Fraz's Blog, page 4

07/12/2009

SHE WROTE IN MY DIARY!!!

I can’t believe it! Not only did someone read my diary but that person actually wrote in it. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that she’s a girl! I’ve got no clue what to feel! Should I feel proud about having impressed a stranger or something? Or should I be feeling violated? I’m so confused right now!

And what the hell was she going on and on about? She wants to talk? Like talk through my diary? Who does she think she is? And what does she think my diary is, a forum or a chat room? She should be crazy right? I mean, how can I show her something so personal as my thoughts? More importantly, how can I show her my diary when I’m writing about her?

Umm… So what should I do? Should I keep the diary in the locker or keep it locked up back at home? It does feel good to have your voice heard for a change but I’m not sure she’d appreciate how I just wrote her off as crazy. And I’ve got no clue what I should be doing to make it a conversation.

Should I like change my writing style that is kind of like speaking to myself and instead make it like a real conversation with her? Maybe I should just copy the way she did it. How hard can it be right? It’s just like talking to another person on the internet right? Sure is worth a try so here goes…

Hey!

I’m not really sure if I’m doing this right or not but then again, I’ve never done this before so forgive me for any shortcomings alright. Yeah, you got me. I’m James Mathew. It’s nice to meet you too. And sorry for the lines before. You know, calling you crazy and stuff. But you’ve got to admit, I wasn’t really given a choice in the matter.

Like seriously, what would you do if a guy (well in your case it should be a guy right?) just randomly gets hold of your personal diary, reads it and then follows you around campus and stuff? I’m sure you’d be having a can of pepper spray ready and you’ll just blast it away as soon as the guy comes up to you right?

Don’t worry, I’m not carrying pepper spray cans in my bags just because you followed me. But I have to say, I was like shit shocked when I saw the entry you made. Not to mention I was surprised to begin with when I found the diary back in my locker when I didn’t even know where I lost it. Where did you find it anyway?

I remember that I had it on me during the break on the 25th only to realize it was gone when I went to my locker to get the books for my next class. I had almost given up on it too. I’m really glad you found it. I guess I should be thanking you too. Well… That is one of the reasons I thought I should write back to you. Consider it a thank you gift.

I’m not really sure if you’d be enjoying reading my one sided views about you based on the limited information I could attain. Oh by the way, thanks for the clue. It took me a few seconds to figure out what you were talking about but I finally got it. You’re not in my group. That kind of narrows it down. It tells me you and I haven’t met face to face yet which is kind of a relief too.

By the way, thanks again for returning the diary. I’m not sure what it is but I just can’t seem to be able to write what I feel in anything else except for this notebook here. I guess it’s kind of like my biography or something. It’s weird that there’s an entry by an unknown person here but then again, it sure spiced things up.

I read your poem time and time again. It was beautiful. It rhymed pretty well and I could really get it that you thought very highly of the way I think things because you compared them to the rose bud in the poem. I’m not sure I could’ve done such a good job myself. It was like short and it really hit the spot. I read somewhere that poetry is “the best of words in the best of order of arrangement” and I believe yours was the closest to it, or at least by my judgment.

Umm… What else should I write? Hmm… I’m sorry, I’m like totally new to this so I don’t know what I should write. I’ve held conversations before but not with people that were interested in listening. They would talk and I would listen, more or less. This sure is my first.

That said, I’m sure the entry you wrote in my diary was your first too right? Unless you like, stalk boys who carry around diaries and wait for those diaries to fall off somewhere to pick it up and write in them. You aren’t like that are you? Just kidding.

I’m sure you aren’t. Anyway, I’m thinking I will put this diary into the locker. I would definitely want to know what you have to say. Besides, it’s the first time I’m having a real conversation partner even if it’s through the medium of really long one sided entries.

That reminds me, because you had my diary I couldn’t write any poems or stories or even what I had to go through. You should thank your stars lady because you sure had them on your side. I didn’t feel like writing at all. The only reason I felt like writing again was because you just wrote in the diary and I was like what the…

Like I said, didn’t know what to think or feel. Oh and your nervous talk is just as amusing as me cross dressing due to my situation with Brian. Yeah, you don’t get off that easy. I’m not a saint! Rather, I guess you could call me the devil when it comes to revenge.

So you’ll be stealing my diary again next month, right? Well I’m not sure if I’ll be inspired or anything in between or not so I’ll just throw the diary in along with the books tomorrow itself. Feel free to sneak it out whenever. I’ll just write in it again if I found it next week. Not really a big deal. Thanks again for returning it and talk to you soon. Well… I hope.

