, she merely continued to smile. I did not know what to say to her and as I racked my mind for something to say to her she asked me, "so, what were you doing out here late at night?". The question left me speechless as I hesistated to answer it with, "I was attempting to commit suicide". As I tried to find a more suitable answer she merely jumped out and said. "Oh, I know. You must have come here to take a look at the full moon tonight!". It was only when she said this that I noticed the full moon above. The sight left me in awe. I had never seen a full moon such as this before. It was truly one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen in my life. Unconciously my right hand reached out for the moon. As soon as I took notice I immediately drew it back so as to avoid any awkward glances from her; however, it seems she did take notice as she said, "I get it now, you stood on the railing to try and reach the moon. I'll try it too". And as she finsihed saying it, she immediately climbed onto the railing and reached out for the moon.
As she reached out for the moon she slipped, but luckily I caught her as she was falling back. With that I mustered up some courage to speak for the first time in a while. I asked her why she was out here late at night and she merely replied that she wanted to see the moon, nothing more. She said that there wasn't anywhere else in the city where the moon looked so beautiful. I asked why she was so transfixed by the moon. She didn't know why, there was just something about the sight of the moon that stirred this feeling inside of her. Suddenly, I had the urge to draw. Before my days on the streets I was an art student, but after repeated failures to gain recognition I withdrew from the school and found myself here where I am. I old the woman that if she were to bring me a pencil and paper, I would draw a picture of the moon for her. As I said this her face lit up with joy and I could tell just how happy she was. At that moment I felt a sense of pride and embarassment. One I oculd finally put what artistic skills I had to use, but at the same time this was probably the only time I've ever made a woman so happy. Without further word she ran off to fetch the two items I needed and there I was just standing by the railing look up the full moon.
It was about half an hour until she finally returned with the pencil and paper. Upon looking at her as she returned she was bent over with her hands on her knees as she was panting, short of breath. It seemed that she had run towards the nearest convenience store and back. As she handed me the pencil and paper I searched for a suitable place to lay the paper down. Luckily there was a nice smooth surface along the railing and I quickly put myself to work. I only had one sheet of paper to work with and it had been years since I last drew something, but to return the kindness this woman showed me I put everything I had into that drawing. I focused on every little detail I could make out until finally the drawing was complete. Not since my first piece of artwork had I felt any sense of joy and accomplishment at something I had created. As I took one last look at it, I humbly gave it to the woman while saying to her that I was by no means a great artist.
As she took the paper she gazed deeply into it as she held it up to the moonlight. I stood to the side of her and that sight of her holding up my drawing to the moon stirred a feeling inside of me. Even now, years later that scene on the bridge is etched into the very fibre of my being. It was truly a beautiful sight. If there ever was such a perfect moment in my life, it was then with that woman on the bridge. She would continue to gaze at it for another ten seconds or so until she finally fold up the piece of paper and placed it in her pocket. She then asked me if I would meet her here every night. The question startled me, no doubt about that, but she was the first person to generally want my company in a long time and I had no reason to deny her request. As such, I quickly replied that I would meet her here everynight, but then I began to wonder what for and so I asked her. She said that she loved my drawing, that there was just something about it that made it special. She had no sense of art by any means, but there was just something she got from looking at my drawing. She asked me if I would contine to draw for her every night if she brought some pencils and papers. I had no reason to say no as she was the first in a very long time to appreciate my art.
And so every night following that occasion we would meet on that bridge and every night she would ask me to draw something different. What she asked me to draw each night varied. Some of the items she requested were as simple as a uniquely shaped rock, while others were a bit more complex with a ship anchored at the harbour near the bridge. I never complained though because I would at least have company, if not for her I would be dead. Whatever she asked of from me, I would obediantly comply as fast as I could. This relationship, if I may call it that, lasted for weeks on end. This very well were the happiest times in my life and I could not have asked for more. Even as she provided me with the necessary materials to complete the drawings she asked for, she would also bring some food for me as some form of payment for the drawings. At first I reluctantly accepted as she was doing too much for me, but overtime hunger can change even the most stubborn of fools. However, even with this new found food source I vowed to never let this get to my head. I would never allow myself to arrogantly rely on this woman for food no matter how generous she is. I simply couldn't, whatever little pride or dignity I had left simply wouldn't allow it.
However, even that pride and dignity wouldn't hold up all the time. Even though I call these times the happiest times of my life, it did not mean that everything was perfect. It was only when I was with her that I felt happy. The days felt like eternity until she came to the bridge. There I'd be on the bridge sitting idle and patiently waiting for her to return, as if I were some lowly yet faithful dog. Though the days felt unbearable I endured for the most part. However, on one such occasion the ever creeping sense of despair and doubt overcame me once again. Fear, anxiety and paranoia infested my thoughts as I tried to patiently wait for her return. As if her return would cleanse me of all these ill thoughts filling my head. I admit it now that back then I somewhat viewed her as a drug to heal me of all these cancerous thoughts in my head, but sometimes her simple presense was not enough as there were times I would put up a front to hide any hint of being down or depressed. So as to not giver her any reason to leave me forever. One day though, I could not hide it perfectly and she could tell. Unconciously as I drew another picture for her a tear streamed down my cheek and she took notice. It was then that she wanted to know my story.
In the short time the two of us spent together on that bridge we would rarely speak about our personal lives, not that I had much of a personal life in recent years, but for some reason she felt that this was the right time to ask. I didn't know if I could tell her. I didn't know if I wanted to tell her, but there she was, probably the only person to ever want to hear my life story. As I began to speak my voice shook as fear crept into my heart. I did not know what kind of reaction to expect from her, but I trudged on through my story. As a child I grew up in a typical nuclear family, one father, one mohter, married of course and myself, the only child. My father was a professional football player while my mother was a member of the city's own orchestra. Seeing as my parents were in highly esteemed professions it was only natural that I was raised to be just as sucessful as them. My father wanted to build his legacy as a family of sportsmen, however I was never gifted with any physical prowess needed to endure and reach the professional level. My mother on the other hand wished that I would follow in her stead and take up music, but even in music I had no talent.
It was not until my early teens that I discovered my talent for art. As I moved on through highschool I gained a sort of fandom and increase in popularity because of my art. Even my teachers in art class were impressed at my work, but I admit I became very conceited with all these complitments as I would often argue with some of the teachers or outwright skip their classes. When the time came to apply for post-secondary education I chose to apply to the top art schools in the nation. It was a lofty goal and so I constructed a portfolio I deemed one hundred percent acceptable by all schools. I was confident in my skills that I would be accepted to where ever I applied. Finally when it came to telling my parents what career I would pursue I confidently proclaimed that I would become a great artist. Though both my parents were disappointed that I could not follow in their footsteps they did their very best to be proud and supporitve of the talent I did have. Knowing this I vowed to make them proud and eagerly awaited for the letters of acceptance. Eventually they did come and I chose to go to the most prestigeous of them all.
On the first day of school I confidently walked through the main entrance anxious for my first class. I planned to wow my fellow peers and professors much like I did in highschool. As the class began I waited for an opportunity to showcase some work I had done during class when finally I got my chance. I proudly displayed it for my professor and classmates to see and as I stood there awaiting cheers and applauds from the room there only came harsh criticism from my professor as well as some sneers and snickers from some classmates. I stood there shocked, never before had a piece of art I displayed been criticized, much less mocked by others. I quietly retreated back into my seat and remained silent the rest of the class. As class ended everyone left class quietly, but I could still hear remarks about what a fool I made of myself on the first day. Finally as the professor left the classroom I stood up and took a look at what my fellow classmates had done. Their work was astounding! Though we all had the same model to work with there was just something else about their drawings that one couldn't find in mine. I was left perpexled as to what it was their drawings had that mine didn't and so I remained in class creating more and more drawings trying to capture what everyone else had. Eventually I gave up and retreated to my dorm room where my thoughts were flooded with possibilities of what the other had done that I hadn't. I couldn't find my answer.
Things didn't get better as the school year went on. I had begun skipping classes out of paranoia that my professor was just out to get me, that he and my fellow classmates couldn't handle a genius such as myself. But, as I stared more and more into my artwork I began to realize that there was nothing special about my drawings. I became disgusted with them. One night I took all of my drawings and burned them all to ashes. I did not care for them anymore. After that event I withdrew to my dormitory where I remained in bed, I believe during this period I became extremely depressed. Over the course of a few weeks I lost a large amount of weight and became addicted to anti-depressants. Those around me began to worry and soon the dean took notice of my situation. The dean found my situation as unfit to continue schooling and as a result expellemed me from the school. What was I to do? After I proudly proclaimed to make my parents proud I was now an depressed, expelled student with an addiction to anti-depressants. I couldn't bare the shame of telling my parents of my failure. It was then that I decided to turn to the streets and the rest she could make out for herself.
I sat on the ground motionless, taking deep, heavy breaths as I held my head in my arms on my knees. I could feel the tears that were streaming down my cheeks drying, but the few tears that made their way into my mouth were salty. I swallowed them down as I thought it best not to spit it out in front of her. For a while both of us remained silent. During this time I couldn't tell what was going on in her head. I feared that maybe she would have gained a lower opinion of me. I began to regret ever telling her my sad, pathetic story. Yet, at the same time I felt a sense of relief as I had earnestly reflected on my past and come to accept that where I was then, was completely due to my actions and no one else's. Just when I wanted to end the silence there came a faint hum. It was a song and as I listened to the lyrics I felt a surge of emotion as she sung the song.
