He held her as her tears softly rolled down her cheeks and onto his chest. Her silhouetted face rested against his shoulder. He reached down and tilted her fragile chin to face him. He waited an eternity for her confidence to to return his gaze. her shattered eyes drifted up to meet his. And for one breif, fleeting moment, they were together. The world melted into her eyes and his lips. They were whole together, complete and understanding. But fading. Suddenly they were as before, him distant, her despairing. He turned away. She looked down. Their oneness was forever lost. And so is said, Goodbye.

I miss you.

I miss you.
I miss the way you held me that first time when i was angry and hurting. i miss the way you held my hand in yours and caressed it, kissed it, brushed my fingers backwards against your warm cheek. i miss dancing, and your head against mine. i miss the look in your eyes as you touched me... as i touched you...
I want you back.
If you want me too.. why did you leave? I'm "incredible", but not enough to fight for? You've been hurt. I get that. She screwed you over. She threw away your love like an old gum wrapper in her jeans pocket. why would she waste someone like you? and why would I do the same? she left you for what she thought was "better". Well he wasn't, was he? you know that better than anyone. But I'm not going to leave you for "better". Why would I? I've already found the best there is. What more could I want? what else would I desire?
I want you. i miss you. i long for those sweet and simple moments, same as you, spent in your arms and loving gaze. I want to feel special again. I want you to be the love of my life once more. oh, woe is me! I cant move on. I've tried too hard once too many times to let go so soon. I'm trapped in our brief exchanges.
I'm trapped in who we were.

I miss you.
I love you.
I want you.

All I ever wanted was you..

Thats It?

Am I not good enough for you?

Is there something wrong with me? Is that why you left..? Because I'm not what you were looking for?

Fuck you. How can i believe anything you've ever said? You called me beautiful... said you loved me... that you liked being with me. And now youre just... done with me? thats it? This wasnt all me. You started it too. It wasnt all my idea. you wanted this, too. And you said there was more to it than "friends with benefits". there was real love. Or were you confused? lust feels like love sometimes. The only times you wanted me were for more than innocent love. I showed you a whole new type of love and you... used me. You fucking used me. I told you no that night, at the playground in the rain. But you wanted it. You always get what you want. you wanted me so you got me, you want me gone so you left. thats probably why you never said you wouldnt leave me. because you  knew you would eventually. And the worst part is if you want me again... youll get me. because i cant let go. im too far gone, thanks to you. I cant leave you. Because even though you walked over me and threw me out, I still love you like a stupid love song. So fuck you. do you know how much youre giving up? im awesome. i mean.. i thought so.

I thought this was real for you too. 

Song- Silhouette

I closed my eyes and you were there

Opened them again and you were gone
I reached out to touch you
Though I knew I'd grasp at nothing
Fingers slipping through the open air

Will you remind me of a time when you were always there for me
Just like when we first met
Make a promise to me now
'Cause you're fading like a memory
I'm in love with a silhouette

I'm waiting for you
To be the one who picks me up off of the ground
I'm waiting for you
To save me from this loneliness I feel
Though I know in my mind
You'll never give yourself to me..
I can always hope
That eventually you'll see

We belong together
We were made for each other
And even though it sounds like a delusional state
My mind knows I'm going crazy for you

you've tamed the beast

I've never been the type to settle down. That white picket fence with the two point five bratty little angels just doesn't seem that appealing to me. I don't want to take an art or knitting class, because, that would imply i was bored of being a stay at home mom. Which is something i never intended to be. I wanted adventures and battles and drama and chaos and absolutely anything that would keep back the monogamy of everyday life. And i still want that, with you. I want to be wild and free with you by my side. But sweetheart... If stability is what you crave, and structure is what holds you together, and if routine is what keeps you going every day... Then i will gladly clean the house, cook your meals, and write you a letter every single day. I will shine your shoes and ask about your day at work. I will have as many kids as you want and i will still find time every single day to dedicate just for you. I will do whatever it takes to make you happy. Because thats all i really want now. To be happy with you. To be with you forever. 

Slipping Back Into Who I Was

I almost forgot what it was like to feel insubordinate. Sure, every now and then there was the occasional humbling moment when I realized my opinions and thoughts weren't valued. But in general, I was confident in my worth. I was worth it. I was special. My ideas mattered.
Today, for a fleeting moment, that changed. Instead of seeing myself as who I truly am.. I was sucked back into the image I created for myself years ago. I relied on my peers to affirm my place in the world, and was utterly crushed when instead they denied it.
I hope this doesn't happen again.
It sucks to be worthless.

my disappointment leads to me.

It's like I'm caught up in all of these stupid feelings of rejection and disappointment, even though deep down inside I know its my fault. I caused this fate. I caused this strain. I love you, so I want it to be perfect, but since it's not I'm frustrated, so i take it out on you. which is stupid. and i know that. i should just love you and be patient, and if i have to blame anyone it should be myself. I'm sorry. I know it's messed up. you really dont deserve this... not from me. not ever.

Song- Comparative Victory

Apathy is what drives my motives

I can not be here all alone

I cant be here on my own

I see you walking with ambition

Listenin'

Watching the way you succeed

It reaches in me and twists up my insides

To think

I could be where you are 

And youd be here with this version of me

That will tear you to pieces

You're unreachable, unstopable, unhatable, unforgivable

You're what i long to destroy

Cuz i know you'll always be ahead of me

Seeing what i see

From another perspective

Is it true

That i should keep my eye on you?

Or should i look away and find my own way 

Outta here? 

Cuz you have it all

You've always had it all

You've never lost your meaning for life

Except that time

When you came cryin' to

Silly me

I thought it would change you 

I thought youd appreciate all I've done for

Sweet little you 

And your lollipops, gumdrops, sugary parade of 

Comparative victory

Can you see

Why cant you see

How I've saved your sorry ass

Introducing Luke: another sneak peek/teaser

Here's something I wrote today.

Luke sighed and opened his eyes as a ray of sunlight fell across his face. He could not gather the will to move. He never could. He felt something gnawing away at his very soul- not worry or anticipation, but something darker and deeper… something that wanted nothing more than to consume him alive. Something more familiar and reliable than the beats of his own heart.

These were the moments he lived for. No one was counting on him to be strong and keep it together. In these few precious seconds were the peace and vulnerability he so longed to express.

His thoughts reached true clarity as the fleeting moment faded along with the forgotten last fragments of his dreams. The responsibility of his stature weighed down on his free-spirited chest and brought him back to the contrast-less bitter reality of his life. He closed his eyes and shut it out. He would not face this day.