FLOWER

Thorns all around

Sharp and hurtful

Cries of sorrow resound

When strings of gloom pull

Through these thorns

Rose a little bud with pride

The bloom of the flower adorns

The sad path of life and my stride

02/12/2009

Umm… I’m not sure if I should write in this diary or not but I can’t help it. Your writing is amazing! I’m sorry I read it. I apologize a million times. I just had this moment of curiosity and once I got down and read the first entry, I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to go through the entire thing.

I’m sure you’d be worried about where your precious diary went, right? I’m sorry once again for keeping it from you. I honestly did want to return it but I really didn’t know who it belonged to. It was my reason to open your diary in the first place. You know, to check for a name or an address or something. And when I found none, I just started off with the first page.

I really love the flash stories you know. And your poems, they’re just incredible! Are you going to get them published sometime? Oh wait, you didn’t want them to be read in the first place right? I’m so sorry that I read them. But you know, you’re at fault here too. You’ve got a tremendously amazing writing style!

Damn! I’m blabbering even when I’m writing. It’s a bad habit. I really go on and on when I’m nervous. And trust me when I tell you this, I’m nervous as shit writing this entry. I know I’m not supposed to but I just couldn’t help it. I mean, I had to tell you how I felt. I don’t know why, but I just felt like I had to.

I’ve been pretty much been in the same boat as you. I mean, I don’t think there’s really a meaning to my life either. Following stupid rules that don’t even make any sense and stuff. Well I’ve never really tried suicide or smokes or marijuana but I’ve been tempted quite a few times. I’m a rather happy go lucky girl most of the times so you know, it isn’t really my style.

Oh but I’m not judging you okay… I mean it’s true that I’m not suicidal but doesn’t mean I tie the two of us as equals. You definitely had to go through a lot more. I mean, I was never really bullied in school. And I definitely didn’t have to cross dress or anything. No offence but that part was kind of amusing.

What the hell am I doing? I’ve written so much in your diary already. I just wanted to say “Hey” and leave it at that. I would’ve like kept your diary back in your locker or something. I know the code since you’ve written it here. Oh… And that’s how I could figure out who you were. I mean I didn’t know who you were before. Like there are three James in school with the same hair color who are all weirdly famous and since you didn’t mention your last name and all…

There I go rambling again. So yeah, I realized that it was you James Mathew. I didn’t know you were adopted. But then again I don’t know much about you at all. And considering all the information you imparted through your diary, I wouldn’t suppose your friends know you either.

Shit! I just gave you a clue didn’t I? Argh!!! Well you ain’t getting anything more out of me Mister Smarty Pants. What the hell am I talking about? Just scratch that. Oh wait, that would mess up this diary. Why the hell am I still writing on and on? I’m so going to get a lecture from you if you ever found out my identity, aren’t I?

I should probably just shut up. I mean, if I talk more, who knows what all I’ll say about myself and then you’ll be able to figure out who I am and then I’d be so embarrassed and stuff. I don’t even know if I can face you. I mean, you’re the popular guy after all. By the way, that messy hair of yours, look really cool. I like the way it comes down over your eyes. Oh yeah, I’ve been stalking you for a while too.

Oh God! What the hell am I saying? I didn’t stalk you in a creepy way though. Yeah right… Like there’s actually a way to stalk someone without it being creepy. Well I just wanted to see what you looked like and get to know your routine. No specific reason really. Just didn’t want to get caught sneaking back this diary into your locker.

By the way, I’d like to read more, that is, if you’d let me read your diary again. I mean I’m not really sure you’d be comfortable about it but well, I just want to know more about you. And I want to read more of your writing. It just inspires me or something. Oh yeah, I even wrote a small poem for you. I’m not sure if you’d like it as much but it was the best I could come up with.

If you’re okay with it, I’d love some feedback too. Well I know it’s selfish but can we like talk through your diary? I mean I’m not really sure I can come clean face to face just yet. I’m too embarrassed for barging in on your private life all of a sudden. Trust me it took me days to even muster up the courage to start writing.

I guess I’ve written far too much for a first time right? What do you think? Oh stupid me. Well, it’s goodbye for now and forever if you so choose for it to be. I’d love to hear from you though and would love to talk. Not like talk as in I do the talking but actually listen because you’re the first guy I actually felt like it’s worth listening to.

I’d be checking for your diary next month. Just keep it in your locker and I’ll sneak it out. Don’t try to catch me in the act please. Oh! And a very warm and happy Birthday in Advance. Maybe next year, I’ll wish you face to face. Goodbye. Hoping to talk to you soon. Take Care.

