Black

Black. Darkness. A moment of night with no stars. Black, just black. But then... was it a glimmer? A ray? A single patch of light grew out of the darkness, blooming and thriving in the nutrients of the nothingness around it. The young light stretched and strained to grow, turning red from exertion and determination. But finally, in the peak of its breath-taking struggle, something unknown gave it a well needed shove - and it shot up into the sky, losing its red tinge and gaining a glorified gold. The young light was nurtured and carefully guided by the wind and clouds. But it was quickly aging, unlike its timeless mentors, and after reaching its highest and brightest point, it started to fall back into the Earth, losing joy and pride but gaining inner light. As its wise instructors encouraged it to do, it strengthened its rays and shot them towards the ground to break its fall. But still it crashed into the ground, and with its last breath it shot the last of its life into the sky. The heavens were painted orange and pink for the world it loved so much to remember it by, through its black-veiled mournful death, until it could be reborn again.

Oh Just Go Away...

Seriously. I don't want you here. Leave!

Merry Christmas

A snowflake made of Starbucks coffee sticks. 

I didn't use any glue or tape... Wow, I have 

way too much time on my hands.

Ah... my least favorite holiday. A day of fighting, greed, whining, arguments, pride, and overindulgence. A holiday that used to be so great... and now is just about the worst one out there.
Christmas used to be about spending time with family and celebrating the love and appreciation you have for one another. Another day to be thankful for what you have and grateful for the gifts your loved ones gave you. A time to be thoughtful and kind and happy... and in many families, a time to talk about Christ and all he did for us. But in the past few decades, media and society have joined together and given Christmas an ugly meaning: Greed.
Commercials and other adds portray giving and receiving gifts as more of a selfish act as opposed to a thoughtful exchange of selflessness. When receiving, all we want is the best present; the biggest car, the newest cell phone, the most expensive shirt. We no longer care about sentimental value- the more it costs, the more important it is to us. Same with the giving part. Commercials illustrate our attitude pretty well; we give the best and most expensive gift so we can look better and out-do our competition.
I don't hate Christmas, I hate what it has become. I hate how the meaning behind it was stripped away so easily. I hate ow something so beautiful could become so ugly. So call me Ebenezer Scrooge if you want... At least HE got to experience a good Christmas at the end of the story. 

crap.

So... maybe they wont fade by the time this is posted.... A few days later the burns started getting infected, and since I didn't really want to have to answer the question 'why are there lighter burns on your arm', I decided to get basic first aid surgery advice from my friend. I should probably say he didn't tell me to... In fact he told me how horrible of an idea it was. Buuuuttt I'm hard-headed, so of course I did not listen. Anyways, I sterilized everything, washed out the wound with peroxide, and then cut off the really infected areas. It got pretty deep... deep enough for the flesh to be white and not bleed as much. Actually I think I hit something important... But I'd rather not think of that. I'm pretty sure I removed all of the skin. Sooo now I have two deep craters where chunks of my arm used to be. Something tells me it wont be healing for awhile...

Twelve

I almost killed my self six days ago. My time, not blog time. That's like 20 weeks before this was posted. But anyways... It was really close. Middle of the night, I had a knife to my wrist and everything... the only thing that stopped me was knowing that I would have to wake my friend up to say goodbye. If he was still awake... I'd be dead right now.
I didn't just let it go... I mean, that stuff doesn't just go away. That was the first night I tried burning myself. I kinda like it better... cutting is great and all, very effective, but I cant really feel it anymore. But burning... well, it's a whole new sensation. I can't describe it... but I think I've found a middle ground. Eleven new scars since then. Nine cuts, two scorches.  Probably one more tonight. We'll see.  not that anyone will ever know. They'll fade by the time anyone reads this. If they ever do.

Phrases

I like to play with words. I don't mean grammar, though I'm good at that too. You could write down any sentence for me, any at all, an I could re-write it in several different ways, with different structures and everything. I could even tweak it a little so it makes even more sense than before. But... that's not what I meant. I like to ponder the meanings of certain sequences of words. Phrases that, the first time you read them, seem like complete gibberish. Phrases that you really have to think about. Phrases that only make sense with time, and special understanding. I could spend my entire life with a list of those phrases, thinking constantly, always trying to find the meaning behind the words. If only that list existed....
Regrettably, that list does not exist. I spend my life going through the motions, trying to find them. And when I do, I write them down. So that at the end of my life, if I ever find a person who likes to think, I could give them that list to study and add to, and save them half a life of searching.

