~~Unexplained~~

Just like that boy next door and your current boyfriend, you can't have both. Most of the time you can't even have one. I used to think that indivduality had a lot of stature, that with this respect came an admiration, an admiration that could only mean exactly what you're thinking it means. There comes this sudden adjustment, and this would most definitely not be the same switch as in moving to a new city, transfering to a different school, or buying expensive shoes, no, this is more like being shipwrecked on a stale island of moving pictures, but you continue to find yourself standing, staring at the current. At least you're still standing. But I'm not talking anymore, as I physically can't-- so you ask, "Are you crying?" and I wonder why anyone ever asks that question when it couldn't be any more blatantly obvious, but when the answer is finally heaved through puddles of unease, it is more subtle in its suggestion, "No, I'm not crying; my eyes are." I blink like there could be something caught in my eyes, but realizing by this point there's no hiding, I try to squint through thick waves in the uncertainty of this lost tide. My stomach burns for attention, acceptance, a's on a report card judging me as a person, but I can feel a pulling away, like I might walk straight into the strong undertow and drown myself. I never tell you this, and I'd prefer that you look away while I do it. I march down the beach, facing a development by cutting it off, slouching down a green mile of my own ignorance, and you simply won't let me. Your words were always harsh in their persuasion, explaining that this is my cry for everyone to turn a head towards me, that this is all plainly about me me me, that it's stupid that I can't put this abrupt reaction (breakdown, even) into a rational explanation, and I suppose that if you were right I wouldn't have admit to it anyway. I couldn't face it then that I was most likely vain, yet aren't we all? But honestly, it was all too sudden and unexplained. Those were years that I want to acknowledge as being the most rigorous, but in reflection, the blow softens, and you really ask what could have been so fucking difficult? I can't express this, in the same fashion that I can't spell out events of even this very day. Your expectation of words to unfold and spread out from my timid mouth is read, but the only way it will happen is if we talk about what we do, not what we did. And in thinking, these events like this might have been better off left unexplained, but their acknowledgement is probably one of the most important lessons learned, next to saving another life.


**Equilibrium**
Maybe the world really can't end just yet, and it would be due to our lack of insight that no one can create an adequate ending. I don't believe in endings, just endless lessons and repeated cycles. I can look at both eyes, one smaller, pupils uneven, dilating back and forth, one is with better vision, and I begin wishing to strengthen the weaker one. I wish I could be genetically modified to be ambidextrous in physicality, because it has hit me that nature didn't intend for equality. This visionary wish leaves an open wound of variability, subjected to my try-hard nature, just trying so hard to be myself. And myself wants only to go out of its way to help you out. We've said that it's only natural to bruise and fix every mishap with a synthetic chemical here, man-made sympathy there, and now we've managed to manufacture disease. But you do realize, this is the sole way to cure ourselves; however, without this manifestation, we would be tongue-tied with writer's block and our minds wouldn't be questionning a god's existence today, so I bring to you my crazy intuition in letter-form to no one in particular or perhaps to everyone in particular. I have seen a part of my ambitious self die in the past years, and I'm talking as if I've lived a long time, but in doing this, I believe to have attained another aspiration. I have decided that I will be volunteering myself as a lab rat, a guinea pig, ready to be injected with, knowledge, failure and the like, and come time to start over, my organs will be donated, recycled for ones in need. I mean, everything is recycled: our garbage, our experiences, our knowledge, even our breath. Usually I try to save it for someone who cares. If no one gains from it, then why bother? I wish legality brought along insight at the bottom of the bottle, because the socially acceptable measures derived from a couple drinks, really aren't fucking working. And who do we think we're fooling? We aren't trying to be deceitful, but a two-faced society only makes sense in the equilibrium of nature's balance, and I just might be seeing right when the floor shifts beneath my feet every time I take a step. I'm wondering if I'm the rat that keeps trying to get through the maze, or the rat that doesn't bother in the realization that the walls keep getting replaced. This transitional phase has me babysitting, and although in the process I soak up tuition from your vomit spewed across the linoleum floor, I only wish it ran deeper.

Random thoughts I know, but true just the same.