Tag Archives: decisions

lights, camera, action!

i am a candid facade—

i am no longer the crashing wreck

portrayed in movies and books

bleeding out question marks and

bad decisions to the open ocean

.

i am the jaunt in your sunday steps

and the gaily tip of your hats

and a million dollar movie star

with the confident mouth and purple hair

.

i am a candid facade—

i am not me. i am not me. i am not…

i am dissociated from all my

failures and collapses, from my

depression and desperation,

.

from me, from myself, from i;

i am not me. i am not me. i am not…

.

until i am not becomes i am me.

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Filed under Poetry

decisions, decisions

let me decide

what’s right

and what’s wrong

you do it so easily

but i won’t take long.

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Filed under Poetry

Hey World, Why Don’t You Spin A Little Faster For Me?

‘Cause he gets up in the morning
And he goes to work at nine
And he comes back home at five-thirty
Gets the same train every time
‘Cause his world is built around punctuality
It never fails…

~*~

I feel so fucking useless.

The world is running at a breakneck speed and everyone around me is already growing up and moving at a steady pace, getting jobs, meeting new people, going to college, telling wild (well, for me at least, but I’m sure it’s as normal an experience as any person gets) stories that still invariably shock the living breathing manchild in me, and basically acting like an adult, very well on their way to becoming a mature and a fine-class clockwork citizen of this society, and I’m still sitting here, practically catatonic and stuck at home, jadedly counting the crimson hairs on my head before I rip them all off out of sheer frustration, and then repeating the cycle for hours at a time, for days at a time, for weeks at…well, you get the idea.

Hell, all of my friends are doing something decent with their lives, some of whom I haven’t talked to in a rather lengthier amount of time due to their busier affairs, and all I’ve ever done is waste oxygen and continue bitching about my inane sadness like it’s such a fucking choice. Of course, people do tend to worry sometimes and ask way too many questions that I don’t have any answers to (in one situation, I found myself wracked with the conundrum of whether I should blatantly lie to my pressure-ridden grandmother or not), but really, it’s not their job to worry about me. It’s their job to worry about themselves and do good and be productive and get somewhere ahead in this stupid planet, and I’ll be there behind them every step of the way, cheering them on and assuring them and feeling proud for them and all that TED Talk crap, because it’s all I could do for now, and what they can’t ever do for me.

But sometimes, it also feels really lonely, and even lonelier when you know you couldn’t tell anyone about it, because it’s solely yours and no one else’s problem. Yes, I know, I know, I brought this solely upon myself, and I took the riskier choice when everyone pleaded for me to reconsider my decision and take the otherwise solution, and I didn’t even stop to set up any alternate plan-b’s or cheap setbacks to fall on, in the event that my original plan fails. Why? Simply because I wanted a fresh start for myself. Simply because I felt suffocated by this shrinking cul-de-sac of a place and wanted to get away from the same tiring things that I’ve been seeing for 18 years of my life ad nauseam. And simply because I want to force myself to actually believe in my capabilities, and fucking hope that for once in my life, I’ll be enough, maybe just enough, to make at least one implausible triviality into a reality.

Do I not want anyone to be disappointed in me? No. It doesn’t matter if anyone is anyway, I’m pretty much used to that already. I just don’t want to disappoint myself anymore, that’s all. I’ve always been falling behind my entire life, and I don’t think I could ever catch up.

I just wish time would go by just a little bit faster so I can finally stop holding my breath for nothing.

~*~

And he’s oh, so good, and he’s oh, so fine
And he’s oh, so healthy in his body and his mind
He’s a well respected man about town
Doing the best things so conservatively…

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Filed under Prose

Just a Pale Shade of Rosy Vision

And I want you to stop insisting that
I’m not a lost cause ’cause I’ve been through a lot
Really all I’ve got is just to stay pissed off, if it’s alright by you
But hearts are breaking, and wars are raging on
And I have taken my glasses off, you got me nervous
When you’re turning it into a joke…

~*~

I don’t know if I’m going to college. I know what I want to do, but I don’t know if I’ll make it.

Obviously, she says I’m being irrational with my decisions because I’m still hopeful, optimistic, just another manic boy seeing the damned dark world through rose-coloured glasses and floral idealisms, too naive and gullible for my own good, covertly trusting in demons masked with shiny halos.

She should’ve seen me nearly bleeding out in the middle of the night because I was too tired for anything else, because I felt like I wouldn’t be able do do anything more useful with my existence. She should’ve seen me doing it again a week after. And again and again and again. She should’ve seen me giving up.

At this point, these foolish little dreams of mine are all I have. They’re insane, yes, and most likely impossible, but who am I to turn it away? When I’m left with nothing but screaming nightmares, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me at bay, keeping me going on, keeping me alive, because everything and everyone else has given up on me. Including her.

Yes, maybe I can be such a selfish idealist sometimes, that much I acknowledge. But is it so wrong for me to want for more than just a stable job? A cash-grab career? A walking ATM fountain? Is it so wrong for me to want to be happy, or at the very least, be content with what I do, to see, experience, and feel more, to be more than just to be another greased cog in this broken machine they call a society?

Apparently, it is. Stupid child, listen to the adults, because they know more than you ever will, and you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment and failure. Since it’s so dumb of me to be hopeful, then what’s the fucking point of trying? Is being a sad, jaded, and washed-up individual all I have to look forward to in the future? Is it the only standard I should ever set for myself because everyone else ended up doing it? Because she ended up doing it? Because it’s the only sure and rational thing left in this ever-changing and cutthroat world?

If so, then nothing else should matter. Because I don’t want to have to live for it anymore.

~*~

Just let me cry a little bit longer
I ain’t gon’ smile if I don’t want to
Hey, man, we all can’t be like you
I wish we were all rose-coloured too…

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Filed under Prose

decisions

i won’t

think of it

too much

or hard

if there’s

no future

to be made

or had.

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Filed under Poetry