Keep Forgetting

Storm

The clouds darken; the air, it stills
Can't you taste coming? It's nearly here.
But we still walk down a dusty road
Going nowhere.

Raindrops drip down on my head.
I yearn for our warm, soft blanket.
So I turn back to head inside
But you lay me down on a bed of dirt
And say good night.

Watching you walk away, I know the truth
There's nothing left that can be done
As the rain pours down.
I won't get up.
I just close my eyes
And sink into the mud.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
You walk alone on a dusty road
Headed home.
Say goodnight.

---

That was written back in early May. I came across it and decided I needed to post it.

Nothing is Permanent. Everything is Temporary.

You sit down on a couch and are overwhelmed by an old familiar feeling. It's an exhaustion, the kind you can't get rid of by taking a nap. It's the crash after an all time high, the fall back to Earth, as you realize nothing ever lasts. Where did it go wrong? It seems only yesterday you were so happy. You look back and can barely even remember where it went right.

It starts with a "Hello, nice to meet you," and an embarrassing faux pas on your part. You always makes the worst first impressions. But you bounce back and begin talking. It turns into little inside jokes and "What's up?" texts. Suddenly, you're spending all your weekends together and staying up until the wee hours of the morning, revealing all your deepest hope and fears. Things you can't usually say come pouring out. And you realize that a trust, previously unknown to you, forms between you. That's when you take a big step back. There's no way that it can be real. You're moving too fast. You're allowing yourself to become closer to them than they are to you. Why would they like you? You're awkward and clingy and annoying. You try to avoid them, but just can't. And one day by an unfortunate slip of the tongue, it comes out. Their reply, "You shouldn't feel that way. You can trust me."

And there it is. Trust, for the first time in a long time. You care about each other. You respect each other. Is it love? No, never. It's just a friendship, one of the best, even. It's spontaneous and freeing. It's pure and the best thing you've ever felt. Even the little fights are beautiful. You're on cloud nine. There's no more insecurities, no more worrying about tomorrow. For the first time, you have been accepted by a group of people that you actually fit in with. In fact, every aspect of your life has improved. Your grades are better. You find it easier to be nicer to people. You've even lost weight and cleaned up your look. And you begin to actually believe that life is going to be like this from here on out.

But nothing is permanent. Everything is temporary.

In retrospect, the downfall had been in the making before it even began. Your parents sit you down and talk about how you're never home any more. They complain about having to take you places and then claim it would be inconsiderate to make someone else always pick you up. Your old friends make snide little comments about how you're never around any more, when they never wanted to hang out before. But you don't really mind. Sure you care what they think, but you're not going to let it stand in the way of the first time in your life that you've ever felt like you belonged. No, that's not what made it go wrong.

No, that job is yours. You've always been your own worst enemy. Trust never came easy to you. Eventually, things will get to you and break down. It's little things that will tear you apart. Those little comments they make that make you think "maybe they aren't that different." The doubts fester over time, and one day it explodes in your mind. You become convinced that they're not only better off without you, but are only friends with you out of some sort of pity. Because secretly they can't stand you.

You take a deep breath and reevaluate the situation because you know that's not true. They still care about you. There's no denying that that. They text you asking if you want to do something this weekend. You say you're busy. It's not a total lie, but you still could do something if you wanted. Still you lie, because it doesn't matter if whether they like you or not.

It's because I can't let you love me.

--

I wrote that awhile back ago. I got over it so I didn't post it. But I recently wrote a poem that this gives a little perspective to.

Where The Hell is This Coming From?

In The Isolation Chamber
There's a girl inside
A dirty cage, she sighs.
She's a lonely one.
Her past can't be undone.
With no one to witness, she cries.
With no one, alone, she'll die.

Broken spirit of another starlet torn.
Broken hearted for this moment she has longed
For the spirit of another so she can leave.
Here, the broken are screaming to be set free.
Won't you please save me?

Lies of treasures never known.
The aching and the breaking
Until you have nothing more.
A promise of acceptance
How do they know that's
All you want?

There's a girl inside
A dirty world. She writes
Of the hope she still holds
As her future slowly unfolds.
With no one to witness, she smiles.
With no one, alone, she'll try.