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me....
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.
T'was Grace that taught...
my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear...
the hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares...
we have already come.
T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...
and Grace will lead us home.
The Lord has promised good to me...
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be...
as long as life endures.
When we've been here ten thousand years...
bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise...
then when we've first begun.
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me....
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.
I hung on to every word as I listened to the song attentively and silently. Like pretty much everyone else, I had heard this song sung many times by many singers, but this one time was different. This one time I felt something inside me click. Fresh tears began to flow from my eyes. By no means was I a religious man. I never had the slightest bit of faith in an almighty God, but at this moment I began to think that maybe there was someone out there looking out for everyone, even someone like me.
As the song finished I looked up at her. She was staring at the moon as she sung. The moon's light illuminated her face, she was very beautiful this night. Perhaps it was just the atmosphere around us, but I could swear she looked like angel. I couldn't help but look on, but as she lowered her head I moved quickly to regain some composure. I tried to wipe my eyes on the sleeves of my dirty jacket but then I felt her poking my shoulder. I looked up and she was offering me some tissue she had brought. I graciously accepted the tissue and slowly wiped away the remaining tears.
After I was done, she asked me if I liked the song. I nodded slowly to show that I did like it. She smiled. She told me it was the first time she had sung in awhile. I felt honoured to have been given the chance to hear her sing. She began to cough. I moved towards her to offer some extra tissue. She motioned to me to stay where I was and quietly said to me she was alright. When her coughing stopped she asked me if I could draw her another picture and I gladly replied I would. I asked her what she wanted me to draw tonight, and as she looked at me she gave me a melancholic smile and simply said, "me". Her smile left me perplexed but I did as she asked.
The picture was of her leaning over the bridge's railing as she stared at the moon. As I finished the picture I moved to hand it to her. She held her hand up telling me to stop. She said she wanted me to keep it and that it was time for her to go back. As she turned I said goodbye to her. She turned to say the same to me and as she turned back I thought I saw a tear in her eye. As she ran off something fell from her pocket. I went to pick it up and give it to her but she was already far away. I figured I would give it to her tomorrow. Then I took a look at what she had dropped. It was just some more tissue she had, but there was blood on it. It must have been from when she was coughing. I wondered to myself if she really was alright as I stared off into the direction she left from. And that was the last time I saw her.
By: Paolo Miguel Maquiraya
10/07/09
Hope you enjoyed reading it. Epilogue to come soon!
Thursday, July 9, 2009
1st post in a long time, new material to share
What I'm about to post is 4 sections of a short story I'm writing. The inspiration for it really came from a short clip of a foreign film I saw before I switched channels, and that's the truth. Hopefully you'll enjoy. Take not that it is rather lengthy. I have yet to come up with a title for it, so if any readers have a suggestion please comment.
Section 1:
"Do you have a dream?", she asked. Those words are all that I can remember of her. A woman I had met many years ago when I was on the streets, lost and afraid, with no direction in life and no motivation to live. I remember those days, they were long and lonely as I sat motionless on the sun baked pavement of the city. I remember the looks of utter disgust by the few that glanced down at me. To them I was nothing more than another pathetic, jobless, parasite on the welfare system, and then there were the looks of pity by the few that took the time to leave me some money, whether it be a couple of pennies to a few dollars. When I was first on the streets, I hated receiving these looks and would often lash out at these people. This didn't help much as it only drew the attention towards the police where I would eventually be subdued and sent to a holding cell overnight only to be tossed out onto the streets the next day.
Eventually as time passed I became apathetic towards those glances at me. I just didn't have the energy anymore to show emotion. As the days wanned further on, I would occasionally see people I knew pass by me, many of them were once my closest friends back when I was in school. I would look towards them hoping that they would recognize this sad pathetic face of mine, but they didn't. I would be angered because they ignored me. They all looked happy and doing well and here I was, sitting half-dead against a concrete block begging for change. I would begin to have paranoid thoughts about why they did not come to my aid when I was in need of help, but in reality I was just too ashamed of my current situation and to prideful to ask any favour of them.
However, one day my parents happened to pass by me. When I saw them I felt a surge of emotion through me for the first time in years as tears began to form in my eyes. I do not know whether I was crying in shame at what I had become or tears of joy at the hope that they may take me home. Either way I was left crying on the streets and as I mustered up whatever strength I had to make my way towards them they took notice of me. I held my head down in shame as all I do was crawl and drag myself towards them. As I was about to look up, I expected a warm smile and greeting from them, but instead there came a shreik of horror from my mother. Even through my tear filled eyes I could see the look of fear on her face and as I looked into her eyes I could tell that she no longer recognized me. To her, the son she remembered had died long ago and all that kneeled in front of her was just another crazy bum on the streets. My father pulled her away and threw a mean hook to my jaw. I landed square on the pavement, I tasted blood in my mouth and I could tell that my father had knocked out a couple of teeth. During this whole commotion a police officer came into the fray and handcuffed me. As I was being pulled away by the officer I saw my mother crying into my father's chest as he coldly stared at me. That was the last image I saw of my parents until years later.
A few days later I was released and thrown back onto the streets. I decided here and then that I had nothing to live for anymore. I decided to commit suicide. I began to make my way towards the bridge as I had decided to jump off it and drown in the water. Slowly I began to make my way towards the bridge, fear began to settle into me. I had no idea what death would be like and the very thought of just nothingness began to make me feel queazy. I began thinking to myself, "if just one person smiles at me... I will live on no matter what else happens". However, it was late in the night and I had passed by very few people. The few people that did pass by me shoved me out of the way or simply j-walked to the other side of the street. With the little strength I had, I could not walk straight and so I swayed back and forth. Finally I had reached the middle of the bridge and no one had smiled at me. I thought to myself, "this is it". As I stumbled to get on top of the railing I slipped and bumped into something. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was warm. I figured it was just someone taking a late night stroll and that this would only aggravate the person. Perhaps their anger would be calmed if I had jumped then and now, but to my surprise the person helped me on my feet and asked me, " are you alright?". I looked up and it was a woman and to my surprise, she was smiling at me. That is when I met her.
Section 2:
I do not remember how I first responded to her kind words of worry for me, but I can never forget what would follow. After she had gotten me straight up she noticed that I was a bit pale in the face and had heard a small rumble coming from my stomach. She told me to sit by the railing as she would return with some food and water. I reluctantly did so as I had no energy left to move. The fear and adrenaline that had fueled my body to jump was all but spent. I barely had enough energy to keep my eyes opened. I really wondered why, now of all times, did someone choose to care about someone as insignificant and hopeless as me. Upon first glance at myself all one could see was a weary, time worn face. Heavy bags under the eyes, a long unshaven beard, long greasy hair under an old baseball cap and old torn up clothes. I was nothing more than a typical bum, so why now would anyone show the slightest bit of care? These questions constantly pounded my head like the repeating sound of a jack hammer on pavement until she returned.
As she promised, she came back with some food. It was nothing spectacular, just a jr. burger, some fries and a small drink, but as I bit down on that burger I could feel tears flowing down my cheeks. It wasn't that the food was spectularly delicious, but that I was just so grateful for this one act of kindness shown by this one woman. My gratitude could have only been expressed through those tears streaming down my cheeks. Even as the tears mixed with the oils of the burger's meat I continued to chew the burger slowly, savouring every bit of it as I could. Slowly I would chew a few fries after ever bite of the burger only to wash it down with the drink. Eventually I finished the meal. There I sat, in utter shock and amazement To find such a person in this cold city was nothing short of a miracle. Among the tens of thousands of cold stares that I received daily, I had somehow managed to find this one woman who would give me a warm smile. Not even a baby would smile at me! I felt a sense of joy and for the first time in years I could proudly say that I was happy.
During this whole commotion I had not taken notice of her reaction, but eventually I noticed that she bending over and smiling at me. She could tell just how elated I was for receiving the meal. Immediately to show my thanks I bowed down on all fours thanking her over and over again. Even though I was in such an embarassing position and thought she may have been disgusted by it, she merely continued to smile. I did not know what to say to her and as I racked my mind for something to say to her she asked me, "so, what were you doing out here late at night?". The question left me speechless as I hesistated to answer it with, "I was attempting to commit suicide". As I tried to find a more suitable answer she merely jumped out and said. "Oh, I know. You must have come here to take a look at the full moon tonight!". It was only when she said this that I noticed the full moon above. The sight left me in awe. I had never seen a full moon such as this before. It was truly one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen in my life. Unconciously my right hand reached out for the moon. As soon as I took notice I immediately drew it back so as to avoid any awkward glances from her; however, it seems she did take notice as she said, "I get it now, you stood on the railing to try and reach the moon. I'll try it too". And as she finsihed saying it, she immediately climbed onto the railing and reached out for the moon.
As she reached out for the moon she slipped, but luckily I caught her as she was falling back. With that I mustered up some courage to speak for the first time in a while. I asked her why she was out here late at night and she merely replied that she wanted to see the moon, nothing more. She said that there wasn't anywhere else in the city where the moon looked so beautiful. I asked why she was so transfixed by the moon. She didn't know why, there was just something about the sight of the moon that stirred this feeling inside of her. Suddenly, I had the urge to draw. Before my days on the streets I was an art student, but after repeated failures to gain recognition I withdrew from the school and found myself here where I am. I old the woman that if she were to bring me a pencil and paper, I would draw a picture of the moon for her. As I said this her face lit up with joy and I could tell just how happy she was. At that moment I felt a sense of pride and embarassment. One I oculd finally put what artistic skills I had to use, but at the same time this was probably the only time I've ever made a woman so happy. Without further word she ran off to fetch the two items I needed and there I was just standing by the railing look up the full moon.