THE REBEL

Torn jeans and a ragged shirt

Piercings in my lips and ears

Pain cannot hold me back

Have a heart with no fears

They call me a rebel, oh they do

If only they knew what it means

I rise not against the rules they make

Just not follow them in my torn jeans

Why am I to follow rules?

Many a times I’ve seen them bend.

Is it ironic that though I use it

Irony I cannot comprehend?

Maybe it is a twist of fate

That I don’t do the stuff that I say

Is it irony or is it just sad

That I cannot really choose my way

23/10/2009

Maybe I should really think about writing entries on some other day. It’s becoming rather dull really. Anyway, what should I write about today? Maybe some instance from my life. Hmm… What should it be? I’ve got so many memories to choose from. Which one should I decide upon?

Honestly, I’ve got no idea really! Being popular has in a way left me crippled. It’s like my mood won’t let me write as much as I want to. Maybe I should stop writing for a while. It might help. One does not get inspiration everyday right? I should probably let it run its course instead of forcing it. Nothing good can come out of forcing someone to do something.

I got it! Yeah… I guess I should write about the time I was forced to do something. The one thing every teenager hates. The one thing that can even manage to creep into the otherwise thick skin of the most stubborn of kids. The one thing that we call “Studying”.

Yes, just like any other parent, my folks too want me to study and be a great man. The world has a population of about 6 billion people according to the last census. Is there really a dimensional plane possible wherein all of them will be able to be great? I don’t really think so.

So yeah, whenever my parents asked me to study, I rebelled. It was more or less expected of me right? A bipolar kid who actually had issues dealing with his own emotions is already half a rebel. Why not go all the way and complete the circle of life?

I still remember the antics I used to pull. I’d make excuses about being sick, hide novels in between the school books while studying, listen to music, sit in the bathroom. The list is pretty long honestly. I’m surprised myself how my brain came up with so many solutions so easily and so spontaneously. I sometimes wish I had the same talent in class when it came to solving simultaneous equations.

People may not believe it now but I was a nerd a while ago. A total nerd at that. I was in the top ranking list of students too. However, it never really did make me happy. I learned pretty young that rising up to the expectations of others sometimes lead them to have higher expectations. And in the attempt you make at pleasing them and fulfilling what they expect from you, you might end up a very unhappy person.

Yup, maybe that too was a reason behind me going downhill with my emotions. Expectations can be a great deal of punishment to some. Statistics show that too. Just google how many suicides take place due to students failing in exams and their parents’ expectations and one can see for themselves their effect.

Honestly, why do people expect in the first place? Why isn’t a person left alone to live his or her own life the way he or she wants? Why is a person forced to live on the rules set by someone else? Isn’t it a form of oppression? Is it really justice? Is it really humane?

If someone would ask me, I’d definitely say no but then again… Who really asks for my opinion? Even my friends just want to just have their opinions heard. Of course they’d ignore my opinions if they were asked about their opinions on listening to mine. You had to find a voice in a crowd full of angry teenagers. For someone like me, that was never going to happen. More than half of the parties I hosted were because my so called friends pushed me.

I’m not really one to follow rules but it was required of me to have a healthy social life in order for me to avoid going back to some other shrink who’d try and analyze me, asking stupid questions that I will not answer no matter what. Phew… That was a long sentence but that’s just the way I am. Why can’t they figure it out?

So I continue to live a lie as always. Why? Because of expectations I guess. Expectations from parents, from society, from every other guy or girl you meet. I did find out I could reduce the level of expectations by seldom living up to them, but it’s also true that it isn’t applicable in each and every situation.

It’s just the way life works. You can’t have it all. You win some and you lose some. And in the battle against expectations, one may win the war but will eventually and always lose the battle no matter what the circumstances or how headstrong the person is.

Sometimes, it just can’t be helped. And in my life, in all honesty and from the bottom of my heart, it’s most of the times. I can even swear on it even if God will hate me for taking his name in vain.

SUCCESS

The lake’s a crystal blue

Under the cloudy sky

If only one knew of the treasure

That for centuries, in its depths did lie

Though the chest was visible

And open to the naked eye

Reality remained a mystery

As none gave it a genuine try

Success comes not from having a map

Nor from having a key to the lock

But with the courage to dive into the deep

And eyes keen for a pearl hidden as a rock

18/10/2009

Typical me! Ended up writing two poems instead of one. I wonder if Robert Frost might feel bad… My “Forest of Choices” seems to be inspired by it. Though I know it is not, maybe to the critical eye it might look like it. I wonder if some kid from the generation of today were to read it, they’d even know who Frost was!