He felt her next to him.. their bodies pressed together under the thin material. He smelled the sweat and grime on his body almost masking her light, intoxicating scent. He shut his eyes tighter. Their heart beats were one in perfect synchronization. The resonating vibrations of her voice seeped through her voice in her sleep. She was real. She was real. This was real.

He opened his eyes. She was gone. He was alone. Fading.

He sat up and let his face interlacedly grate into his fingers and palms. Paused. Closed his eyes. Exhaled.

The sound of Reece lifting his head drew Luke out of his haze.

“What’s wrong?”

The soft voice echoed through the receding fog in his mind. He shouldn’t have waited so long. Dwelling in honesty would lead to pain and fear.

“Get up.”

He let his hands fall from his face and rose. “Let’s go.”  He hardened himself against weak gentleness with burning anger and bitterness. “I said get up.” His voice was shaking with the rage he could never control. He glanced over at the motionless, studying expression. Reece wasn’t moving. Luke knelt on one excruciating knee and pushed himself off of the ground.  In two strides he was standing over his brother with his knife drawn. He hovered above the younger boy, ready to lunge at the first brave word spoken. He shifted his weight away from his injured leg. Reece was still silently waiting. “What! What do you want?” he could hear his words losing power. “Stop staring at me! Get up.” He condensed his shaky words into a sharp, intense order.

Reece still didn’t move. With a roar Luke hurled his knife into the floor almost too near to his brother’s head. He refused to limp as he stormed out of the room before he could see the spark of fear in Reece’s eyes.

Response to Promp

"Many people have hidden qualities that do not emerge until they are needed. It can feel wonderful to discover in yourself a strength that you did not know you have. Write about a time when you learned something about yourself that you hadn’t known before." 

I learned how to kill during my freshman year. It wasn’t overnight, or even an epiphany moment. It was a slow, agonizing, degrading, heart-wrenching process fueled by anger, grief, and an excess of power. It was a series of realizations and corresponding decisions. These life altering changes made me who I am today.

My first realization occurred on December 11th, 2011. After a personal tragedy regarding the vastness of my selective innocence, the lens through which I saw the world changed. It was no longer me, an insecure little fourteen year old, looking out at the world around me closing in; there were a million people who I would someday meet, all of whom felt the same as I did, and all as easily influenced as I acknowledged I was. My dramatic realization inspired a decision to never rely on any being so easily shaped and molded by outside forces. I was alone in my own reality, and it was so much better that way.

The next few months consisted of me pushing away anyone who “thought they knew” or who wanted to “help”. My zero-tolerance for deep connections with peers was underway. However, pushing everyone away showed me the lonely side of being set apart. My first instinct was to cut the act and run back to my friends, maybe even crying, and just let them see just how shredded up I was inside. But experience stopped me. I remembered the limited patience for the hurting people around me. I remembered how it only took two or three weeks to get sick of someone not being okay. So my second realization came to pass. Hurting people are pushed away, but wanderers are herded in. My need for companionship compelled my next decision- I would be the wanderer. As long as I was okay, people would want to spend time with me. Also, as long as I was never around, they would miss me and want to spend time with me.

I knew how manipulative I was being. But different trials come to different people, and only the fittest survive. In a society where the broken are cast away and shunned I knew my iron-armor would keep me standing. The Anger alloy from my armor was growing stronger. I was impenetrable. Indestructible. Fearsome. I could see the fear in their eyes as they walked by. They could feel it radiating off of me as they walked by. I saw the distrust driving them away, and thus came upon a third realization. An increase in fear drives an increase of respect. As long as I was feared, my peers would listen to my words. My next decision was to embrace this newfound power.

I was cruel, I was merciless. I was a ruthless underground dictator. I was she who could control your next action with but one careful glance. I applied this to every person in my consciousness. I persuaded my friends and enemies alike into actions they would never commit of their own accord. It was then I realized what I had become. I was a monster, a siren, a pirate, a villain. I possessed every quality needed to take a life; detachment, realism, fearlessness, anger, and willingness. I was the product of myself and the internal influence of my surroundings.

Eddie The General

His name's Anthony, but everyone calls him "Eddie" and "Cheddie". He's basically the godfather in the form of an intense 15-year-old kid. He would be a regular Sonoran white trash wannabe gangster if it wasnt for his careful demeanor... The very way he carries himself is powerful.
It's easy to offend him. I myself managed to do so on the very first day i met him. I jokingly asked if his neighborhood-what i now percieve as the carefully oiled machine that it is- was a white trash neighborhood. In hindsight, maybe advanced sarcasm wasnt the best idea for an entirely new group of people. But i did insult his beautiful creation.
He has somehow earned the devotion of every teenaged boy, and most girls, in the townhomes. Even through his cruelty is a subtle, calm resolution and self-assurance that his decisions are best. He expects full respect from every being within his control. He gives the respect he knows he deserves up untill his trust is broken. Not that he fully trusts anyone besides Shawny, and even he doesnt try to get too close.
Eddie is not to be challenged. As far as I've seen, only one person ever has: his brother Mikey. But even then it wasnt a real opposition, and it wasnt even given a real consideration; in fact, it was almost completely ignored. Eddie knew he didn't need to provide a response. Everyone knows what happens when you try to stop Eddie.
It was a regular night, with most of the guys hangin around Cheddie's place, playing basketball and listening to a new beat they were thinking of freestyling to. Kelson must have said something earlier that Eddie didn't "appreciate". He most likely saw the slight pause of Eddie's shades in his direction, and the charactaristic tightening of his lips. Maybe it was subconscious. But regardless of the revealing indication, he knew to run. He sprinted across the street and through the allies to the park.
He never made it. Cheddie the general led his troops in an exhillarating pursuit of his latest victim. They jumped their friend-their brother-one of their own and beat him down. It wasnt meant to hurt him, just break him down. To show him what happens when you go against the pack. I had stayed behind and listened to the recording of someone i love's voice. I knew what was happening. I turned my back as best as i could. Cheddie the general and Shawny his second in command returned first. "Where were you? You missed all the fun." I'll never forget those words. After brutally hitting one of his good friends ceaselessly for minutes, he returned and called it fun. This is Eddie the general.
He sees me watching him. He knows I'm studying his actions. He doesnt think I'll figure him out. Thing is, I'm closer than he thinks. I understand the hows and whats, all thats left to learn of him is the whys. Why do you smoke? Why do you chew? Why did you used to paint? Why don't you anymore? Why don't you smile? Who made you this way? Why did you train your men so strictly? Why do you shake their hands? Why are you Cheddie?
Someday I'll know; someday I'll crack him. But until i do, he will be the one kid who managed to break me and earn my full devotion and respect  without bothering to remember my name.

you asked "what?"