--

Once again, I'm not sure where the fuck this came from. D: More angsty, with a hint of hopefulness teenage poetry. Written from the same vein as Sam[one of the poems in that obnoxiously long post of poetry I posted back in January]. Except I'd like to think this one is a little more internal conflict-y while the other was more of a narrative.

Update on Rhiannon's life: SPRING BREAK IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME.

Suck

That Morning

Sometimes I wonder if when you woke up that morning, you hit snooze on your clock like you always did or if you for once woke up exactly when you should have. I wonder if you showered in that morning like you always did or if you had showered previously that night. I wonder if you had to change your clothes several times to get that perfect combination or if you just threw something on. I wonder if you ate for breakfast. Was it your usual cereal bar and cup of coffee or did you sit down for a bowl of cereal or pancakes? Did you brush your teeth for the full three minutes or did you brushed your hair longer than usual? When you looked in the mirror, did you realize how great you looked? Did you realize you always looked great? Did you check your phone and see my message? Did try to text back your best friend and the message just didn't get through to my phone or was it still too awkward for you to even communicate with me?

Sometimes I wonder exactly what time you walked out your front door, and if you told your mother you loved her before leaving. I wonder if your older brother teased you as you were leaving or if he'd already left. Did your old piece of junk car stalled and you had to try a couple times before it would start running. Did you wave to that woman who always runs around your neighborhood in the morning. Was your mind thinking deeply on a certain subject, or were you mindlessly singing along to the song on the radio? What was playing on the radio? Was it your usual station, or was that song you could never stand playing and you had to change it to a different station? Or were you listening to a CD? Did that song remind you of anyone? Were certain words burnt in your brain?

Sometimes I wonder if some jerk cut you off, and if you swore a string of obscenities under your breath. I wonder if you sped to school cause you were running late or if you just didn't care because there were more important things on your mind. Did you even know what time it was or was the clock in your car a couple minutes slow? Did you catch all the red lights or ease through all the green lights? Did you wait impatiently at that one red light, or did you take your time before hitting the gas again? Did you see that truck coming or did it hit you before you even knew what was happening? How bad did it hurt? I hope to God that you didn't feel a thing. I like to tell myself that you snapped your neck on impact, but I know that wasn't your fate.

Sometimes I wonder what your last thought was about and if you knew you were going to die. I wonder if you thought about all the things if you had to live for and all the things you wish you'd never did. Did I cross your mind at all? Did you know how much I would miss you? Did you know how much I'd cry at your funeral and for the entire two months afterwards, and how many nights I would sit up wondering about every single thing happened to you? Could you have ever known how much I wish just one little part of those things on that morning had gone different? Because if it had, you'd still be on this Earth, even if you weren't with me.

---

I came up with the idea for this in Driver's Ed.

I'm kinda going through a breakdown. My mind hurts and I'm going back into that phase where I just absolutely hate everything about myself and I can't see myself ever having a happy future.

Ashes to Ashes

The pitch-black sky stretched for miles as two old friends, a man and woman in the prime of their lives, sat on a front porch, watching the deadly sky. The man sat in the corner holding his knees, with a fearful look in his eyes. Lying upside down with her feet up in the air while she stretched, the woman yawned, coughed harshly, and checked her watch.

“It’s half past noon,” she informed her friend and sat up, crossing her legs like a child eager to hear a story.

“Never wanted to see the end of the world,” the young man sighed and leaned against the railing. “Always thought it would come long after my children were long gone.”

“Well, somebody had to see it,” she responded and stood up. Her voice sounded as far away as her eyes looked, now wondrously gazing at the midnight afternoon sky. Coughing again, she looked down at her friend and offered a hand for him to take. Reluctantly, he took it and pulled himself up to stand next to her. Walking toward the road, the young woman paused only to pick up a stick in the front yard. Her companion followed, curiously, as they walked down the road to the edge of the neighborhood to the street.

With the mobs now hiding, or worse, the street, once a busy highway, now was littered with trash, a few crashed cars, and the occasional sign of death. The young man tried not to look at that last bit when they did come across one. His associate, on the other hand, seemed not to notice such things at all. In fact, she seemed to notice nothing as she strolled the street, poking cans and hitting pebbles with her stick. So distant from this hell, she would only stop every once in awhile to cough such a hacking, horrid cough that her friend would stop as well and sigh.