Section 3:
It was about half an hour until she finally returned with the pencil and paper. Upon looking at her as she returned she was bent over with her hands on her knees as she was panting, short of breath. It seemed that she had run towards the nearest convenience store and back. As she handed me the pencil and paper I searched for a suitable place to lay the paper down. Luckily there was a nice smooth surface along the railing and I quickly put myself to work. I only had one sheet of paper to work with and it had been years since I last drew something, but to return the kindness this woman showed me I put everything I had into that drawing. I focused on every little detail I could make out until finally the drawing was complete. Not since my first piece of artwork had I felt any sense of joy and accomplishment at something I had created. As I took one last look at it, I humbly gave it to the woman while saying to her that I was by no means a great artist.
As she took the paper she gazed deeply into it as she held it up to the moonlight. I stood to the side of her and that sight of her holding up my drawing to the moon stirred a feeling inside of me. Even now, years later that scene on the bridge is etched into the very fibre of my being. It was truly a beautiful sight. If there ever was such a perfect moment in my life, it was then with that woman on the bridge. She would continue to gaze at it for another ten seconds or so until she finally fold up the piece of paper and placed it in her pocket. She then asked me if I would meet her here every night. The question startled me, no doubt about that, but she was the first person to generally want my company in a long time and I had no reason to deny her request. As such, I quickly replied that I would meet her here everynight, but then I began to wonder what for and so I asked her. She said that she loved my drawing, that there was just something about it that made it special. She had no sense of art by any means, but there was just something she got from looking at my drawing. She asked me if I would contine to draw for her every night if she brought some pencils and papers. I had no reason to say no as she was the first in a very long time to appreciate my art.
And so every night following that occasion we would meet on that bridge and every night she would ask me to draw something different. What she asked me to draw each night varied. Some of the items she requested were as simple as a uniquely shaped rock, while others were a bit more complex with a ship anchored at the harbour near the bridge. I never complained though because I would at least have company, if not for her I would be dead. Whatever she asked of from me, I would obediantly comply as fast as I could. This relationship, if I may call it that, lasted for weeks on end. This very well were the happiest times in my life and I could not have asked for more. Even as she provided me with the necessary materials to complete the drawings she asked for, she would also bring some food for me as some form of payment for the drawings. At first I reluctantly accepted as she was doing too much for me, but overtime hunger can change even the most stubborn of fools. However, even with this new found food source I vowed to never let this get to my head. I would never allow myself to arrogantly rely on this woman for food no matter how generous she is. I simply couldn't, whatever little pride or dignity I had left simply wouldn't allow it.
However, even that pride and dignity wouldn't hold up all the time. Even though I call these times the happiest times of my life, it did not mean that everything was perfect. It was only when I was with her that I felt happy. The days felt like eternity until she came to the bridge. There I'd be on the bridge sitting idle and patiently waiting for her to return, as if I were some lowly yet faithful dog. Though the days felt unbearable I endured for the most part. However, on one such occasion the ever creeping sense of despair and doubt overcame me once again. Fear, anxiety and paranoia infested my thoughts as I tried to patiently wait for her return. As if her return would cleanse me of all these ill thoughts filling my head. I admit it now that back then I somewhat viewed her as a drug to heal me of all these cancerous thoughts in my head, but sometimes her simple presense was not enough as there were times I would put up a front to hide any hint of being down or depressed. So as to not giver her any reason to leave me forever. One day though, I could not hide it perfectly and she could tell. Unconciously as I drew another picture for her a tear streamed down my cheek and she took notice. It was then that she wanted to know my story.
Section 4:
In the short time the two of us spent together on that bridge we would rarely speak about our personal lives, not that I had much of a personal life in recent years, but for some reason she felt that this was the right time to ask. I didn't know if I could tell her. I didn't know if I wanted to tell her, but there she was, probably the only person to ever want to hear my life story. As I began to speak my voice shook as fear crept into my heart. I did not know what kind of reaction to expect from her, but I trudged on through my story. As a child I grew up in a typical nuclear family, one father, one mohter, married of course and myself, the only child. My father was a professional football player while my mother was a member of the city's own orchestra. Seeing as my parents were in highly esteemed professions it was only natural that I was raised to be just as sucessful as them. My father wanted to build his legacy as a family of sportsmen, however I was never gifted with any physical prowess needed to endure and reach the professional level. My mother on the other hand wished that I would follow in her stead and take up music, but even in music I had no talent.
It was not until my early teens that I discovered my talent for art. As I moved on through highschool I gained a sort of fandom and increase in popularity because of my art. Even my teachers in art class were impressed at my work, but I admit I became very conceited with all these complitments as I would often argue with some of the teachers or outwright skip their classes. When the time came to apply for post-secondary education I chose to apply to the top art schools in the nation. It was a lofty goal and so I constructed a portfolio I deemed one hundred percent acceptable by all schools. I was confident in my skills that I would be accepted to where ever I applied. Finally when it came to telling my parents what career I would pursue I confidently proclaimed that I would become a great artist. Though both my parents were disappointed that I could not follow in their footsteps they did their very best to be proud and supporitve of the talent I did have. Knowing this I vowed to make them proud and eagerly awaited for the letters of acceptance. Eventually they did come and I chose to go to the most prestigeous of them all.
On the first day of school I confidently walked through the main entrance anxious for my first class. I planned to wow my fellow peers and professors much like I did in highschool. As the class began I waited for an opportunity to showcase some work I had done during class when finally I got my chance. I proudly displayed it for my professor and classmates to see and as I stood there awaiting cheers and applauds from the room there only came harsh criticism from my professor as well as some sneers and snickers from some classmates. I stood there shocked, never before had a piece of art I displayed been criticized, much less mocked by others. I quietly retreated back into my seat and remained silent the rest of the class. As class ended everyone left class quietly, but I could still hear remarks about what a fool I made of myself on the first day. Finally as the professor left the classroom I stood up and took a look at what my fellow classmates had done. Their work was astounding! Though we all had the same model to work with there was just something else about their drawings that one couldn't find in mine. I was left perpexled as to what it was their drawings had that mine didn't and so I remained in class creating more and more drawings trying to capture what everyone else had. Eventually I gave up and retreated to my dorm room where my thoughts were flooded with possibilities of what the other had done that I hadn't. I couldn't find my answer.
Things didn't get better as the school year went on. I had begun skipping classes out of paranoia that my professor was just out to get me, that he and my fellow classmates couldn't handle a genius such as myself. But, as I stared more and more into my artwork I began to realize that there was nothing special about my drawings. I became disgusted with them. One night I took all of my drawings and burned them all to ashes. I did not care for them anymore. After that event I withdrew to my dormitory where I remained in bed, I believe during this period I became extremely depressed. Over the course of a few weeks I lost a large amount of weight and became addicted to anti-depressants. Those around me began to worry and soon the dean took notice of my situation. The dean found my situation as unfit to continue schooling and as a result expellemed me from the school. What was I to do? After I proudly proclaimed to make my parents proud I was now an depressed, expelled student with an addiction to anti-depressants. I couldn't bare the shame of telling my parents of my failure. It was then that I decided to turn to the streets and the rest she could make out for herself.
And so there you have it. Hope you enjoyed. It is rather lengthy and written raw, so there are still many edits that I have to make.
Section 1:
"Do you have a dream?", she asked. Those words are all that I can remember of her. A woman I had met many years ago when I was on the streets, lost and afraid, with no direction in life and no motivation to live. I remember those days, they were long and lonely as I sat motionless on the sun baked pavement of the city. I remember the looks of utter disgust by the few that glanced down at me. To them I was nothing more than another pathetic, jobless, parasite on the welfare system, and then there were the looks of pity by the few that took the time to leave me some money, whether it be a couple of pennies to a few dollars. When I was first on the streets, I hated receiving these looks and would often lash out at these people. This didn't help much as it only drew the attention towards the police where I would eventually be subdued and sent to a holding cell overnight only to be tossed out onto the streets the next day.
Eventually as time passed I became apathetic towards those glances at me. I just didn't have the energy anymore to show emotion. As the days wanned further on, I would occasionally see people I knew pass by me, many of them were once my closest friends back when I was in school. I would look towards them hoping that they would recognize this sad pathetic face of mine, but they didn't. I would be angered because they ignored me. They all looked happy and doing well and here I was, sitting half-dead against a concrete block begging for change. I would begin to have paranoid thoughts about why they did not come to my aid when I was in need of help, but in reality I was just too ashamed of my current situation and to prideful to ask any favour of them.
However, one day my parents happened to pass by me. When I saw them I felt a surge of emotion through me for the first time in years as tears began to form in my eyes. I do not know whether I was crying in shame at what I had become or tears of joy at the hope that they may take me home. Either way I was left crying on the streets and as I mustered up whatever strength I had to make my way towards them they took notice of me. I held my head down in shame as all I do was crawl and drag myself towards them. As I was about to look up, I expected a warm smile and greeting from them, but instead there came a shreik of horror from my mother. Even through my tear filled eyes I could see the look of fear on her face and as I looked into her eyes I could tell that she no longer recognized me. To her, the son she remembered had died long ago and all that kneeled in front of her was just another crazy bum on the streets. My father pulled her away and threw a mean hook to my jaw. I landed square on the pavement, I tasted blood in my mouth and I could tell that my father had knocked out a couple of teeth. During this whole commotion a police officer came into the fray and handcuffed me. As I was being pulled away by the officer I saw my mother crying into my father's chest as he coldly stared at me. That was the last image I saw of my parents until years later.