Sometimes its hard, seeing you. Ever since you said we should stop. I know its stupid and my head keeps telling me to quit being such a girl but sometimes it feels like I've lost you. It seems like when we stopped kissing we were somehow not as good of friends. And even that is stupid, because I'm acting like we were a real couple instead of.. whatever we were. I know we weren't and probably never will be but in the moment it felt like you were mine. I started to confuse what love between us was supposed to be... Maybe that's why things have been a little weird lately. It kinda felt like you were breaking my heart. I told you someone would get hurt... I just didn't admitt i knew it would be me. I also wont admitt that these past few brief moments we've spent together all I've wanted to do is drop everything, slide my hand across your cheek, and kiss you with all the sweet, innocent passion of our first few kisses. I don't care about the people around. But i know you would. So i don't. And it kills me because when I'm torn up inside all i want is you even though i know it would just hurt more. You're all i ever want despite knowing that if i lean my head against yours like we used to it might end up in a kiss, and i know how bad that would end up being for both of us. Because with us it never ends with that kiss. I want more and you don't care about restrictions until we realize how far we've gone and that we still cant define exactly what we are to each other. Is that why you wanted to stop? Because you noticed a little too late the truth I've been concealing between my lips: that it doesn't matter how far we go now, we will always go farther every single time? The truth wasn't so harsh for me because to me you were my superhero and my one love. I would have done anything for you. Was it hard for you because somehow, after all we've done and been through, I'm not as important to you as you are to me? Again i know how stupid it is every time i say it aloud but it somehow keeps popping up as a real concern. Even after what you said last night, about loving me just as much as i love you. That's all I've ever needed to hear but i know deep down that next time it'll be even harder to look you in the eye without showing you how bad it hurts. Because your eyes are mine. And your lips are mine. And every inch of you I've ever dared to caress... I've taken you and you're mine. But when i feel the urge to run at you and absorb you with lovely, tangible, physical love i have to remind myself that I'm in my own delusion; you never gave yourself to me, you never loved me as your partner, you don't always see me as i see you. I wish i could cry. But not even you could awaken that part of me, not even before we complicated things. I miss how simple and sweet things were before the fountain... How we were friends and only friends and never anything more. I could tell you anything just because i wanted to, not because i was afraid that if i didn't keep sharing deep feelings with you our intimacy would fail and you would leave. Maybe i tried too hard... Was that it? Was i too available? Was it too easy to be there for me? Is that why you stopped even trying? I know that's not fair to say, you've had alot on your plate for awhile now. I know you aren't doing too well either... But i wish i could still be the one to talk to you. But i guess those days are over, huh? Gone with the only person I've truly loved. It doesn't even matter what kind of love anymore. I started this, i deal with the aftermath. I hope you don't get hurt, too. I hope you don't forget i love you. 

This was supposed to bring us together...

A Fighting Society

No, I can't hit, and I'll tell you why. I don't want to hurt anyone. I think I've done that enough in my life to be exempt from any forms of physical violence. I don't care how much I'm provoked, or how hard I'm beaten down. I will not react to violence with violence. I will hold you with my eyes and take every blow without a flinch of whimper.
Yes, maybe that does make me weak. However, I blatantly refuse to be pushed into something so brutal simply by the threat of social disgrace. I was not part of the society in which physical, emotional, sexual, and mental abuse are used to 'toughen up' young boys in order to prepare them for the world. I was not a part of the society that shuns all forms of mercy and harmony for the sake of pure animistic dominance. I regret to watch the fear in their eyes lowly diminish to angry submission into a culture that crushes the weak of mind and body. Each time they are struck, Fate whispers in their ear "I'm coming for you. Dont fall."
So no, I will not fight back. I will not encourage the demise of so many helpless youths. But please, by all means. Go ahead and destroy your brothers and sons. I'll be here to catch them when they fall. But if you dare to take one threatening step towards them after they've fallen so vulnerably to the depths.... if you try to kick them while they're down and insure they will never be okay again... if you create them in the image of yourselves...then maybe I will fight you. Life is a just enough cause to fight for.

Fading

I wake up every morning depressed.

It's always the same. There's the fading moments in between the remnants of the last fragments of my dreams and the contrast-less bitter reality I awake to. Then comes my one true indication that my sleep is over; my alarm. I snatch up my phone, slide the 'off' switch, check the messages. Place it on the bedside table. Close my eyes and sigh.

Then I cross my arms across my chest and pretend that someone- anyone -is there with me. I focus in on the sound of their breath. The resonating vibrations of their voice seeping through their sleep. The feel of their body against mine. They are real. They are real.

This is real.

I open my eyes. It's gone. I'm alone again. I'm depressed. I'm fading.

I long to hear the words I've uttered for so long... the commitment I've made repeated to the cracks in my soul..

"I'd surely die a thousand deaths before allowing the victory of your fading demise."

I sit up and let my face interlacedly grate into my fingers and palms. When I look up, everything will be gone.

now.

I'm still here, and so is the world. I do not possess the power to convince myself otherwise so easily. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe then I'll fade away.

The world will hold me one more day.

The Shirt That Changed The World

"You have the chance to change the world every single day."

I'm not going to trash that statement. For once, I actually agree with an overused inspiring quote. Because.. well.. it's true. For me, anyways. Take a look at the Butterfly Effect. Yes, it's an actual scientific theory. If a tiny butterfly flaps its wings at the precise right moment in Brazil, the microscopic changes in the trajectory of the atmosphere could potentially start a tornado in Texas. I like to parallel this to people.

