Sleepless

December 19th, 2016

I don’t even want to sleep. I don’t want to sleep because that means that I’ll have to wake up again. Sometimes I just don’t even want to live. I feel so out of control of my life. I have the ability to control the little things but nothing that realliy matters. Nothing that’s important.

I found a new job so I can make more money so I can buy more things. That’s nice, I can live a little more comfortably I suppose, but for what? I guess that’s the question that everyone has been asking since the dawn of time so I’m not special. I just hate that I’m just like everyone else and stuck in this cycle of meaninglessness.

I can’t and won’t end my life. So because I can’t choose to end it, I can’t say I’m really in control of it. When you’re truly in control of something, you should also have the ability to terminate it. I can’t end my life. Even if I truly had the courage to do so, that just leaves everyone around me in a shit position. I can’t do that to them. I won’t do that to them.

I’m just lonely. So very lonely. I suppose that’s the reason why I try to do whatever I can for the sake of friendship. I never had that familial support structure. I’ve had romantic love very few times in my life. The only thing that could possibly fill that hole is friendship but at the end of the night what does that do for me? At least, what does it do when I can’t share with them?

There are very few people who are excited to see me just to see me. There was always Beth but more often than not I feel like that’s because it’s more of a familial relationship than anything. She depends on me. I’m a nasty bastard who has a hard time bringing themselves to depend on anyone. Besides that, I just want someone to miss me and it mean something.

Bethany misses me right now but that is because of the situation she’s in. When she was out with any of her boyfriends she didn’t miss me. Which isn’t to say that’s a bad thing, but it’s just a different thing. The animals miss me, but they’re subservient to me. Of course they’ll miss me. I just want a message from someone I care about to say that they miss me. That’s all I want.

That they can’t wait to see me.

They’re looking forward to when I arrive.

They can’t bare it without me.

Maybe that’s just because I’m egotistical as fuck. Maybe that is too much to ask. Maybe that’s a little selfish.

I recently saw a new device. It’s a hologram of a woman (and of course, it just HAS to be anime looking to appeal to my shit weeb tastes) who will send periodic messages of encouragement throughout the day. I know everyone thinks I’m strong and I am, but I feel so terribly weak.

My armor is strong but inside I’m fragile. I can’t even bring myself to cry. I’ve started to drink to get rid of that pain. I’m almost at the point where I’m about to start reading visual novels again just to maybe feel attachment to someone again.

I really do adore Megan. I have it for her bad, but I just don’t know what will become of us. I feel like I’m way too clingy. I’m pushing her away. I know she has issues that she doesn’t want to burden me with, but is that really it? Perhaps she genuinely doesn’t feel the same way. Then again, I read that people with depression have a hard time with relationships because they feel like they’re nothing but trouble for their partner so maybe this is it with her too. It’s so hard to think about whether or not this could be that or what other options it could be.

In my last entry I think I touched upon that a little bit. When I’m first without her the loneliness is almost unbearable. But as time goes by, that pain is numbed. I’m sure this is just one of those moments now. I miss her so much and I think she might be avoiding me for one reason or another. Other people see her and I find myself in the unusual position of being jealous.

I hate myself for that. What right have I to jealousy?

None.

(God I write like a pompous asshole)

I’ve gone out with a few girls since I’ve been tentatively seeing Megan. It’s weird now. By sheer comparison, most other girls now seem… dull. Boring. Most of the time not as a person, but girls who I knew I would have liked (or in some cases did admire at one point) now don’t seem as interesting. Which makes me feel like just the biggest douche bag. There’s one other girl who has caught my eye, but that’s another story for another time.

Regardless, I am the worst. There are so many things about me that just make me so deserving of all of this. I deserve all of this dull, aching pain. I am and pretty much have always been a shit person. I can say good things and almost all of the time mean them. But that’s because I’m clever. That’s because I’m smart. But when it comes down to it? I’ve done, said, and do shitty things that I could never make up for.

