Rant till I Can't

Frontlines of the Storm

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 01:07:00 -0400

I won’t sink my teeth in, nor draw my sword to plow the rock-hard soil, but without Mother Nature’s tender touch, the plants leave only poison and oil below the skin. The loneliness is a tense silence like a war fought oversea, the contact limited to thunder and clouds, but without the torrent or the celebration I cannot discern the eye of her storms from the beating of the drums ushering me home.

Mad World

Sat, 24 Mar 2012 12:46:09 -0400

There is more than good and evil in a person, there are three sentient beings. There is the head, the heart, and the gut. People will make decisions of love with their heart if they know love, and decisions of belief with their head if they are skeptical of religion. But when these two fail, a decision is made with one’s gut, which shows that one is either desperately ignorant by necessity or ignorantly desperate by carelessness. When any or multiple of these thinking entities are clouded or damaged, a person becomes subject to whimsy and must rely on luck for healthy decisions to be made. This person becomes psychologically insane, as sanity is the harmony of these decision making bodies.

Dree

Wed, 28 Dec 2011 02:23:39 -0500

You tell me I hurt you, I’m hurting you, or that I will hurt you. I warned you I would, even went so far as to warn you that I was mentally unstable. I did all I could to bring as little pain to you and repair any damages I could. And yet you have the nerve to come crying to me, causing me pain, causing further instability, and ruining my life, all because of something I did that was completely unrelated to you? I have been there for you every day I have known you, and even before then, as strangers, I would have been there for you. I would protect you from any harm and I still will. I give you everything I can whilst running my own life, trying to fix the damages, and you think you have the right to tempt me from my path? I love you, now stop fucking my life up and be a friend, because I have always been a good one to you.

Troubled One

Wed, 28 Dec 2011 01:58:00 -0500

You are one beautiful lass;
Not stupid like the rest of your class;
Not ignorant like those in the past.

Your own entity,
the epitome of individuality.
I can only pray that you won’t stray from me.

Everyone in contrast;
No one can even contest;
I love you, my Princess Badass.

I disagree. I’m always here, that doesn’t mean you...

Wed, 28 Dec 2011 01:44:40 -0500

I disagree. I’m always here, that doesn’t mean you see it. [general message]

I suppose I will just have to follow this path until another 10-car pile-up occurs and I can be with...

Tue, 01 Nov 2011 20:39:13 -0400

I suppose I will just have to follow this path until another 10-car pile-up occurs and I can be with the angel I first locked eyes with.

I feel I may have been reading eyes wrongly… I believe now that it is not the patterns, but...

Tue, 01 Nov 2011 20:37:18 -0400

I feel I may have been reading eyes wrongly… I believe now that it is not the patterns, but how the viewer reacts to them. If the sight draws the life out of you, you best notice it before it truthfully does. If glaring into the eyes of a person makes you feel like you are invincible, alive, courageous, embrace them, love them, make them be in your life.

Individual-eye-ty

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 23:01:46 -0400

Eyes that mesmerize

Each unique, have their own style

Window to the soul

Splinter

Sat, 10 Sep 2011 00:42:40 -0400

This pain is not what causes strain for I never feign the rain expunged from the clouds in my eyes. It is the fear see that keeps be dreary and weary and yet awake through the enchantments of soft, perfect slumber. Nightmares trample my dreams, gouging through my waking thoughts, turning karma to poison, luck to pain, raining fire upon hours of work before my very eyes. And through it all, you only see a glimmer of thought in an otherwise perfectly sound shell. As an artist, I know that a good paintjob can cover the damages and weak points of any structure. But as a structure, you only hear that I am seventeen stories of titanium, as the shining wood splinters at every point.