If you compliment one random person, lets call him Bob, he might feel important and worthy of life. His suicidal tendencies will fade over time, leaving a well-adjusted young man with the rest of his life ahead of him. Lets say Bob was kind and sensitive. Maybe he was suicidal because he had a tough life and no one to show him love in ways he understood. Well now that he's okay, his whole life will change. He might compliment people as they walk by in hopes of saving just one more person. He might start a charity or foundation to help or sponsor people who are sad or lonely. He might realize his estranged father really did love him and just didn't know how to show it. Or he might take his new outlook on life for granted and simply carry on living. No matter what Bob does with his life, you've created several hundred thousand should-have-beens that will never be. People will never meet, events will never unfold, problems will never be solved, questions will never be asked. You have essentially just changed the world.
For the sake of an extended example, lets say Bob was ambitious and decide he did in fact want to start his charity. He successfully reached out to youths in troubled homes from mid-sized cities all over his state. Forgetting technicalities like "where did he come across the money to fund something that huge?" for a moment, we can look at the effects of his little constructive workshop.
Toni and Suzy both attended his school-based conference. They were both dramatically impacted by his inspiring story and the statistics he presented. Toni left the gang he had been a part of for three years and dedicated his life to family and sports. Suzy started a mentoring outreach program in her neighborhood for younger kids. Toni's gang shot him for deserting his "family". Suzy became the symbol of hope for the younger generations in her and the surrounding neighborhoods. In both cases, Bob is now responsible for the changes he caused, and you are now responsible for what he caused.
Now let's look at the contrast. Maybe Bob wasn't such a great guy. Maybe there was something wrong with the way he thought about things. Maybe he could sense the immense and imminent danger unfolding within him. Maybe he was on the verge of cracking and falling into sociopathic natures. So when he was walking down the street toward you, that look on his face wasn't sadness or despair. It was a deep-set internal battle contemplating his power, soul, and fate. When you told him his shirt was cool, he saw that as a sign of his dominance over the general public as a whole. The small remaining good in him was extinguished leaving nothing but a monster with a smiling mask.
It's not your fault that Bob turned evil.. but you did cause it. No one can blame you, but you are responsible. You are the singular root of everything he might do and whatever he may become from that exact instance forwards.You have just changed history by complimenting a shirt.

Every single day we do have the chance to change the world, for better or worse. The hard part is deciding if and when we should. Is it worth it?

The Noble Quest

Sooo I wrote you guys a story. Just kidding, I wrote it cuz that's what I do when I feel like shit. But I thought it turned out pretty cool... so here it is. Enjoy:

There was once a table in a faraway land every noble man could sit at.

Once a year they served the best foods and wines of all the lands.

Once a year the pleaders begged for what they held most dear.

The noble in attendance were required to join one quest to help one pleader.

There was one man who furnished the table; the over-seer. The over-seer was cursed to a life of judging the noble. He was once a noble himself, and remembered wishing all the fame and fortune would pass so he could live his life in solitude without the responsibility of his title.

He broke the curse long ago, but remained in responsibility to find the noblest cause and the wise man whom would choose it to take his place.

He promised all the fortunes of those quests that were accomplished to the nobles who took on the quests.

Every year, men from across the lands gathered at the table to choose the most noble and bountiful quest they could find; but the noblest quests were never chosen.

On the last year the over-seer would walk the lands, there were five noble quests.

The first was for saving a village, the reward was the people themselves as subjects to whichever ruler would accept.

The second was for forging an army against invaders, the reward was the enemy they defeated.

The third was for finding a lost sacred mine, the reward was the treasures inside.

The fourth was for saving a man’s wife, the reward was the wife to keep.

The fifth was for saving a young boy from his grief, the reward was his future and all it held.

The wisest of the nobles each chose one of the noble quests for themselves. Each said “surely this is the noblest of all causes I could choose” before swearing their allegiance.

The over-seer watched with a grave face. He must judge which one would be his successor. Who had saved the greatest cause? Whose cause would last?

The over-seer knew kingdoms could fall.

The over-seer knew enemies could retaliate.

The over-seer knew sacred grounds could not be ravaged.

The over-seer knew wives could be unfaithful.

The over-seer knew young men could die.

The five wise men bowed their heads in respect. Each believed their cause was best, and the others were foolish.

Each wanted to be the over-seer.

None knew the price.

The over-seer studied the men for long, and contemplated each quest for the present and future.

He came to a decision.

When the boy had been saved from grief, the fifth noble man in charge of his quest would be over-seer. The boy would be raised to take the noble man’s place.

The noble men received the decision with grace. Each set out on his quest.

The first saved the village from despair and earned the hearts of the people. He became their faithful ruler.

The second forged the strongest army he could with the resources at hand. He defeated the enemy.

The third led a search for, and discovered, the lost sacred mine. He was named a hero and bestowed all the riches within.

The fourth saved the man’s wife. He was given her to keep in all her grace and beauty.

The fifth saved the boy from grief, and brought him hope of joy. He became the over-seer and adopted father of the boy as he grew.

The former over-seer was Lifted. He watched with sadness as the first four accomplished quests unfolded as time went on. He placed all hope in the fifth.

The first noble gained confidence in his people and lands. His wealth grew, and so did his pride. He let his guards and watchmen grow lazy and fat.

The second gained confidence in the remainder of his soldiers. He recruited none, but focused on training those he had. He ignored the poverty of the village he was protecting and often led his men through long treks through the wilderness.

The third gained confidence in the credit of his name. he stared at the entrance to the sacred mines and dreamed of the riches below. He ventured in at night to glimpse its glory.

The fourth gained confidence in his new wife. He allowed the man to remain near his love as a servant to them both. He left on errands frequently and for long stretches of time.

The fifth gained confidence in his adopted son and his own wisdom.  He assumed all traces of the grief were gone, and spent long hours studying the glory of the stars. He left his son to find his own way and focused solely on making good judgments.

The Lifted over-seer wept in amazement as he watched his darkest fears come true.

The first had forgotten about the enemies surrounding his lands. His days of leisure had made him fat and unmotivated- his men mirrored his likeness. His small kingdom was invaded, and fell. He was beheaded by the ruler of his enemies.

The second had forgotten enemies are more than just armies. His long treks through the wilderness had left the village unprotected. His defeated enemies invaded and burned the village while they were away. He and his men were slaughtered upon their return.

The third had forgotten the price of entering sacred grounds. He walked through the labyrinth every night while the others slept. He was seen by an elder walking alone one sleepless night. They sentenced him to death by starvation, from being locked inside the mines for all eternity.

The fourth had forgotten the bond of love a man shared with his wife. He often left the two alone in his home as he traveled throughout the lands. He came home earlier than expected to find them acting on the intimacy they shared in their pledge of marriage. In his rage he killed the man who had given him his wife.

The fifth had forgotten the endurance of grief. While he was speaking with the stars and those Lifted long ago, his son’s grief returned in a more mature form for the aging boy:  Anger. His son, ignored by his vacant father, fed his Anger with hatred of those who loved. He killed his father and became the merciless ruler of all wise.

