I’ve come to realize that we stand alone in this world. No matter how many people we surround ourselves with, or how many people that surround us, we will forevermore stand alone. It is only each individual that can exist in the space that they occupy. No other can share it with us. We’ve never truly touched; our very particles repel each other. To fight for anything more than closeness is to fight nature, and in turn fight ourselves, for we are a part of nature. But yes, I’ve come to accept that we stand alone in this world, despite any effort to change that.

Let me correct myself, I stand alone in this world.

Gaze upon simple

Silhouettes, cast in relief

Against a child’s dreams.

To write, I must sometimes

Make a wound to allow

The blood to spill and infuse

With the ink on the page.

But, sometimes I get careless

And cut a bit too deep;

Instead of a steady drip, I find

It gushing from me in

An uncontrollable manner.

I start to lose control,

Lost in a haze between pain

And bleak numbness.

Things don’t always make

Sense at those times,

But they are chronicled

Whether or not they

Can be comprehended at all.

This stopped making

Sense, I think I cut too deep.

flawsstitchedwithgoodintentions:

I’m like the child that lost his balloon. The balloon made me feel happy, in fact, the balloon was the best part of anything that could possibly be around. But for a moment, I got tired of holding the balloon. I just let it go. Sure, my hand was free, which was a nice relief, but the balloon wouldn’t stay. It was free to float wherever it wanted. I never realized what it would be like without the balloon. And as the sadness came over me, I simply watched the balloon float away to a place I could never reach it, never quite losing sight of it until finally, no amount of focus could let me see it. It was gone; I was sad, and the day kept going, just the same as that balloon.

Of course, this was never about a balloon, was it?

I’m like the child that lost his balloon. The balloon made me feel happy, in fact, the balloon was the best part of anything that could possibly be around. But for a moment, I got tired of holding the balloon. I just let it go. Sure, my hand was free, which was a nice relief, but the balloon wouldn’t stay. It was free to float wherever it wanted. I never realized what it would be like without the balloon. And as the sadness came over me, I simply watched the balloon float away to a place I could never reach it, never quite losing sight of it until finally, no amount of focus could let me see it. It was gone; I was sad, and the day kept going, just the same as that balloon.

Of course, this was never about a balloon, was it?

I’ve sat reading and thinking about a post for nearly an hour. I know I won’t stop thinking about it. I know I’ll keep reading it. I doubt I’ll ever let it go. All I can think of are the decisions that I’ve made. How I wish that I might have made different ones. How I wish I could have had the balls to take the initiative. But I didn’t, and I am where I am now. I am here. Not where I want to be, not where I need to be. And while this is all very obscure, it’s just as transparent. The best I can do right now, is say I’m sorry. To be honest, I’m not sure who I’m saying it to, but I know that I am, and probably always will be.

It ranges from depressed

To insane and back again

Then somewhere off into

A happy place, where my

Darkness will vanish, save

Even a trace. It’s all too

Complicated for most to

Deal with. Did I mention I

Question nearly every thing?

So for those who can stand

Me, I applaud you completely

But I won’t be surprised if

You fall away discreetly.

But then I started reading

All your beautiful words

The ideas they were feeding

Drew me into the herds

Poems without rhyme

Is unnatural for me

For throughout my time

My thoughts were lyrical, see?

While I despised it

And even disguised it,

I knew that this scheme

Wasn’t meant for my theme.

But I found myself able

To tell free written fables

Without being bound by cables

Of the learned lyrical rule.

This poetic fool

Has found a new tool!

Has something ever

Broken you? Exposed yourself

To me? I missed it.

I’ve gotten caught up in moments, insignificant moments that should hold no true value to me. I tend to just get lost in them, analyzing the tiny details for no particular reason. They don’t benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I just do because…well, because I can. It’s funny though, until just now, I didn’t even realize why I did it. Literally in the midst of writing this, I had an epiphany: I only make insignificant moments significant to me because I feel the same way as they might. I want to have some semblance of importance in this life. So, I give insignificant things and moments some form of attention, some significance, in hopes that someday, the favor will be returned.