“We’re dying, Eve,” he finally said plainly, after a particularly intense coughing fit that she had to stop and sit on the curb. Behind them stood the grocery mart, with its windows shattered and food, necessities, and other things strewn across the parking lot. The screaming, fighting, and gunshots now had been replaced with an eerie silence.

The silence caused young man’s hands began to tremble, and his friend looked up at him, with a trace of fear in her eyes. The fear, though, was not for his words, but for his expression. His eyes had the gleam of a madman, for he was surely mad, and his face twisted to this panicked frenzy as he spoke.

“We’re dying,” he repeated, more angrily this time, “And there’s nothing our technology, our science, our prayers can do about it. Christ, you’d think that we’d be able to do something about it, but in the end, the high and mighty human race falls like ants beneath a kid’s magnifying glass to Mother Nature. You and I, we kept our heads when all were rioting in the streets. We were calm and collected when all others were trying vainly to cheat death, and what do we get for our rationality? We get to die like the rest of them! They acted like animals and we were calm. It’s getting harder to breathe. And look at you, Eve; you can hardly stand.”

The woman looked at her ankles and he took a step back. “We’re going to die,” he, with a manic laughter in his voice, yelled to the heavens as he tugged at his hair, looking desperately for an answer, “and there’s not a damn thing that can save us!”

With that, he collapsed to his knees, coughing. For the final time, he repeated a single phrase. This time his words were filled with despair as he hugged his knees and in a soft, broken voice cried, “We’re dying, Eve.”

The girl embraced her best friend and told him in a calm, comforting voice, “Adam, we were always dying.”

===

Okay so, it's been awhile since I wrote in this. First off, the preceding story kind of came to me while I was watching a Twilight Zone. It was originally going to be two old friends sitting on the front porch admitting their love for each other at the end of the world, but just how the boy seemed so anxious, and the girl seemed so laid back, made me want to make them go for a walk, and eventually, Adam lost his mind. Then I just had to end it with that line. It kind of wrote itself. I'm debating whether I should submit it to LitMag or not. So when you comment this, it would be helpful if you point out things that sound awkward or things that don't make sense. Btw, extra points if you get the title. I don't expect anyone to get it though, so don't feel bad.

Secondly, update on what's going on Rhiannon-World, so far 2oo9 has been amazing. I haven't cried yet so that's a good sign. Granted, it's only the second day, but I digress. As for what's been going on since I last updated, I've been kind of caught up in a bunch of stuff recently, if you know what I'm talking about good for you, if you don't it doesn't matter because I'm finally over it and getting back to myself. I am not in any way looking forward to going back to that hell that is Hardin Valley Academy. Seriously am I the only person who dies a little inside when I remember: "I don't go to a high school; I go to an academy."? It makes me want to shoot a bunny in the face. I really, really hate that school. You have no idea.

Thirdly, I wish you a happy 2oo9. Whether jolly old 'o8 was the best year of your life so far, or the worst, or even just an okay year, every year has the potential to be better than the last.

The Downward Spiral

I think my parents think I'm on drugs.

I'm not sure what's wrong with me.

I walk into rooms and forget why I came in. I'll spend minutes standing in a room staring into space.

I've basically moved into my head permanently. I spend hours down in the basement imagining things. It's like my own private Terabithia. There's nothing down there but me and my thoughts. I just sit on the couch and think. It's not even like when you're a kid and you make believe and talk out loud to yourself. It's just living in an internal world while the external world sees you staring at the ceiling and occasionally smiling or making a movement to mimic what's going on in your head.

My rationality has shattered. I'm softer now. My vulnerability has shattered. I'm darker now.

It's like a split personality. Sometimes I'm fun Rhiannon. Sometimes I'm cynical Rhiannon.

I went an entire day talking in the third person because I don't know who I am.

I've never been so happy, and yet, I've never been so sad. For once in my life, I actually feel included and have friends I can talk to for hours, but yet, never have I felt so isolated.

Like it's all unreal and it could shatter at any second.

It wouldn't be a surprise if it all turned out to be just another day dream.