And temper flashing,
Thou shalln't play in anger,
Lest your frustration cause a failure,
As with the failure comes fruustration.
It has been four days
since we talked.
I do not mean to gawk,
but I have been staring
at this empty screen,
tearing at my thinning hair
with nostrils flaring,
looking for a sign
that this is not
the beginning of yet
another falling out.
We are going through
things to talk about are
few and far between,
and there is a lot of
"I don't understand
what you mean" and
"You're only fifteen,
you wouldn't get it anyways."
You are my dry land
and I am drowning
without your hand
to pull me up to the surface.
I can't pretend
that I am your best friend,
though you are surely mine.
I'd like to know if
you think it is the end
but I am so nervous
that I can't
take my shaking fingers
and ask the question;
I am much too desperate
and the suggestion
that I could be the reason
we don't even chat anymore
lingers like a bad tattoo.
I need to draw the line
between when it's
time to move on
and being perfectly fine.
I know I'm lying to myself
and I know I'll try to mend something
that might be irreparably bent
with a bit of twine;
because I could never say goodbye.
if there's a chance
you're still mine.
For an uncountable amount of years
I have struggled with personal progression
The demons of days past tread behind me
Softly enough to not be heard by anyone else
But loud enough to hear their voices in my head
"The butt of the joke"
For so long
I have wished for relinquishment
A way to get them out of my head
To break the bonds they hold
To feel like I am the one to succeed
The one who is fit
The teller of the joke
For once in my life
To not be the one who falls behind
Or just never made it all
I've turned down so much
In the presence of their influence
With the mark of adulthood approaching fast
The boy who's been bogged down
Has held this tension in his hands
Trying to find some catharsis
Trying to translate thoughts to words
Trying to create something of this internal chaos
To explore it's purpose
To know why
Every line I've written is a piece
To the puzzle that is my freedom
My freedom will be my victory
And my victory will be their downfall
And 48 minutes
Is how long it's taken me to realize this
To realize the majority of my problems
Are all in my head
All a product of me not learning to feel successful
Complicated by myself
And only myself
Victory is never taken in a day
These things take time
And that's the one thing I have on my side
Along side those who wish for my growth
And well being
I don't know where to go
From this point
I am limitless
passed out on the bathroom floor
because the drugs don't work
and the alcohol doesn't do the job anymore
the progression of consistent failure mixed with anxiety
explodes in my acid volcanic brain I was given
I drink to get away, to escape, to be happy
but those feelings don't come around anymore
the things I said I would never do
have all been done
so that's why you will find me
passed out on the bathroom floor
They say that humans are compassionate and loving creatures, with a wide variety of emotions. Yet they also say humans are the most feared and horrible creatures on this planet. And all of these things were yet said by humans. What most people don’t say or tend to notice is that humans are full of oxymorons, hypocrisys, and failure. That may sound negative but it isn’t. If humans weren’t flawed then we wouldn’t be humans right? I believe those two most common perceptions of humans come from the two most commonly perceived personality types present in humans. You have the super happy-go-lucky type who believes the world is perfect and pure and no one wants to hurt each other. And then you have the extremely hateful cynical type. The people who have been hurt and stepped on and abused and feel they have every right to hate the world. But I think these two extremes are quite unfair to the majority of the population that is in the middle grey area. The reality is that the world is a mystery and treats every human differently with different experiences, just as all humans are different from each other. It’s quite beautiful, that grey area. You never really know what’s going to happen in the middle and its exciting.
Ady was a troubled kid, but he didn't use to be that way. Now, he almost never smiles and happiness has become an outdated concept to him. For a seventeen year old boy, he was unusual. He sulked in the darkest thoughts of his mind, with his head held down in disdain. He had black hair and dark brown eyes that would always stare at the ground, looking at his every footstep. No solace in his life existed, for he was overwhelmed in his thoughts, lost in a world of nonconformity. He thought of himself as a slave of society, forced to be confined to the strict rules set upon him. His mind, however, adventured to break the chains of bondage, no longer detained to society’s norms.
