My headphones are on.
I know what I'm hearing.
And I hope you can hear my heart break with every hit.
There is no excuse.
There is no cover up.
You wouldn't allow me to sit idly by and listen to you drain the blood from your hands.
I've been there, I've done that.
Are you even counting? I'm not, and even I know you've doubled up on the hits.
I can hear it.
From "Unsolicited Advice To Adolescent Girls With Crooked Teeth And Pink Hair" By Jeanann Verlee
"When a girl with thick black curls who smells like bubble gum stops you in a stairwell to ask if you're a boy, explain that you keep your hair short so she won't have anything to grab when you head-butt her...
Then, head-butt her."
I woke up sick.
And I feel awful.
But not for the reason you think.
I can assure you that I am fine, I just need some time to lucid dream and wish my worries away. But that might never happen. And honestly, that's okay with me.
I'm wearing the same infected clothes, and wrapping up in the same infected blanket hoping to get better.
I've gotten the rest of my family sick, so good for me.
Because my family is made up of some of the strongest people I know. We never get sick.
And yet, here we are. Bound to our beds and eating soup like it's the elixir of life.
But we will get better. Physically...
As for everything else... we can leave that until tomorrow.
But I'm still in these infected, sick clothes. But I'm too tired to do anything about it. So I'll sleep.
It's the best thing I can do right now.
Don't you think?
Day or night?
Video or audio?
Wake up or keep dreaming?
Move on or turn back?
Tomorrow or yesterday?
Now or never?
Too much or not enough?
Lifted up or put down?
Shut in or shut out?
Step forward or step back?
Forgive or forget?
Ahead or behind?
Real or fake?
Control or chaos?
In your head or in your heart?
Off beat or in sync?
Accept or deny?
Save or sacrifice?
Together or alone?
Yours or theirs?
Blood or water?
Everything or nothing?
Beginning or end?
Taken or given?
Live or die?
Your fault or mine?
Your choice or no choice?
Surrender or fight?
Different of the same?
Run back or run away?
Anxious days or sleepless nights?
Shining in the spotlight or hidden in the shadows?
Say something or stay silent?
Inner strength or outer strength?
Keep or abandon?
Bitter or sweet?
Cut off or connect?
Cooperate or compete?
Relief or risk?
Jump or fall?
Stay or go?
Preserve or burn?
Cold as ice or hot as flames?
Relaxed or on edge?
Listen or disregard?
Pride or concern?
Public or private?
Adventure or reward?
Save my life or leave me here?
This state of limbo is the calmest and scariest place to be.
Where all of these decisions seem to matter long before they've been made.
And here I am just staring down the possibilities...
I can stop you know.
I have self control and that is something I can be sure of.
But even now, what are we supposed to do?
I'll start with saying this:
I'm not going anywhere.
I am not a guarantee for what you might want, but I won't leave.
So here's what I propose:
Stop. Think. Act.
And sure, that's brutal honesty, and it's not easy.
But you've got an iron will do you not?
Just watch some TV with me.
I don't need a poem written about me.
I mean, I could argue whether or not it's worth it to write about me. I am an original among billions of people but only so many people are going to get to know me. And fewer than that will want to talk about me or write about my life and how it affected theirs.
So really now, what is there to tell?
You can start with what event brought us together...
And end with how you think everything will work out.
I'm giving up my author status for a short time to let someone else tell this story.
Because right now, I need another opinion.
So I'll leave the paper here.
Write what you will.
And write with everything you've got.
I guess you enjoy the sound of a good singer or backing track. Am I wrong to assume that you walk around with your earbuds in, and the music turned up to shut out the noise?
I’ve spent a lot of time listening to the music through my headphones, but not the music throughout every day. Listening to thunderstorms, or birds singing, or the school bell. You’re very lucky to enjoy the music as you hear it. It’s part of the reason why music reaches out to so many people. It’s one of the things I really love about this world. It’s just beautiful isn’t it? It kind of makes me feel bad for people who are deaf.
