Sunday, April 21, 2013

I Always Read the Comments Section

I always read the comments section.
Read, and look in, even as my eyes wire words that my brain immediately rejects.
Witness the love, the hate, the ignorance and fear and just plain stupidity
All protected behind the one-way mirror of an internet avatar.
You see out, we can't see in: the perfect mask.

I always read the comments section.
On good days, words of hope and love abound, rationality rules, logic takes the stage.
On bad days, I see a regression of humanity, determinedly grinding backwards towards a closed, closeted world where free speech doesn't feel free.
Freedom of stupidity exists for a reason, as does freedom of ignorance but
Who are we to indulge in spreading those freedoms?

I always read the comments section,
and despite my better judgement (or perhaps because of my better judgement), I never comment back.
I exist as a silent observer, quietly categorizing and balancing, actively judging from behind my own personal wall of tightly clasped ideology.
Is that bad? Probably. I hide and have the luxury of praising myself over others. I never join the battle.
Just by reading, I learn, and that,
I hope,
Makes a small difference.

Saturday, April 20, 2013


Official enrolled. School email, username, money paid in. Orientation scheduled, planning, research. Not even a bit committed. What should be so certain is the exact opposite: none of this feels real. My second option has yet to appear, and I'm still grasping at faint hopes of something better (such an inopportune word, better). Ever so slowly, the selfishness sets in. Money offered, and I'm turning my nose up at something that would make my family feel a lot better. I don't know if I can make that choice, should I have the opportunity to go somewhere else. I'm scheduled to go to orientation in a few weeks, meet people, sign up for classes. I'll be going in not committed, waiting for a loophole to determine my fate. It's the worst kind of helpless.

Thursday, April 18, 2013


Two papers, one job, a thousand words I won't be speaking tomorrow.
Six classes, two thousand meters, too many people I encounter.
Is it bad I don't have the capacity to deal with Day of Silence right now?
Too many things pile up (even worse, beyond my control) and I can't move beneath the mental weight of decisions that change my outcomes and relationships.
Two weeks, two papers, one memorial service: the worst possible time for everything to come together.
Mental bills pile up: I'm sure they'll be collecting at some point.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


You made me hurt in a way I didn't think was possible. Going back, rereading even the first lines of what you wrote, the knots work themselves back through my chest and throat, climbing and coiling, and then they just sit: a reminder.

I pride(d) myself on detachment. I warned you, saying I wasn't ready or willing to commit, unwilling to give the romantic gestures you so obviously craved. After the first time, I didn't see you for four months, and except on the lonelier of many cold nights, I wasn't sorry. You weren't worth my time, and for that I'm truly sorry. I know now that I hurt you, more than I meant to, more than I ever intended. I never intended.

You did warn me, before you sent me the link. "It'll hurt," you said. I didn't listen. I put too much faith in my flimsy walls, sure you couldn't wield power over my emotions. Wrong. Sucker punch to the gut, beating down my heart, curl up in a ball and absorb the blows that just keep coming. I deserved every single one of them.

Every so often, I go back. Click the link, start reading, and then just... stop. I can't do it. You impacted my world in perhaps exactly the way you intended. I'm vulnerable now. Each admission of my faults, written in your lyrical and devastatingly accurate prose, broke me down further. I haven't made it through a second time, and for that, I thank you. You made a difference on the first try: more than I could ever do for you.

Monday, April 8, 2013


When the world gives us
Heartbreaking belly laughing happy/sad crying mind bending circular timelines with syndicates and corrupt colonels and the stark blood and guts of human existence spilling through the pages
Why is it necessary for me to do anything but sit and wonder at
The state of a universe that holds such an existence but still
ceases to give up its own secrets?

Sunday, April 7, 2013


According to my stat counter, I started this blog in May of 2008. I'm not quite sure why I did, and I'm not quite sure what compelled me to come back, in November of 2013. I wrote sporadically up until mid-2010, and then just stopped. Oddly enough, I continued to get page views, from random places I'd linked the url, or perhaps intrepid Internet trekkers. Truthfully, I think tumblr happened, and I just lost interest in writing when I could instead reblog pretty pictures and spew random text snippets in an attempt at humor. In November of 2012, my senior English class was in the thick of W's, our creative writing assignments, that all seniors do in senior English at my school. Oddly enough, I enjoyed writing, and found I wasn't bad, according to my teacher and my classmates. As always, praise breeds a need for more praise, and a return to the blog felt like a lovely way to get more attention for my writing. (Make of that what you will, I'm a selfish human being.) Initially, I just posted assignments straight from my class (they're tagged "w" if you want to read them!), but the constant stream of writing about certain subjects, or just about My Life tired me out. What if I wanted to write poetry? That'd make a good blog post... and so it happened. Three thousand hits later, I have a Real Life Blog.