Blackout

I can feel all the eyes in the room looking at me. All of them. Just staring. Waiting for my next move. But I don't have to worry, because I can't see them so they aren't there. Why cant I see them? I can hear them. I can definitely hear their silence. They think I'm going to hurt them. But it doesn't matter cuz they're not there. They're not there. Everything is spinning. Why can't I breathe right? Why does my hand hurt? All I know is I'm angry. I want to break something. Like a wall... I should break a wall. Yeah, that sounds nice. I think I'll go break a wall. Wait, why can't I move my hand? Why can't I see? Whats going on? There's voices around me, saying things... but I can't hear them. What are they saying? Somehow it seems important... but I can't figure out why. I feel something smooth and cool on my forehead. Probably a wall. But why does my hand hurt? And why can't I see? Ouch! Moving my hand hurts. Something's cutting into it. Am I bleeding? And why can't I see? What happened? I wonder if my eyes will work better if I shut them real quick. Oh... they're already shut. Whoa that's bright... I can't stop blinking. Blink. There's a wall on my face. Blink. Or is my face on the wall? Where's my hand? Blink. I can't see it... only my wrist. There's a wall on my wrist! Blink. I think I can pull it off. Blink. Oh that's cool, the wall stayed there. It didn't fall down. Blink. Am I in outer space? Blink. No, then I would be floating. There's blood on my hand. That would float, too. My other hand is still on the wall. It's all pressed against it, flat. Look, I'm giving a long high five to the wall! Oh, wall, are you hurt? There's a hole in you. A big one. Really big. I want to make it bigger... really bigger... but my hand hurts. And the other one is still flat on the wall. I can still hear the voices. They're behind me. I should turn around. Whats wrong? Why are you looking at me like that? What happened? And why are you making me mad?

Worthless.

I want to cut. To grab something sharp and dig it into my arm. No, wait. Never mind.. I don't want that. Scars on my arm can be explained and disguised. I want a pain that will last forever, for everyone to see my shame and identify it easily. I want to be looked down on and shunned, for parents to keep their kids away from this bad influence that might convince their poor innocent child to start burning and cutting themselves. I want them to believe something that isn't true. Because I deserve it.

I hate cutting. I know what it does to me.. I know how bad it hurts. Not just physically, that part is almost liberating in a way. Almost feels good... like a present. A sick, twisted, demented, deserved, horrible, relieving, present. But the emotional and mental parts kill. Almost literally. 

I started cutting for the memory. It was kind of like a tattoo, in a sense. I carved a specific symbol into my right arm. I'm the only one who can still see it. After that, I was angry. Or, I thought I was. Really it was just my past catching up to me in a not-so-wonderful way...blurring my sight of good and evil, right and wrong. I was hurting, but I didn't want to cry. So I cut. For awhile after that it was just when I was angry to the point of no return, the pain calmed me down and buried my emotions for the next outbreak. But... then I started acknowledging a new feeling; sadness. I didn't really think about what I was doing, I just cut. Hardly remembered it the next day. 

Not long after that it became a routine. Numbness till it gets dark, slowly start to feel, then cut. Then go to sleep. Only a few people really knew what I was doing... but even they don't know how bad it got. How deep some of them are. How many times I looked in the mirror with a knife to my carotid artery and knew that just one flick of the wrist could end it all. But... that's all in the past. Death is too easy. 

Now I started on my wrist, like a huge banner proclaiming "This Is A Cutter! A Disgrace To Our Community, A Bratty Good-For-Nothing Teen Who Hates All Rules, A Scared Little Kid Who Wants Attention. Label And Exile, Shun And Shame. She Deserves It." Because I believe it. I hate to cut. I hate when I cut, I hate why I cut, I hate what I cut. And I cant stop. I'm trying so hard, but I keep failing. My last time was supposed to be a blood oath for a friend... but now my last was worthless. Simply Worthless. Just like my scars. Worthless. I'm worthless.

I could have killed myself. I could have been free. But no, death really is too easy. Selfish, too. I deserve worse. I deserve to be condemned to life. I deserve to have to put on a smile and be happy, and to be so high in the clouds that when I fall back down, no one wants to catch me. 

To be thrown back up just so I can fall.

I deserve this, because I am worthless.

okay seriously... SCRAM!!!

Go away. I can't believe you're still here. Go away. I'm not that interesting. Go away.

Aliens and Robots and Tissue, oh my!

So, awhile ago I was walking through Walmart... and I found this!

Kleenex is officially made by the coolest people in the world. I mean, robots and aliens?? What could possibly be more awesome!?

So on behalf of everyone and anyone who is epic enough to appreciate how legit these specific boxes of tissue are, thank you Kleenex. Thank you.

Allumeurs/Juvenalles

This is a scene from a story I started writing in sixth grade

about a group of young robbers. It's also the first watercolor
painting I actually tried at. Here's the introduction:

"I stand in the shadows. Watching. Completely unheard and unnoticed. I watch the houses burn, the people scream...then hear the silence. Every time they go out I follow, and every time they pillage I see. I know who they are, but they don't know me. They rarely sense my presence. They will never find me. Very often do I see them checking themselves, watching their backs. And they should. Crimes committed by an innocent and loyal heart are still crimes, and death is punished with death. I will not tell the village people who they are. I will not take their lives. My name is Jake Hanson, and the Juvenalles will not die. Not while I'm still around."