The Lifted over-seer was bewildered. He watched as the lands became dull and the lives of all turned to gloom. He knew he had chosen the wrong successor in his haste. Though still foolish, the fourth was the only survivor of his wise and noble quest. 

The Loss Of My Fading Demise

I can control my anger now. It's almost impossible for just anyone to make me angry. But... now I hardly feel anything. It's like someone stole all my emotions and replaced them with emptiness and sadness. At least before I was filled up with Bad... now I'm just... I dunno... here. I'm just here. Alive. I'm alive. Thats it. I don't have any purpose or mission or journey to accomplish. I'm in between my fading demise and the life ahead of me. I thought people are supposed to be happy after they get better? or maybe I'm not better. Maybe I'm worse and I dont even know it.
I can't react properly still. Talk about suicide and I'll calmly tell you how I'd do it if i wanted to, maybe even throw in a few jokes for entertainment. Talk about Homicide and I'll look at you with unchanging eyes as you relieve every last moment of that horrible experience you encountered. I cant be phased by the horrible or gory. I wont be shaken by the unspeakable.
Maybe the war is over... maybe one side did win. Maybe the initial result is the loss of feeling. what comes next? whats gong to happen to me?
Oh, God... if you're out there...save me. or, anyone. please. I dont know what to do. I've tried everything. I've lost hope. so please... if anyone can help me... I'll be waiting. theres nothing else left for me to do.

Zarko

One year ago today, I was caught for distributing prescription drugs and carrying weapons on school campus. I didn't really think about that day's significance. If I had stopped for just one moment to think about anyone besides myself, I never would have stuffed any of it in my back pack. I wouldn't have given it way.

Why?

May 10, 2008 was my little brother's birthday. He was turning four... I was too caught up in pills and alcohol to notice. I cant believe I forgot his birthday.

It's been a year, and I've really turned my life around. Sure I slip up sometimes, everyone does, but for the most part I'm clean and sober. I'm slowly but surely gaining his trust back. It's obviously not easy after four years of abuse, but I do have high hopes that one day he'll feel completely safe with me. I taught him that the word isn't safe; it's my responsibility to teach him to trust again. He's a good kid. He deserves to have someone protecting him.

I love you, Zarko. Happy birthday Buddy! I cant believe you're already five! :) 

Procrastination's A Bitch

If you're reading this, it means I've forgotten to schedule any more posts. Sorry about that... try checking back next week. There might be a real post then... I'll make up the two phony posts whenever I come back.

Day Of Silence

The Day of Silence has always been meaningful to me. I first heard about it in 6th grade when my best friend at the time, Lezah, asked me if I'd be participating in it. I remember looking at her blankly. "Whats the Day of Silence?" She vaguely explained something about gay rights and bullying... to this day I still have no clue what she was taking about. When my mom picked me up from school I asked her if I should not talk like all my friends. Being the Christian-grounded parent she is, she told me it was for encouraging gay people to be gay and why should I support that it's wrong and against our faith. So I showed up the next day, as usual, and just talked like I usually did.
See, I probably wouldn't have even given Day of Silence a second thought if my friend had gotten through the entire day without talking. But by third period, even Lezah, the activist of our smallish group, was talking. It hit home. If they believed so strongly about this, how come they didn't even have the discipline to not chatter all day?
The next year, I had completely forgotten about that day. In fact, I still hardly remember anything from those few months at all... just a few flashes from stupid conversations and 'embarrassing' moments I had to endure. But 8th grade? That was a different story.
In 8th grade, I was accepted into a preforming arts academy that was 7-12th grades on a highschool campus. they separated the jr high from highschool, which made it a million times cooler to be a part of any club- like GSA. I started sneaking into the group at the beginning of the year and just kept attending throughout. By April, I was a regular member. But yet again, I ran into the same type of group as in 6th grade. They never once said anything about supporting the lgbtq community, even made a few gay slurs, throughout the entire school year until the week of the Day of Silence. Then it was "Gay people are amazing" "Oh my god, I love gay people!!" "Dude, gay people are so cool". I had low hopes for their success in "spreading the love" in the proper fashion that year. But, being me, I gave them the benefit of the doubt.
Sure enough, by second period our teacher Mrs. Gibson had broke them all down by calling on them for answers she knew they had memorized. It was half painful, half amusing to watch them struggle until their breaking point not to answer. Surprisingly enough(extreme sarcasm) I was the only one in a class of thirty kids to not speak all day.
I was so disappointed in them, I decided to continue my silence in protest to their lack of discipline and overall hypocrisy. My day of silence turned into two(pissing off all my fellow classmates and teachers), and then was extended through the entire weekend. Four days.
I will admitt, my cause did mutate a little. The first day was obviously for gay rights, the second was for hypocrisy, the third was for bullying, the fourth was for protesting lack of discipline.
Although my disappointment in my fellow activist's commitment is stronger than ever, I refuse to give up hope. I will participate this year regardless of the hypocrisy around me.
For all of you who are attempting not to speak today because you actually care about the cause... Thank you, and good luck.

Another Poem

A flickering light licked their faces
Two men- one powerful, one noble
Held in embrace
Breath against breath
Face lifted by warm hands
"I want my life to mean something"
Overwhelming
Beautiful
Anguish
A most precious gift
A most dire desire
"I'm sorry I failed you"
Silence
He gracefully folds in an earthly descent
He is gently lain onto the plastic
Replacing what was lost
His gift has been given
"This is my apology"