So listen, music is also part of your communication in a way. It complements your personality and style. So maybe you’re walking down the halls to your favorite song and just enjoying life. I mean, how great is that? Pretty great if you ask me.
In all honesty, thanks for being a musical person. It’s the sort of thing that opens you up to the world if you let it. So keep listening to whatever music you like. But don’t tune out the world when you do. Thanks for finding my letter.
Yeah I know, you weren’t exactly expecting this, trust me I get it. But I’m not big on writing long letters so I’ll keep it short.
You decided to read this so you might be curious as to what I have to say. Well, to be completely honest, I wanted somebody to talk to.
But listen, this letter is the first of many that I will handwrite and leave for complete strangers. I’m not trying to fix the world, and I’m not trying to change lives. But I think that we all need a little more good in our lives. I guess I should tell you that wherever you are in life right now, keep going.
Let some curiosity take over and open up to the world for a bit. Take this week by storm and live a little. Yeah, I get that this may or may not be the best week of your life. But take a minute to just experience what you’ve got. Appreciate the small things like the sunshine or the quiet. I hope that you’re feeling okay, but I think I’m running out of paper. Maybe you’ll see another on of my letters sometime soon. It was nice talking to you. Thank you for finding my letter.
In all honesty, there are always going to be people you can't stand. Like the teachers you hate, or political leaders, or just stupid people. But I might as well stop myself from talking about it before getting carried away.
I don't always feel my voice is very subtle, I'm told I'm a very loud person. And that's only true when I want it to be.
I kind of just hate money... and politics, and people, and anything and everything that makes me live up to world standards.
I've got an anger problem, I dream about getting into fights and then I imagine winning and suddenly everybody thinks I'm dangerous.
I should probably tell my sister I love her, but if I'm being honest, I have to tell my other sister I hate her.
I don't know how smart I'm supposed to be, or if I should act like I don't care anymore. If I could shoot up a building, I think I would. Not because I want to.
But because I ---
Nobody ever told me how to put an end to this...
Don't get me wrong, I like elevators as much as the next guy. But there's always been something about stairs that just interests me in a way elevators can't.
If you've ever watched me climb a flight of stairs, I usually skip every other step. Mainly to save time because I live life too fast, climbing stairs so I could slow life down somewhere else.
I have this one staircase where all my friends hang out, less than 10 steps with a door at the top. That door wasn't opened very often, we called it the -- "Suicide Door". Only to find that it was a room where there were tons of stacked boxes willed with paper. But we still hung out on that staircase anyway.
Lately, the conversations that take place on those stairs are less than amusing, we don't laugh about how stupid people are. Rather we rant about who we want to kill in this world, and who's mad at who for thier gender or religion, I don't feel safe there anymore.
I fear if I say anything that I'll be shut down because I don't like people's use of "free speech" when it's used to put people down. And yes, I know, I'm not innocent here. There are conversations I regret saying that I have left on that staircase.
We don't talk about those conversations because we know out opinions are still changing. I may not remember any of this when it's finally over.
We don't talk about conversations we had behind closed suicide doors. But we never talk about the ones we had on the staircase below it. Sometimes that door seems like it's locked forever, and we choose to believe that our staircase leads to nowhere.
I miss the way thing used to be, when conversations weren't poisonous to those who heard the even by accident.
It makes me want to take elevators with strangers. Sure, it would be awkward, but at least nobody would want to rant about people to a bunch of strangers.
I sat by the stairs again. All my friends were there. But the school bells ring and everybody leaves. Nobody bothers with a "see you later" of a "c'mon, we gotta go, you'll be late". They just leave.
I'll stay there for a minute, gather my things, and wonder where they all went.
And whether or not they'd come back.
After all, the stairs aren't all that important right?
And these stairs, out of all staircases, just lead to nowhere...