Sunday, July 24, 2011

Letting Go

Sometimes you have to let go of what you love, let go of it and throw it to the wild winds.

Yesterday, I realized that I'm without a sailboat of my own due to a lie, a trick of the tongue. I really liked that boat, wanted to fix it up as good as new, wanted to sail it until it fell apart past repair. It was a beautiful 14-foot racing boat, a bit wide in the middle, but steered like a dream. I had named it 'Selkie'.
Unfortunately, it was housed at my mother's house. I was under the impression that it was my boat, due to my mother and stepfather telling me that it was mine, due to the fact that I was the one fixing it, maintaining it, and sailing it.
Yesterday, I went to get what was mine, and was told that it never was mine, that what I had been told was all lies and illusion.

Sometimes you have to let go of what you love, and just let it slide away from you into the distance, never to be seen again.

Friday, July 22, 2011

I was cleaning out stuff from my room, and came across a collection of writings I wrote for a school project at the end of this past year. I read through it, and I've decided to subject you all to the horrid writing that lies within it.


'Knowledge'

To many people in this world,
It seems like knowledge of
Random facts takes
Precedence over having knowledge of feelings, or the workings of a
Child's mind.
I have seen this many times. Parents let the schools and the
Televisions teach their children,
Let the media shove facts down their
Throats.
I am victim of this, myself. I
Blockaded my feelings, rationalizing them as I would a
Scientific paper, cataloging instead of
Feeling.
Perhaps getting rid of the phony
Knowledge standards would clean up this
Mess.
Perhaps it's already too late, and I should just
Let go of my ideas of
Change, of reform.
Perhaps....


'People'

A million smiling sheep are watching me,
Taunting me with happiness.
A million brainwashed drones are greeting me,
Shaking my hand like limp fish.
A million eyes, glassy and dull.
A million limp handshakes.
Is all we are now?
Is there still culture to be found, or has the
Descent into decadence begun?
Are we dying as a race, letting our minds
Atrophy?
Are we waiting for some doctor to come and cut off the
Decay?

The human race has seen its days of
Glory.
We are falling, falling through the black shrouds of oblivion.
There is no future here.
We are destined to be
Extinguished.
Some part of me hopes it will happen within my
Lifetime.




'Secrets'

Secret dreams.
Secret wants.
Secret desires.
You have them, I have them too.
It is part of being human, I think, to want to be more than you are.
Some deny that part of them, creating unfed monsters.
Some try to become their dreams.
Some of us, well, some of us don't dare to dream anymore.
Some of us are too afraid to, too afraid of what others will do to our secrets if we let them
Out of our grasp.
Some of us only dream when we're alone, for fear of being laughed at.
Some of us have given up on our dreams.
I wish that I could be what I dream of.
I wish I could be different.
I wish that I could take the form of the people I write about, and live as them forever.
I wish I could do what my characters can, to heal without scarring, to change their skin.
I want to be more than human.
My species disappoints me. I don't want to be human anymore.
Let me go.
Let me live my life as a different soul.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

On the Subject of Hagfish

It has come to my attention that some of you don't have a clue what a hagfish is. Consider yourselves lucky.

Hagfish are nasty little fish that act kind of like lampreys. They have no jaws; instead possessing a rasping mouth that scrapes away flesh from dead things that sink to the ocean floor. Did I mention that they eat pretty much only dead things? No? Well, they are the ones you will find swarming over a dead whale on the sea bottom; twisting themselves into knots trying to tear off chunks of flesh. They survive tying themselves into knots because of the production of a thick, slimy mucus that coats their skin. Great creatures, right?

Any questions?