I feel everything and nothing at once and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. There’s no facade put in place, my heart is on my sleeve and there’s only one thing to say. In eighteen years of living, death has taught me one thing. Time is precious and fickle. She is a force of uncertainty that which everyone uses for clarity, but dear there is no clarity in the unknown.
At a feeble age of eleven I lost a friend who we thought we’d all grow with. At age sixteen I almost lost my own life. And finally, at age eighteen my family was told my mother may have five years left.
Time is a cruel placebo effect. She waits for no one and whilst one may think the time isn’t now but maybe in the future, you have to realize there may not be a future.
What happens before now doesn’t exist. It does not exist in our reality. It will never exist until it happens but then the present becomes the past. Why wait for something you want?
Why say goodbye to something you don’t want to lose?

The tangible entity of consciousness is fleeting
Scene:
A elegant party but not quite extravagant
Clinking wine glasses echo through transparent walls
Twenty-two hundred lulls over the city like that of a shadow
This isn’t an ungodly hour nor is this a typical night
It starts when She enters in a red gown that elongates her figure
A pianist smirks in the corner — a grin that’s almost sinister
The clinking of wine glasses abruptly stops when its replacement of grim notes fills the glass house
The attendants still seem cheerful
(How peculiar?)
A stranger pulls her into a waltz but his eyes look hauntingly familiar
Unbenounced to her, He too dances with a stranger
Both on separate sides of the glass room
Both dancing with the unknown
Yet each pair seems to recognize some prominent feature
Nostalgic for what has never been
(How do you preserve a memory in reality?)
Through the glass house mirrors sit in obscure angles
One could see that within each reflection He and She were projected into the other room
Each glance towards the mirrors posed no questions
For both pairs seemed identical
Now their lives may have been content in accepting this dance with a “stranger” I suppose
But that was not the plan of this party
For guests grew tired of sipping on Beaujolais and listening to solem tunes
The pianist presented a different song, more lively yet equally eerie
Their feet paced with the new rhythm which called for a spin
(An act as dramatic as such was only proper for the scene)
With a grand gesture She turns, finally seeing the glass barriers
And for the first time that night He and She were face to face
A perfect dilemma to entertain an audience
In a frenzy She tried to speak
“I love you”
“I love you”
“I love you”
But each plea for affection deemed futile
For the grin on His face became that of the pianist
Her emotions were a downward spiral of gray shaded confusion
And with a sinister laugh He (or he) smashed the glass, shredding all source of reality
He was the hallucinogen and She was angry at him for making Her feel
And each guest cheered “bravo” demanding an encore
But this tragedy, dear friends, has come to the end
She’ll never know how the stars look where he is
(Is such a loss truly a loss?)

You brought up the past by digging up my grave
And as the broken sleep tonight
I’ll remember vividly the excruciating pain of your touch
Like knives leaving a whisper, a secret no longer kept
And I fall further and further
Back to relapsing agony