Maze

I don't really feel like writing... so I'll just say that I got bored and I found some Legos. 

It's pretty much just a three dimensional
pattern. some of the pieces are only
connected by one bump thingy...
pretty cool, huh?

You cant see it, but in the middle is a
tiny chair encased in a trapezoid of
"glass".

The whole thing has three levels, and in theory, if it was real, it would have over five thousand staircases leading up and down at every turn. Basically a giant maze with multiple exits, entrances, and destinations.  

Stupid Flower.

So, my parental ditched me in a store that only sells clothes... *shudder* ... and was gone for like an hour. I only really take ten minutes to go in and out and I'm done. Well, sometimes fifteen if I have to try stuff on. Which I did, so that left me forty-five minutes, plus ten for driving time, to do absolutely nothing. Oh the horror... but there just so happened to be a Starbucks across the parking lot, so I just chilled there. But... staring at the wall in Starbucks is only slightly better than sitting outside of a store by myself. Not that walls aren't entertaining... I could watch one for hours on end. Buuut giving people in a small town the creeps is NOT a good idea... apparently... so I asked someone for a pen and drew a hand on a napkin. It sucked though. Definitely could have done better. However! I have a picture of an interesting flower on my cellular device, and I decided to take a shot at drawing a real flower, instead of one I made up. Here's the original and my drawings:                                              

This is the real one, i thought it was
cool just cuz of the way it's shaded

My first attempt was the one on the
left, I tried to go from the outside
in. The one on the right i went from
the inside out.

Moral of this long, and slightly painful story? Well, there isn't one. So too bad. But i did learn how to draw a flower. At least one of them, anyways.

Seeya Suckahz!!!

It looks like it's just Sharpie, but really

I carved it into both fists with some 

glass. The other hand is a mirror 

image. I covered it in Sharpie so less

people would ask about it... 

I think I'm going to take a break from this for awhile. I've been trying to get better. I'm tired of living like this. I've got too much anger, too much fear, too much pain. It just gets worse when I write about it now. This used to help me face what was going on, keep me accountable for my feelings; because for a while I refused to feel anything. It let me say what I needed to, and that helped me find the root of my anger. This let me see the connection between events happening or that have already happened and how I would react. But now all it does is fuel the rage inside me. It promotes the same thoughts that have been destroying me for four years. I've learned to face whats within me- now I need to learn how to deal with it. I need to learn how to heal. So this is my informal half-goodbye. I'll be back, I just don't know when. My Friday posts will still show up, because they're already scheduled... But everything else will discontinue indefinitely. Sooo bye. Thanks for reading, I guess. I dunno. I still don't like you guys. 

If The World Could See What I See #10

If the World could See what I See...

fear would be continuous.

This is Normal... I Think...

I almost feel the need to post something crazy and out there, totally uncalled for and outrageous. But then, after I looked at all my previous posts... and thought about the ones I'm planning on doing... I realized that to be able to do so, I would have to be normal for just one. Which is harder than it sounds... because as soon as I say I'm trying to be normal, I'm automatically acting abnormal. Which means I'm being weird. Not normal. And this was a complete waste of time. Oh screw it...

BYE.

Go away. Stop reading and go away. Bye.

Porn

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Ummm here, let me un-confuse you...

I think I should clear something up for my non-existent readers. It must be really confusing for them. I mean, there's scheduled posts on Fridays, then the same phrase every Saturday, and a whole bunch of other random posts in the middle of the night? I can almost picture their puzzled expressions... all transparent and fake looking... So I'll explain it. As of right now, 6-ish pm on Monday the 22nd, here's how my posts work:

Every Friday for the next four months already has a designated post. Most of it was written months to years ago, so If anyone out there actually does read this... those are irrelevant in my life right now. And those periodic "Go Away" posts are, too.
Every Saturday will be the same response to the same phrase. It will also be scheduled, however, those are new every week. That's right, those really do describe my viewpoint for the week.
Random posts are from seconds before I finish typing them. Since I'm coming to accept the possible diagnosis of bipolar disorder by my last shitty councilor, Cheryl Peterson, who completely fucked me over, I'll admit that those are the most accurate for a day-by-day account for how I'm doing.
Some posts might disappear, and possibly reappear, randomly. That's because sometimes I write things I shouldn't. So if they disappear, don't freak out. And if they reappear with slight or major modifications, don't freak out.
Get it? Got it? No? Too bad. Now FUCK OFF. I've already said I don't want anyone to read this shit. Cuz thats what it is, shit. Worthless shit from inside my mind. 

Protect To Destroy

I never needed you. I never wanted you. I “confided” in you and “showed you my heart” just so I could take yours and crush it. I only ever called you when the sociopathic drug addict I usually talked to about shit happening in my life wouldn’t answer or hung up on me. I was more upset about him than my actual problems. Not that I should have been. I was starting to rely on him, and he noticed that. I guess for a guy with no feelings he was kind of a sweetharte. He spared me from a lot of pain by pushing me away and leaving. So I should have been thanking him… but I didn’t care at the time. I didn’t care about anything. I still don’t.