People have told me some of the worst shit they’ve done and all of it seems petty. It all seems so small. I only know how to be the ‘best’ that so many claim I am because I know how to be the worst. Fuck me I just sound like a fucking edgelord bitch. Still, I guess that’s how I feel.

I don’t want to live.

But I don’t want to die either.

That would do nothing but hurt everyone else. Only after everyone else has left the party and I’m alone will I allow myself that.

Lone Digger

October 18th, 2016

I guess I’ll start off with something that I might keep in mind always or I might forget. So this will be a nice reminder. I normally write when I’m wrought with emotion. Usually that means it’s negative emotion. But I’m sure if I go back to some of the previous things I wrote that might not be the case.

I just thought to myself, “Perhaps I should write down some more positive things?”

I do write positive things all the time. I say and do positive things all the time. I share those moments with people. I share them with my friends. I share them on social media. As cliché and edgy as it’ll sound, those are the parts that I let people see. That’s what I share with people. To say that I should write more positive things makes it feel like I don’t write anything positive. I could probably stand to write out my own private, positive thoughts, but I do enjoy what I share.

That comes back to this piece of work.

Here I am, at work. Another late night/early morning where the flow of time has become a haze. I sit in near silence except for faceless clients that call for assistance. Otherwise it’s a few messages I can shoot out to people but then even that usually stops around 2am. So then it’s just me and silence in a small cube for the next 4.5 hours. It’s becoming maddening.

There are a couple of buffers that prevent me from going mad however.

Beth and Phyll. I may not see them as often as either of them would like (assuming they care) but I don’t think I could go this alone at this point in my life. At certain other times, I might have been able to. But not now. I’d most likely have snapped by now.

There’s also my weekly visits to Megan. We often just sleep and drink, but even then, I enjoy her company. Her smile is radiating and I love the sound of her laughter. The way her face expresses itself. When she sleeps and she’s curled up is precious. I do like her very much. I adore her. I’m falling for her. But I have no idea what we’re doing.

We both like each other very much. We’ve admitted that much. But I think both of us have such little time and so many issues with ourselves it’s hard to see us with another person. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m projecting. Maybe I’m delusional as I have been so many times. I’m uncertain. Which is what it usually comes down to. But I thought that was fine until I made the mistake of having a hookup with someone who I’ve even written about before.

I had her over at my house. We had a couple glasses of wine and we let it get to our heads, her more so than me surely. Even though I will get to everything that happened, the moment I want to write about and immortalize in writing is the one thing that kills me inside whenever I think about it. Just the smallest moment that makes my heart sink whenever it pops into my head.

As I spoke to her, I ran my hand across her cheek. For a moment, she held it there. She held it there and pressed it closer to her face; it was so warm. Then when my thumb rubbed by the side of her lips she lightly bit it. There was just something so intimate about that moment. Perhaps she was just trying to be sexy. Maybe she was trying to relax me. Regardless, I knew that this was most likely going to be a one time thing.

Even so, that one moment made me yearn for intimate companionship. She doesn’t enjoying making out or kissing. I do. Despite that missing, I felt a longing for it. I just miss being able to physically connect with someone on an emotional level. That’s what I miss most.

Between not being able to see people who I used to be able to hold dearly in my life and not being able to have someone who can share with me in physical intimacy and hold me dearly is taking its toll on me. If you’re reading this (almost certainly without permission unless it’s me myself) I’m not going to take my life into my hands. Too many depend on me. Too many need me. I could not. But as the days go by, as the stress piles, as I lose sleep, I can feel the rope of my life start to fray and the strands break. Once that rope snaps and I reach the end, I guess we’ll just have to see how that goes.

Until then, I’ll just have to hold on to this rope of life.

[Continued the next day]

I read back to a previous post where I did mention the girl by name: Sarah. I feel so weird; hung up on her. I’m not sure if I’m hung up on her though at this point or just the idea of her. Reading back, it looks like the biting is something I enjoyed even for that one moment. When she nibbled on my hand. Because of course that’s a thing.

