The light, the truth,
Finally you know
that he likes you, more
than you know. Though you
don’t see it, believe me, it’s true.
If you’d just stop and look at him
Look at him and see
how much he adores you,
clear in his eyes,
reflecting in yours. Lost
in the colours, lost in your
warmth, he yearsn for you and
you don’t even realize it. Wake
up and see the light, he’s
right in front of you.
Shhh… don’t
like me anymore;
i’m not worth anything.
but he loves you, so see the
light, and go towards
him. After all, he’s right
in front of you.
You’ll be alright, as soon
as you see his light.
More emo poetry from this whole page of poems I wrote during Math 11 class. Here’s a picture!
Final Closure
My mind flows
consistently, never faltering
unless the pain arrives, brought
on by the sight of the
person who has hurt me
all these years, and
yet brought me more than I ever wanted, which
is why I must block you out.
6. A few months after leaving high school and all those losers behind, I began to work on composing songs. What started out as a bunch of words slowly turned into a thought-out piece of music, and after many, many, many versions and scribbles of one verse, I finally played the entire thing out and was proud that I had completed my first song (that I actually considered a song. I started writing songs back in Grade 10.)
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”
Sometimes music can be more expressive than words. As you may know by now, I also write music as well as poems and songs. The first piece of music I ever composed was back in high school, during my last year. I was so into my composition, I tried to transcribe it since it was fairly easy. Eventually, I did, and it’s the only piece I’ve transcribed onto paper without using notation software. If you’re so utterly impressed with my work of art and would like a copy of the sheet music, just drop a comment with your e-mail and I’ll send it your way.
A variation on my short story Conversations with a Ghost. This was written during my VFS year, again for Style class in which we had to take the short story we had written and develop it into a different kind of writing — cereal box information, travel brochures, flyers… any kind of other medium that has writing on it. I chose to do mine in a police report format and it was definitely an interesting process.
Meaningless Conversations
OFFICIAL POLICE TRANSCRIPT
1 Jeremy West Interview
2
3 Detective: What’s your name?
4
5 West: Jeremy West.
6
7 Detective: Do you know why you’re here?
8
9 West: I can’t imagine why, no.
10
11 Detective: We found the body of a Sean Lee. Did you know him?
12
13 West: Yes.
14
15 Detective: How?
16
17 West: We go…went to the same high school together.
18
19 Detective: Were you a close friend?
20
21 West: No, not really. I liked him, though.
22
23 Detective: What do you mean?
24
25 West: Well, I just thought he was a nice guy. Good-looking too.
26
27 Detective: Okay. Did you ever talk to him?
28
29 West: No. I was too shy.
30
31 Detective: Why was that?
32
33 West: I was… intimidated by him, I guess.
34
35 Detective: What was so intimidating about him?
36
37 West: I don’t know. He was just… one of the popular guys around school. He had
38 had bunches of girlfriends, he was on a bunch of teams. You know, your typical jock
39 kinda guy. But…
40
41 Detective: But what?
42
43 West: He also had this mysterious vibe to him. Even at such a distance, I could tell
44 that he wasn’t like all the other guys that he hung out with.
45
46 Detective: What do you mean by ‘vibe’?
47
48 West: I’m not sure. I just felt he was… different.
49
50 Detective: Could it be because of his looks, like you mentioned?
51
52 West: No, that’s not what I meant. Even though he didn’t get the best grades, I could
53 tell he was smart.
54
55 Detective: Uh huh. You watched him often?
56
57 West: Sort of. Every now and then.
58
59 Detective: You do anything to him?
60
61 West: I wrote things and put it in his locker a few times.
62
63 Detective: What did you write? Death threats?
64
65 West: No. Just little poems and things.
66
67 Detective: Why did you do that?
68
69 West: I told you, I’m shy. If I couldn’t tell him things in person, I’d just come up
70 with other ways.
71
72 Detective: Right. Did he know it was from you?
73
74 West: No. I never wrote my name on any of it, and I only delivered my notes when
75 no one was around.
76
77 Detective: I bet you hid around a corner to watch his reaction when he found them.
78
79 West: You’d think that, but no, I never did.
80
81 Detective: Why not?
82
83 West: Because if he thought it was creepy or whatever, I didn’t want to know that.
84
85 Detective: Ah, so the old ‘ignorance is bliss’ thing, eh?
86
87 West: Yeah, I guess so.
88
89 Detective: You do any other sorts of crazy things to get his attention?
90
91 West: Well, I did used to play this game—
92
93 Detective: What? What kind of game was this?
94
95 West: It was perfectly harmless.
96
97 Detective: Can you explain this ‘game’ to me?
98
99 West: Sure. If I was on a bus with an empty seat across from me, I would just
100 pretend that Sean was right there, sitting across from me, and we would converse.
