Tom

I feel like I am falling
Into a big hole.
The sides are hard to climb and now
My hands are feeling cold.

I look up and I see her now
Standing at the side
She has a shovel in her hand
I wish I never tried.

She throws some dirt in slowly
She starts to fill the hole
She's burying me so deep inside
She's burying my soul.

This will be my last post on this livejournal.

I'm in writing class right now. They block the entire internet excepting livejournal. Lucky me.

My head hurts. It feels heavy and tired and it hurts. It’s the fluorescent lights mostly. They are flickering. They are driving me crazy. It’s mostly the lights. I don’t know why they hurt my head though. I don’t know why my head hurts. I hate when you have to say “I told you so” to yourself. Because who can you be mad at? At yourself? Kind of a waste of time if you ask me. Why bother getting mad at yourself? So you don’t like how it all went, fuck that, you can’t fix it. And there’s no point in justifying it either. Or trying to get even, or any of that stupid shit. It was my own fucking fault. Every step of the way. And what does it matter now? It doesn’t. Nothing matters except that my head is pounding back and forth. Like my fucking brain is trying to escape. And that doesn’t make sense, what good would my brain be without my body? It’s the fucking fluorescent lights, mostly. They are driving me crazy.

Now I remember why my head hurts. I made a trade. I traded thinking for silence so now I have to trade silence for pain. That’s just the way it has to go sometimes. You can’t really do anything about the way it goes. You can’t even do anything about the way it will go. So why does that become such a problem? Such a fucking headache? I feel like I’m screaming, but I’m barely even whispering. I’m barely even opening my mouth. It’s these fucking lights. They are driving me crazy. I feel like my arm itches to remind me that you can’t stop some things. It will itch and itch and fucking itch. So I scratch it because what are my alternatives? Cut my arm off? Rip off my skin? It’s easier just to scratch it. Have to trade silence for pain sometimes. And then pain for this discomfort of a fucking itchy arm. I hate these damned fluorescent lights. They are driving me crazy.

I should paint this room black and tear down the damn lights. Maybe then I can get rid of this headache. I’d trade seeing for silence. You know what silence is? Silence is hope. Silence is promise. Silence is happiness. I’d trade my own intact skull for a couple of minutes of good, real silence. I can hear the damn lights flickering, even when I close my eyes. These fucking lights are driving me crazy.

I hate fluorescent lights.

Plain and simple: I'm sorry Phoebe.

I miss you.

Wow, I am right back to where I was a year ago.

I'll have some writing to put up in a day or two.

I've slept like 3000 hours and I could still sleep forever.

I think I will.

Because I give up.

I was not made for this.

Today I was very sick. I still am. There's nothing left to throw up though. I don't feel good.

And I guess a lot of people are mad at me too. Sorry.

I don't know what is going on anymore. I'm so fucking lost.

Two best friends lost to each other.

I might need to take a break from everything or everyone.

Chester is blind now, and he's scared. He sits and meows and is terrified.

God, if you happen to exist, fuck you.

A nonstop fucking circle. I forget about the good when it's bad and I forget the bad when it's good.

I don't feel good anymore.

I don't feel alive anymore.

Fuck everything.

And fuck you.

He does not know what's going on
But it's clearer now than ever
It's best to wait and watch for dawn
It's better to be for never.

It's lonely when they are asleep
Like they've been gone forever
He knows it's hard but tries to keep
But he knows that it's for never.

He looks down to his feet to stare
He tries and tries to feel better
But it's hard when nobody cares
It's hard 'cause this is for never.

Forever or never have just the same ring
They both don't matter and here is the thing
He knew all of that before he began
He knew it was pointless, that there is no plan
He knew he was worthless, that nobody cared
sick of for never so for ever he dared.

Chester is dying. He is old and it is about his time, but it sucks because when I look at him and he looks back, I can tell he knows it. He knows he is dying and there's nothing to be done.

Story continued again.

I decided now to leave the fort. I glanced around one last time while taking a really deep breath. The wet air felt so nice in my lungs. I felt like the air was cleaning out my lungs. I let the breath out and felt like I could breathe deeper than before. The air felt more like it was filling my lungs. And it felt good. I knew why it felt so good; it makes perfect sense. My body was telling me that it is good to breathe in really deep once and awhile. Stretch out your tired lungs and get the air moving again. I smiled. And then I started to laugh.

Since the rain had stopped I reached into my pocket for my cigarettes. I squared myself to the edge of the platform and pulled a cigarette out of the mangled, slightly damp package. Only four left, better make them last. When I put the cigarette to my lips and fumbled for my lighter, the cigarette felt so foreign to me. There was no desire whatsoever to smoke it. I took the cigarette from my mouth and tossed it off the platform into the wet leaves below. The wind was blowing now. I took the last little step to the edge of the platform and leaned over the edge. My toes were straining under my weight to keep my balance. The ground didn't look very far away. If I were to fall, I would probably break my legs or back and wake up at night in the middle of the woods hoping for someone to find me to stop this terrible pain. I would regret falling off this platform.

I found myself making my way down the ladder toward the first platform. The texture of the treebark was capturing the majority of my attention. The tree looked so damned alive. And it was alive. Alive just for the sake of it. Just to be and grow and live. I continued down the ladder focusing on that damned tree. The tree was so nice, so--well, right.

While wandering back toward the road, I just kept thinking about the tree. I thought about how I was probably the only one to ever really look, just really look and notice that tree. The kids who built the fort noticed that it was a relatively good distance from surrounding trees to make a platform. The people who came to the fort and threw their Doritos everywhere looked at the tree when climbing to the high platform. But they didn't look at it. They saw it. People don't notice very many things, but I can understand that. There are too many things to notice. But it doesn't really matter. I walked out of the woods back onto the road.

It's peanut butter and survey time. Got this survey from Andrew Golguis. It's pronounced "Gurguis" as in Colonel.

( Looooooooong. )