I said I go through friends like payless shoes? Well it’s not because they betray me, or don’t love me, or are shallow… or whatever other bullshit excuse I’ve given you before. It’s because I push them away, break them down, and then leave them to rot. I find it fun. I’m not a sociopath, I am capable of love. But instead of using that to grow beautiful relationships, I prefer to crush it wherever I see it. You love her? Here, let me destroy that for you. You love me? Oh that’s cool, watch me rip you to a million pieces one shred at a time, and make sure you feel every tear. But don’t worry, it won’t be torture. Because you’ll forgive me every single time. You said you would, remember?

“You can’t hurt me.” What bullshit! I can hurt anyone. It’s what I’m here for. Maybe that’s why I always wanted to be a soldier… The only things I’m good at are protecting and destroying. I’m a monster. But… I can’t kill myself or I’ll go to Hell, and won’t be able to protect you from it.. I can’t make you kill yourself or we’ll both go to Hell, and I’ll have to spend an eternity with you. The only thing left is to kill you myself. I go to Hell, you go to Heaven. I protect you at the same time as destroying you. But I can’t do that yet… It’s not your time. I have to wait for you to fulfill your purpose before I start on mine. So hurry up, will you? I’ve been waiting for a while already.

Thanks, God. You gave me the one combination that can combat what the Devil made me. The world is safe from me. Oh yeah, but I almost forgot to mention; that very combination will destroy me. Satan wants me to kill? Yeah, give me an obligation to protect. Good idea. Make me a Christian, and let me see you. Let me love you. Then, when I swear to serve you faithfully, tell me my purpose. Tell me the horrible truth. Let me put the pieces together. Then watch me understand. I have to protect, but I need to destroy. Spiritual warfare? Yeah, that’s me. Great, huh?

Look, I don’t want to hurt you. But I have to protect you. From the world, from Hell, from… Me. But I can only save you from two of those.

I know you’ll disagree. But everyone has a purpose, why shouldn't mine be a darker unique? I always knew I was different.  I used to believe people when they said I was destined for great things... Wonderful things. Things God planned for me. I was such a fool. Now I know the truth. I’m different because I’m a mistake. An evil creation turned slightly good. A being with one purpose: to fix an exact moment in time that hasn't occurred yet. Of course, I can always just neglect my duties and forget you. But I love you… and if I do that, Satan gets you. So I’m trapped. God created a living paradox to share your destiny.

I have to be here just in case. For the slight, but undeniable chance that you might want to kill yourself too. For the likely hood that you'll succeed. And if you do, and I'm already in Hell, then you'll have to join me in the flames. But if I'm still alive... If I'm still destined for even the lowest rank of Heaven... I can give that to you. I can choose to give you my eternity... 

You said I'm not just a chess piece in this sick game called life. Well you're right. I'm not a chess piece, my life is. My decisions are what They want. My decision at the end... Whether or not I'll make the right choice. If I'll even be able to. The time has not even begun to dawn and I'm already mourning my Father's departure. will I have the strength to let him leave me forever? Even for someone I care so deeply about? You said if it was up to you, we’d be friends forever. Well, it’s not up to you. It’s my decision. And I’m sorry, but your wishes can’t be. No matter what I choose… I leave you forever.

If The World Could See What I See #9

If the World could See what I See...

there wouldn't be second chances.

Poison

I drew this on my arm at summer camp.

Black & White

I know my life isn't Black & White... but sometimes I like 

to pretend it is.

Bittersweet Concoction

I'm not going anywhere. I want to, I really do. But I can't. It's not just that I truly care for you... a rare occurrence .. it's that I know more than I should. I wish I didn't have to know the truth. Because with every truth comes responsibility. I used to think I knew so much. Now I know how little I really knew. In my opinion, I know too much. I took on more responsibility than I ever should have. Screw understanding; now I know it's just a trap. A trick that I fell for. And now I have a requirement, an obligation that needs to be attended. I'm supposed to stay. I can leave whenever I want, but I'm supposed to stay by your side. The weight of the world really is on my shoulders... Leave to destroy you, or stay to destroy me. And I can't leave because I care. So I'll take this bittersweet concoction with an extra pinch of salt and tell you I love you. Because I do. I'm giving up my eternity for you... so you'd better believe it.

Fucking greater good... always complicates things. 

If The World Could See What I See #8

If the World could See what I See...

they'd know that miracles are just a bedtime story to tell children, to teach them how to hope; and that hope is just a delusion society has created to make sense if the chaotic insanity of our lives.

Regrets

I thought about this specific drawing for three months before
I actually attempted to draw it. I almost wish it didn't mean
so much to me...

