The facts are these:

• One of my eyes squint when I smile
• I say "you know" way too much
• I should go out more, I'm a bit of a loner
• I'm okay with being a loner
• I say I like to run when really I haven't gone in months
• I like having my toenails painted but not my fingernails, I pick at them too much
• I like to think that I'm honest but lie more than I would like to admit
• I'm trying to be better, but I could do better
• I spend most of my time daydreaming
• I have a bunch of songs in different languages on my iPod. I don't know what they say, but I like how they sound.

Death, who kindly guides me

Take my hand, he said to me. You will be taken care of, he said to me. The path you are about to embark on is long and frightening, but I will guide you.

This is a beginning, I promise. I'll stay with you, I promise.

The road had started to curve and it was slick, I remember that much. But it doesn't really matter now.

I took his hand.

You should know that I was angry. If I had the strength I would have pulled him down and left him running. But he was kind and it was dark. It wouldn't be fair to take it out on him. It's not his fault, not really. And who knows what would await me if I didn't have him by my side. 

The trees are bending over and reaching out for me. The branches are whipping and scratching. My head is beginning to ache and my body is beginning to grow weak. I look to him and search his eyes. He smiles that sympathetic smile and squeezes my hand. And then I know. 

He was always there. Guiding, watching, waiting. The realization knocks at me and I turn his face towards mine. I am reflected through him and I see now that he really is lovely in a heartbreaking sort of way.

I'll keep my hand in his and his hand in mine and he will guide me and my feet will follow. And it will be enough. It always has been.

My advice to you

Here is my advice to you. 

Take it for what you will. 

Let it go. 

  

Whatever it is, leave it be. Don't care what they will say. Move on. Do what you must in order to live with yourself. Because in the end it is your mind, your thoughts, your regrets, your wishes, your hopes, your mistakes, and your disappointments that will keep you up at night. 

Soldier on

I've been listening for a long time. 
And you want to know what I found?

They lied.

I smiled all the while, for I had to keep up the show. I waited for them to notice. Did they? No. Was it fair? No.

The truth of the matter is that we all pretend everything is okay. Soldier on, soldier on. It'll be better tomorrow. Here's the question I pose: Will it?




I've been waiting for a long time and things still aren't what they said it would be. When will it get better exactly? I would like an exact date, please. Tomorrow? June 10, 2013? October 2, 2015?

Listen, I don't blame them. And I don't blame you. I'm just tired. I'm aching. I'm done. I lay awake at night and I wonder what awaits me. I try to push it back but it refuses to leave me. So the question remains, will it get better?

I choose to think yes, if only for the sake of getting through today. But I have a hope, burning deep down, flickering at times, yet constant.

That it will. It has to.

My head and my heart

I'm thinking about you. 

But please don't get the wrong idea. This isn't my choice. I'm trying to stop, but I can't. Maybe that's what you always wanted. To invade my mind so that I would no longer have the freedom to choose what it is I think about. It's you. It's always been you.

You see, I'm thinking about you like stars think about falling.
Like seasons think about changing.
Like time thinks about stopping.

I'm thinking about you like puzzles think about fitting. 
Like planets think about spinning.
Like sailors think about sailing.

I'm thinking about you like weeds think about growing. 
Like bees think about stinging.
Like poison thinks about spreading.

I need to stop this. 

I'm trying with my whole heart to stop thinking about you. The problem is that it's my heart that seems to be leading the charge to invade my mind with you. 

That little traitor.

I was told to always follow him, and obediently I did. Maybe he's been broken one too many times and is now malfunctioning. I'll go in tomorrow and trade him in for a new one. That will finally end this. And if this infection of you has spread through my veins into my brain, I'll have to see about getting a new one of those too.

I'm thinking about you. But not for much longer. No, not much longer.

I'm ashamed to admit this.

Sometimes I think about some sort of tragedy happening to me. Maybe I'm diagnosed with some terrible disease or get in a horrible car accident or maybe I'm kidnapped. It's not that I want these things to happen, not exactly. But I think if they did maybe then you'll notice. Maybe then, you'll care. Or not. Maybe you won't and I'll be left with a broken body and mind, still alone. Or dead. I think this will backfire. But I still can't help but play it out in my head.

Because I love you

Pause, if you will, and take a moment to think of me.

I know we hardly know each other, but what does that matter?

We may be strangers but I crave your love.

And I'm not talking about the love you reserve for your relative you see every few years or even that person you could once call your friend but now only have memories of. I want something that burns deep inside. I want your pulse to quicken at the thought of me. I want to be the one who can soothe and calm you. I want you to belong to me and I to you. I want to be your beginning and end. I want your very breath to depend on me. I want to know the darkest corners of your mind. In return you may lean on me, but only when I have the strength. I don't want us both to crumble. We're fragile enough.

I am nothing to you as you are nothing to me. Except that's not true.

Pause, and only think of me.