False Statement

Why are people so horrified when I say what's on my mind? It's not like they don't ever think it. I'm not as different as they think. If they even think I'm different...
Most of my behaviors can be written off as "Normal Teenage Hormones" and stupid drama. And I agree. It probably is just that. BECAUSE I'M NO DIFFERENT THAN ANYONE ELSE. I'm intelligent, but no genius. I'm attractive, but in the average way. I'm funny, but I could never be a comedian. I'm athletic, but I'll never be a pro. I'm artistic and musically inclined, but I'm no professional. I'm... Average. And I'm okay with that.
Really the only thing slightly unique about me is my ability to change and acquire new identities. Basically, I'm fake. But.. for me it's a lifestyle.
Friends of mine: Don't freak out. If we're close at all, you know the real me. So chill.
With the help of my Dad, such a great guy, I learned from an early age that there's nothing special about me. Nothing. There will always be someone bigger, faster, stronger, smarter, and more interesting than I am. It usually takes kids their full adolescence to figure that out about themselves. So as I'm sure any of you can imagine.. I was extremely bored throughout my junior high and early high school years. While most kids my age were "trying to find themselves" I was busy inventing new identities to mess with and use to confuse people. I was actually pretty good at that. It's not much, but I can admit to being fairly good at that. Actually, I was exceptional. I successfully completed two major school-wide social experiments two years in a row. One of them went horribly wrong... but that's another story. besides, I came out alright. right? *eye twitch*
So anyways, Identities. I liked to call it "adapting" to new groups of people. How? well considering my painfully average abilities in everything I've ever tried, it was extremely easy: I played up certain parts of me and hid others. Simple. Easy. Painfully effective. Now I'm not saying no one ever saw through it. Some people are really good at that. So in those cases I would either befriend that person for real or avoid them at all costs. Thus, my handful of amazing wonderful friends and the large assortment of people who hate my guts. Talk about compatibility issues.
My mom says "Everything is 'live or die' with you!!" whenever we have disputes. How right she is. Every aspect of my life is extreme. So extreme I have to hide what I'm thinking about.
"Whatcha thinkin about?" . It's a casual question, usually just a simple conversation starter. For me it's a nightmare. More often than not my thoughts are toward the "triggers" that spark traumatic memories. I'm busy not exploding in their face as a defense mechanism for abuse. I'm busy not punching them in the jaw or breaking their neck or stabbing them in the throat. Even the people I love wouldn't survive if I wasn't constantly on guard. When they ask that stupid question, my fucking nightmare come to life, I have to scramble to come up with something a relaxed person would say in a split second. "'Pancakes.' *laughs* 'Haven't had any in awhile. What about you?'" . In reality I want to just go home and isolate myself from everyone so they can have a better life. But instead I wear my "I'm a generally happy person. I can handle life because I'm laid back" identity and bottle up any feelings that contradict it. Even my best friends get those fake answers sometimes. I wish I could tell them the truth.. but no one wants to deal with a downer. A complaining son-of-a-bitch who wont appreciate friendship. A kid who's in constant agony with rare release. A weary soul who's not okay in the slightest way possible. I guess... someone who's depressed. Who just wants to die, but cant because they have a responsibility to the people they care about.
I hide my emotions to protect my friends. Sometimes they need me. If I'm emotionally compromised they wont want to tell me whats wrong. Then they'll be bottling it up.. and I know just how much it hurts.
Back to my first statement: why are people so horrified when I say what's on my mind? Is it because I let it out in an atom bomb instead of a bunch of little cherry bombs here and there like most people? Is it because I know how to make my words hurt? Is it because they never see it coming? Is it because I don't vent- I go to the person causing the problem and throw it in their face? It takes weeks to recover from that kind of blow to my friendships, sometimes months of straight being a perfect friend. I just don't understand why. I don't understand why people don't understand me a much as I understand them. It's not like we're so different... 

Gaudior

Here's a treat. I was digging through my email and I found this, all the way from 2009! sweet, huh? it was originally it's own novel, but I was able to incorporate it into Allumeures, or as I call it "Juvenalles". I dunno. Maybe I'll just call it "Courage" like i originally intended to. the name isn't so important, considering I haven't even finished it yet... here's one of my many possible intros: 

Gaudior was fighting in the worst battle yet. Wind and rain lashed against his face as he fought, thrusting and blocking continuously. Lightning’s fiery fingers reached down to scorch Earth, and Thunder’s booms mixed with the sound of battle cries.
The waves tumbled in, crashing against the sharp rocks on the shore. A dark shape was hurtling toward them, but it was too far away to tell if it was a war ship or great wave. Gaudior’s sword clashed on and on until it seemed he had been fighting forever.
He had started out on right flank, fighting west, against the thin trees across the beach from the shore. Now he was on the left, fighting at the rising waterline. The waves exploding into his feet were almost knocking him down. The pungent odor of sweat, blood, seasalt, death, and fear filled his nostrils. Some men were retching, adding to the abominable smell. Sweat and blood poured into his eyes, burning and blinding him, and blood gushed out of his many wounds. In another where, in another now, he would be dying, but the rush of adrenaline fed him strength and still he fought on.
The taste of blood and salt filled his mouth, causing him to gag. The deafening noise; sounding of men crying out as they died, yelling as they killed, screaming in rage and pain and fear, the stomping and snorting of horses, the jingle of armor, the clashing of swords, blood gurgling from wounds, generals shouting commands, horses neighing, labored breathing, sand pelting faithful warriors, the waves crashing onto the rocks; filled his ears, but the only sound he could hear was his racing heart.

 Gaudior gazed up at the heavens for a brief moment. It was the blackest of blacks, even more so with the dark storm clouds blanketing the sky. There was a lonely light patch in the east. No one could know for sure whether it was sunrise or moonrise. No one knew if it was day or night, Monday or Thursday, October or February. All they knew was cold. The chill seeped into their very core, leaving no warmth behind. The only way to survive was to keep moving, keep fighting. As the number of bodies increased, so did the fear. Each one was frozen within minutes. Eyes that would never see again stared up at invisible stars.

So this was the glory of battle. Both sides were fighting hard, neither one tiring beyond the other. But why should he pick a side? In war, who is good? Who is evil? Who is sane? Who is insane? We are all evil in war. War is insane. The realization and understanding hit him with unmeasurable force. Time moved slower than it ever had before.

Gaudior could feel nothing. He was in a dimension beyond senses. His thoughts were simple like those of a wild animal. A primal urge for survival was the only reason he had the will to lift his sword.

All the men were beyond exhausted. They had been fighting constantly for days. Boys who were too young and weak to fight were falling into the trenches; few climbed out. By now, the soldiers were barely able to hold their swords, staggering on their weary legs.

The purpose of this year-long battle had faded along with their morals and decency. Now it was a matter of who died from exhaustion first. They slaved on. Hours seemed to drag, then lapse, leaving all beings in this torturous war to forgetful, timeless, Hell.

Post: To Be Determined

(post in progress. check back later.)

Permission Granted.

I'm starting to get used to the idea of people reading this stuff. It's taken much longer than it should have to accept... but I'm now willing to permit the admittance of continuous viewers. I mean, hey. If you want to sit around reading depressing, bipolar bullshit from the mind of a teenage American, go ahead. Be my guest. I cant control your masochistic tendencies. 