A few days later I was released and thrown back onto the streets. I decided here and then that I had nothing to live for anymore. I decided to commit suicide. I began to make my way towards the bridge as I had decided to jump off it and drown in the water. Slowly I began to make my way towards the bridge, fear began to settle into me. I had no idea what death would be like and the very thought of just nothingness began to make me feel queazy. I began thinking to myself, "if just one person smiles at me... I will live on no matter what else happens". However, it was late in the night and I had passed by very few people. The few people that did pass by me shoved me out of the way or simply j-walked to the other side of the street. With the little strength I had, I could not walk straight and so I swayed back and forth. Finally I had reached the middle of the bridge and no one had smiled at me. I thought to myself, "this is it". As I stumbled to get on top of the railing I slipped and bumped into something. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was warm. I figured it was just someone taking a late night stroll and that this would only aggravate the person. Perhaps their anger would be calmed if I had jumped then and now, but to my surprise the person helped me on my feet and asked me, " are you alright?". I looked up and it was a woman and to my surprise, she was smiling at me. That is when I met her.
Section 2:
I do not remember how I first responded to her kind words of worry for me, but I can never forget what would follow. After she had gotten me straight up she noticed that I was a bit pale in the face and had heard a small rumble coming from my stomach. She told me to sit by the railing as she would return with some food and water. I reluctantly did so as I had no energy left to move. The fear and adrenaline that had fueled my body to jump was all but spent. I barely had enough energy to keep my eyes opened. I really wondered why, now of all times, did someone choose to care about someone as insignificant and hopeless as me. Upon first glance at myself all one could see was a weary, time worn face. Heavy bags under the eyes, a long unshaven beard, long greasy hair under an old baseball cap and old torn up clothes. I was nothing more than a typical bum, so why now would anyone show the slightest bit of care? These questions constantly pounded my head like the repeating sound of a jack hammer on pavement until she returned.
As she promised, she came back with some food. It was nothing spectacular, just a jr. burger, some fries and a small drink, but as I bit down on that burger I could feel tears flowing down my cheeks. It wasn't that the food was spectularly delicious, but that I was just so grateful for this one act of kindness shown by this one woman. My gratitude could have only been expressed through those tears streaming down my cheeks. Even as the tears mixed with the oils of the burger's meat I continued to chew the burger slowly, savouring every bit of it as I could. Slowly I would chew a few fries after ever bite of the burger only to wash it down with the drink. Eventually I finished the meal. There I sat, in utter shock and amazement To find such a person in this cold city was nothing short of a miracle. Among the tens of thousands of cold stares that I received daily, I had somehow managed to find this one woman who would give me a warm smile. Not even a baby would smile at me! I felt a sense of joy and for the first time in years I could proudly say that I was happy.
During this whole commotion I had not taken notice of her reaction, but eventually I noticed that she bending over and smiling at me. She could tell just how elated I was for receiving the meal. Immediately to show my thanks I bowed down on all fours thanking her over and over again. Even though I was in such an embarassing position and thought she may have been disgusted by it, she merely continued to smile. I did not know what to say to her and as I racked my mind for something to say to her she asked me, "so, what were you doing out here late at night?". The question left me speechless as I hesistated to answer it with, "I was attempting to commit suicide". As I tried to find a more suitable answer she merely jumped out and said. "Oh, I know. You must have come here to take a look at the full moon tonight!". It was only when she said this that I noticed the full moon above. The sight left me in awe. I had never seen a full moon such as this before. It was truly one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen in my life. Unconciously my right hand reached out for the moon. As soon as I took notice I immediately drew it back so as to avoid any awkward glances from her; however, it seems she did take notice as she said, "I get it now, you stood on the railing to try and reach the moon. I'll try it too". And as she finsihed saying it, she immediately climbed onto the railing and reached out for the moon.
As she reached out for the moon she slipped, but luckily I caught her as she was falling back. With that I mustered up some courage to speak for the first time in a while. I asked her why she was out here late at night and she merely replied that she wanted to see the moon, nothing more. She said that there wasn't anywhere else in the city where the moon looked so beautiful. I asked why she was so transfixed by the moon. She didn't know why, there was just something about the sight of the moon that stirred this feeling inside of her. Suddenly, I had the urge to draw. Before my days on the streets I was an art student, but after repeated failures to gain recognition I withdrew from the school and found myself here where I am. I old the woman that if she were to bring me a pencil and paper, I would draw a picture of the moon for her. As I said this her face lit up with joy and I could tell just how happy she was. At that moment I felt a sense of pride and embarassment. One I oculd finally put what artistic skills I had to use, but at the same time this was probably the only time I've ever made a woman so happy. Without further word she ran off to fetch the two items I needed and there I was just standing by the railing look up the full moon.
Section 3:
It was about half an hour until she finally returned with the pencil and paper. Upon looking at her as she returned she was bent over with her hands on her knees as she was panting, short of breath. It seemed that she had run towards the nearest convenience store and back. As she handed me the pencil and paper I searched for a suitable place to lay the paper down. Luckily there was a nice smooth surface along the railing and I quickly put myself to work. I only had one sheet of paper to work with and it had been years since I last drew something, but to return the kindness this woman showed me I put everything I had into that drawing. I focused on every little detail I could make out until finally the drawing was complete. Not since my first piece of artwork had I felt any sense of joy and accomplishment at something I had created. As I took one last look at it, I humbly gave it to the woman while saying to her that I was by no means a great artist.
As she took the paper she gazed deeply into it as she held it up to the moonlight. I stood to the side of her and that sight of her holding up my drawing to the moon stirred a feeling inside of me. Even now, years later that scene on the bridge is etched into the very fibre of my being. It was truly a beautiful sight. If there ever was such a perfect moment in my life, it was then with that woman on the bridge. She would continue to gaze at it for another ten seconds or so until she finally fold up the piece of paper and placed it in her pocket. She then asked me if I would meet her here every night. The question startled me, no doubt about that, but she was the first person to generally want my company in a long time and I had no reason to deny her request. As such, I quickly replied that I would meet her here everynight, but then I began to wonder what for and so I asked her. She said that she loved my drawing, that there was just something about it that made it special. She had no sense of art by any means, but there was just something she got from looking at my drawing. She asked me if I would contine to draw for her every night if she brought some pencils and papers. I had no reason to say no as she was the first in a very long time to appreciate my art.
And so every night following that occasion we would meet on that bridge and every night she would ask me to draw something different. What she asked me to draw each night varied. Some of the items she requested were as simple as a uniquely shaped rock, while others were a bit more complex with a ship anchored at the harbour near the bridge. I never complained though because I would at least have company, if not for her I would be dead. Whatever she asked of from me, I would obediantly comply as fast as I could. This relationship, if I may call it that, lasted for weeks on end. This very well were the happiest times in my life and I could not have asked for more. Even as she provided me with the necessary materials to complete the drawings she asked for, she would also bring some food for me as some form of payment for the drawings. At first I reluctantly accepted as she was doing too much for me, but overtime hunger can change even the most stubborn of fools. However, even with this new found food source I vowed to never let this get to my head. I would never allow myself to arrogantly rely on this woman for food no matter how generous she is. I simply couldn't, whatever little pride or dignity I had left simply wouldn't allow it.
However, even that pride and dignity wouldn't hold up all the time. Even though I call these times the happiest times of my life, it did not mean that everything was perfect. It was only when I was with her that I felt happy. The days felt like eternity until she came to the bridge. There I'd be on the bridge sitting idle and patiently waiting for her to return, as if I were some lowly yet faithful dog. Though the days felt unbearable I endured for the most part. However, on one such occasion the ever creeping sense of despair and doubt overcame me once again. Fear, anxiety and paranoia infested my thoughts as I tried to patiently wait for her return. As if her return would cleanse me of all these ill thoughts filling my head. I admit it now that back then I somewhat viewed her as a drug to heal me of all these cancerous thoughts in my head, but sometimes her simple presense was not enough as there were times I would put up a front to hide any hint of being down or depressed. So as to not giver her any reason to leave me forever. One day though, I could not hide it perfectly and she could tell. Unconciously as I drew another picture for her a tear streamed down my cheek and she took notice. It was then that she wanted to know my story.
Section 4:
In the short time the two of us spent together on that bridge we would rarely speak about our personal lives, not that I had much of a personal life in recent years, but for some reason she felt that this was the right time to ask. I didn't know if I could tell her. I didn't know if I wanted to tell her, but there she was, probably the only person to ever want to hear my life story. As I began to speak my voice shook as fear crept into my heart. I did not know what kind of reaction to expect from her, but I trudged on through my story. As a child I grew up in a typical nuclear family, one father, one mohter, married of course and myself, the only child. My father was a professional football player while my mother was a member of the city's own orchestra. Seeing as my parents were in highly esteemed professions it was only natural that I was raised to be just as sucessful as them. My father wanted to build his legacy as a family of sportsmen, however I was never gifted with any physical prowess needed to endure and reach the professional level. My mother on the other hand wished that I would follow in her stead and take up music, but even in music I had no talent.