During school, he was despondent sulking in his own thoughts, while teachers became agitated that he was falling behind. Ady knew what all the answers were, but kept quiet, so his fellow peers wouldn't look at him with repugnance. He felt that he was surrounded by ignorance, only to be comforted by himself. His thoughts teased him, pressuring him to question his every action.
He sat down in the cold seat of his English class and stared blankly at the bare wall in front of him. His headphones were blasting music, but he could still hear the remarks made by his classmates. Instead of paying attention in class, he soon dozed off into his own dark thoughts, once again.
"Why are you here, Ady? What possesses you to keep coming to class? You don't even pay attention!" His thoughts were devouring his mind once again. "Your parents have put so much pressure on you to be just like your brother. Why are you falling behind? Your parents aren't proud of you anymore. Look at you; you are nothing. You're making yourself look like a goddamn disgrace." His thoughts wouldn't stop persecuting him.
Ady whispered to himself quietly, “Please just go away. I don’t want this right now.”
”What do you not want? Me reminding you how much of a failure you are? You should know it by now, how your teachers whisper to each other about how you were such a wonderful student. Now, you are just a disappointment. No one cares about you. Your peers think you’re demented.” Snickered his thoughts, “You are only killing yourself, Ady. Doused with drugs, alcohol, and pills, you have become derelict. Might as well kill yourself now.”
"Will you just stop fucking with me!?" Ady shouted.
Suddenly, his classmates turned around in awe with wide eyes to see Ady sitting in the back. His teacher, Mrs. Beck, stopped reading Huckleberry Finn and stared at him blankly with her jaw dropped in shock. Realizing that he said this out loud, Ady grabbed his textbooks and stormed out the classroom. He sat on the nearest bench in his school’s courtyard, his palms placed upon his forehead, reminiscing on what he had just done. "Now everyone is going to think you're a disgrace and a delirious lunatic." His thoughts boasted. Tears streamed down his face with his face cradled in the palms of his hands. "Oh now Ady, don't be a coward. Why are you crying? Because you can't get rid of your thoughts or that I'm haunting you to the point of timorous suicide?
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Ady asserted, shaking his head.
"Because I am a part of you, you can never get rid of me. I will haunt you till the day you leave this Earth, which might be soon, since you're thinking of killing yourself." His thoughts teased. Ady didn't know how to respond, so he solemnly walked home in the cold November weather, with his thoughts still taunting him.
The next day, Ady returned to the class he absconded yesterday. He walked in right as the bell rang. "You're late again, Ady." Said his teacher, Mrs. Beck. Ady ignored his teacher's remarks and sat in his seat, while his fellow peers whispered about how Ady had boasted out of class yesterday.
"Do you think he's on drugs?" said one of the students.
"I don't know, but I've heard rumors he was placed in that mental institution, Holly Hills." replied another student.
Even though Ady had headphones in, he could still hear what his fellow peers thought of him.
"They're just jealous, Ady. Don't pay any mind to them; they will all pay their do's soon." His thoughts echoed in the cobwebs of his brain, even louder than they were before. Abruptly, Ady felt a slight pinch on his shoulder and saw that it was one of the girl's sitting behind him.
"Ady, are you okay?” exclaimed the young girl, "You ran out yesterday and I was worried about you, I hope you're okay now." The girl's name was Ester; she had hazel eyes that matched the freckles on her cheeks, with long light brown hair. Her lips smiled from cheek to cheek as she gazed into Ady’s eyes. She had known Ady for quite a long time, and had even gone on a couple dates with him, but it didn't turn into anything serious.
"Yeah I'm fine, thanks." said Ady whilst turning back around to face the front of the classroom. Ady knew Ester meant no harm, and that she constantly perturbed about him. But why would anyone care about him, especially her? No one else paid him any attention, except for Ester. Ady didn't know the answers to his questions, but he did find solace that someone cared for him.
