Fraz's Blog, page 6

THE CRIMSON LEAD

Mom and Dad

When will you Die?

I am so tired

Living this Lie…

I yearn to rest

In the Eternal Bed

To write this story’s end

In bright Crimson Lead

I wish not

For you to Cry

My heart’s already heavy

From tears gone Dry

So, even if cruel

Wearing a sinful Mask

I’ll gladly condemn my soul

And once again Ask

Mom and Dad

When will you Die?

I am so tired

Living this Lie…

AT THE ROPE’S END

Have you ever,

Walked on a rope?

The start is scary,

The end is weary.

Through the walk,

You find your center.

May be just gravity,

Or life’s brevity.

But have you felt,

The rope’s call?

As it wraps around,

Can you hear its sound?

No need to keep walking.

It says you can stop.

An eternity to be found,

As your neck is bound.

No fear and no fatigue,

Once it begins.

The life will rend,

At the rope’s end.

30/08/2009

High school sure turned out to be a page turner in my life. It’s a whole new story now. I was never really a jock or a nerd but now, I’m the cool guy. Why? Because I can talk the talk and walk the walk. It’s pretty easy really. So how did I do it?

I started by talking to a girl. Talking to a girl actually means that she would be doing most of the talking. I mean, even if I’m talking, it’s to ask questions to prompt her to talk. No girl likes a guy that talks his heart out. So all I do when I say I talk to girls is listen, which was in a way, my strong point.

And how has all that effort paid off? Well, girls talk to other girls and once they know there’s someone in the market with eager ears, they can’t help but check it out themselves! They do love shopping right? So girls started flocking around me and before I knew it, I was swarmed by a whole herd of them all the time.

Then came the guys. They’re so desperate in their attempts to get girls that they always want to be in the cool group with the most population of the opposite gender. And weirdly enough, that group was mine. With all the girls around me, guys just jumped on me from all directions.

Once that’s done. You don’t have to hold out anymore. As the leader of the pack, you get to have your say. It has more to do with there being more guys in the group capable of tiring out the talking ladies than you asserting your power.

I know. It ain’t the most glamorous and cool way to get in, but it sure gets the job done. Of course it’s obvious that you still can’t open you heart to these people. After all, they aren’t really there because they want to see the real you. They’re there because they like what you look like to others.

“Man you’re one cool dude”, “Total player”, “Dude… you’ve got to teach me how you get all these girls”, and “I’ll do your homework for a month if you let me come to your party”. Yup. Those were some of the comments, compliments or requests I got. I must say, that homework deal was the best one.

What? Homework done in exchange for a party invite by the coolest guy in school. It was a win-win situation. I mean, I know saying that the guy getting a girl by himself would be the joke of the century but at least in my party, he could have a chance. Music and liquor can greatly influence a teenage girl’s thought process.

Not proud of it, but that’s how life works. You just have to work along with the flow instead of fighting against it. Let’s face it. This ain’t a movie where you can have a hundred percent chance of a win fighting against the world. So no point judging my methods.

So that’s how I got most of my homework done. I’d hook up some of the nerds in the school to the hotties in my group. I was kind of doing both of their species a favor really. The hotties got boyfriends that aren’t going to cheat out of the blue.

And what do the cherry boys get? They got girls that they can only dream of getting as their girlfriends. What was in it for me? Good grades and free homework. Also, never ending gratitude. It does come in handy from time to time. I once got all the electrical work done at a party I hosted for free.

Oh yeah… I just realized, this is maybe the first time I’m making an entry so soon after the previous one right? I do it because it’s the only place I can be me after all. In school, in front of others, all I do is, be what they want me to be. I’m so glad to be having my private place here.

Anyway, guess it’s time I finally did mention the time I was thinking of becoming a Goth. I just remembered that I never did get to writing it down when I started going through my own entries yesterday. Yup. There was a time when I actually thought I should go join the Gothic cult.

I did it all, wear black, paint my nails black, wear mascara, eyeliner, and all the works. I didn’t really go easy on them either. It sure took me a while to get it right. I remember how I would just smear the mascara as soon as I got it on. Then there was the wig. I didn’t want to dye my brown hair black since I was kind of worried about the damage it would do. Moreover, I was more of a closet Goth.

