Things are really going the way I want them to and I'm starting to realize that certain people no longer have a hold on my happiness.

Can't we just follow the god damn categorical imperatives, just this once?

I've never told someone I love them and actually meant it.

February 26th, 2011- the day I pretended to be classy.

Atlas Unmasked

The last of this series.


Talk about a fall from grace,
It seems my world has been displaced.
Feelings for me Atlas misplaced,
Feelings for me have been erased.
A mistake.

How can one erase what doesn't exist?
Such feelings from a beholder so omnipotent.
The weight of my world he'll balance in his fist,
But under my heavy heart his strength will desist.
A miss.

My heart, my downfall, weaves a path of destruction,
And down I fall with unpleasant deductions.
Atlass dropped the ball, contrary to instructions,
So now I call, for some kind of substance.
A wince.

You are not Atlas, but merely the moon.
You shine bright when it is dark, and further I swoon.
But when the sun rises, I am lonely at noon,
Out of tune I croon, "Atlas, where are you? And can I see you soon?"
A wound.

I am craving the darkness to drown in your light,
And while I miss you in the day, I am terrified at night.
For never in my life have I seen such a sight,
Engulfed in the blackness I can only see white.
A fight.

Such a fairweather friend cannot truly be Atlas,
And although he is predictable, he is still tactless.
Decieving me to see only what should be, nothing less,
But the truth is I'm falling, the truth is I'm a mess.
A test.

There is no Atlas, nor has there ever been.
Only a light so blinding, I can't see where I went,
Until it dissapears and reveals my descent
I shriek in grief until I'm blinded again.
An end.

Every day is an existential crisis.

I've made a grave mistake as of lately. I have focused on being happy here, rather than getting away from here. I'll never be happy in Southgate.

What I want: understanding- of the world (and people) around me. And most importantly, for someone to understand me.

The Past Is A Grotesque Animal

And I look at my past with disgust.

Not because of my own mistakes (although there are many), but because of the illusions I believed in, the attrocities I ignored, as a child. Flipping through this photo album, I find a picture of me in my fourth grade Halloween costume. The Statue of Liberty. As I flip to the next page, I notice it's a little bit heavier than one would expect a simple 4x6 photo to be.

Oh, yes.

I reach behind this picture and find three smaller photographs I hid behind it years ago.

Picture 1:
My brothers. Infants. Dead. Dead dead dead. Right after havin been stillborn. Glistening, freshly delivered. Skin blackened. Wrapped in white linens, wearing blue beanies. Dead. One of the twins is barely in the picture. Closed eyes, his face chocolate-brown except for his pink eyelids and pink upperlip. The other twin, next to him, arms crossed, face smushed. Dead. I am haunted. I cannot look away.

Picture 2:
The twins' funeral. In a small little casket. Dressed in ridiculous knitted outfits. Blue hats, again. Arms flat at their sides. One's face so black I can't make out any features. The other's head at his feet. His face is wrinkled and his mouth is agape, as if permanently frozen in a wail.

Picture 3:
My family in the grave yard kneeling behind the casket. It looks like a cooler. My mom looks miserable. I'm not even a twinkle in her eye yet. My oldest sister on my dad's lap, frowning. Her shoulder obscures my dad's face, which has been caught mid-blink in this picture. Amanda, our middle sister, perched in the middle of the family, barely peaking over the casket. She looks sad, but confused nonetheless. And if you look at the foiliage in the background, you can almost make out a god-like face in the leaves of the trees...

To take my mind off of these images, I turn back to the Statue of Liberty picture, remembering nothing but fond memories from that Halloween. However, now, upon closer inspection... I realize everything is wrong with this picture. I'm wearing a ruffled teal sheet, for god's sake. Over a white hooded sweatshirt. And wearing blue gloves? With a flashlight and composition notebook wrapped in green tissue paper. Face paint that manages to be blotchy as hell, and still not match any of the colors of my outfit. And some gaudy ass dark blue tennis shoes. Perhaps it's a product of the 90's, but I still look at it as another failure, another cheated experience of childhood... That I wasn't even aware of.

I know I sound like a pussy, complaining about a damn Halloween costume. I know it's no big deal. I know I sound melodramatic. But I Just. Don't. Know.

Black, and dead, and.....

She always told me the reason they died was because one of them broke the umbilical cord.

I always wondered if it was really alcohol, or drugs, or perhaps my dad beating her.

Dead and blackened. Completely horrendous. And yet I got to share the same room they did for 9 months. I was in the same place they were, only a year or two later. And when I look in the mirror, I see the same image. I wonder if I ever made it out of the womb alive either.

I wonder what's wrong with me. I wonder what else she could have possibly done to put me in a worse situation. Perhaps her substance abuse had an affect on me.

This lack of knowledge is what kills me the most. Are things as bad as I imagine?

Well I don't really know, and I don't think I ever will.

I suppose I just need to focus on the future. Something I have control over.

"Don't kill yourself to raise the dead;
It never works- you'll only end up joining them."

Time is not the enemy, nor is it a prison. Rather, it is a nonrenewable resource to be used wisely and constructively.

The concept of urgency... No me gusta para nada.

129- Atlas Shrugged

Atlas Shrugged
The war not won
The war hardly waged
By a mind so plagued
A mind so blank.

Atlas, oh Atlas,
Where have you fled to?
And do you intend to
Fulfill all of your duties,
Or any at all?
Atlas, are you watching,
Watching my world fall?

You are not Atlas,
But merely a man.
Here, let me take
That world from your hands.
I can hold it
Higher than thou,
In height and esteem
There is no doubt.

128- Atlas, At Last.

Atlas, at last
Don't let too much time pass.
For time is running out,
And I am just running about.

Direction, can't find it.
Desperation, can't hide it.
Faith- why fake it?
My life- just take it.

A frightening sight to see
The helpless, hopeless plight of me
Crashing ruins of that tower so high
Babbling, "Oh Babel," yes, that is I.

Fragility and futility
Intellectual capability
This inevitable duality
Causes great fatality

Crushed by the weight of the world
Fighting with fists clenched, fingers curled
Flattened, battered, beaten to death
Gasping for an unachievable breath.

Atlas, at last
Finally crosses my path.
Raises the difficulty with ease
And finally, I am able to breathe.

I'm sick of being tired but never sleeping. Sick of being hungry and never eating. Of being lonely. Merry Christmas.

I think I have a guess as to what "it" is... A sense of reality? Could that be it?

Even rebellions follow precedents, and that discourages me.

All I ever really want is for every piece of literature ever to relate back to Plato's Allegory of the Cave.

"I think, therefore I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." ?

I'm hungry for knowledge and thirsty for love.

On The Ups & Downs

Sometimes I am happy,
Those are good times.

And sometimes I get sad.
Very very very sad.
Now, I never get angry.
And on the rare occasions when I do,
I direct my anger towards myself.
It's not very friendly.

All the negative emotions, I try to avoid.
When they happen,
I ride out the storm.

When I get happy again,
It's great....
But always tainted by the fear
Of going back down.