Not to mention the scumbaggery from the week previous. I’m always tangled up with Keni for some reason. We just can’t seem to keep our hands off of each other. There’s just some kind of bond between us that I wish I could be a decent person and shake.

Yet that night ended up with her straddling me and us dry humping, starving for each other’s flesh. I, of course, initiated all of this. The shining example of loneliness, desperation, and apathy for any who wasn’t me. I’m such a deplorable person. I’m just a mess. No matter what I try to say to myself or what I do for other people. It’s all to hide that at the end of the day, curled up, I’m just a slave to my own libido.

I lack self-control and crave self-satisfaction.

Emancipation

[This was a post that was done some unknown time ago. I've been doing posts to my computer directly instead of uploading them. This was made sometime Spring 2016]

It feels weird wanting someone again. Feeling jealous about someone again. It’s something that hasn’t happened in a long time. Such a long time that I’m not sure what else to do except write my feelings about it here.

Just like usual, I will not say her full name, only that her name is Sarah. That should be enough for future me to read. Future me to possibly remember this time.

It’s an odd feeling to say the least. Confusing. Not so much the feelings itself I guess but I’m more confused about what to do with them. I have a deep yearning from the pit of my soul that wants to be with her, but I can’t really put my finger on why. She’s adorable and cute and the fear that’s associated with all of that comes rushing back.

I’ve been on a couple of dates since breaking up with Beth and one of them was extremely subpar and the other one was okay. It can sometimes sicken me with how well I can act in front of people. Other times it comes as a relief. Honestly I’m not sure how I feel about that with either of the previous women.

Immediately upon seeing one of them I knew that I was not interested, but I lied to myself to the point of believing it; just for a moment. I just wasn’t physically attracted. She had a beautiful mind but I was far from attracted to her and even though I know that underneath the clothes I am nothing, I still could not see myself with her. I even went out on a second date, but it was at that second date I realized that that was not what I wanted. Am I terrible for having a preference? I like to think not. Am I terrible for having pretended and entertained the possibility of a third date and more? Absolutely monstrous.

The person was like if I had found a way to enjoy the tumblr culture I had come to spite. Them themselves (they prefer to have the pronoun ‘them/they’ used) had some interesting sides to their personality. They had their moments where they were adorable, but the farther I descended down, I realized that that too was not what I wanted. She very much had the mindset that a lot of people observe about teenagers. The ‘This is how the world is/I’m wise beyond my years/I’m so complex’ mentality. The entire world underneath their thumb. These were the people who I have a great distaste for. These are the people who see things in one view without being able to even entertain the idea of the other side having merit. Sometimes there isn’t even another side but they create hostility until a line is drawn and sides are cast.

I did sleep with that girl. For a horndog like me, I thought it would have been a lot more fun. Perhaps I was going through the motions but I think that deep down I knew that I just didn’t like this girl either. An hour. I had sex for an hour only to peak at nothing. It was fun sure, but it was as fun as a casual game that you play competitively. Enjoyable in the meantime, but it has no meaning at the end. Is that harsh and cruel things to say? Yup. Probably definitely. But that’s why I write them here where nobody can read it.

Now back to this girl that’s been tiptoeing in the fissures of my brain. It’s an oddity for sure. Almost every girl that I’ve dated up until this point has demanded my attention. Whether it was because I was that infectious or because they enjoyed me that much, I’ve never really been able to know. Sarah is not like this though and that kind of scares me. She doesn’t demand my attention which is something that is new for me.

I’m so used to people who claim to have affection for me be so wrapped up in me that at this point I start to worry when it doesn’t happen. It’s fucked up and egocentric for sure, but it’s a creeping feeling that scratches at me. I know that really it’s probably just how a normal human being functions, not wanting to wrap up all their time in me, but damn if it’s the oddest feeling.