It was not until my early teens that I discovered my talent for art. As I moved on through highschool I gained a sort of fandom and increase in popularity because of my art. Even my teachers in art class were impressed at my work, but I admit I became very conceited with all these complitments as I would often argue with some of the teachers or outwright skip their classes. When the time came to apply for post-secondary education I chose to apply to the top art schools in the nation. It was a lofty goal and so I constructed a portfolio I deemed one hundred percent acceptable by all schools. I was confident in my skills that I would be accepted to where ever I applied. Finally when it came to telling my parents what career I would pursue I confidently proclaimed that I would become a great artist. Though both my parents were disappointed that I could not follow in their footsteps they did their very best to be proud and supporitve of the talent I did have. Knowing this I vowed to make them proud and eagerly awaited for the letters of acceptance. Eventually they did come and I chose to go to the most prestigeous of them all.
On the first day of school I confidently walked through the main entrance anxious for my first class. I planned to wow my fellow peers and professors much like I did in highschool. As the class began I waited for an opportunity to showcase some work I had done during class when finally I got my chance. I proudly displayed it for my professor and classmates to see and as I stood there awaiting cheers and applauds from the room there only came harsh criticism from my professor as well as some sneers and snickers from some classmates. I stood there shocked, never before had a piece of art I displayed been criticized, much less mocked by others. I quietly retreated back into my seat and remained silent the rest of the class. As class ended everyone left class quietly, but I could still hear remarks about what a fool I made of myself on the first day. Finally as the professor left the classroom I stood up and took a look at what my fellow classmates had done. Their work was astounding! Though we all had the same model to work with there was just something else about their drawings that one couldn't find in mine. I was left perpexled as to what it was their drawings had that mine didn't and so I remained in class creating more and more drawings trying to capture what everyone else had. Eventually I gave up and retreated to my dorm room where my thoughts were flooded with possibilities of what the other had done that I hadn't. I couldn't find my answer.
Things didn't get better as the school year went on. I had begun skipping classes out of paranoia that my professor was just out to get me, that he and my fellow classmates couldn't handle a genius such as myself. But, as I stared more and more into my artwork I began to realize that there was nothing special about my drawings. I became disgusted with them. One night I took all of my drawings and burned them all to ashes. I did not care for them anymore. After that event I withdrew to my dormitory where I remained in bed, I believe during this period I became extremely depressed. Over the course of a few weeks I lost a large amount of weight and became addicted to anti-depressants. Those around me began to worry and soon the dean took notice of my situation. The dean found my situation as unfit to continue schooling and as a result expellemed me from the school. What was I to do? After I proudly proclaimed to make my parents proud I was now an depressed, expelled student with an addiction to anti-depressants. I couldn't bare the shame of telling my parents of my failure. It was then that I decided to turn to the streets and the rest she could make out for herself.
And so there you have it. Hope you enjoyed. It is rather lengthy and written raw, so there are still many edits that I have to make.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Quick Post
So I just stumbled upon an earlier poem. Looking back on it the poem was kind of an experiment into a different style. I didn't really like it much but I'll share it anyways.
Even Though
Even though...
You don't have feelings for me,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
You and me will never be,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
You'll always chase after another guy,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
All they ever do is make you cry,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
You're despised and hated,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
You're ridiculed and humiliated,
I'll be there for you,
Because none of that matters,
Because I'll always love you...
The End
Even though...
You don't have feelings for me,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
You and me will never be,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
You'll always chase after another guy,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
All they ever do is make you cry,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
You're despised and hated,
I'll be there for you,
Even though...
You're ridiculed and humiliated,
I'll be there for you,
Because none of that matters,
Because I'll always love you...
The End
And there you have it, hopefully you enjoyed it. If not well then the feelings mutual because I didn't like it much either.
2 New short poems to add
Days of Surrender
There was a feeling inside us so tender,
Memories rise, causing us to remember,
Those days we chose to surrender,
Hearts to those of the opposite gender,
So surely we held happiness in our grasp,
So surely we felt we were up to the task,
Days of sadness and despair were merely a mask,
As we stood here with bated breath withholding a gasp,
For many days we stood strong,
Feeling these days would go on and on,
Any negative feelings simply didn't belong,
But those days of Surrender are now long and gone,
The End
&
The End
There was a feeling inside us so tender,
Memories rise, causing us to remember,
Those days we chose to surrender,
Hearts to those of the opposite gender,
So surely we held happiness in our grasp,
So surely we felt we were up to the task,
Days of sadness and despair were merely a mask,
As we stood here with bated breath withholding a gasp,
For many days we stood strong,
Feeling these days would go on and on,
Any negative feelings simply didn't belong,
But those days of Surrender are now long and gone,
The End
&
Fulfilling Love
When worst comes to worst,
It's you I turn to first,
Your love quenches my thirst,
Causing my heart to feel like it will burst,
There are no bounds to what you do,
Your words will forever ring true,
Their depth deeper than the sea so blue,
And who I want to be with is you,
When worst comes to worst,
It's you I turn to first,
Your love quenches my thirst,
Causing my heart to feel like it will burst,
There are no bounds to what you do,
Your words will forever ring true,
Their depth deeper than the sea so blue,
And who I want to be with is you,
The End
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Just another poetry entry
Time
Time passes me by,
As I just sit here and lie,
Quiet and still as I try,
To write down whats on my mind,
I just don't know anymore,
Ahead are just closing doors,
Running towards them my legs feel sore,
Short on time with few options to explore,
Short on time to look back,
Time running out, mind losing track,
Not an observation, just a simple fact,
Of matters concerning my life that seem to detract,
Any feelings of happiness to be felt,
Walls of ice around my heart refuse to melt,
Enclosing myself further into this shell,
Thinking to myself, "I might as well,
Just give up on myself as I am nothing,
Simply put I am nothing,
Never have been anything,
Never will be anything",
Yet within those depressing lines,
There will be people that will find,
This is just a simple impulse of the mind,
And will tell me the sun really does shine,
Whether the words become true,
There is a power in words and what they can do,
Whether they be lies I can see through,
Or a blind truth I'm unable to see from you,
The End
- Paolo Miguel Maquiraya 10/03/09
Time passes me by,
As I just sit here and lie,
Quiet and still as I try,
To write down whats on my mind,
I just don't know anymore,
Ahead are just closing doors,
Running towards them my legs feel sore,
Short on time with few options to explore,
Short on time to look back,
Time running out, mind losing track,
Not an observation, just a simple fact,
Of matters concerning my life that seem to detract,
Any feelings of happiness to be felt,
Walls of ice around my heart refuse to melt,
Enclosing myself further into this shell,
Thinking to myself, "I might as well,
Just give up on myself as I am nothing,
Simply put I am nothing,
Never have been anything,
Never will be anything",
Yet within those depressing lines,
There will be people that will find,
This is just a simple impulse of the mind,
And will tell me the sun really does shine,
Whether the words become true,
There is a power in words and what they can do,
Whether they be lies I can see through,
Or a blind truth I'm unable to see from you,
The End
- Paolo Miguel Maquiraya 10/03/09
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Short Entry - New Poem
Work At It
I'm not the greatest guy,
I come off as quiet and shy,
But talking to you helps me get by,
That's just the simple truth, no lie,
Right now I'm just weak,
With an outlook that is bleak,
But I'm trying to turn the cheek,
To that brighter day I seek,
So I let these words set sail,
On these waters that is my tale,
And although I may fail,
Or just give up and bail,
And though I'm dense and clumsy,
That's just me,
My fallible personality,
And that's who you'll see,
But I'll try to work at it,
Starting bit by bit,
And though I may stumble upon pits,
You're that person that makes it worth it,
The End
I'm not the greatest guy,
I come off as quiet and shy,
But talking to you helps me get by,
That's just the simple truth, no lie,
Right now I'm just weak,
With an outlook that is bleak,
But I'm trying to turn the cheek,
To that brighter day I seek,
So I let these words set sail,
On these waters that is my tale,
And although I may fail,
Or just give up and bail,
And though I'm dense and clumsy,
That's just me,
My fallible personality,
And that's who you'll see,
But I'll try to work at it,
Starting bit by bit,
And though I may stumble upon pits,
You're that person that makes it worth it,
The End
- Paolo Miguel Maquiraya 01/03/09
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Just in an Apologetic mood
Apologies
Whether you see it as truth or lies,
I just want you to realize,
The words here are just to summarize,
All my regrets as I begin to apologize,
There's no amount of words I can say,
That'll make those past troubles seem okay,
As I look for a brighter day,
And try to find my way,
Back to being your friend,
Cause this is not where I want this to end,
And I just don't want to pretend,
That this friendship didn't break but bend,
So I send you this apology,
Meant for you, not about me,
And then maybe you'll see,
That I'm just really sorry,
The End
Whether you see it as truth or lies,
I just want you to realize,
The words here are just to summarize,
All my regrets as I begin to apologize,
There's no amount of words I can say,
That'll make those past troubles seem okay,
As I look for a brighter day,
And try to find my way,
Back to being your friend,
Cause this is not where I want this to end,
And I just don't want to pretend,
That this friendship didn't break but bend,
So I send you this apology,
Meant for you, not about me,
And then maybe you'll see,
That I'm just really sorry,
The End
I want to be your friend again...
This is a rare poem for me since I actually wrote this with someone in mind.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Just a quick entry
First Glance
From that first glance,
I felt like taking a chance,
To try and be your one and only,
To be the one to never make you feel lonely,
But I'm left scared,
To have even dared,
That I could be the one,
So I quit before anything is even done,
The End
From that first glance,
I felt like taking a chance,
To try and be your one and only,
To be the one to never make you feel lonely,
But I'm left scared,
To have even dared,
That I could be the one,
So I quit before anything is even done,
The End
So this is just a short poem I came up with to sum up how I usually feel when I meet a cute girl.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
New Poems
Just an update on a few new poems I've written.
