Monday, October 8, 2012

What Are We To Each Other

I don't dare label us as friends, because I'm not even sure I know what friendship is anymore. I have so many different layers of acquaintanceship, but no-one I consider to be a friend. And I see the people I know, more on a scale of gradients than any set categories; there is barely-not-strangers down here, and then you jump up to civil-acquaintances-but-we-don't-talk, and above that is we-can-hold-a-conversation-but-we-don't-have-anything-in-common. Certainly, I suppose if I was forced to divide up groups, then they'd be sub-categorized like that, but I don't. Just like when you look at a rainbow, it doesn't go red, then orange, then yellow; there aren't strict lines between the colors, but a steady gradient, where they mesh and blend and become something that isn't red or orange, but numerous shades and hues in between.

Acquaintances. Friends. Confidants. Dating. Lovers. Significant others.

I don't have any of these. I have people I know and people I don't know. Those are the only two solid categories, and within them are enormous gradients. Like all gradients, it just takes a little extra color to slide up the scale into (what would be for anyone else) "the next stage in our relationship."

But to me, it's all the same. You're still someone I know.

What am I to you?

Sunday, October 7, 2012

These Woods Aren't Lovely, Just Dark and Deep

tired of being alone
but dating will destroy me
tired of being lost
but a map isn't what I need
tired of being cold
but fire will burn me out
tired of moving forward
but behind lies only doubt

tired of being alone
so find another way around
tired of being lost
so stop and listen for the sound
tired of being cold
so warm up gradually
tired of moving forward
so jump up and fly with me,

I'm tired of being alone,
but I don't have any friends,
no-one to talk to
and help me make amends.
I'm tired of being lost,
but I'm not worth being found;
no-thing to keep me present,
give me a reason to stick around.
I'm tired of being cold,
but it's not my body shivering;
my heart is dark and wasted,
so I can hardly feel a thing.
I'm tired of moving forward,
but I don't have anywhere to go;
I made myself a promise...
when I've completed my promise...
I have a lost love to follow.

I don't know how to fix me,
and I can hardly fall apart--
I'm already broken deep inside,
only a mortician can mend my heart.

First two lines are not my own.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Home Is Where The Heart Isn't Broken

I've told you about my home before--not my apartment, but where my heart is. Her. The faces of people I'll never see again...

This carnival keeps spinning, keeps dragging me down, telling I shouldn't leave, that I shouldn't want to leave it. Maybe this carnival doesn't take tickets, or maybe it does, but either way, I have to pay in blood and soul and spirit. This might be the perfect or the only world for you, but it will never belong to me. Your heaven's trying everything to break me down...

Why won't you just let me go? Why won't you let me hasten my way home? Why do you insist I must find happiness here? Why are you trying everything to keep me out...?

All I have of here is what I've kept to myself. The pictures and writings that she made, that I set down, stored diligently, that she entrusted to me. There's no grave for me to visit, only a pot of ashes that I have no access to. I know the funeral was supposed to provide closure, but it only closed the doors on my broken heart. The memories of shadows, ink on the page...

And I'm alone. I've tried moving on, but I can't. I've tried loving others, but it's never a complete love. I still love Her; my heart still belongs to Her. All the places I've been and things I've seen...

I can't stop thinking of Her. She's growing stronger again, and I just want to stop resisting and join her. ...a million shattered dreams...

It's not a matter of believing in an afterlife, which, for all these years, I only have for the sake of rejoining her. I don't believe in hell. Either there is the Omega Point, or there is nothingness, I don't care.

I just want the pain to end. I just want to find my way home.

Italicized text from Five Finger Death Punch's "Far From Home." I claim no rights to these lines.