Lost

19 02 2010

Now going back to the high school years, here’s something I wrote when I was in grade 10?  I think.  It’s not as embarrassing as Apparently, that’s for sure.  I think I also deluded myself into thinking I wrote a “song” with this when I just wrote some lines that rhymed.  Anyway, there’s no music or at least I don’t remember it.

Lost

In the early years,
Everything was fine.
It was all right
And you were mine.
But then you left
With no reason
Except a bunch of lies.
And here I’m standing
With internal sorrow
When I realized…

I’m lost,
Without you here, defying my fears
I’m lost,
Scared and lonely, and you can’t hold me.
You’ve caused
So much pain, with nothing to gain;
I’m lost and my heart has drowned in your rain.

The ache I feel
Is hard to describe.
It’s like a black hole:
Nothing can hide.
And now it’s getting closer,
Engulfing my mind,
Poisoning every thought.
Depression stabs me.
I want this to end,
But I know that I’m caught.

I’ve forgotten who I am,
Or what I used to be.
All I know is I’ll be found
When you finally return to me.





Between Us

13 02 2010

Feeling nostalgic and sad about my lack of love in my love life, I took a look through my past convos and e-mails with Kem and it made me pretty sad.  I wrote this poem a while ago when I felt like he was intentionally trying to push me away, and how sad it made me when he did.  I understand it was because he was trying to help me get over him, but he didn’t have to do it like that.  I can’t really describe it except that it made me feel worse — that the one guy who I thought I shared a special connection felt like he was trying pull away from me on purpose, like I was so easy to get over.

Between Us

It’s just a crack in the ground
Between us.
If you step over and stand next to me
I’ll hold your hand against
Every barrage in this world
You take a step back.

It’s just a fault in the ground
Between us.
Nothing a running start can’t handle
I’ll be your bridge
My arms will suspend you while you cross
Another step back.

It’s an abyss in the space
Between
Us.
My voice echoes and skips like a broken record
Pebbles and dirt slip and fall into
The solace beneath me, accumulating the lies already there
Even with the stretching and tearing every muscle in my body,
To the peaks of my yearning fingers,
I am feeble
For the crevasse shrugs me off effortlessly,
As you tediously shift away.

In the distance, I see you
A soldier standing solidly while I struggle on my hands
You have only stayed this long to watch me leave
But it is you who retreats,
Sweeping away your footprints
So I cannot follow.
And I am forced to mimic the same act
Except I do not play this part well
For little puddles mark my every pace
Until they are the only things

Between us.





What If Love…

12 02 2010

I had a dream last night, and a very vivid one too.  I was with some of my friends, and it was a sunny day.  We were going across the city, through narrow passages between buildings.  I was following my friend Lulu, who seemed to know where she was going, which was good because I sure as hell didn’t.

Eventually we came to this little shop.  A woman inside told us to sit down at this large table.  She said she was a psychic of some sort, and that she’d be able to tell us the future.  Lulu sat beside me.  She was playing with some tea lights.  The woman told us to each take a candle/tea light and to light it.  My tea light burned weakly.  I think it was because there was a lot of melted wax, so the wick wasn’t exposed very much.

The woman started chanting some stuff.  She told us that we would see our futures and I think most of us were pretty skeptical about it.  I heard and noticed people around me oooh-ing and ahh-ing at things, but I wasn’t sure what they were seeing.  An image formed before my eyes, like a hologram.  There were three divers and two of them were having some unusual form of sex while the third was oblivious, swimming nearby.  I kept watching, not knowing what this all meant, all the while still hearing my friends around me being amazed and excited and scared at their futures.

Lulu moved her hand around my hologram future-thing when she noticed I was unusually quiet, unlike everyone else.  I waved her off, telling her I was watching it all unfold.

This next part is sort of a blank.  I can’t remember it, unfortunately, but I can remember what I was watching had me extremely emotional and upset; events were implied, which I already knew to be true and it scared me.  What I mean is this:

I was one year or two in the past.  Don’t ask me why or how that happened.  It was a dream.  Strange things happen like that.

What I saw (or rather, what I saw implied) was that I’d meet a really interesting guy who I would eventually love, only to have it all break, leaving me in ruins.  The thing is, since I was from the future, I already knew this to be true and I was suddenly so upset and emotional that I had the chance of possibly saving myself the hurt that I had already felt.

I could change my present by changing the past.  But that would mean I would never meet Kem, that I would never get to know him and never love him.  It would also, potentially, mean that I wouldn’t go through that slut phase I went through after our breakup, something I regret going through.

I cried.  No, I bawled.  I completely broke down watching my hologram future but it still continued.  The image transformed into a forest of strange stalks of some sort, kind of like tulips.  I kept crying and from behind the shrubs, a face appeared.  It was a woman, her face done with makeup, ancient and mystic-looking.  I asked her to stop, that I couldn’t take anymore, and she told me there was so much more I could know, but I refused.  I had enough.  She accepeted my response and then asked me, “What do you treasure the most, right now?”

I looked around and saw my friends, laughing.  I told her my friends were the most important part of my life and that I loved them.  Sure, I love my family as well, but there were certain things I couldn’t tell them that I could only feel comfortable telling my friends.  She nodded, and rolled out a toy ball from behind the glade.  It was decorated like a clown.

