Cuddle desperate

Not a good day. And then I was watching some stand-up on YouTube and a comedian was talking about how she has depression and some days, she’ll just get really sad for no reason. And I thought, well, maybe that’s what I have today. I’m just sad for no reason. But it’s okay. And I don’t have to be desperate for affection. I mean, that’s not to say that craving cuddles is the worst way to deal with depression — there are much worse, unhealthier ways for sure.

Thirsty, is the word that comes to mind. I only recently learned the slang definition of it. I think it’s lame.

To K.

They say people do weird things when it’s a full moon. For me, I get depressed as hell. The last few days have been even worse that usual, mostly because of things that I don’t wish to blog about right now.

I just keep thinking… K., if you’re out there and reading this, things would have been so much easier if we were together. I wouldn’t be dealing with this and feeling like shit… god, it would’ve been so much better goddammit. I miss you.

I Am

Apparently I haven’t posted this one.  I wrote this back in Grade 10 for one of my classes.  It was based on a template that everyone in the class got and we all basically had to fill in the blanks.  I’m assuming the teacher read it but she didn’t do or say anything to me after.  I probably would have.

I Am

I am depressed, alone.
I wonder what it’s like to be normal
I hear words of hate dripping off peoples’ mouths.
I see his face
I want him to notice me.
I am depressed alone.

I pretend it’s when I’ve gone to hell and back.
I feel afraid of getting too close.
I touch the soft mist of his aura.
I worry about myself.
I cry from rejection.
I am depressed, alone.

I understand true understanding.
I say life is without meaning.
I dream of even the shortest exchange between him.
I try to be myself.
I hope to make it.
I am depressed, alone.

Endless Days

More angsty (bad) teen poetry, written probably in 2005.

Endless Days

Where am I getting this air from?
I can’t breathe from this
suffocation
that’s strangling me,
squeezing every last ounce of oxygen
out of my lungs.
In the words of my sister Pink
I don’t want love to destroy me
like it did my family.
Yet I know you laugh, scornfully
that I’m a Simon
knowing so much, yet having so little
So much wiser than you could ever imagine
wisdom after learning such harsh lessons
full of sound and fury, signifying nothing
except the need to want
and keep wanting.
Why can’t we be satisfied with
what we have already?
Who cares?  It doesn’t matter.
In the end, the dream of life shatters.

Saturday Morning Documentary: Collapse

Originally a documentary about the CIA, as it says in the opening titles of Collapse, the filmmakers, upon interviewing Michael Ruppert, a former journalist, discovered that he had a different and arguably more powerful message to say.  Filmed in 2009 in the middle of the global recession, the only person interviewed in the documentary is Ruppert — and he has, as we find out, a lot of things to say.  He starts off talking about the reason for the recession, believing the economy has reached peak oil, and the importance of it everywhere — oil is apparently in everything from tires to toothbrushes.  He outlines alternative fuel sources including solar power, electric, and nuclear, while also saying why these options aren’t any better (ie. since electric car parts such as tires need to be made from oil, they are, long-term, not a good solution, in his eyes).

Despite almost an hour and a half of him ranting, he comes across as an extremely intelligent and passionate man, really honestly trying to urge people to change, and he gives people advice that will either come across to viewers as helpful or crazy: he tells people to grow their own vegetables, keep seeds for crops, change your fiat currency (paper money) to gold since it pretty much will always have value, etc.  Some people might say he’s paranoid about the recession and that taking such drastic measures isn’t needed while others might find his words holding truth.  It is up to viewers to decide.

What is clear, however, is that at oil does impact the world at least more than I ever knew.  And as of the time of the filming, even after passionately pleading to people about all this, Ruppert was living with his dog, behind on his rent, and was apparently no longer giving talks anymore.  While he doesn’t come across as the most lovable man on the planet, you do feel some sympathy for him, especially after he fervently believes what he does.

A very well-made film that is definitely thought-provoking. How did this not get nominated for an Oscar?

Michael Ruppert

Untitled

Untitled

When you look at me,
Can you see my fading light?
The dimness growing deeper
A crescendo as the tunnel continues
into an empty heart.
Hope is just a memory
an onnocent chid crying in the arms of a tained future.
Liquid conscience trickling down
a trail of overgrown weeds and oblivion.

Hallway

Something I wrote for my poetry class.  It feels like a complete departure from what I usually write but I like pushing myself to explore different subjects.

Hallway

Florescent lights, like a hospital patient room
Sanitized floors, trying to hide scuff marks
A crimson neon exit sign hangs above my head,
Me, a grim reaper with a gun

Number 1 and 2 fall soundlessly,
their hands in the other’s like I’ve always seen them
Always clutching, touching
3 screams before a silver reply pierces her lungs.
My devilish hands, puppeting my sight, spy 4, eyes closed
as if content for having lived only sixteen years.
I must turn away as my demon fingers pull the trigger
After wounding 5, she crawls on elbows, reduced to a human rowboat
But as I gain on her, cannon in hand, the boat sinks, a hole too many, liquid rushing out instead of in.

A sound startles me.

6 sits slumped, rocking back and forth, a pendulum
fingers creating trenches behind a crying face, moaning like a siren.
The sight slashes into me, deeper than any round I’ve fired
I nod in recognition of the pain he endures and will endure and continue
At the end of the hallway stand two white doors,
and before I pass, I turn around
It smells of death:
Blood tainting the floor
Flickering lights, like a morgue
They lie there, sleeping kindergarteners
Sons and daughters.  People’s children.
Suddenly, pain surges and I unleash a fury of gray tears upon myself.

It started with a bullet.  It will end with one.
My hands, still possessed, perform one last sin.
“How did it come to this?” I wonder as I christen myself number 7.

choking on normal

choking on normal

they all tell me to be normal
but really what “normal” is i don’t know like
they say “normal” is acting like a man
but i heard somewhere that i should be
myself they say “normal” is doing work but i heard
not to take everything so
seriously the say “normal” is acting
your age but i saw people growing up too fast
they say “normal” is going to school after high
school but that’s not what i want for me they
say “normal” is falling in love with someone of the opposite
gender but im already in love with a boy that ive
Sean
around they say “normal” is being happy and
living my life but its too hard when i was depressed and
thinking about not breathing again they say “normal”
is acknowledging your parents but how can i if she is constantly
screaming at me and he isnt there to protect me they say “normal” is
devoting yourself to a religion but i dont want to be part of
something that preaches hate
they all tell me to be “normal”
what
is
normal?

The Tower Card

Something old and emo.

The Tower Card

A cloud of uncertainty hangs above my head
I’ve been wondering for so long,
yet have never attempted it
but I guess it’s time now
For too long, there has been war
of all sorts
all around me
Suffocating the life from me
And when life promises to be kind,
it turns on its word
stabs me with a dagger of wickedness
until I can no longer sustain the injuries
So I may as well finish the job
I pick up the silver medicine
gleaming at me
taunting me to take it
to free myself from this everlasting pain
I take it gently and carefully to my hand
As the clock strikes twelve,
I am eternally asleep on the ground
With a devilish grin on my wrists
its mouth open
and blush words continually spilling out
“You can’t turn back time now”

Lost

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.