Inspired by Wall-E's desire to hold hands with Eve.
- Paolo Maquiraya 16/02/09
I know, the last one has an Obama reference in it. Yes, it does sound stupid but I thought it would have been fun to end it off like that.
The Pledge
Fantasy or reality,
Things lost in my sanity,
Because there's something blinding my eyes,
Whether it be truth or lies,
It has taken on this name called love,
And it's something I know nothing of,
But it's something I've never felt before,
Like something that's been hidden behind a door,
But now there's someone in my life,
Someone there to be with me through strife,
To support me and keep me strong,
No matter what comes along,
And though I know not how long this will last,
And if it will be another regret in my past,
I will say this on this day,
I love you and I have nothing more to say.
The End
Inspired by Wall-E's desire to hold hands with Eve.
Holding Hands
I just want to hold your hand,
And maybe then I'll understand,
What it takes to be your man,
Just by being here offering what I can,
Though I know there's not much I can offer,
And sometimes I think I could be a bother,
All I can promise is that I'll be there,
So that you know that I do care,
And by holding your hand,
Maybe you'll come to understand,
That I'm not just another man,
That relationships are possible if you believe the words "Yes We Can".
The End
- Paolo Maquiraya 16/02/09
I know, the last one has an Obama reference in it. Yes, it does sound stupid but I thought it would have been fun to end it off like that.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Discovering and Wondering
I think young teens now rush too quickly into relationships. Now I'm not saying that in those situations it never works out, nothing is ever certain. What I am saying or in this case suggesting is that young teens take their time. I recently re-read a portion of this Japanese Manga (train_man Vol. 2 by Hidenori Hara, released by Viz Media) and there was some dialogue that I wholeheartedly agree with. Here is the exact quote from the volume:
"Here's what I think
...
It's most exciting before you know how each other feels.
You squeeze her hand and she squeezes back
...
Your eyes meet and she gives you a smile
...
You're always on the edge of your seat because you're not exactly sure how she feels
...
Those times are probably the most enjoyable
..."
...
It's most exciting before you know how each other feels.
You squeeze her hand and she squeezes back
...
Your eyes meet and she gives you a smile
...
You're always on the edge of your seat because you're not exactly sure how she feels
...
Those times are probably the most enjoyable
..."
Unfortunately the character is unnamed and is just drawn as a nameless user on the 2Channel forum however I simply have to agree with what he says. Thinking back on all the girls that I've had a crush on and liked, the most happiest times for me were when I didn't know how they felt. It really was quite a roller coaster ride of thoughts and emotions during those times. Though regrettably none of those emotional pursuits ever went anywhere I always look back at those times and they always bring a smile to my face. Those times where you're discovering more and more about the person you like (whether it goes anywhere or not) are the times everyone should treasure and experience. I think that if people took more time going through all that people will find that right person. Nowadays I think young teens are too quick to pull the trigger and say they're a couple (boyfriend and girlfriend) and that they're dating. In my opinion its exactly that quick trigger relationship that leads to all the drama in their lives. The times may have changed but from this line:
"And Love - it remains the same"
(That line comes from an untitled poem by Tupac Shakur, The Rose That Grew From Concrete, MTV Books) Tupac says it always remains the same. Love will always remain the same so despite the way people go at love just appears to have changed it really hasn't. What people have done is go along with this world's life style of going at things faster. But love cannot be rushed and so I say to all the young teens to take it slow. There's no need to rush.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
Everyone has come to affiliate this saying with a lack of progress in their own personal lives but I had a thought about this saying and instead of being such a negative comment it is by far probably the most positive thing that can happen in your life. People get so caught up in their own personal lives that when they see themselves taking one step forward and then two steps back they can only help but feel frustrated for their lack of progress in life. However being put into that situation people get so caught up thinking about their own troubles that they can't stop and take a look around them. That frustration of what appears to be moving back instead of forward is what keeps people from seeing things beyond their own feet. When you feel like you're in this situation take a good long pause and look all around you. You'll see the larger picture that has been laid in front of you. You'll find that instead of blindly pushing on you were able to see that bigger picture that has brought out and that its not just you looking at that larger picture but that everyone else who was so caught up in trying to walk forward is there with you. When you all you see that larger picture you'll find that moving back is the best way to move forward.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Minus the first 2, Probably my most solid group of poems
So I kinda lied, I'm a poem short of what I thought my collection was (which was 21 poems) but either way, most of these are some of my recent stuff. Right now I like them a lot more than my older stuff but who knows? That may change in a few months or so. For some of the poems I've put down suggestions on songs that I felt enhanced their enjoyment. Hopefully you'll enjoy the music too.
Lost on this one way road called life
As I lie on my bed this night,
I realize how lost I am in life,
Dark clouds come and blur my sight,
The rain pours on, bringing a storm of strife,
Directed, Guided, Dictated all my life,
Oppressed, Restricted, with no choice,
Quieted, Molded, Shaped all my life,
No decisions, no freedom, no voice,
Now as this road reaches its next border,
I'm discovering myself, my voice, my mind,
Just as my life falls apart, leaving chaos and no order,
What a mess as I crash and careen into this bind,
Of this one way road called life,
Boxed in, closed off, spun out,
Leaving me with no direction, just strife,
I'm left alone, by myself, I Shout,
On this one way road, I am alone, I am lost,
On this one way road, why is it so hard to be found,
On this one way road, my body gives into the cold frost,
On this one way road, I am alone, scared, afraid to make a sound,
The End
Time
We're Bound by love, Bound by hate,
Now its time to change the world before its too late,
We'r Bound by differences, Bound by ignorance,
Now its time to finally apply millienia of experience,
We're Bound by selfishness, Bound by greed,
Now its time to set the chained people free,
We're Chained by fear, Chained by sin,
Now Its time long overdue since Christ rose again,
Now Its time to raise our voices,
Now Its time to make our choices,
The masses have long been quiet,
Too long have the masses been on a diet,
Of lies, illusions and temptations,
Of glorious lives, cultures and nations,
When none of that even matters,
Because they've all led mankind to disasters,
HIV, AIDS and massacres,
Tell me why we go shopping instead of looking for cures?
No cures for cancer,
Spending money is the answer,
Wars, Genocides and the Holocaust,
Its time to change before all is lost,
To this day racism remains,
We haven't changed, its still here, do we have no shame?
Too content we remain,
Taking pleasure over pain,
So why don't we cope with our greed?
Instead of smoking up some weed,
Why do we try to numb the pain?
Finding a dealer to deal us some cocaine,
Why do people do meth?
When its surrounded with death?
Leave the drug dealer,
Go find yourself a healer,
Cause man needs to be healed,
The truth needs to be revealed,
That we're all the same,
That we share the same fears and pain,
That We all live, We all die,
So why do we turn the blind eye?
To the suffering of others,
When we put down the shutters,
That blind our eyes,
As we tell ourselves lies,
That everything's gonna be alright,
As long as I keep to myself and stay out of sight,
Because this world has nothing to do with me,
Because this isn't a world that I want to see,
But as this is being said,
Another kid ends up dead,
Lost to chaos and madness,
While his mother is left only grief and sadness,
The people stay quiet,
Just waiting to forget it,
As we remain silent in the darkest corners,
While another dead body is examined by the coroners,
So its time to make a change,
In this world that is so strange,
Because its long overdue,
And this change starts with you,
The End
We're Bound by love, Bound by hate,
Now its time to change the world before its too late,
We'r Bound by differences, Bound by ignorance,
Now its time to finally apply millienia of experience,
We're Bound by selfishness, Bound by greed,
Now its time to set the chained people free,
We're Chained by fear, Chained by sin,
Now Its time long overdue since Christ rose again,
Now Its time to raise our voices,
Now Its time to make our choices,
The masses have long been quiet,
Too long have the masses been on a diet,
Of lies, illusions and temptations,
Of glorious lives, cultures and nations,
When none of that even matters,
Because they've all led mankind to disasters,
HIV, AIDS and massacres,
Tell me why we go shopping instead of looking for cures?
No cures for cancer,
Spending money is the answer,
Wars, Genocides and the Holocaust,
Its time to change before all is lost,
To this day racism remains,
We haven't changed, its still here, do we have no shame?
Too content we remain,
Taking pleasure over pain,
So why don't we cope with our greed?
Instead of smoking up some weed,
Why do we try to numb the pain?
Finding a dealer to deal us some cocaine,
Why do people do meth?
When its surrounded with death?
Leave the drug dealer,
Go find yourself a healer,
Cause man needs to be healed,
The truth needs to be revealed,
That we're all the same,
That we share the same fears and pain,
That We all live, We all die,
So why do we turn the blind eye?