101
102 Detective: So you’re telling me that because you’re too shy to talk to him in person 103 you just… make him up?
104
West: Yes.105
106 Detective: That’s really screwed up.
107
108 West: But it was the only way.
109
110 Detective: So… what did you guys talk about?
111
112 West: Basically, I’d just tell him everything I could never tell him in person.
113 Sometimes I would pretend he was my boyfriend.
114
115 Detective: Now that is screwed up.
116
117 West: Like I said, it was the only way.
118
119 Detective: What kind of things did you guys talk about? Can you remember any
120 conversation?
121
122 West: Just little things. There was this one time when I was having a bad day and he
123 was there, making me feel better. He said things like, ‘Hey, Jeremy, I’m here now.
124 Everything’s alright.’ And then there was this one time…”
125
126 Detective: What happened that time?
127
128 West: Well, it started off just like any other time. I had this deal with my friend to
129 ask someone out in a week, and I talked to Sean about it.
130
131 Detective: And then what?
132
133 West: And then… things got a little out of hand. He became hostile and attacked
134 me.
135
136 Detective: You mean, physically?
137
138 West: No, verbally. Words can be powerful things.
139
140 Detective: What did he say to you?
141
142 West: He told me that I was too much of a coward to talk to me, and because of that,
143 I had to resort to fantasizing conversations with him.
144
145 Detective: But that’s the truth.
146
147 West: Yeah, but when I’m playing this game, I don’t want to be reminded of reality.
148
149 Detective: I see. Is that all he said to you?
150
151 West: He told me no matter what I do, no matter how hard I’d try, I would never be
152 able to get over him.
153
154 Detective: That’s harsh.
155
156 West: Yes.
157
158 Detective: How did this happen in your own fantasy?
159
160 West: I don’t know. I just… lost control.
161
162 Detective: And what happened after that?
163
164 West: I snapped out of it, cried a little.
165
166 Detective: You were crying because this game?
167
168 West: Yes.
169
170 Detective: I guess words can be powerful.
171
172 West: Yes.
173
174 Detective: So what happened after that?
175
176 West: Nothing much. Some fat lady in a hideous outfit started talking to me.
177
178 Detective: [laughs] What did she say to you?
179
180 West: She just offered me a Kleenex and then…
181
182 Detective: And then what?
183
184 West: And then I swear her face melded with Sean’s face when she said the word
185 ‘Never’.
186
187 Detective: Okay.
188
189 West: And that was then I knew I needed to kill him. To kill Sean.
190
191 Detective: Are you confessing to the murder of Sean Lee?
192
193 West: Yes.
194
195 Detective: Why?
196
197 West: Because I feel better about it, saying the words; knowing he’s really gone.
198
199 Detective: You realize that you’ve only killed him in your head, right?
200
201 West: Yes.
202
203 Detective: And you realize that this entire conversation is also in your head?
204
205 West: Yes.
206
207 Detective: So why are you doing this?
208
209 West: To make things seem more real, I suppose.
210
211 Detective: I’ll make things more real for you, then. You’re going to wake up after I
212 count down.
213
214 It’s been nice talking to you.
215
216 Detective: 5…4…3…2…1…
The original short story which was then adapted into On the Bus, which was produced and filmed in my last term at Vancouver Film School. (the video at the bottom) There are clear differences between the short story and the film. Which do you like better?
I wrote this story back in high school after a similar experience I had. I won’t go into the details right now but if you’re wondering, I don’t converse with ghosts anymore.
Conversations With a Ghost
I sit there, dumbly, my mind pushing itself to think of an answer. Who should I ask out? I had only a few more days ’till the bet was up with my friend.
“You could ask me.” I recognize that voice. It’s him again, sitting across from me, wearing what I last saw him wear; a baseball cap turned backwards, a casual sweatshirt and jeans, topped off with glasses that actually make him look semi-smart.
“Why would I do that?” My voice shows a possible foreshadowing of anger.
“Because you like me. You’ve always liked me, since the moment you saw me.” He smiles, which I interpret to be an evil smile, and tilts his head slightly to one side.