Sarah showed me a new artist. One that I had never heard of in a style that I can’t even really place. It’s an artist that goes by the name of Emancipator. Music is an extremely important part of my life. For the longest time it was only through music that I was able to feel. In the days where I was able to shut off all feeling, it was only through music that I could experience a broader range of emotions. When someone shows me music that I can enjoy it endears me to them.

When I started listening to this music that Sarah showed me, it made me swoon.

Deep, soulful notes pierce the light and easy percussive beats. Every song feels like I’m gingerly walking through serenity. I can work or I can relax while listening to this. It’s like my ears have discovered new food and I can’t get enough of it right now. However, it’s a dish that cannot be devoured. It’s a dish that has to be slowly taken in.

Sarah is soft and her scent intoxicating. I feel almost like a creep.

But she does all these little things that just make me want her even more. I cuddled with her and the way she curled up next to me, the way she nuzzled me, the small bites to my hand, it just felt right.

But for what? What scares me the most is that I don’t know what to do if we did start dating. What’s my end game? I can’t see this being a long term thing. I barely know what I want to do with my life and she’s just starting hers. I don’t wants kids and I don’t want to get married. I don’t know what I want outside of just wanting her. But what kind of selfish goal is that?

I’ll have to think about it deeper.

Dreams Draft

                Hey, I just met you
                and this is crazy…
               
                The once endearing song I had on my phone as a ringtone blared, just an obnoxious reminder of being too lazy to even change it, and pulled me from my sleep. I lifted my head up from my desk and stared at the computer monitor in front of me. A thread about nothing spectacular he was sure. I pressed the F4 key to refresh the page and sure enough, the thread had since long died or been pruned. Just another fleeting memory that I could not even be bothered to try and remember the contents of.
                Still, the ringtone played on its second loop. I picked up the phone figuring if someone was calling, or rather if anyone was calling me, it must have been an emergency. Even thinking that much was a mistake; the area code was foreign.
                A wrong number.
                Swipe to ignore.
                Even though the sound was muted, I kept looking at the phone wondering if the caller would at least have the decency to leave a voicemail after having called so early in the morning.
                Nothing…
                Taking his eyes off the phone for a moment, it vibrated in his hand.
                [Two New Voicemails]
                One he knew straight away was from his mother. She was calling to ask me about something that I should probably be more concerned about, but I still couldn’t even listen to the voicemail. Selecting the second voicemail, only a few seconds, but no matter how short it was, it was still just too long to listen to. Instead, I just decided to resume my busy life of monitoring the internet.

                Hey, I just met you
                and this is crazy…

                The ringtone started up again. I rolled my eyes and gave the phone a second look despite knowing that it was probably that unknown number. Sure enough, there it was, blinking at me. He swiped the ‘Ignore’ command again, to be met again with a voicemail, again to be ignored. Then a third time they called, which I still refused to pick up purely on principal at this point.
                In the brief moment between ignoring the call and the next one inevitably starting at this point, I chose to do the sensible thing and set the phone to silent. Problem solved. Now at this point they could call as much as they wanted to and I could just delete all the voicemails whenever I woke up next. I went back to my computer and decided to see if anything interesting was going on with anyone of little interest.

                Hey, I just met you
                and this is crazy…

                The ringtone played, seemingly louder this time, though he was sure that this was because of the silence he was expecting. Looking over at the phone, knowing full well that while he hoped it was another called it wouldn’t be, he checked the caller anyway. Sure enough, the same caller. At this point, it was more of an annoyance that the phone was still ringing even after putting it on silent. He wasn’t sure if there was something critically wrong with the phone, but instead he went with the next smartest decision and shut off the phone entirely. It wasn’t like I was using it now anyway.
               
