thenewstraight
Please disregard everything I've ever said to you. It's a lie... all of it. I wish I could tell you as much but I'm afraid it would break your heart. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me and I'm afraid I am the worst thing to ever happen to you. If I thought you would forgive me... if I thought things could still be okay... maybe I'd let you know the real me. I just don't think I can.
dusk. i start losing hope as the sky starts losing light. each night begins a new struggle. as the light fades out the windows, the light fades within me and my darkness engulfs me the way it takes over the sky. it's always a struggle to remember that eventually the sun will rise again.
I am an abstract thinker. Things are all sorts of shades of grey in my head, with hardly any black or white. In fact, I don't even think in grayscale. I think in color. It's like in my head there is a box of crayons, and each crayon is a thought. And then somehow my mind overheats and then al the crayons melt together and form a beautiful swirling mess of color... that's how I think.
I like shoes. I like patent leather shoes. I like suede shoes, especially if they are blue. I like flats and boots and sneakers but especially heels. I like Steve Madden. I like Born. I like BCBG. I like Tony Lama boots and I like I like Sperry Topsiders. I just wish I had room for more.
I had an epiphany the other day but then I forgot it. I don't seem to get them very often and when I do, it's usually in the middle of the night and I'll wake up with little notes next to my bed that say things like "magnetic dogs" and I'll wonder what on earth I was talking about. It seems like every time I think I have a great idea, it turns out that I'm just insane.
Every day is a riot in this house. Every day brings a new set of problems and a new set of disagreement and unrest. Riots don't have to be violent with burning cars and broken glass. Riots can be internal... a sense of discourse and unrest within you that threatens to bubble to the surface at any time.
I don't know why I came into existence or why I am here within existence... all I know is that I am. Is that a good thing? Sometimes.... more times than not in fact. It's a good thing. But sometimes mere existence is difficult. Existing is all we can do sometimes. And you know what? That's okay. It's okay to merely exist sometimes. It's better than nothing at all.
YOU are an insect. Lower. You crawl through the dirt like an ant, mud on your belly. Like a snake. A worm. You are nothing. I wish I could crush you like the insect that you are. Just like you crushed me. You are nothing.... just like I was nothing.
baby brother, you are missed. I've missed you from the moment you left. you have no idea. they always say grief hurts less over time and i guess that's true but i'll never forget and the ache that's in my chest when i realize that you never got to go to kindergarten or the prom or my wedding or meet your brothers.... overwhelms me at times. I'm sorry you missed all that. I'm so, so sorry.
History is something that I never used to care about. I thought, why would I care? It's over and done. I care about tomorrow, not yesterday. But I wish that I would have looked back more. It's true what they say, that we learn from the past. We do. I'm not just talking George Washington and General Lee and Kennedy and Woodstock.... think about your own personal history. You can teach yourself a lot.
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writing since 2011 · 16 entries · 16 days shown up
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