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.

I chose this

I'm the kind of person who chooses to stand in the rain. I stand still and breathe it in. I feel the water coming down, soaking deep inside of me, hoping it will cleanse me.

I stand in the rain.

And I feel myself begin to rust.

Here we go.

This is an intro, a beginning, an opening. I'm here to invite you into my world, join me if you will.

A caution though: you may not like what you find.

Because to be honest, I live in a quiet sort of madness. I'm not as stable as I like to pretend. I don't always make sense and I often wander into places I don't understand. I walk on uneven ground and find myself skipping all the same. I live in confusion but I don't find myself caring. This is the sort of world I live in. Take it for what you will.

I offer my hand out to anyone who will grasp it. I beg, for your sake and mine, hold on. Hold tight. 

We're both going to need it.