Lets Play Games

A confession for a friend:

The last time I cut was in honor of you. I even did it the same way you used to. I actually liked it better than all the other styles I've tried over the years... it didn't just contain my anger, it released it and let it grow, too. So, thanks, I owe you one. I mean, I guess we're sorta even, since I did dedicate a scar on my arm just to you... but I have a feeling you'll take that the wrong way. So maybe according to your balance I owe you two. But hey, who's counting? Oh wait, I am. *laughs*.
I like this. Almost as much as all the games I've played with you. Did you know they have names? Yeah, I made them up beforehand. My favorite was "Ten chances to save a life". But you were disappointing that time. Why wouldn't you play? You always have before. Not that you ever really knew you were... but still! And that one was my favorite, too. Will you play it with me today? It IS my birthday. Please?

If The World Could See What I See #7

If the World could See what I See...

they would know that everything is reliable - even if that means it's only reliably unreliable.

If you don't understand that, go away. I don't give a shit. Also, I don't care that this is seven and a half hours late. So shut up and leave if you don't like it. 

Song - Live to Die

I'M DONE
I'm fuckin DONE, and I know
I can't stop from falling down. I'm alone
In this world
With a heart full of lies and a smile
The FIGHT of my LIFE isn't truly MINE

Cuz when shit hits the fan andthe pieces scatter
I jump the fuck back and double with laughter
Now the reflection in the glass is no longer mine-
Cuz I LIVE to DIE

I'm condemned to life, but cast away
Thrown out with the trash but forced to live today
I'm the discard that no one wants to know
Because the human race knows how to stoop this low

But why should they care?
How could they know?
When it comes to the truth I've got none to show
And who wants a pirate, a liar, a thief
To stand out in their crowds like a fluffy black sheep
But condemned as I am I've got nothin to lose
So I'll fight to the death to
SCREAM OUT MY TRUTH

IM DONE
I'm fuckin DONE, and I know
I can't stop from falling down. I'm alone
In this world
With a heart full of lies and a smile
The FIGHT of my LIFE isn't truly MINE

I'm living in the moment, no regrets
Living for one purpose, left for dead
My memory is fading, my mind is numb,
Reality is fading like the evening sun
I'm almost gone.
The dreams of my sleep are cut
By the nightmares of my life- I'll never give up
This fight. But I won't live through the night
I'm hardly AWAKE when I open my EYES

I'M DONE
I'm fuckin DONE, and I know
I can't stop from falling down. I'm alone
In this world
With a heart full of lies and a smile
The FIGHT of my LIFE isn't truly MINE

Mechanic Quote

So, I was watching one of my favorite movies, "The Mechanic", last night, and for the first time ever noone was talking during one specific part of the movie. And holy crap, there was the coolest quote I've ever heard in any movie- including "The Dark Night". Here's the magic: 

“I’m going to put a price on your head so big that when you look in the mirror your reflection is gonna want to shoot you in the face.”

I thought that was really cool. sooo yeah.

If The World Could See What I See #6

If the World could See what I See...

Truth really would be a relative term.

Drinking

For me, drinking is hard. I never really know how it'll turn out. In fact, its never quite the same... Always different feelings and emotions driving different actions. Oh yeah, I get very emotional when I'm drunk. I'm pretty young, too young for this stuff, but still its usually its not too bad... A little cocky here, a little feisty there... Not usually serious enough to destroy my friendships. Usually.  Well I mean, once I did punch a good friend of mine in the face.... He didn't forgive me for a month. But that's okay, its not like we'll be buddies forever... In fact it looks like I might never see him again. That isn't my point, though. Actually, I don't really have a point. Except that this time I feel sad.  Really sad. Like its not gunna  be okay this time. Like I won't be okay. Maybe never.

Hi..?

Stop reading this blog. Stop. I mean it. Your kind isn't welcome here. That is, unless I gave you the link... I which case I should say that I post every Friday and Saturday at 3. But that's unlikely. So go away.

A Message I Should Have Sent

Two posts in one day? Three extra posts this week? Yeah, I probably am insane. Oh wait a sec... I deleted the one from last night. It was kind of really horrible. Like, cruel. I hope I never use my words to destroy someone to that degree ever again. I'm a bad person... Anyways! I was going through the drafts on my cellular device, because I have alot of crazy ideas on there, when I came across a message I never sent. Now, normally this wouldn't be very interesting, but it happened to be a response to a question a friend once asked me. I don't remember the exact question... but my answer gives a general idea. Enjoy, you disobedient children.


"Hey I'm sure you're probably asleep so if I wake you up I'm really sorry... I'm tired and I cant sleep so I figured I might as well answer your question. Yes, sometimes I do still think like that. As much as I've worked on it, and as far as I've come, there are still times when I just want to end it all or cut or... something. Those kinds of feelings don't go away quickly. And the longer you have them... the longer it takes. Mine have lasted three years now...It's gunna take a very long time to get rid of that mentality. But I'm willing to put in the effort as long as I can see the end result. And as long as I can see the people I care about, I can definitely carry on. Sorry that took so long... I really don't have an excuse."


