New England Winter

I don't know where I'm going or where I am. I'm not smart anymore.

I don't know...life is too hard and it'll be like that anywhere. But the world is forzen, not cold. Just frozen here.

I can't breathe. And when I try it's ice.

It's twelve degrees outside, six up from what it was four hours ago.

The grass underneath is still bright green. It doesn't have time to die and turn brown around here. Just one day it's frozen. Like the woolly mammoths preserved perfectly pristine with food still in their stomachs.

And that's me, I think. Crystallized in time.

Frozen. But still green. It's deceiving because I'm not alive even though I seem like it. It's just a pretty picture preserved of what I was last season.

It's still all mostly the same. I need someone to just sit there and hold me for a long long time so I can forget. But there isn't anyone. There never has been. So I hold myself. So I'm supposed to find that stable in-between place, because supposedly that's all we're ever promised to have.

But I don't trust promises. They're always broken. And I'm tired of making them one-way and finding nothing but space and ice on the other side.

It's time to go back to the heat. The world's too busy with itself, frozen in time--and this year wasn't even bad. No blood shed to compensate for the white. Green, green all around freezing over and over again with the bulbs poking through too ahead of season because the climate's shot. I need to thaw. Go to a place where it doesn't freeze. Find arms other than my own. I'll go back to dreaming for that. Maybe my mind will conjure up another, someone who isn't real, who won't come waltzing in unannounced into my reality.

Ditch this. The pressure's breaking.

Fences

I looked at him through the chain-linked fence.
I said "We're talking through a fence." And he crunched his fingers around the links and looked at me, then said: "We always talk through fences, Tali."

Some people are just too beautiful to capture. So I won't bother. I'll just ponder. And hold it in the back of my mind.

Sickness Ridden

I'm sick. Feverish and all that good stuff. Skipping Freud's even. Had my history midterm today. I really don't know how it went. Hopefully well, but considering I had no brain and was hacking up all organs, I really can't say.

Other than that, I'm trying to not stress over the situation. I will say that I am overly disgusted at the administration, especially considering that the articles have been published as far out as California and they still don't give a damn. Don't they understand that it's not about the fucking Jews anymore? It's about their own stinking reputation as an institution! Well, I suppose not. I asked Jon what the hell the world wants with us other than to see us gone. He didn't answer. Because there is no answer. Other than to see us gone. They don't care because deep underneath, no one really does. I've known that for a long time but didn't want to believe it. With all the flaunting and facades of tolerance, in the end, people hate the difference, they fear the difference, and they shun the difference. And they don't care about reputation because they know it's all a show. Because they know the majority of the world feels the same.

So, stick close to home. Mingle with your own. We'll die out in the end, won't we?

Everything is so complicated now. The more I delve into this, the worse it gets, the more I am enlightened as to the gravity of the situation. I realized last night that it is far more serious than I ever thought. Sitting here, paralyzed at my desk, luckily, a friend showed up. A really, really great friend. Now friends are more precious than ever and I find myself loving them too much to hurt them. So I called my best friend up today after talking to my parents about the situation for over an hour and told him we couldn't ever talk again because it would hurt his career and his life in general just to be associated with me. It hurt. I think it hurt more than anything because I can't even bring myself to realize what just happened--what's happening and gaining in momentum as each second passes. He said he didn't care, that he'd talk anyway, so I sent him to my parents so that they could explain slightly more than what I can to him. The less he knows, the better. As everything piles upon me and as each new fact comes clear, it just becomes more confusing and I sense more and more of a deception and scandal, some kind of plot to which I see no motivation. Due to this fact, I am taken more aback because I realize that I am looking at but a dot of the greater picture, and that picture is absolutely unapparent to me. I must find the answers, but first, I have to find out which questions to ask. My parents told me not to travel anywhere alone. I can't do that all the time. I'm involved and I can't stay put if there isn't someone to walk with me. However, my guard is up more than ever now. Now this: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I hate politics. They're stupid in essence but have an iron grip on this world of ours and once we're trapped there is no turning back and I'm deep, deep in. Luckily I'm still swimming, but I do admit that I fear drowning.