3:18 A.M. Tuesday, November 18th
"Ady, wake up. It's me again. Did you hear what your friends said about you? They said you were in a mental institution and that you turn to drugs to help you cope. Are you just going to let them get away with that?" murmured his thoughts.
"They're not my friends, not even acquaintances. Why should I care now what they think of me, they've said rumors about me before." replied Ady.
"You are such an ignorant young boy. They've been doing this ever since you were in Elementary school. They think you're insane, in fact everybody thinks you are. Your parents, friends, teachers, classmates, and even Ester.”
"Shut up you have no idea what you're talking about! “Proclaimed Ady.
"Oh, but I do. You should be locked up in a mental institution, one of those padded rooms, where you can't hurt yourself. Or better yet, hurt other people. You like the idea of pain, don't you? So, why do you only inflict it upon yourself, and not others, you selfish prick!"
"Get out of my head! Get out! Why do you do this to me!? I don't want to hurt anyone!" shouted Ady. He grabbed a syringe full of Heroine from the second drawer of his nightstand and stabbed it into the inside of his elbow; he slowly injected the drug into his blood stream. His dark brown pupils dilated and soon fell from his bed to the carpeted ground, without his thoughts there to torment him.
Ady woke up around noon, and decided to go to school. However, he injected another dose of Heroine to ease his nerves, and hopefully eliminate his intrusive thoughts. He also took another bag, but his one was not full of his usual textbooks. Three G17 Gen4 9mm pistols, two Bear OPS switchblades, and one Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol. Ady, of course, obtained these weapons illegally, and kept them under his bed in his old guitar case. He wore a dark black coat and a black bandanna over his face, to make sure his identity was not revealed.
When he arrived at Saint Augustine High School, he was immediately noticed by one of the teachers, Mr. Hills. Mr Hills had been Ady’s Advance Placement Chemistry teacher, who he had known for quite a long time.
“Ady,” exclaimed Mr. Hills, “why are you dressed like that? Don’t you need to return to your third period?”
Ady slowly took out one of his 9 millimeters and aimed it at Mr. Hill’s forehead. Once he saw the gun Mr. Hills took off running, but Ady shot him directly in his spinal cord. Mr. Hills fell to the concrete sidewalk, blood escaping his body and painting the ground a crimson color that matched the autumn leaves. The sound of the gunshot was heard throughout the school, causing the emergency bell to start blasting a high pitched ring.
"Wonderful, our presence is known." His thoughts echoed. The school suddenly went into lock down, teachers started locking the doors, turning off the lights, and students frantically hid under their desks. Ady wasn't naive, he knew what was exactly going on. First, the teachers and students had been notified that there was a deranged psycho loose in their school. Second, the police and SWAT team were on their way to stop Ady in his path.
Ady proceeded down the hallways of his school, where all the doors were shut and the classrooms were dark. His footsteps echoed in the hallway, and he could hear the gasping of breath inside the classrooms as he passed them. He slowly strolled to Mrs. Beck's classroom, and jiggled the doorknob just to see if he could get a reaction. He did. With as much force as he attained, he kicked in the door. The students hid under the desks, screaming and terrified they called out "Please, don't hurt us. Please. Please have mercy." Ady smirked at the sight of their terror.
"Why should I be merciful towards you?" Ady claimed. He then took out his semi- automatic pistol from his black book bag and aimed it to the boy closest to him, who was cowering under his desk. His name was Matthew and he was one of the boys that had harassed Ady since he was eight years old. Ady then preceded to the shoot the boy in-between his green eyes. His blood plastered the wall behind him, while his head lay adjacent to the crimson wall. The whole class shrieked, not for the boy, but for who was going to be the next victim.