It's from quite awhile ago. I didn't want to delete it for good, because it's so true... so I'm throwing it in my virtual dump site to be saved and sorted. Yay!

Death

A friend of mine once told me that I talk about death alot. I asked him about it later that week, and he said sometimes I seem kind of... focused on it. Farther into the conversation he said one of the effects of that would be fear of death.

That kind of puzzled me. I do talk about death alot. I think about it even more. But... I'm not afraid of it. It doesn't bother me at all. Several of my pets and family members have died, and only one of them made me sad. But I wasn't sad about losing her, I was sad she had to suffer for 16 hours before I could have her put down. I held her all night and morning, trying to make her feel safe. I hurt because she hurt, not because I didn't want to lose her.

I'm totally fine with death. I kind of understand it, in a way. Somehow it makes sense. Why would I be afraid of something I understand?

If The World Could See What I See #5

If the World could See what I See...

"HOPE" would just be a fading dream.

Three words

I can take your identity with three words. I can destroy you. Or maybe just one... You are pretty weak. Just go die. Go kill yourself. I hate you. HATE. It's such a pretty word... With such meaning. Very powerful. See? I can break you with it. Oh, but seriously, I hope you kill yourself.

An Elaborate Hypothetical - Lone Shark

I'm extremely bored and I started thinking... and ended up halfway through a tough hypothetical situation. I thought it was cool... so I'm writing it down before I forget. In this scenario I somehow, against all odds, broke my friend's $1400 camera while I was showing him this really cool place that a photographer like him would call heaven. Excuse the poor grammar.


I say "shit... how much does it cost?"
He says "you don't have to..."
I say "hey, don't. how much is it?"
he says "$1400..."
I stop and think for a sec. "I can get you the money in less than a month for high risk, or in three months for fairly reasonable risk."
He gives me a weird look and asks "what are you going to do?"
I say "one month or three?"
He says "three."

A month later he's old enough to place bets and gamble. I take him to a nearby race and tell him the plan. "in every sport you can gamble on, there's at least one lone shark. I've got $50 right now, in two months you'll have $1400. All I need you to do is place the bets and not talk to anyone I do. Cool?"
"That's a bad idea."
"I know, but just trust me on this one, alright? Gambling runs in my blood." I lead him in. "stand right there and look bored."

I scan the room and see what I'm looking for: a man in a nice suit sitting at a table by himself. He doesn't have a briefcase like in the movies, which is slightly disappointing. But his left arm is closer to his chest than his right so I know he's carrying some money. I walk over to the table and sit down. I don't say anything, just look at him.
"Can I help you sweetheart?" he says.
"How much interest?"
He chuckles. "200%"
"Smart" I say "The interest is high so your clients are forced to bet big. But that doesn't benefit you, now does it? Anyone who comes to you has a gambling addiction. That means the only way you get your money back is if they win. I'm guessing you're employed by the stadium. But I don't want to play by stadium rules. I want the same as you do; under the table. I want to get back my money with a little extra for myself. But I'm generous, so I'd like to help you out a little too. $50, 120% interest. Off the books."
"150 and you've got yourself a deal."
"Nice doing business with you, sir."
"Aren't you a little young for this sport?"
"Is anyone too young to take a chance?" I got up and walked away with an extra fifty dollar bill in my pocket. I didn't need to look back to see the grin on his face.


That's as far as I got before I picked up my laptop... I left out a huge argument between my friend and I, so sorry about that. I couldn't remember the exact wording, and that's sort of important with this specific friend. But it doesn't really matter that much.

If The World Could See What I See #4

If the World could See what I See...

They wouldn't bother to run away.

Shadows

Sometimes I look at shadows. Just to watch how they move. They're all different, all unique... but somehow the same. They are all empty shells of the people they reflect. It kind of reminds me of the identities people create for themselves. Shallow, vague, and easy to shatter with just a little light. Is that why there are so many broken people out there? Did someone put a spotlight on their shadow of a life? And if that's true, what would happen if someone was to pick up those broken pieces, turn them over... and find that if they fit together just right, they can reflect the real person inside you? What would they see? If shadows were mirrors, would there be less people crying out for help?