After Midnight

Maybe it's only on the edge of time
that I go
and you flow
into me.

Maybe it's just a little of wasted moments
bottled up in rain and sun
I don't know where I'm going
Maybe I'm already there
But I get this notion in my head that it's nowhere--
that it's nowhere.

I miss the bliss
of imaginary places turned real
No real kiss
So I dream and life keeps turning
I'm stuck on a wheel
And centrepetal motion won't slow
won't slow, won't slow, no won't slow

The future's an afterthought
the song's a release
I'm going nowhere, all right
It's after midnight
And the past is the future
while the present's caught up in a dream

And I know know it's never how it seems
So I wander and I keep
Whatever there is out there
And I struggle my way to sleep

So I wander and I keep
whatever there is out there
and I struggle my way to sleep

So I wander and I keep
whatever there is out there
and I struggle my way to sleep
to sleep
to sleep
to sleep

So...another day. Better to be disillusioned sooner than later. That way, you don't get caught up in it, don't put your heart in it.

Life is a lonely endeavour. What would make you think otherwise?

It's too easy to fall in love. Sometimes you meet amazing people and you can't help it. You're plunging down before you know what's happening. So of course, there's me, saying no no no all the while and the ground's so close, I've already landed. But it's been like my whole life but only a few days. Just a few days and I've poured out the universe and he gets it. And I've heard his share, too. But of course, I say nothing because of course someone else gets him. And the someone else is a good friend. For now, I don't know her opinion, her emotions, etc etc, but I'm loyal to both so I say nothing. Nothing, I say, because it would ruin it for everyone.

Well, we'll see what happens. Looks like we'll be living together next year if all goes well. James! And Dan! And Shawn! and me! And Becca! And Willa! and ME! and someone... we have to work on that. I LOVE CLARK. Amazing, amazing, amazing people go here.

So for the first time in my whole life someone looked at me and said "You have a really great smile," and I didn't look away. Later they said "I think we work really well together" but it wasn't "in that way" and that makes me sad, so I was awkwardly silent and asked what's wrong with me.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked.
"Nothing. You're one of the most amazing, talented, beautiful (and yes, I'll say beautiful even though I know you hate hearing that but it's true), creative, intelligent, inspiring people I've ever met in my life....[And because of that] the past week has really been great. I've found my place. I've finally found the people I can be with and not pretend."

Not pretend to be anyone but his bare self. Me too. Me too. Oh, God, me too. Not pretend to be anyone but my bare-boned self reaching out through time and space and earth and sky and air and here I am me myself and I and there's nothing obstructing, protruding from the crevasses no crevasses and that's just me just you just me and it's all here and I'm spilling full-blooded ink here again. Full-blooded ink spilling here again and I'm loving and being loved and loving the being loved like you and me and they and she and he and all those I never saw or met or you neither but it's there--they're there and I'm loving it for the sheer joy of it and hearing and singing and silence at last. I'm loving it for the sheer nakedness of it at long long last.

I feel as if I'm in a nothing. I can't feel but I can. I can't see but I can. I'm restless but I'm calm. I'm getting sick of this dichotomy. I'm terrified of being alone but I'm terrified of whatever isn't. Where am I heading with this?

I don't want to die now. I'm too young, right? Right?

Wrong. The machine stops, it says. The machine stops.

And I'm the machine.

But there's so much I haven't done. Too bad.

All right. I've come to terms. Just do it quickly and gently. And don't let them cry.

--A brief window into an imminent mortality.

I still don't want to die now. Not this soon. But it doesn't matter what I want. And the world will continue on, not noticing, not missing me. That'll make it all right. Because I'm, like everyone before me and everyone after, food for worms, in the end.

Within or Without?

Within me or without? Where is it that the power lies? I know where it is unleashed. I can control it now, but the Madness still lingers. Still, I wonder of what I am capable. I know it is not of being loved. But somehow nothing matters anymore and I'm somewhat content. Too selfish, I think. I'm too selfish for wanting to be someone's world.

Nevermind it. I must find a new genre, a new subject. But I look and I can't see the world for the imagined in my head. Oftentimes I wonder, is there really a distinction? Is there a pattern, a gem embedded in a mind, and if there is--or if there was--have I spent it all too soon?