To the suffering of others,
When we put down the shutters,
That blind our eyes,
As we tell ourselves lies,
That everything's gonna be alright,
As long as I keep to myself and stay out of sight,
Because this world has nothing to do with me,
Because this isn't a world that I want to see,
But as this is being said,
Another kid ends up dead,
Lost to chaos and madness,
While his mother is left only grief and sadness,
The people stay quiet,
Just waiting to forget it,
As we remain silent in the darkest corners,
While another dead body is examined by the coroners,
So its time to make a change,
In this world that is so strange,
Because its long overdue,
And this change starts with you,
The End
Spring
I will be your spring to welcome you out of that cold winter,
But I know you will leave me for that happy summer,
But patiently I will stay here,
Vigilant and resolute without shedding a tear,
Knowing that I will only be a warm sight,
Whenever you are in need of flight,
From all the troubles you may face,
Because here with me you will always have a place,
Where you can forget and stay warm,
A place you can stay to weather the storm,
Because I am your spring after the winter,
To warm and melt away all feelings sad and bitter,
But that is all I am able to do for you,
Because you as well as I know too,
That there is someone out there for you,
In this world as vast as the great blue sea,
But alas I cannot help but feel saddened that it is not me,
The End
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=qEb4TG10jW8&feature=related
I will be your spring to welcome you out of that cold winter,
But I know you will leave me for that happy summer,
But patiently I will stay here,
Vigilant and resolute without shedding a tear,
Knowing that I will only be a warm sight,
Whenever you are in need of flight,
From all the troubles you may face,
Because here with me you will always have a place,
Where you can forget and stay warm,
A place you can stay to weather the storm,
Because I am your spring after the winter,
To warm and melt away all feelings sad and bitter,
But that is all I am able to do for you,
Because you as well as I know too,
That there is someone out there for you,
In this world as vast as the great blue sea,
But alas I cannot help but feel saddened that it is not me,
The End
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=qEb4TG10jW8&feature=related
Confrontations
Countless nights with thoughts spent on you,
Always hoping you would think about me too,
Day by day, these thoughts and feelings growing,
Doubts beginning to grow with the fear of knowing,
That what I feel is unrequited love,
That my head is just up there above,
That cloud number nine,
Where everything is fine,
But I still hold on to that slim feeling of hope,
Because it's always better than having to cope,
With the hopelessness that I'll feel here all alone,
That cold feeling that can reach your bones,
And that fear has hidden the best of me,
The me that you will never see,
Because that fear has locked me away,
Silencing me and preventing me to say,
You're all I ever think about,
You're smile uplifts me when I'm down and out,
You're the light that brightens my day,
You make it feel like everything is going to be okay,
Because you're more than another girl,
To me you're becoming my world,
And its because of that I am scared,
That all those times we shared,
May have only meant something more to me,
And that you might actually be different from what I see,
The End
Countless nights with thoughts spent on you,
Always hoping you would think about me too,
Day by day, these thoughts and feelings growing,
Doubts beginning to grow with the fear of knowing,
That what I feel is unrequited love,
That my head is just up there above,
That cloud number nine,
Where everything is fine,
But I still hold on to that slim feeling of hope,
Because it's always better than having to cope,
With the hopelessness that I'll feel here all alone,
That cold feeling that can reach your bones,
And that fear has hidden the best of me,
The me that you will never see,
Because that fear has locked me away,
Silencing me and preventing me to say,
You're all I ever think about,
You're smile uplifts me when I'm down and out,
You're the light that brightens my day,
You make it feel like everything is going to be okay,
Because you're more than another girl,
To me you're becoming my world,
And its because of that I am scared,
That all those times we shared,
May have only meant something more to me,
And that you might actually be different from what I see,
The End
Looking at myself
Through my exterior, I'm seen as inferior,
Told to be disgusted at what I see in this mirror,
Someone the opposite of beautiful,
Someone who should have been mindful,
Of the foods that they eat,
So that the standards meet,
Of what is deemed to be attractive,
And not someone clearly inactive,
That's how my mind has been conditioned to think,
Of weight loss and exercise pushing me to the brink,
Causing depression and sadness,
Instilling, insanity and madness,
This condition has left my eyes blind,
To all the better qualities left behind,
That it's not just all about how someone looks,
That the body isn't supposed to be the hook,
To be someone who wants to be loved inside,
And not just another person to be shoved aside,
Because I am someone more than how I look,
So look beyond the cover of this book,
Maybe you'll find something more inside,
That beyond the looks there is another side,
To a person like me,
That there is more than what you see.
The End
Through my exterior, I'm seen as inferior,
Told to be disgusted at what I see in this mirror,
Someone the opposite of beautiful,
Someone who should have been mindful,
Of the foods that they eat,
So that the standards meet,
Of what is deemed to be attractive,
And not someone clearly inactive,
That's how my mind has been conditioned to think,
Of weight loss and exercise pushing me to the brink,
Causing depression and sadness,
Instilling, insanity and madness,
This condition has left my eyes blind,
To all the better qualities left behind,
That it's not just all about how someone looks,
That the body isn't supposed to be the hook,
To be someone who wants to be loved inside,
And not just another person to be shoved aside,
Because I am someone more than how I look,
So look beyond the cover of this book,
Maybe you'll find something more inside,
That beyond the looks there is another side,
To a person like me,
That there is more than what you see.
The End
Music Box
It's been awhile since the two of us have spoken,
One year and nine months since you left my heart broken,
But I just wanted to know if you still have that music box,
Because its song reminds me of the time that we've lost,
Those times when we used to laugh and have fun,
Those days walking hand in hand under the sun,
Those nights spent looking up at the moon,
Those moments by the beach at noon
Because those are the times I can't let go of,
Because you are my one and only love,
Since then I have honestly tried to forget,
But its not so easy when I've loved you since we met,
But I know you had to leave me that day,
I'm just sorry I didn't have anything to say,
Because I never wanted to let you go,
And I'm writing this now to let you know,
And hopefully you'll still have that music box,
To remember those times that we've lost,
Just know that I'll always be right here,
Day after day, month after month, year after year,
The End
http://www.imeem.com/channelvenus/music/aDJftJk4/takumi/
It's been awhile since the two of us have spoken,
One year and nine months since you left my heart broken,
But I just wanted to know if you still have that music box,
Because its song reminds me of the time that we've lost,
Those times when we used to laugh and have fun,
Those days walking hand in hand under the sun,
Those nights spent looking up at the moon,
Those moments by the beach at noon
Because those are the times I can't let go of,
Because you are my one and only love,
Since then I have honestly tried to forget,
But its not so easy when I've loved you since we met,
But I know you had to leave me that day,
I'm just sorry I didn't have anything to say,
Because I never wanted to let you go,
And I'm writing this now to let you know,
And hopefully you'll still have that music box,
To remember those times that we've lost,
Just know that I'll always be right here,
Day after day, month after month, year after year,
The End
http://www.imeem.com/chann
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Time Killing
So I don't think I'll actually write much today and most of my stuff in this post will just be copy and pasted poems. Here you go:
Longing
Why is it that I long for your touch?
Why is it that I love you so much?
I never thought that I could feel something like this for you,
Because you were always just another person that came out of the blue,
How was it that you became so special to me?
So special that it was always you I wanted to see,
You just suddenly stood out among the rest,
Someone that I found to be the best,
Still, I don't know why I feel this way about you,
Maybe its because no one can make me smile like you do,
Theres no one clear reason why you are special to me,
Maybe as I continue to be your friend I'll see,
Why it is that you are so special to me,
And why I can't leave these feelings be,
Just another locked up regret,
Of something that I don't want to forget,
So I want to be more than friends with you,
And see if you feel the same way too,
Because I hope to feel your touch,
Because there is no one else that I love so much.
The End
Am...
I good enough to be the one for you?
I the one that shares the same feelings as you do?
I the one that you've been looking for?
I the one that can walk you home to your door?
I the one that you can go to?
So that I can be the one you can talk to,
Because...(Continue with "Because" before each line except the last)
I want to be the one to pick you up when you're down,
I want to be the one who can always change that frown,
I want to be the one who will always be there,
I want to be the one to show that you're the only one that I love for and care,
I want to be the kind of person who can protect you,
I want to become the kind of person that you can always turn to,
I want to be a person that is worthy of you,
So that I won't have to know through words that you share the same feelings as I do,
The End
Trust & Faith
Why is it that I'll never stop believing in you?
Is it because you were the only one I could be true to?
Though you left without a single word to me,
Why is it that I can't just let these feelings be?
I could have just easily let these feelings disappear,
But there was always something that kept them near,
Why is it that you're the only one I can't forget?
Why is it you that I can only picture you and me as a set?
Why is it that there was always something I could share?
Why is it that you were so special that I couldn't even care,
Whether I was embarrassed, scared, or in shame,
Whether I felt happiness, anger or pain,
But you just left and all I could do was cry,
That was all I could do because I never got a chance to say goodbye,
People just keep saying you left me for some other guy,
But no matter what I can't accept that unless I know why,
Did I betray you without knowing?
Did I keep your tears ever flowing?
Did you run to hide this pain from me?
So that there was nothing for me to see,
Or did you feel like you took advantage of me?
Was it something so bad that you'll always feel guilty?
Please I need to know the reason for why you left,
Because not knowing only leaves a heavy burden on my chest,
I only hope that you have no feelings of regret,
And that I can be a person that you will never forget,
But I'll always be here to wait,
Without any feelings of anger or hate,
Because I'll always be the same guy that believes in you,
Because you were the one that I could always be true to,
The End
Why is it so hard to say goodbye?
Do you ever wonder why its so hard to say goodbye?
Do you ever wonder why the only thing you can do is cry?
Do you ever wonder if you'll ever see that person again?
Do you ever wonder if the time you spend with someone will never end?
Do you ever wish to be with that person forever?
Do you ever wish to always be together?
Do you ever wish that you'll never be forgotten?
Do you ever wish that you'll never be abandoned?