                Hey, I just met you
                and this is crazy…

                If anything, this phone call sent a couple of chills. The silent function not working could just be a glitch. Something I can chalk up to faulty programming or something on the phone’s part, but the phone was off. At least to my knowledge there isn’t anything that can make a phone come back on like it was. Yet, he could not deny the fact that it was still ringing and that someone on the opposite line desperately wanted to talk to him.
                I waited for the phone to stop ringing again, afraid of messing with the phone while it was ringing for some reason, and this time took out the battery. There was no way it could ring without a source of power. Maybe he had some virus that was making the phone pop back on. A really aggressive virus maybe that was accompanied by very aggressive telemarketers. However, I was still afraid of it ringing again.
                Instead, I was greeted by a moment’s silence. I stared at the phone as one with arachnophobia might stare at a spider. I silently prayed that it wouldn’t go off again even if logically there was no way it could go off again and was rewarded with stillness. I sighed deeply and turned again to my computer.

                Hey, I just met you
                and this is crazy…

                That ringtone was going off again and was now a gleeful source of dread. Whoever it was, they must have really, really wanted to talk to me. I picked up the phone, looked at the battery on the table, the very same one that was for the phone he held in his hand, and knew that logically he must have been in a dream. I would just have to wake up, a relatively simple thing now that I knew it was just a dream.
                I looked around and looked at my dark window. It wouldn’t be too hard to jump out and wake up by the time I hit the ground outside. I ran at a full sprint to make sure I was fast enough to break through dream glass. Leaping through the air I could have sworn I felt the cold of the window pane before it bulged out with me bursting through.

                Hey, I just met you
                and this is crazy…

                My eyes snapped open hearing the ringtone once more. I raised my head from the desk and looked at the computer monitor in front of me. A thread I was keeping track of long ago was still on the screen, no doubt having been deleted long ago through either desertion or pruning by some of the admins. I hit F4 on the keyboard and sure enough, the thread could not be found. He was sure it was nothing spectacular or amazing anyway. It was just another one of hundreds, if not thousands of threads a day.
                The ringtone was blaring that exhausting pop song and it must have been for who knows how long. The brain does tricky things though. Perhaps it had only played once but my brain looped it and accelerated in my head. Unlike the dream, it still could have been an actual emergency worth checking up on. I looked at the phone and it still blinked the same numbers from my dream.
                A dark sense of déjà vu made my skin crawl. If anything, the fact that I could feel that worried me. There was no way I could be inside of a dream anymore… Right? I picked up the phone and immediately felt the weightlessness it possessed. I turned it over and popped off the battery casing praying that there would be a battery in there and I was just delusional, but that didn’t make a battery magically appear. I found the battery sitting next to the keyboard and the phone continued to ring in my hand.
                In an act of desperation I threw my phone at the wall and watched it come apart. It stopped. I stared at the pieces. Anxiety crawled up his skin while he looked at the pieces daring them to start playing again. Even still, the anticipation grew to be too much of a burden and he began to stomp on what remained of the phone before they could even begin.
                Now that the remnants were in small shards of plastic, metal, and glass, were in no condition to even begin playing, I flopped down in my chair and let out a sigh of relief. There’s no glitch, virus, or malfunction that could make that receive a call now.

                Hey, I just met you
                and this is crazy…

                The song didn’t come from his phone this time, but it came from his computer now. He was afraid to look at the screen. He didn’t want to look, but he knew that no matter what he did, that song was going to keep on playing. I turned slightly and opened up eyes. Youtube had popped open, went to that song, and skipped right to the chorus. In the bottom left hand right hand corner, there was a notification for a Skype call.
                I tried turning off the monitor, but something wouldn’t let me. He tried turning off the computer itself, but something wouldn’t let him. I unplugged all the cords, muted the speakers and did everything I could think of to cut off all power to the computer. Unsurprisingly, it was just in the same case as the phone where it would still play. Only this time, there was no ten second reprieve between plays as the mystery caller left a voicemail. It just kept on looping.
                Unable to take this maddening song, I picked up my computer tower and gave it the same treatment I gave my phone and flipped my monitor onto the ground. I stomped on them both and with each step, the song got a little quieter.
                As the song felt like it was giving up and sputtered out its last bit of effort toward singing that song again, I lifted my foot as high as I could and brought it down just as hard in one last shot to kill it.