The Rat

I wanted to do a meaningful tribute to the victims of 9/11... but today I lost a beloved pet and dear friend of mine. So this is the best I can do:

Once upon a time, in the most beautiful room ever imagined, there lived a rat. She was an artist's roommate. Every day the rat dreamed about the outdoors. The birds, the bees, the wind blowing through trees that she could always hear through the open window over the artist's bed. But she was loyal, and never ventured out of the room unless her companion the artist was with her. She would sit in her glass bed and accept many gifts in return for listening to sad stories. There were new tales every day, about lost friends and abandonment and abuse and death. But she always listened. One night, so late it was morning, the rat got sick. Very sick. The artist was just coming back from a day of drawing when she saw the rat. Poor and helpless... and ready to pass on to a better life. The artist held the rat in her arms and watched her all through the night, protecting her and giving her comfort. The next day, when it was almost time, she told her one last story. A sad story about death and destruction, misunderstood cultures, loss and trauma, fear and hope. She told a story about one fateful day that would change the world forever, and bring fear and hope to millions. Then it was time. After a mournful goodbye, the artist waited for the rat to die. With her last breath the rat shed a tear for all those lost.
The artist made a special bed for the rat to lie in forever. In it she placed a shell from the sea, a carrot and walnut, two coins for her passage across the river Styx, and a note goodbye. It read:

Ratalie
Loved November 2011-
September 11, 2012

Forever Rest In Peace,
Ratalie. You were loved,
and you always will be.
I'll miss you...

September 11, 2012
4:14 pm

She rested in the shade of a tree she remembered hearing. She watched the birds and the wind in the trees as her bed was placed in the moist earth. One last goodbye.

"Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends." -Shel Silverstein

If The World Could See What I See #3

If the World could See what I See...
they might finally understand that no one can be trusted.

Please be okay...

So... I guess we're not as great of friends as I thought. But... that's okay, right? I mean, not everyone can mean that much to him... or anyone... actually, he doesn't really have anyone. No one at all, really. I want to help him so bad... I just don't know how. He says he'll let me in, but he wont. He says he'll be fine, but sometimes he's really not. He says he doesn't have anyone, but I'm right here! Right in front of him, and still he doesn't see it. I just want to help him in any way I possibly can. Why cant he see that? He's been this way for so long, I guess he just doesn't see it. I just hope he figures out soon that I'll always be there for him. If he lets me, anyways.

Waiting...

If my trust was my bedroom wall, he would demolish it. If my trust was a window, he would shatter it with a brick. If my trust were real, he might have broken it along with our friendship, like he does to everyone else. But he forgot one crucial thing. I don't trust anyone. Not even him. So even if he tries to shake me, or lie to drive me away... I'll be right here. Like always. Waiting for him to stop being a moron and come back for help. I'm not going to chase him, but I will wait for him to come back. Because he always does. Eventually.

If The World Could See What I See #2

If the World could See what I See...

They'd know that death is a privilege.  

Nitelocke

This is a drawing I made for a good friend of mine's birthday.
I couldn't find a good enough flower to give him...
so I drew one instead.
It kind of goes with this poem...

A knife marked by guilt.
Red in the sand.
Reflecting rays of moonlight
On his outstretched hand.
Reaching for a symbol
Of a life he'd lost.
Reaching... reaching...
Until his arm slowly dropped.
He would never grasp her innocence,
Her beauty, her light
That this mournful flower
Reflected in the night.

Hello!

Go away. I mean it. This isn't for you.  So unless I told you to look up this page, actually gave you permission, or you don't know me, then please just go away. You're not wanted here.

If The World Could See What I See

I think I'll start a weekly segment on here, to track my point of view for awhile. It'll always use the same phrase "If the world could see what I see". I've asked my friends to finish the sentence a bunch of times before, but I rarely have time to answer myself. So why not, you know?

If the World could See what I See...
They'd see death and destruction everywhere. People crying out for help... but knowing they'll never be saved.

Detox

No, I wasn't "stupid enough to get caught"- I was smart enough to tell the truth and get the help that I needed. It was my decision to sober up, probation and expulsion or not. Having the law involved just gives me no way out but forward. And you know what? I'm glad. Because even though I'm going through a long and painful detox, and the walls are always closing in on me, and I overall feel like shit... I've never been stronger.

Abomination! Warning : Explicit

I went on Google and typed in "suicide". A million pages telling me how to kill myself and why i should or shouldn't do it... it had all the information I could ever need. Then I tried "cutting self harm". I almost threw my brand new laptop across the room... all I could see were people trashing anyone who's ever cut, calling them horrible things and just spreading... Hate. Anyone who was looking for a way out tonight wouldn't have found it... they would have run into a solid wall of shame. Warning: this is about to get explicit. Assholes! Look, just because you had your trashy little childhood where you experienced a trauma, and decided to start picking on people to ease the pain instead of relying on cutting or burning, does NOT mean you get to destroy someone's life by telling them how horrible they are when they already hurt. It does NOT mean you are in any way even remotely better than them. In fact, as soon as you post that online, you lose any and all respect, integrity, and rights you thought you had. You're now a douche with internet access, an abomination, a fuckin virus spreader. Anyone who posts something like that is a murderer. Because no matter what your fancy little lawyer might say, you HAVE killed someone with your stupid, shitty, uneducated opinion. There are two sides to every story, so stop staring at the fucking wall and read it! Just like politics, forming opinions just by what your peers say is outright idiotic. So congrats, murderer. You're officially a moron. Enjoy it.