Because those are always the reasons why,
Even as time always passes by,
That its never easy saying goodbye,
And that all I can ever do is cry,
The End
Reflection
As the days fly by past me,
I stop to take a look at what I see,
I see my friends enjoying the time they spend,
I see this knowing that soon this time will end,
We will all go our seperate ways,
As we grow older in these coming days,
I stop to think about what I could have done,
I stop to picture how things might've gone,
If I were a different person,
If I had to the chance to start over again,
But things just don't go that way,
Regret fills in these words I say,
But I know its a time that must eventually come,
I only wish that I can do everything I wanted to before this is done,
To be there for my friends as long as I can be,
To do what I've set out to do so they can see,
I have no feelings of regret,
So that I can be a friend they won't forget,
Because as long as they remember me,
I won't ever have to stop and take a look to see,
And leave them something to see,
Something for them to cherish about me,
The End
Insane
Is this the world we want for tommorow?
A world where theres no room for grief and sorrow?
A world where the hope of the future die young,
A world where the people only get one chance and they're done?
A world where a kid can die just when his life is about to begin,
A world where he dies in a short life without committing a sin?
A world where people remain ignorant in silence,
A world where peace is an impossible existence,
So have we closed off our hearts to the light?
Have we ignored doing what we know is right?
Because this is the world we are all growing up in,
A world where the realities are covered up with a grin,
Of the "happy" lives we all live,
Because all we do is take and never give,
So, has this world has become insane?
Has it become so numb it can't feel anymore pain?
We treat every death like its the same,
All we do is find someone to burden the blame,
Does this world not feel any shame?
Or have we let all our emotions go down the drain?
Death has become nothing more than game,
In this world that has gone insane,
The End
Dreaming
I place out my hand trying to reach for you,
But all I can see is you disappearing into the blue,
I call out your name,
But things still stay the same,
You're back is turned to me,
I'm scared of what I might see,
A face full of pain and regret,
A face thats just wishing to forget,
Because of a simple mistake I made,
You're willing to let things just slip away and fade,
Because of my foolishness,
I have left you in sadness,
As I stand in the rain,
It is only now I feel your pain,
And now it is me who is full of regret,
So much that I don't want you to forget,
And so I reach out my hand for you,
So that you won't disappear into the blue,
And I will race after you so that you can see,
How much you still mean to me,
The End
Why is it that I long for your touch?
Why is it that I love you so much?
I never thought that I could feel something like this for you,
Because you were always just another person that came out of the blue,
How was it that you became so special to me?
So special that it was always you I wanted to see,
You just suddenly stood out among the rest,
Someone that I found to be the best,
Still, I don't know why I feel this way about you,
Maybe its because no one can make me smile like you do,
Theres no one clear reason why you are special to me,
Maybe as I continue to be your friend I'll see,
Why it is that you are so special to me,
And why I can't leave these feelings be,
Just another locked up regret,
Of something that I don't want to forget,
So I want to be more than friends with you,
And see if you feel the same way too,
Because I hope to feel your touch,
Because there is no one else that I love so much.
The End
Am...
I good enough to be the one for you?
I the one that shares the same feelings as you do?
I the one that you've been looking for?
I the one that can walk you home to your door?
I the one that you can go to?
So that I can be the one you can talk to,
Because...(Continue with "Because" before each line except the last)
I want to be the one to pick you up when you're down,
I want to be the one who can always change that frown,
I want to be the one who will always be there,
I want to be the one to show that you're the only one that I love for and care,
I want to be the kind of person who can protect you,
I want to become the kind of person that you can always turn to,
I want to be a person that is worthy of you,
So that I won't have to know through words that you share the same feelings as I do,
The End
Trust & Faith
Why is it that I'll never stop believing in you?
Is it because you were the only one I could be true to?
Though you left without a single word to me,
Why is it that I can't just let these feelings be?
I could have just easily let these feelings disappear,
But there was always something that kept them near,
Why is it that you're the only one I can't forget?
Why is it you that I can only picture you and me as a set?
Why is it that there was always something I could share?
Why is it that you were so special that I couldn't even care,
Whether I was embarrassed, scared, or in shame,
Whether I felt happiness, anger or pain,
But you just left and all I could do was cry,
That was all I could do because I never got a chance to say goodbye,
People just keep saying you left me for some other guy,
But no matter what I can't accept that unless I know why,
Did I betray you without knowing?
Did I keep your tears ever flowing?
Did you run to hide this pain from me?
So that there was nothing for me to see,
Or did you feel like you took advantage of me?
Was it something so bad that you'll always feel guilty?
Please I need to know the reason for why you left,
Because not knowing only leaves a heavy burden on my chest,
I only hope that you have no feelings of regret,
And that I can be a person that you will never forget,
But I'll always be here to wait,
Without any feelings of anger or hate,
Because I'll always be the same guy that believes in you,
Because you were the one that I could always be true to,
The End
Why is it so hard to say goodbye?
Do you ever wonder why its so hard to say goodbye?
Do you ever wonder why the only thing you can do is cry?
Do you ever wonder if you'll ever see that person again?
Do you ever wonder if the time you spend with someone will never end?
Do you ever wish to be with that person forever?
Do you ever wish to always be together?
Do you ever wish that you'll never be forgotten?
Do you ever wish that you'll never be abandoned?
Because those are always the reasons why,
Even as time always passes by,
That its never easy saying goodbye,
And that all I can ever do is cry,
The End
Reflection
As the days fly by past me,
I stop to take a look at what I see,
I see my friends enjoying the time they spend,
I see this knowing that soon this time will end,
We will all go our seperate ways,
As we grow older in these coming days,
I stop to think about what I could have done,
I stop to picture how things might've gone,
If I were a different person,
If I had to the chance to start over again,
But things just don't go that way,
Regret fills in these words I say,
But I know its a time that must eventually come,
I only wish that I can do everything I wanted to before this is done,
To be there for my friends as long as I can be,
To do what I've set out to do so they can see,
I have no feelings of regret,
So that I can be a friend they won't forget,
Because as long as they remember me,
I won't ever have to stop and take a look to see,
And leave them something to see,
Something for them to cherish about me,
Insane
Is this the world we want for tommorow?
A world where theres no room for grief and sorrow?
A world where the hope of the future die young,
A world where the people only get one chance and they're done?
A world where a kid can die just when his life is about to begin,
A world where he dies in a short life without committing a sin?
A world where people remain ignorant in silence,
A world where peace is an impossible existence,
So have we closed off our hearts to the light?
Have we ignored doing what we know is right?
Because this is the world we are all growing up in,
A world where the realities are covered up with a grin,
Of the "happy" lives we all live,
Because all we do is take and never give,
So, has this world has become insane?
Has it become so numb it can't feel anymore pain?
We treat every death like its the same,
All we do is find someone to burden the blame,
Does this world not feel any shame?
Or have we let all our emotions go down the drain?
Death has become nothing more than game,
In this world that has gone insane,
The End
Dreaming
I place out my hand trying to reach for you,
But all I can see is you disappearing into the blue,
I call out your name,
But things still stay the same,
You're back is turned to me,
I'm scared of what I might see,
A face full of pain and regret,
A face thats just wishing to forget,
Because of a simple mistake I made,
You're willing to let things just slip away and fade,
Because of my foolishness,
I have left you in sadness,
As I stand in the rain,
It is only now I feel your pain,
And now it is me who is full of regret,
So much that I don't want you to forget,
And so I reach out my hand for you,
So that you won't disappear into the blue,
And I will race after you so that you can see,
How much you still mean to me,
The End
Actually I came up with a pretty nice analogy (at least I think it is) so I'll share it; however, I'm not quite sure if I'll be able to express my analogy in a proper manner.
Peace, Faith, Trust and Love are all like the surface of a lake. The surface of the lake represents the four abstract concepts and like those concepts it can be destroyed, disturbed and disrupted easily. A single action can send ripples destroying that the smooth calm surface of the lake much like how a single action can turn peace into war, faith into doubt, trust into betrayal and love into hate. Now no one wants to leave it at that and everyone wants things to go back to the way they were but you can't make a water's surface still. No matter how much you struggle to still the water through your own actions it will never happen. The same can be said for peace, faith, trust and love. You cannot force peace into your life, you cannot force yourself to have faith in someone, you cannot force yourself to trust someone who has betrayed you and last of all you cannot for yourself to love someone. What you can do is wait for the ripples to calm and for the surface of the lake to go back into its state of calm and stillness. The same goes for four concepts. Peace will always come back into your life on its own, faith will return to your soul, trust will naturally grow for others and love is something that will find you no matter what.
Peace, Faith, Trust and Love are all like the surface of a lake. The surface of the lake represents the four abstract concepts and like those concepts it can be destroyed, disturbed and disrupted easily. A single action can send ripples destroying that the smooth calm surface of the lake much like how a single action can turn peace into war, faith into doubt, trust into betrayal and love into hate. Now no one wants to leave it at that and everyone wants things to go back to the way they were but you can't make a water's surface still. No matter how much you struggle to still the water through your own actions it will never happen. The same can be said for peace, faith, trust and love. You cannot force peace into your life, you cannot force yourself to have faith in someone, you cannot force yourself to trust someone who has betrayed you and last of all you cannot for yourself to love someone. What you can do is wait for the ripples to calm and for the surface of the lake to go back into its state of calm and stillness. The same goes for four concepts. Peace will always come back into your life on its own, faith will return to your soul, trust will naturally grow for others and love is something that will find you no matter what.
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