                Hey, I just met you
                and this is crazy…

                He lifted his head off his desk, staring straight ahead at the monitor in front of him. It displayed a thread whose relative age was unknown to him. Had it been hours, minutes, or mere moments since his head went down and he dozed off? He didn’t know. I pressed the F4 key and froze as the page displayed with a message saying the thread no longer existed. I knew it would say that. This just happened.
                He grabbed his phone and stared at it. The same unknown, foreign number blinked back at him in response.  It felt the same weight as normal. Popping off the battery case, he saw the battery was still there; which was a relief in its own way.
                This time, he decided to answer the phone. Whether it was out of bravery, fear, or curiosity, even he didn’t know.
                “He-hello…?”
                “It’s about time you picked up your phone, hombre!”, it was a boisterous female voice, definitely not was he expected. Even the greeting was far from normal.
                “Yeah, I’m sorry, I was…sleeping”, which wasn’t far from the truth.
                “Except for the part where you threw me at a wall, stomped on me and… Y’know what, let’s forget that and just start fresh. I’ll apologize for harassing you if you apologize for stomping me into bits”
                I paused for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I was talking into the phone or if I was actually talking to the phone at this point.
                “I’m sorry I stomped on you?”, he wasn’t sure if he was truly apologetic, but mostly because he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for exactly.
                “Sounds half-ass but whatever. I'm calling because I need to tell you something", there was a pause, "something important."

"There is more to this life than you can imagine and I want you to experience it all.”

                I was tempted to hang up the phone. I've heard the exact same thing from friends who try to get me to do acid with them. While he assumed that he couldn't be force fed a pill through a phone, it still made him nervous. 

Floating

A few weeks ago, I went with two friends to go skinny dipping. One of them, I admittedly had a crush on. The other one is, of course, her boyfriend and one of my best friends. Because stories always have to happen like that. As a bit hung up on that as I am, this post will not be about that. Instead, it will be about that night.

The girl had invited me along with her boyfriend/my friend to go out skinny dipping. It was around 1030pm and it had been a warm day. She invited me along to cool off at a secluded, secret spot she knew how to sneak to. Admittedly, I was a bit paranoid (as I am about many things) and so I packed just about everything I could need. Food, water, a swiss army knife, an extra pocket knife, two changes of clothes, extra cash outside of my wallet, hidden spare key, emergency phone all just in case this was some kind of plan to hurt me or otherwise.

Fortunately, my paranoia is never correct and when I got to the meeting spot, we quickly changed clothes and I was led to a spot to swim. We went down a street, under a bridge, through some reeds until we were at open water. Now the guy and I, we were both terrified of the conditions we found ourselves in. I'm terrified of swimming in lakes. It really bugs me for some reason. Never did as a kid, but it does now as an adult. The guy on the other hand was just scared of aquatic creatures. The girl wasn't really scared of either thing outside of normal, 'Oh no what was that unknown thing in the dark that's slimy and touched my leg!'. Regardless, we all were there and there was no backing out.

It's odd to think about such a seemingly mundane thing as something to triumph over. Having a fear that most people wouldn't even consider under normal circumstances as anything to even be concerned about is only made stranger by the fact that it's something I then have to confront in the strangest of moments. Yet, there I was, with a girl I was crushing on and one of  my best friends, as we splashed each other with the cool water on that warm night and swam around, immersed in the inky, dark lake.

Despite the oddity of being with friends, a one sided crush, and trying to relax in something that was utterly terrifying, I found a moment of peace. Laying back in the waters and staring up at the clear sky filled me with that feeling of serenity that eludes. Stars twinkling above, while my body floated weightless on the water, I was truly relaxed. The tension drained from my body and made room for the galaxy like it was about to collapse upon me.

It was such a beautiful tranquility.

...