Now, as much as I'd love to tell you to FUCK OFF, I am required by common decency to offer you a path to education and understanding on this subject. Because I do have a moral code... and I follow it. So if you are willing to learn, I suggest going to Google Images and typing in "self harm cutting burning". The images are horrible, but the stories behind them are worse. And don't you DARE try to use the old clique line "everyone goes through shit, if so-and-so could go through such-and-such without doing that, they should just suck it up because its not as bad". It's ignorant. Who cares what so-and-so went through? The person you're talking to doesn't. He or She is going through something right now. Comparing their problems isn't fair; people are affected by things differently. Who are you to judge which one is worse?

Oh, and I didn't give you this information to help you harass people more efficiently. If that's what you use it for then I hope from the bottom of my heart that whatever higher power you might believe in, or just society in general, will somehow seek its revenge on you in the most brutal and gruesome way possible. Because you deserve worse.

The Gift

This is the beginning of a drawing to illustrate the story,
and the end of a film I plan to make based on it. 

Long ago, in a garden planted by the Angels, there was a single rose bush. But, it was unlike the extravagant and unruly roses we see today. It was simple and elegant, and possessed only one blossom. The petals were said to contain venom from Satan himself, and grant immortality and wealth to whomever consumed one. The flower was so beautiful that men would be blinded by its grace if they ever laid eyes on it. But no man ever has, for it rests upon the peak of a wretched mountain covered in poison-tipped thorns. God placed it there as His most precious gift at the dawn of time to lure back his children on Earth. Every day, the Devil tries to diminish and replicate its glory in our gardens and homes, and draw us        away from our true desire. God sees this, but still He guides us toward the dangerous path up. He knows that the only way to ensure an eternity with us is to watch us suffer through pain and injury, trying in vain to reach something He has already given us.

Purpose

Sometimes I ask myself why I'm here. What purpose do I serve? What am I meant to do? Who will I become? How should I live my life? I don't think I'll ever be able to fully answer those questions. But here's what I've got so far:
I am here to follow the Lord, and to serve him in any way that He says to. I am meant to fight for truth and what I believe is right. I will become a warrior, a speaker, and the child God sees in me. I will become a faithful servant in his eyes. I should live my life to the fullest, and always take into consideration how it affects the world and who I am.
These answers will change as I grow and understand life more and more. Only when I die will I know if I've answered them correctly.

Preachers

Preachers try to tell us who God is. But all they say is who they think he is. They never ask us what we think. Sometimes they tell us to go find out, to talk to Him. But.. what if He doesn't talk back? What if He doesn't know who we are? What if He isn't real?
These questions stop us from knowing God. Our poor faith keeps us from believing in the one real and eternal Being. Our poor faith keeps us from knowing love.
Those thoughts and ideas used to plague me. But now I've reached a conclusion: Each and every one of us needs to understand Him in our own way. This is my understanding.
God made everything. He Imagined Imagination, Invented Invention, and Created Creation. And everything He makes, He loves. God's love never fails. He loves me for me, despite all my mistakes and faults. God is above all else. He is above all pain and hatred. He is above Evil and fear. He will protect me as long as I believe this. God has saved me from the worst ideas and beliefs I've had. He saved me, and will continue saving me because He loves me. And i love Him.

To my random, disobedient readers:

I think I should mention to those who are reading this... against my will... that my posts aren't exactly in order. All this stuff is from random pages of my many black notebooks and sketch pads. Sooo if I seem bipolar, sorry. I'm really not.

Pain or Anger?

We ask ourselves why people do horrible things. We cry when loved ones die, and proclaim noone has ever felt the same pain we have. But... What if bad people aren't truley bad- just hurting inside? If pain is just anger in disguise, would we, the broken and hurting, not be capable of the same things as if our pain was anger?

Lies

Walking in a room full of lies pretending to be someone you're not is easy. Crawling down a street of deception being yourself is hard. And being ripped out of both of those worlds and then being stuffed into a box of honesty and acceptance where you are expected to be exactly who you are and want to be is exceptionally difficult. But... Imagine a world where everyone not only accepts you for you, but embraces your unique self and rejoices in it. And what if no one was ever dishonest or fake? Would we, the broken and ashamed, survive a change that drastic?

Hey There...

Hi! welcome to my blog. if you don't know me, awesome! wont it be cool to read a random person's insanity? and if you do know me... crap. i recommend leaving. this isnt for you. in fact, this blog thingy isn't really for anyone, its mostly just for me to dump a bunch of cool stuff i write/draw/record on so it doesn't ever get lost or burn... if you know me and for some reason are still reading this, you're probably laughing about just how likely the latter option is... well anyways, i don't condone the reading of this blog, but then again i cant stop you. so enjoy, i guess. i dunno. i'm not gunna pretend i want you to read this. because i don't. but hey, whatever.