Bullshit Bitch Smiles

Know what I hate? Those bullshit bitch smiles birds give each other when they walk by. It's like saying, "I'm way more important than you, but I think I'm a nice person, so to make other people think so too I'll start to smile, then end in either a smirk or a grimace when I think you're not looking anymore." When they do it to me it's just like what the fuck, I don't even know you, and now you're going to insult me? Because that's what it is, an insult. I'm sorry your highness, am I not worthy of a smile? I mean, why even acknowledge that I exist? For some reason, blatantly ignoring people is more rude than insulting them with a fake smile, and eye contact without a weird expression on your face is too much to handle.

Why cant we just look people in the eye, complete strangers we will never see again, and just... smile? Just give them one simple, sweet, kind, uplifting, genuine smile? And if we're hurting inside, like a lot of people are when they return the bitch smile, why can't we just let that show? Would that really be so terrible?

I'm losing faith in humanity. It's little things like this that will destroy the bond all human beings are a part of, the hope that binds us together. We are creatures of hope, faith, and love. But if we can't walk by our fellow people without being insulted, put down, judged, and hated, that bond that keeps us united will slowly disappear. And if that happens... the consequences could be catastrophic.

My Room

When I'm painting, my room is a canvas. When I'm reading, my room is a projection. When I'm writing music, my room is a recording studio. When I'm thinking, my room is the box. When I'm happy, my room is a speaker. When I'm sad, my room is a living tomb. When I'm crying, my room records my pain. When I'm working on a storyboard, my room is a cinema screen. When I study or research, my room is a vast library. When I'm lying, my room is a polygraph. When I'm stargazing, my room is an observatory. When I whisper, my room is a cave. But when I'm angry... when I'm angry my room is a prison and insane asylum, meant to restrain me from a world of innocent souls ready to be crushed. When I'm angry the door disappears, and chains hold me back from the bars. When I'm angry, my room locks me up.

(Insert Title Here)

A cool monologue poem thingy I wrote when I was bored:

We need words of compensation. Words of humiliation. Words of truth; words of the Youth! Rise against the tide of unruly law, bring chaotic justice and love to all! Be free, and let be. Never hate. Always RELATE. Because what hate demands, is never in your hands.
And when our cause is accomplished
And our hope is no longer foolish
Come back to us, heroes of this generation. Come be with us, saviors of affiliation.
We need you, fathers and brothers. We need you, sisters and mothers. We need you in our homes.
So RISE!
RISE against untimely death, and SAVE US!

save us from ourselves.

These Walls Do Talk

Alot of my friends were jealous because I could draw and paint on my walls. I don't know why, though. It was the only place I could say what I really wanted to. They all had journals and best friends and supportive families... Me? All I had were walls. But at least they never judged me. Those walls saw the depths of my soul, and portrayed it without biased opinions. These walls do talk; and they told my story. But now that it's gone... Now that my story has been painted over and erased... I don't know what I'm going to do. Three years of my life- Gone. With no record of it happening at all. They were jealous of me because I could draw on walls? How foolish. I'm the jealous one now.

Just Fucking Leave Already!

You know those annoying people who just wont go away? You're one of them. 

A Picture.

I refuse to give a description for this. Its just a painting on 

my wall. I did it. No frickin back story that I'm gunna tell

you. Just a lame sketch covered in paint. Thats it. Bye.

Dream

8/29-30/2012

I had the weirdest dreams last night.  Well, nightmares. That’s what I call them, because theyre not horrendous and gory, but they do scare me.

 The first one was me visiting my uncle TJ in florida. But.. instead of everything being great,  he and my mom decided to punish me for absolutely nothing. I seriously did not do anything.  And then he had to leave for a business trip. When he was saying bye to everyone he was normal TJ, funny and nice. But then he looked at me… and I just kind of froze. He glared at me. He’s never done that before. And his eyes… I've never seen them that cold. I hope I never actually do.

The other dream that was weird and creepy was one of the youth groups I'm part of all sitting on some bleachers, just kind of talking. I was next to a few girls-who were from a different youth group, weird- and my older friend Jacob. He’s a leader now because he graduated and never got around to leaving us. But anyways, in this dream I was a lot shyer than I normally am and I had problems speaking up. Which is weird, because I can be pretty damn loud if I want to be.  Anyways, we were sort of sitting close-ish at first. And then his arm was around me. I wasn’t really sure why, cuz we’re not that close of friends, but I just kind of rolled with it. Well then his arms were completely around me, and his head was resting on my shoulder. He said some things along the lines of “It feels so perfect right now” and other cheesy stuff that’s usually just him joking around. I was pretty sure he was just messing with me. And then he tilted his head so his lips were seriously just an inch from mine and it looked like he was gunna kiss me.

Okay, I think I should add in some details to explain why this dream was getting increasingly weird. First off, we were in the middle of the bleachers where everyone could see us. Secondly, I’m pretty sure I forgot to mention the insignificant little detail that he’s 25. That’s pretty inappropriate. And lastly, he and I rarely even talk. I think I've had a grand total of ten conversations in his presence, and maybe gotten five hugs from him in all history.  And I don’t even like him like that…So I was really hoping he was just messing with me. Anyways, back to the story:

He leaned a bit closer… and then my instincts kind of took over. I leaned the rest of the gap(like a centimeter) and just kissed him. But… he pulled away at the last moment and kind of laughed at me quietly. I groaned and said “Don’t do that to me, man…” And then he straight up swooped in and kissed me. Of course, it couldn’t just be a kiss. That would have been way too easy. No, he had to frickin keep messing with me. So when I started to kiss back, he pulled away again. Douchebag status, right? He laughed at me again. I’m pretty sure everyone saw that time. Our youth leader Katy and a few people behind us like Ian and Jules were kind of protesting to Jacob, telling him to stop. But he just said “What? What are you lookin at?” and then he kissed me again. This time I knew not to try to kiss back… but he just kept doing it and I didn’t know how to get him to stop. I was pretty confused at that point. On one hand, it felt pretty good to have his arms around me. But on the other, I knew he was just trying to mess with me and it was really awkward and uncomfortable. Well then, before I even knew what the fuck was going on, he was like rubbing my leg. But wasn’t just like my knee, I was wearing shorts so it was my bare thigh. Weird. I tried to push him off but he wouldn’t budge. He just held me closer. Finally then Katy made him stop.

I had a few other dreams last night, like going out to eat with a bunch of my Sonora friends and then playing a football version of tag or something… but the first two were the weirdest and creepiest. My head is weird.

Who's Truth?