Anyway, it seems I’ve done well writing about my dilemma of addiction through cryptic words. I love writing poems since they seem to be like a treasure hunt. Only the worthy shall receive while those otherwise deemed would be thrown down the pits of chaos and confusion. I wonder if anyone will be capable of finding the true meanings even after I give them hints like in my entries.

Maybe I should write a new poem about success. Might be a change from the rather dull and sad stuff I usually write. Change is good. It is the only constant thing in the universe after all. The only thing that is proof that life is not a dream but a reality. Constant change which occurs with each and every passing second.

Back to the topic at hand, it’s really sad that people these days do not really understand literature as in earlier times. Maybe that is why we have such a great decline in literary masterpieces. When you look back, Literature flourished after the English Renaissance to wither out later after the Georgian era.

It is both sad and unfortunate. We have the freedom of thought but no longer do we possess thought for it to actually make any difference in the world. Of course, I don’t dislike the books written in the modern world. I actually adore the Harry Potter franchise. However, how will the books fare compared to the works of Shakespeare, Dickens, Shelly, Frost and the likes?

Harry Potter fans may even call me a muggle. Someone who doesn’t or wishes not to believe in magic but that’s not true. I believe and wish for a world filled with magic. Every night I dream of escaping into a magical world. However, reality is not so generous. When I see the fans writing up fan fictions, molding the characters to appease their own crooked fantasies, I’ve wept for the real deal many a times.

But that might just be the difference between an actual masterpiece and just another story. The stories of the great legends are seldom touched or sullied by fans living out their fantasy worlds. Why? Maybe because their language far exceeds the comprehension of your everyday reader. Or maybe because they’re just so perfect that there is no room for improvement or even change.

Yes, if I were to write a story, I’d be wishing to do it that way. It is unfortunate however that I do not possess the talent or capabilities required for such a great feat. I am but an average lowly human living a meaningless life, in hopes for a better tomorrow.

THE FOREST OF CHOICES

The forest of choices

A mystery to the eye

Where destinies would change

As you watch the time fly

None choose to enter

It may seem that way

But the choice is our own

At the end of the day

The means to exit

Is to choose a path

But the paths are one too many

Some with showers of wrath

The choice was mine to make

And I made the worst one ever

And I know I’ll regret the choice

For as long as forever

The path I walk is dark

With sadness crawling into my skin

No matter which way you look

There is none near of kin

The next time I enter the forest

And I’m sure it’s going to happen

I’ll make the wrong choice again

And the path my tears shall dampen

RIVER

I drift on and on

Where to? I do not know

These waves are too strong

And my strength far too low

On streams of hatred

And ignorance I’ve fought

To hold on to my meaningless life

Keep on trying, with all the strength I’ve got

The tides of time took their toll

And I’m far too down the river

Hope grows dim and my body floats still

I try to move, even if it’s just a shiver

11/10/2009

Hmm… It seems that Sunday has transformed into entry day while the weekdays are poem and story days. I’m enjoying myself though so what the hell right? As long as it keeps me from taking my smoking habit to a whole new level, I guess I can’t complain a lot. Maybe I should try harder to quit.

I wonder if telling my parents would be the right thing to do. Maybe they’ll buy me some nicotine patches or something. I’ve already tried drinking coffee but all I ended up doing was drink more coffee than usual. I’m up to around 10 cups a day. Now not only am I addicted to nicotine, I’m addicted to caffeine too.

I’ve even got the opportunity to hang out with the “cool people”. If smoking marijuana was what people considered cool, I bet they were at the top of the food chain. Some of them smoke weed like, all day long! All the way from morning to evening! They already look like skeletons with pale flesh hanged onto them.

I really do wonder if I’d be ending up the same way. I started up on it and I really liked it. You feel light headed all of a sudden. For the first time in years I laughed and just kept on laughing! I honestly couldn’t stop laughing for what seemed like forever. And the trips, they were just amazing! I can’t even start to describe them.

One moment, I’d be like “Okay, I’m here in the parking lot of the school in my car” and the next I’d be like “When did I get here?” It’s one hell of a rush really! But I guess I shouldn’t be making a habit of it too. I’m already screwed six ways to Sunday that I really question the concept of handling another addiction.

Never again I guess though I really don’t believe myself when it comes to getting off the hook from things that’ll definitely harm me physically. Maybe it is to balance out the psychological turmoil I go through every day. Hmm… I really feel like writing a poem about it now.

I guess I should write a poem based on my addiction. A perennial river that I really wish would dry up someday. Maybe today… Maybe some other day… I guess “maybe” should be defined as a dangerous word!