Getting out of the water, I realized I stepped with a renewed vigor from not only the glimpse of peace that had fallen down on me, but I felt young again. Like a teenager. It had been a long while since I had to sneak and do something so juvenile. Most of my sneaking and hiding now has to do with hiding a facade, as I'm sure most people do. Putting on a mask to hide things to protect oneself from the knives of social stigma or to deceive those close to hide one's own knives being stabbed in their backs, it was nice to finally do something that was hidden just for the pure enjoyment of it.

It brought a feeling I didn't realize I had lost, but now that it's been recalled, I wish I could have it again.

Intimate Moments

Song of the night: Steelix - Lay it Down

I got into a talk with someone a few years my junior because they seemed to have a misguided idea about what romance is. For that matter, perhaps I even do, but I remember having very similar thoughts to them when I was their age. The flowers, the chocolates, the dates while all have their own classic notion of what romance is, I let them know that relationships aren't always like that. Sometimes the most romantic thing you can do is have some pizza and ice cream with a nice movie. The most romantic notions can be doing something for someone out of sheer affection.

Listening to this song and thinking about my past experiences make me crave intimacy. Beyond the intimacy of love making, it's the little bits of human contact that I have been seeking out and have been finding little success in finding. Perhaps I'm over romanticizing things, I tend to do that, but I still miss the feelings nonetheless.

I miss the feeling of someone I truly care about laying down next to me. Playing with their hair and smelling the shampoo they use and falling deep into the scent. The warmth, radiating off of them, contained in the atmosphere or a blanket. While I have shared a bed with a couple of different people lately, I still have yet to grasp onto that feeling of inner warmth. If anything, these last few have been nothing more than a means to an end that my body has grown accustomed to. My body reaches out to grab onto something familiar, but my arms full, I feel no shivers that find their way across my skin.

I have this intense longing to dance with someone close. For some reason, it's always been about dancing for me even though I cannot dance. The intensity of holding someone close with something as familiar as music and rhythm driving me. The feeling I've had while my fingertips trace the outlines of emotion along their arms and thighs. Dancing along like a puppet to the strings of a musician; blood pumping, ears throbbing, touch and balance heightened.

I just want something to inspire that again. Something that I don't feel like I have to hide,

I Like Words

I talk a lot. I like words. I like people who read. While I don't dislike people who don't know many words or don't read, I do pity them. I feel sorry for them from a place that I know they couldn't describe. I don't think people who aren't exactly literate are stupid by all means, but I do believe they feel very one dimensional.

They can only be angry. Perhaps even mad. Upset even. What they cannot be is flustered. They cannot be filled with a pure rage caused by injustice. They cannot be infuriated by the grating on their ears from someone eating with their mouth open. To not even be able to properly define how they feel is something that I find rather crippling. Again, this is only as someone who likes to talk.

Those people, who are blissfully ignorant of the vibrant world they live in speak in blueprints. They tell their lives with little depth. This happened here, at this time, with these things. The people who speak with paints and color the world with their voice. When the ground stops being the dead lifeless earth and becomes teeming with life. When the bland, tasteless people are twisted and molded into humans with desires.

What do they taste? Things are just good or bad. Sweet and sour. Spicy. How boring. The taste sensation that crawls its way across the tongue is a wondrous experience that, combined with smell, can invoke memories and emotion thought to be long gone. When things move beyond good and jump into the territory of hitting the palette with a saltiness that teases the appetite that is only satisfied by the accompanying savory following the bite.

What can music be like? Again, I sometimes feel surrounded by a world that categorizes it into good and bad. Fast, slow, hard, soft. Bland experiences that don't do justice to a mesmerizing transcendence. One can attain nirvana from letting your soul be caressed by gentle sounds without a word. There's an intimacy from a stranger as the lyrics dance off of their tongue and are carried by melody that tantalize the heart. Two people, three people, four, five, ten, hundreds, thousands, can all be swayed and for one moment achieve a comradery that can be attained in no other way as they all move to the beat of one drum.