Why I Write

Sat, 03 Sep 2011 17:54:14 -0400

I love to write for many reasons. Firstly, writing is not just a way to communicate, but a way to display emotions, opinions, ideas, and thoughts in the largest varieties of methods and severity. Writing provides those handicapped in artistic ability to truly show their creativity and openly display their ways of thinking. Writing is unable to be misheard, but when misunderstood, can be corrected. Writing allows the author to become an illustrator, to paint pictures with words, to command emotions in the reader through clever arrangements of words and literary elements. Through writing authors can release their inner emotions at their pace, in the way they want it to be expressed. Through writing the average person can transform stories into epic legends, or the obituary of a darkled existence of a person, or the extermination of a people. By the use of mere words, a person can tell the history of his family or his nation, so that generations ahead will never forget where they came from. Through writing, an author can tell a story of an apocalypse, fabricate exotic aliens or creatures, teach students the necessary tools to carry on their lives, teach life lessons that could be the difference between a person living as a scoundrel or as a lawful citizen. When writing for an audience without critics, one can organize it however they want, can be free to confuse and make mistakes. Writing does not take expensive materials, and can be copied for all to see, but protected from fraudulent thievery. Words can be memorized and presented through speech without any failure or difference. Writing can lift the author’s spirits just by having their troubles on a piece of paper or on a computer. I am one of the artistically challenged people who needs a mental outlet, who has much to say, who wishes to create and experiment, who yearns to share stories of alien invasions and magical landscapes, and so I write.

Perfection vs. Imperfection

Sat, 03 Sep 2011 00:21:34 -0400

“Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.”

- Antoine de Saint Exupery

My quarrel with the idea of “perfection” as a whole is that I believe it literally cannot exist in multiple individuals. If you take everything away from a space, one would say it is perfect, according to this quote, because there is nothing left to take away. But in reality, you can take away its state of emptiness by putting something there, and then it would be perfect, except then you could then remove that “something”. This would revolve in an infinite loop. I believe that perfection can only be achieved in relation to an individual’s point of view, because a person may see a house as being perfect if you took away defects in structure and decoration/style, and removed its lacking of the person’s preferred features, objects, location, and whatnot. However, another person may see the house in a different, with their different preferences in style, location, structure, and other features kept in mind. So, perfection cannot exist among multiple point of views, for there is always a defect, obstacle, or absence of a preferred feature that is different between two point of views.

Prologue to Octoscope

Wed, 17 Aug 2011 02:30:00 -0400

As your world comes into view, you are merely a young child, born on the prairie of an almost fictitious looking plain that you have only read in fantasy books when you were old. You do not know how you became a young child or how you arrived in this strange world of questionable reality. This is just a view however, because you seemed to arrive starring out of a window in a building you presume to be your home. As you look around, you notice that the whole building is built so that the inhabitant can view many different perspectives of many different lands. The building is a small octagonal cottage with eight windows, one for each cardinal direction. The only furniture present in the apparently bamboo shack is one table in the middle, which you notice to have several tools resting on it: a golden telescope; old brass binoculars; a large, blank parchment with a small octagon in the middle; a large assortment of different colored inkwells with their own quills, which seem to be crafted of the feathers of a bird alien to your knowledge; a sling; an indigo megaphone; and lastly, a key that seems so ancient, that it may only have one use left until it is rendered useless. You look for a reason for the key, and realize that under each window is a keyhole. As you ponder your choices, only two arise: you could either take the narrow one out of eight chance that you could pick the right direction to return to your home, assuming that it is a possibility; or you could explore your options thoroughly with the tools you have been given. Since time does not seem to be a problem, you decide to explore each world, and plot the details of each land on the parchment. To start your exploration, you stare out of the window you originally stood looking through, searching for landmarks, opportunity for survival, and intelligent life.

All For You

Tue, 16 Aug 2011 02:19:31 -0400

I feel your love,
never the peace,
so you can’t be a dove,
but of my heart you are a piece.

I feel your soul,
never the cold,
you won’t be alone, I stress,
for you are my tangerine princess.

I feel your light,
and always your fright,
for I am your knight,
and for you, my angel, I will fight.

Amnesia

Tue, 16 Aug 2011 02:01:16 -0400

I forgot somewhere along the line what I like, so I began to like a little of everything. I forgot somewhere along the line who I was, so I began to be a little of everyone. I forgot somewhere along the line what I was going to become, but if I become a little of everything, I think colleges and my parents might get a little pissed… I’m so many things, but why can’t you relate to a single one?

Emotional Insomnia

Tue, 16 Aug 2011 01:51:14 -0400

“Haha it’s okay, I’m not tired” she says, “don’t worry I’ll be fine” she says, “I feel worthless and really need you to tell me you love me” she says.