I laugh when people ask for the truth. Who's truth, exactly? They're all different. My truth is different from yours, the same as a serial killer's truth is different from an FBI agent's. I could say something with absolute certainty...something I am completely sure of... and you could justifiably rebuke every word I said. It would make sense if you did. So when someone asks me for the truth, yes, I do laugh at them. Maybe not out loud, or even to their face, because I don't want to be mean. But I do laugh. Because it's ridiculous what can pass for the truth.

You Totally Just Peaked...

So I was going through my email, deleting everything from Facebook, Youtube, Newgrounds... and pretty much everything else I've ever been subscribed to or a member of, when I came across a ton of old photos of the "classy monster" who was supposed to be in my short film. I had to postpone filming due to complications with my actors' scheduals and, well, the inconvenience of being expelled and no longer having access to the tools that I needed... but I will make that film, even if it's the last thing I do. *coughcough* anyways.... here's a sneak peak, for you losers who wont go away. Yes, I'm insulting you and rewarding you at the same time. Shut up. I know I'm a hypocrite.

Leave.

Um, bye. Not to be rude... but I'm metaphorically slamming a door in your face. I seriously don't want anyone to read this on a regular basis... it's not even a real blog. I'm not talking about anything that you'll want to know about. So get off my metaphorical property.

Turmoil

I just need to get away. But not really. I want to be around... it's just, everything's too loud. too fast. too... something. I can't even breathe sometimes. Can't eat, can't sleep. My mind is shutting down... and I can't stop it. Which is bad. Really bad. If I really do have conduct disorder... will it morph into antisocial personality disorder? Will I become a sociopath? I cant afford for that to happen. Iv'e got too much to lose. I can't hurt anyone as it stands... but if my emotions and guilt continue to fade away, will I be capable of doing what I can't stop thinking about? The darkness has already consumed my mind. If all the light goes... bad things could happen. Really bad things. I don't want to do it. But I'm afraid I might. I just want this fucking war in my head to go away. To stop, for nothing to win. But... that's impossible. One side has to win. And both sides will destroy me. For three years I've kept it a fair fight. Equal. No side gained any ground. But it's becoming unbearable...the endless turmoil. Torture.  It hurts so bad. I have to end it, but I don't know how. And I don't know who should win. I don't trust anyone to make that decision for me. Actually... I couldn't do that to them. Because if I blow up, they're the first person I'd lash out on. And if I shut down, they're the one I'd leave. I can't give anyone that responsibility. If they're close enough to be let in... I can't hurt them. I just... I don't know what to do. Both sides would destroy the world if given the chance. If I keep them busy maybe they'll leave me alone. Maybe I can stay alive.

My Future

Wow!! Cool!!! A surprise post!!!
yep, that's right. A live, current, real post from the actual day I wrote it. nope, i'm not coming back yet. but this is still kinda cool, right?
no? then fuck you, go away you ungrateful brat.

Enjoy.


It has always been hard for me to imagine my future. Even as a little kid, "what I wanna be when I grow up..." always seemed like more of a game than a possible reality. My childhood was a fantasy world with war games and fairy tales; lawyers, vets, professional jelly bean-testers, and teachers didn't quite fit in to that. It was just another game of make-believe to talk about the future.

As I grew older, and went through that mind-blowing change where I could actually form my own opinions, I progressively realized that I didn't expect to live past my youth. It was just middle school, high school, and then... nothing. I wasn't suicidal yet, I didn't plan on doing anything extremely dangerous... I just couldn't imagine anything past that. It was like my life had a pre-determined expiration date. College never really crossed my mind as a serious possibility. Neither did marriage, kids, a career, retirement, or even old age. I couldn't imagine myself past 17.

All those lectures about my future from family and supportive teachers just kind of went over my head. I listened, of course, I'm not intentionally rude to people I respect. I could probably even recite them all word for word by now. But it never seemed to apply to me. It was like their speeches were meant for someone else, and I was just the middle-man used to spread the word to the person who actually needed it. I started almost flunking classes every semester. Grades meant nothing to me anymore. Sure, I could have easily gotten straight A's if I tried, but I didn't see the point of passing except to keep my family off my back. School was a joke.

Maybe I should have focused more on school... It would have distracted and kept me away from all the junk that destroyed me. But hey, you live and learn, right? Now I've finally learned how to cope with my everyday life, and all the insanity and horrors that come with it. I've realized how easy it is for me to just give up and fall back into my own personal hell, and how to stop myself from doing just that. I'm ready to fight for the future I never knew I had. I'm ready to LIVE.

I've been given one last chance to save myself... and I intend to use it to the fullest potential. There will always be something to hold me back, but there will always be a reason to venture on into the abyss of my life.

Lethal

We both have trust issues. We've both been hurt before... badly. I get it. It makes sense that we're both super cautious about who we tell information to. It makes sense that neither of us want to get too close. And when you say that I'm dangerous for you, that you have to watch yourself around me, I get that too. Because if I'm dangerous, you're lethal. I'm drawn to you so much it almost hurts. I want to run away... but I can't leave you. I want to hide... but you'll know where to find me. I want to stay and tell you everything... but I wont let you in. You make my head a walking contradiction.You're kind of like my own special addictive toxin. If I don't detox I'll overdose, but if I stop for too long I'll get the shakes. The only time it stops is when I'm with you. Then at least I can relax and enjoy the moment, make it last as long as I can. And... I'm okay with that. I can deal with the turmoil in my mind as long as I can still come see you. Because it only really hurts when I'm away.

Hell? What's That?

Noone really talks about Hell. It's almost like we're hoping it doesn't exist. In a way it's almost ridiculous... you could go up to any Christian I know asking about Heaven, and they'd babble on for hours about how freaking amazing it is and all the wonderful things attached. But if you go up the same person a week later and question them about Hell, you'll get a pretty sketchy answer: a vague description and assurance that you don't want to go there. But... why? According to unbiased polls about Christian faith and beliefs, we can't even agree on whether or not Hell is eternal. Is that why nobody ever talks about it? Are we really that unsure? And if we don't even know how long we're supposed to be there, if we only know half of our faith, how can we expect to bring non-believers to our God? Maybe that's why it's so hard to save people these days. I mean, there are countless pamphlets talking about God and Heaven and how you'll go to Hell if you don't believe in them... but it never lists "What's so horrible about Hell" or "How do you know it exists" under Frequently Asked Questions. To some people, that sounds kind of hypocritical.
Now, don't get me wrong, I do believe in Heaven and Hell and all that. I have for my whole life. I'm just saying that, as Christians, we should take a step back and ask ourselves; why do we believe in Hell? Maybe then we wont seem so crazy to non-believers.