“Yeah, so what? I’m scared. I’m scared that you’ll reject me. Why in hell would anyone want that?” The anger is rising.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How? What’s this based on?”
“On the fact that most times when I happen to see you in the halls, some slut is hanging off of you, like a dead animal.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. We’re just friends.”
“Oh, I’ve heard that before.”
“Did you ever stop to think that it might be true? Why would I lie to you?”
“Oh, I don’t know; because you keep breaking my heart, dammit! You’re the only guy I haven’t ever really gotten over.”
“I’m sorry about that. I can’t help that I’m so good looking.”
“Shut up. That’s not helping.”
“What do you want me to say? ‘Oh Jeremy, I’ve been in love with you too and I’ve been waiting 4 years for you to tell me! Let’s get married and ride off into the sunset!'” He laughs (loudly, I might add). I silently fume to myself.
“You have no idea what it’s like when you see someone you love and know you won’t ever end up with them, but you still want them to be with you. You have no idea how sad I am when I see you, the only boy I’ve ever really fallen in love with. You just don’t get it do you?” By this time, depression has replaced my rage.
He leans forward in his seat, closing the gap between our faces. The complexion on his face is hard to read. I expect him to say something comforting.
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Jeremy? You say you like me and stuff but you’re too scared to talk to me because you’re afraid I’ll reject you. What have you got to lose by talking to me?”
“Everything, including my life.”
“You know what the most pitiable part of this whole thing is?” He leans back against the seat, his arm draped across the adjacent seat, trying to look laid-back. I already know what he’s going to do and begin to brace for the worst.
“The saddest thing about this is that you have to make me up to talk to you. I’m part of your stupid little fantasy. You make me say whatever you want to make you feel better…
“Shut up. Stop it now.”
“…and it works, yet when the real me comes strolling along, you might as well have jumped in a ditch or something…
“Shut up right now. I mean it, Sean.”
“…because you’re just too shy to talk to me. Now that is just sad.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know me!”
“Oh, I know you alright. But do you wanna know something really pathetic?”
At this point, I can’t even talk anymore.
“No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you are never ever going to get over me. Never.” He smiles that evil smile again. I hate that one.
I’ve had enough of this charade.
“Stop it! Go away! Leave me alone!” I shut my eyes tightly.
For a few seconds, I don’t hear anymore from him. When I open my eyes, a fat woman in an ugly pink muumuu is sitting in his seat. I can feel her studying me, which makes me feel like a lab rat.
“Are you okay, dearie?” She pulls out a small tissue from her matching ugly purse. It is not until now that I feel the warm streaks of tears on my face. I had been crying, during my own fantasy where I was in control, or at least thought I was.
I tell her I am fine and take the delicate paper from her to wipe my eyes.
“I remember when I was in high school, so many memories…” her voice continues.
Stop talking to me! And get some new clothes while you’re at it! my mind screams.
“…and bad ones, too. I don’t think I’ll ever get over those ones…”
I glance up at her, my entire body in shock. Her face slowly morphs into Sean’s as they both finish the last word simultaneously: “Never.”
circa Grade 10, during my trip to England. I’d like to this of this poem as a how-much-I’ve-grown poem, as it is quite bad. But judge for youselves.
Apparently
Apparently when I wake up
I’m supposed to think of school.
And when I get there
I can not break the rules.
Apparently when I see you,
I”m supposed to go insane.
But when I think about it,
You’ve caused me so much pain.
(Side note: holy crap, this is terrible. It pains me inside to type these lines.)
You just can’t see how [you] did it? (do you?)
So how can you fix it? (can you?)
Apparently you said it wasn’t me
and it was your fault.
Apparently the time was wrong
So you made a halt.
Surprisingly you denied that I
had seen you with someoneAnd apparently our love had slowly
trickled down to none.
Something I wrote during a creative writing class back in high school… so lower your expectations! This is something I came across just not that made me realize how far I’ve come as a writer. Thank god.
Winter
As the snow falls,
I’m reminded that another year is almost over.
I sit by the window,
watching as each individual flake
falls outside.
The weatherman says it’ll snow quite a bit
I think about winter,
about not having school;
We are like snowflakes; each different
from all the rest, floating freely in
the air. We land on the ground and
then poof!… we melt. We’re dead.
To me, winter reminds me
that our time is almost done.
aaron's random musings 