“Sleep is a myth” she says, “I am okay” she says, “I am upset and need to talk to someone” she says.

“I’m really hyper and won’t be able to sleep for a while” she says, “I just have a lot on my mind” she says, “Why can’t she ever trust me,” she says.

“You should go to sleep, it is really good for you” I say, “are you okay? You sound upset,” I say, “I love you and you are worth everything in the world to me/call me/I don’t know but I hope she realizes how much it hurts you,” I say.

If you can’t sleep, hold a pillow over your head until you get sleepy, then try on your own. Trust me, sleep is very good for you. If you don’t take the time to sleep now, you’ll end up having all the time in the world for it, and nothing else.

Photo

Tue, 16 Aug 2011 01:41:58 -0400

A Story

Fri, 12 Aug 2011 02:33:20 -0400

There is an anonymous person who wishes to release an autobiographical blog post. GUESS WHO?!?!?! Anyways, I will get underway then:

Since I was introduced to society officially, I hadn’t been too good at keeping up with society, and even decided to defy it at every appropriate turn. I had been quite shy (from what I can remember) all through elementary school, and then had been cast out in middle school and early high school. Now of course I will get into the gory vivid details! I’ll even organize it for ya ;P.

Middle School: After having not made any but a few solid friends in elementary school, my Cornwall nativity mattered little in having any sort of friends. So, what does one do when they’re in an awkward situation in a crowd? They look for the closest person who will accept them. And so I carved out my own little niche for myself with a few other outcasts who I can personally vouch to today that are some of the finest human beings in this world. No, I do not speak of achievement (though some recognition could be given in that area), but of manner, moral standing, and of acting and being a good person. These guys were some of the greatest pals one could find around. They may not have helped me in a fight, but I would certainly take a punch for each one of them. Now when I say guys, I mean literally. When it came to girls in middle school, I had one of two interractions with a girl. I was either the one they talked to only when they were depressed, needed someone to confide in (who was I going to tell? I was an outcast and a misfit), and/or had absolutely nobody else they could talk to, OR I was a nerdy kid with acne and some repulsive skin condition that looked contagious like poison ivy as well as warts on his hands. (people would ask why I wore sweatshirts year round… pockets) Jocks and other niches didn’t bother me, because I was actually a somewhat big kid, but when they did, I was a pussy in middle school… I would have been that kid in a fight who had passed out a long time ago but was still fighting while crying… while unconscious. However I prevailed in my academics, and decided to take on the worst addictive hobby a kid could have in my situation… World of Warcraft. That video game probably ruined my life in so many ways. I would spend nearly no time outside, wasting it on a computer managing one of the largest guilds in the northeast all day. Yeah we had fun, but I got hooked and stayed playing for four and a half years… I’ll get into its worst impact in the High School section. So as the years went on and the final years of Middle School arrived, I developed a habit when talking to girls. See, from middle school to the end of my sophomore year in High School, I had practically no emotion…. This somehow allowed me to better deal with people who were suicidal or depressed, both helping them better, and not recieving as much blowback depression in the process. Unfortunately, I always expected, due to constant repitition, that the person, after being helped, would then immediately remove themselves from my life and me from theirs, and I would fade back out with out any gratitude. Even more unfortunate, this proved to be true every single time. I developed a tolerance to this, and followed the pattern like I was a veteran at my job for decades. I became a phantom, fading in and out of people’s lives when they needed. What was sick, is I didn’t care one bit that they threw me out on the curb afterwords. So throughout these years I proceeded to help as many people as I could. I don’t remember much about my middle school years, possibly on purpose. Oh well.