Now I must never want, for I have everything and I promised I would never want again. Besides that, though, I'm human, in-and-out, evil and beneficent, significant to the dance and insignificant to the pattern because anyone could take my place and no one would miss me. Right? I really want to live. I really, really want to live but my heart is dying and every day it gets harder to breathe.

The world says I have not yet lived and I want to see it all, to mend it, to do more than write and shout out empty words. It's pitiful how short time is when measured against the abundance of eternity. It's pitiful. And this time, this life--I fear that I have wasted it. I have not loved enough; I have not executed dreams; I have not laughed enough, or cried enough, or been stabbed enough by Life's cruel tongue and sword. I have not danced enough, seized chances, made chances. I have not wandered on foot or by air or by wheel or by water. All of these I have not done. And there is so much more.

Before it happens, I want to write my wishes down. They're simple wishes. Life is simple. We complicate it with triviality and then we let it go. I want to see my parents happy, my brothers healthy, my best friend find himself, my other find her place. I want to see my friends go on and know the value of joy against measures of pain. I want to see humanity give me reason for the continuation of hope. I want to see that hope realized in at least one small way.

But if I don't make it there, and I fear I won't, there is only one true wish: that I see the future brightly for all who surpass me in time, for all who outlive me.

Mortality has always been very real for me. I don't take this gift for granted. I never did. I never could. But it makes me happy to watch the masses of people who can, and do everyday. And it makes me cry when the illusion is ripped from their eyes, their souls shreaded, their hearts torn, by the cruel robbery of someone precious from their illusion.

I love to watch the children dance and play. It reminds me of the brief moments--and the moment that will come once more--when we will all be gods again.

In Response, Once Again

Well, as for that quote you mentioned...that's been the quote I've had on reserve for going in the front of my book forever. It's why Sibyl is "Sibyl" and why I'm so mad that her name has to change. The whole quote is really awesome and there's another quote too about the prophecy, etc. but it's on my computer and I'm on a public one now and don't feel like looking it up.

A Hodgepodge of Things

I called my house last night. Sam answered. Told me he got some super special new leggo thing and that he'll be getting another one soon from our parents. Along with getting two days ISS for telling some little boy who likes him that if he bothers him again he'll "kill him." Instead of being any kind of disciplinarians, our parents go and tell him "Good for you! You should've broken his nose. You do that next time." So he's all happy and getting presents. What the fuck happened between raising me and raising them? If I did anything remotely like that I would've been pulverized by them. I let people beat me up all the time, make fun of me, etc etc. And it was always "You're better than them. Don't strike back. Violence is not an answer" blah blah blah. And now it's not just the answer but the recommendation and the praise. I hate them.

I saw Jim McGovern speak on Monday night and I just wondered why we can't get an honest presidential candidate like him. I saw Faraj from Promises speak last night and met him a little in passing because I'm shy when it comes to talking to people like that. Maybe I'll write him an email and get to know him a little better. He says he answers them all and I actually believe him because he's one of the few people who've seemed to say what they mean and mean what they say.

Lately I've been hanging out with Kat a lot and she understands the whole Kate situation and agrees with the slow dissociation plan. James says he disagrees but he stays out of these kinds of things for the most part. He's been hanging out with us, too, a lot and he's really great. On Saturday night he sat with me until after 2 in the morning listening to me cry about all the shit that's been happening lately. I told him to go and that he didn't have to but he said it was fine and listened and talked with me so it was good. Kat says friendship groups shift all the time and I suppose that's what's happening. In life, there are only a very, very small number of people who I truly wish to hold on to--in other words, to not shift away from.

So for now, I suppose, I'll feel my way in and out of this maze and "now" is going to last a long, long time. I will be contented with what I've always had to be contented by and that is really more than enough: hands and eyes and voices and smiles and cries who care a little bit more than not at all. And sometimes I'll get an extra something to content me like a kiss from someone being proud of some little feat of mine, or a whisper, or a handshake, or just a minute of time.

It's really that simple: just a minute of time.