She told me to go have fun with them, to clown around, essentially.  Then she and the hologram disappeared.  I looked over at my friends.  They each all had balls of their own, playing with them joyfully across the table.  I smiled, but there was still something on my mind.

When we were all done, I went to see the woman, the psychic.  I told her I saw things I knew would happen, and wondered if there was any way I could prevent it.  I think she told me something, but I can’t remember.  Soon after that, I woke up.

The odd thing about this (as if this wasn’t odd enough) is that I’ve thought about this idea before.  I wrote a script about a guy who’s told he has a choice between two paths: finding and loving someone deeply for a short while but being emotionally devastated after, or not experiencing true love for an unknown amount of time.  In the end, the protagonist accepts the road of love, knowing fully he’ll be hurt.

In my dream, I was a few years in the past, and the fact that I apparently had a choice to not only change how I would be emotionally but who I could be as a person (ie. not meeting Kem could change me from the person that I am now) was so powerful, so important that I was so upset.  When I wrote the script as a “What if” sort of thing, I began to wonder in my own life, if I had the choice as to whether or not I met Kem and I knew it would make me so sad after for so long, would I still meet him?  What would I do?

And now with this dream, I actually had the chance.  If the choice were presented to me, I honestly don’t know what I would do.  Before I ever started dating anyone, I didn’t know how bad a breakup leave you feeling.  If I did know (ie. if the choice were given to me now), I think I might be safe and decide not to have met Kem at all.  But if the choice were given to me two years ago, I probably would’ve gone for love because I was so… ready, I guess is the right word.  I really was ready to dedicate myself to someone and I wanted to know what it would be like, which isn’t to say that I don’t want to date someone now, but that because of my past relationship, it’s left me a lot more jaded and hesitant about spending my feelings on someone.

Anyway, this was all a random expelling of thoughts that’ve been in my mind since waking up this morning, so if you’re wondering why my writing is really simple and not that great, that’s why.  I’ll probably be thinking about this for a few days.

Sigh.





Unordinary

19 01 2010

A short story I wrote back in high school, part of New Shoots, a creative writing program run throughout high schools in Vancouver.

Unordinary

My feet splash in the puddles as I run.  I cannot believe what had just happened; me seeing my boyfriend with someone else.  And it wasn’t just hanging out; it was full fledged flirting and kissing!  Kissing dammit!!  I run to the place where I just sit and think about things; my hiding place, if you will.  Unlike most people, my place isn’t some pile of rocks in a forest or a quiet library or something.  In fact, you’d probably think I was some kind of weirdo.  It’s a cemetery.

My cemetery isn’t all that far away; it’s only a few blocks from my house.  Since it’s raining, I’m getting completely drenched.  My shoes are basically filled with water and my clothes seem as if they had just come out of the washer.  But I keep running until I see the welcoming gates.  In a way, it is quite sad to be amongst rotted and decayed corpses buried beneath the earth, but it also makes me realize how fortunate I am to be alive.  When I come in, I slow my pace down to a walk.  I stroll past the familiar tombstones that I see every time:  Williams, Tennant, the Shatfords.  The few trees provide an added kind of mystery towards this place by casting acute shadows on the grass.  I hear the “cawing” of nearby crows.

As usual, the cemetery is deserted.  No one comes in all that often, except for me and the odd visitor that’s actually paying respect for the dead.  A lot of people, however, use the cemetery as a shortcut to the other side, which I find really ignorant.  But they’ll learn that someday, they will be in that cemetery permanently.

I continue walking past my favourite row of headstones on a paved path; I keep imagining that when I walk down this path, the ghosts and spirits of these people are there, to comfort me, sort of like when the bride walks down the aisle in a wedding and everyone in the seats are staring at her, only I picture ghosts.  They are dressed in olden days clothing; the men tipping their hats to me and the women wearing frilly dresses with giant flowery hats.  I can see them smiling at me and telling me how wonderful it is to see me again.  But not this time.  I’m so distressed that I can’t picture all these people.  Besides, it’s raining and I’d probably have to picture them all wet too.

Eventually, I reach a tree in the exact middle of the graveyard.  It’s extremely tall with huge outreaching branches that provide shade–and in this case–shelter from the rain.  I sit down at the base and put my hands in my face; if I loved Sean so much, why did he have to go after someone else?  What was I to do now?  It was just all too confusing to me.  Instead, I did what I did best: cry.

I woke up with the sun in my eyes.  Was I sleeping?  For how long?  I looked around me.  Everything seemed so calm, so quiet.  I remember that the last thing I thought about was Sean.  Well, it was time I moved on anyways.  I get up and brush myself off, even though the twigs and leaves stick to my wet clothing.  I walk down the same path until I reach the gates.  Whenever I leave the cemetery, the childish part of me thinks that my ghost friends are sad that I’m gone and that they’re looking forward to seeing me next time.  But the real part of me knows that death is inevitable; we all die sooner or later, it really is just a matter of time.  The dead don’t care if you bring them flowers, if you mention them or if you honour them after they’ve passed away because they’re dead; they can’t do anything about it.  We’re just reminding ourselves that other one of us isn’t living and that soon, we will be joining them.