High School: After getting to the high school, I met a bunch of my older brother’s friends again, some sophomores who I’d known for a long time, and lost one of my best friends to a bad crowd, and eventually another to an even worse crowd. In my first year of high school I realized a few things: girl drama spikes exponentially so incidentally more girls were talking to me… about their problems of course (still didn’t mind; still don’t mind actually); the teachers abuse the excuse for homework that “if your other teachers are going to give you homework, why can’t I?”, ending in an infinite loop of wasted not-so-free time; I needed to rid of my WoW addiction, because I would spend the time I got home doing homework, and then the rest playing WoW; and guys all of a sudden turned into douchebags over a two month period (which somehow I got hit by that wave after my sophomore year…), and somehow in the same event got girlfriends (proof that girls are masochists or blind? I think so… maybe). Suddenly I went from having a few guy friends and some girl “friends”, to probably two guy friends, many girl “friends”, and a billion acquaintances. Being as I spent the majority of my time at home doing homework, and the rest playing WoW, I had no time to see friends or do anything at all. The only things keeping me from becoming suicidal was angry music, an ever-hopeful attitude, “needing to be there for others”, and this crazy idea in my head that all of this hardship would make the victory ever so sweet in the end. Let me tell you, after my sophomore year, I had bigger things to worry about, and the two wasted years of dark, draining emotional drought no longer resembled future trophies, but instead the bane of my existance, a brooding depression. After the extremely stressful freshman and sophomore years of intense hours of homework (with no help, ever), suicide prevention, facing rejection, and losing friends, I hit this weird tide that change me from the inside out. See earlier in the sophomore year I had been hacked several times on my WoW account so I gave up on that game and turned to others. However, as soon as summer started that year, I quit playing video games completely, instantly, and spent time out doors and with friends. When school came around, I even started running, not to become fit (though that was a side factor), or to look better or lose weight, but because I genuinely wanted to. Not only that, but as soon as I came back into school, I had realized that my acne had died down a bit, my skin condition had receded, and I was feeling pretty good and happy and waking up amazing in the morning. I’m not sure if this was because of an insane surge of helping on girl not go six feet under about five times over the summer or what, but for the first time in my life I felt amazing. This lasted until December, when I couldn’t run because it was too cold outside to breath while running. This year my homework had dialed back drastically, and my teachers were mostly awsome. So since I had all this free time, was feeling good, I was really hyper and enjoyed life, and eventually got a girlfriend. Though she herself was a terrible mistake, being with her had a lot of awsome perks: I met my following girlfriend (the love of my life, nine months [on the 16th] and counting) and I met many other girls who are now friends of mine. I’m not sure what happened during december or so, but one day I lost my mojo. I felt like crap again, and had no clue why (still don’t). This continued until… now. Still goin’ strong… Anyhow, some tragic shit happened between march and may, whilst being very stressed out about a national competition and an important AP exam. This of course made everything ten times worse. This “tragic shit” ripped my very morals from my sould and tore them to shreds, my sanity from my head, and forcing me to pick up the pieces. I’m still not quite sane from the whole encounter, and I even developed several health conditions because of this, which now hurt every second of every day (fluxuating intensities). This spiraled me into depression, leading to an attempted break up with my girlfriend, which I found to be the worst mistake of my life. I only did this to hopefully find the reason why I was so depressed. All this did was cut the wounds even deeper and destroy the healing process completely. Even to today I have no clue what to do, and I’m sure my academics next year will suffer. Now is when I ask those whom I’ve helped in the past to live or to deal with life, help me somehow, even if it is just a hug, help me somehow because I would really appreciate my sanity back.

Consequence of Naivety

Fri, 12 Aug 2011 01:29:42 -0400

When your loved ones have let you go,
when your guardians have left you alone,
and you have the independence you desired,
where will you retire?

What path will you follow,
what train will you take,
how will you know you are okay
when everyone ruled you for your own sake?

You have only known others,
when you can only trust yourself.
How can you trust a total stranger?

The only ones you trust,
are the only mysteries in your life.
You have all you need to know what you must
but insist on wasting it on confusion and strife.

Don’t learn of others until you know yourself,
because there is no guarantee you’ll have anyone else if you don’t.

Lung

Fri, 12 Aug 2011 01:18:14 -0400

Honor the trails you once followed, the feet you trekked on following the trails, the legs pushing your feet along the trail, and the breath that filled the lungs keeping you strong as you drew ever closer to the end. Honor the past and everything about it because you will never experience it the same way again. The trail may have been rough, the feet may have been worn to the bone, the legs may have been bruised and broken, and the lungs may have been bled and punctured, but if it weren’t for these tragedies, what would there be to complain about?

And the deed is set to be done today… when the time is right, eight months will be archived.

Thu, 21 Jul 2011 03:54:17 -0400

And the deed is set to be done today… when the time is right, eight months will be archived.