"The way I see it is you can either be the victim or the culprit.” said Ady, "However, you guys drove me to this, and so I think of you as both." Ady thus opened fired on the whole class. Mrs. Beck, the boy who sat next to him, and the girls who used to flirt with him. As the bullets fired, their blood piercing screams were heard throughout the school. Though, through the midst of chaos, Ester was not injured. She stood as a gleaming symbol of hope, while blood and lifeless bodies covered the tile floor. Her palms in her face, she wept hysterically under one of the desks. What had she just witnessed? Why did Ady not shoot her? Traumatized she looked around at twenty-one lifeless bodies lying around her, and then she looked at Ady. Ady gazed into her eyes and walked away. No emotions. No words. Nothing.
The police and SWAT team surrounded the school, but luckily Ady surrendered. He had gotten what he wanted. Revenge. But, revenge is not a substitute for justice. Ady was now locked up in Cherry Grove mental institution. There, he was alone with his thoughts again. He wanted to escape from everyone who had ever done him wrong. But the one person, who caused Ady to go mentally ill, in which he could never escape, was himself.
There is a freedom in delusion,
It is artificially flavoured and cheap-
for anyone desperate enough to buy it.
Like this, there are many more copies of the originals.
It is the promise of Love,
The dissapointment of failure,
and the bitter taste of regret.
Yes, there is a blind happiness in the act of faith;
believing in the shadows reflected on the walls of the cave.
A hard truth to accept- the lies you tell to yourself
as you go to bed and succumb to wishful dreams.
Another day wasted-another mind twisted.
The vitality of grass and the prattle of the birds ceases
love fades away, as does the vigor of the summer.
Words once fluent, now cease to forced murmurs of dispassion.
There goes the first leaf of autumn-
in the cold harshness of the creeping wind.
There is honesty and pain in recognition,
Deceit and grief at the eyes of imitation.
Yes, there is a temporal taste of forged happiness;
A comfort in the fabric of deception.
the sting of regret
always echoes in my head and sits on my shoulders,
wearing me down.
I've got to get out of here,
find a solitary place
where I can sit and be silent.
This town holds too many memories,
they stay with me like a ball and chain.
I fear a wasted life,
like heaven can't seem to penetrate the darkness that surrounds me
and give me a clear picture of who it wants me to be.
I fear the lonely bitter life,
one not shared with a significant other.
I fear the settled life even more,
one shared with someone I know is not right.
I fear the emptiness
of a life lived without you,
bracing myself for impact
against a wall of indecision.
Maybe one day I'll have hit it enough times to peek through the cracks
and see the other side.
But love doesn't worry me,
the future worries me.
It holds me in a death grip with its claws around my neck.
I gasp for air and flash my hands about,
trying to pull them off me
but I only cause myself to sink deeper and deeper
into this pit of uncertainty.
When did my life become a waiting game?
To see whether or not you were right about your so-called plans?
They were yours to begin with,
but now I fear that I made the wrong choice
and sent myself down a wrong, desolate road.
I once wrote of lost love,
so many times
that I lost myself.
It's been a little over three months.
There's been heart ache, drugs, romance, alcohol, fights, drama, success, failure, tragedy.
And then there's me.
There's been eat, breathe, study, sleep.
I think I did that thing where you hit the button to replay that one same song over and over on your ipod, and you can't figure out how to turn it off.
Except this is my life.
Is it normal for people to only be able to see a few weeks in advance in their life?
Or am I just abnormal?
What it is,
I've grown used to monotony.
It's the only way of life I know.
Day in, day out;
And I've never questioned, never challenged it,
for the sake of comfort.
Maybe it's that I'm challenging it now,
Maybe I don't want to been the slave of monotony.
But I don't know any other life...and do I want any other life?
Too many critical questions.
Those were always my least favorite parts of the math homework.
So I guess tomorrow I'll just go into the dining hall,
get my poppin' pink lemonade,
and shut myself out once again.
Shut myself out from what could be,
and live comfortably.
A blank canvas.
A vacant room.
A Cogitative mind.
Fear of Criticism.