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?