I was your typical sad teenager listening to rock, punk and metal music like Goths do. I even started writing sad poetry. Not that I don’t do it anymore these days, but those were like the best of the lot. I guess I’ll write them down here once I get my hands on them.

I tend to write wherever I feel like it. I remember how I once even wrote on a roll of toilet paper. It felt like I was some plane crash survivor trapped on a deserted island or something. Ah… Those days of innocent role-plays. I’ll forever miss them.

Oh dang… Back to topic. So yeah, I tried going Goth so hard. Like I bought all these black dresses and stuff, I researched being Goth on the internet, I started wearing makeup and transformed into a complete Goth. Not in school though but at home. I’m not sure my folks would’ve let me walk out of the house looking the way I did at that time.

However, it was all only on the outside. I never really was a Goth after all. Of course I was captivated by the thought of death, individuality and all the other ideals necessary to be a Goth. But I was too alone back then to even live as a Goth. Goth culture meant living in a community after all. It didn’t mean living out your individuality alone like I do.

So yeah, after a few days I really got bored of it and ended the whole thing. Who knew that it would actually prove fruitful in later days when I had to actually dress up as a girl? My face was really something when I tried make up for the first time. It seemed as if I had forced the stuff all in the wrong places.

So ended my Goth life. And now, I live on wearing my actual face with sad brown eyes, brown hair and a complexion that some might find appealing. But in high school, it ain’t so bad. I guess it’s easier once the bullying stops. We’re all too busy with our own stuff to bully people without reason.

I guess I should take this diary along for the ride in school from now on. Might help me unwind after living the lies I’ve made up. Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve last written anything worthwhile. What better inspiration than a whole building full of kids living out the misery of a system created by old men incapable of creativity?

Whatever the case, I guess I can’t complain a lot since I am the king of my high school kingdom. Well… Can’t complain to real people at least. Who is to stop me over here?

23/08/2009

Ah… a fine Sunday morning. Guess better days are in store after all. I can’t believe how well “The Drive” turned out to be. Leaving the story on a cliffhanger was just brilliant! I really outdid myself I guess. Despite what people might think if they ever read the flash story, it isn’t really a part of my life I wrote. I’m doing great these days. I’ve become “Mr. Popular” due to my skills in communication. Go figure!

I’ve got girls running after me now which is kind of a change from the usual where they used to totally ignore me and stuff. It’s all thanks to Jamie I guess. She’ll forever live in my heart. Oh right… The story… Yeah… I wrote it when I read this article on a teenage girl dying in a car crash on the freeway. It was a sad story really.

People just judged her based on preconceptions. No one even cared about what she might have went through. That stupid report in the newspaper where she was called a loose cannon will never go away from my heart.

“A car driven by a teenage girl crashed into the railing and then flipped off after losing all control. The incident took place yesterday morning when Megan Railington, the driver, was speeding along the freeway and apparently lost all control. Witness reports from motorists shed light on how rash the girl was driving before the accident occurred.

‘It was like she was possessed. She almost gave me a heart attack swerving like that in front of me before she hit the railing’ said a lady driving behind the car. Authorities say that the girl died instantly on impact when her head rammed against the steering wheel with great force. Postmortem reports support the theory saying the brain received severe damage upon impact.

‘The girl wasn’t even wearing a seat belt! Teenagers these days just want the rush of the thrill. It’s like a drug to them. They cannot get enough!’ the detective inspecting the crime scene was reported to comment. The family of the girl support the detective as they called their daughter impulsive and reckless.

Coming from a loving family of four, Megan was the youngest daughter. Her elder sister Tracey is a university student on a scholarship. Her father, Mr. John Railington, is a local businessman who is well respected in the neighborhood. Megan’s mother, Caroline, is a housewife taking care of the household and her children.

‘I don’t know why she would do such a thing!’ a sobbing Mrs. Caroline was reported to have said in an interview. ‘We always treated her with all the love, care and respect that she deserved.’ The incident, fortunately, was very much localized with Megan the only victim. The distance other cars maintained helped them get out of the way just in the nick of time.

The whole accident is being considered as an act of reckless driving on the part of the high school teenager attending Mount Caramel. School administration confirms the reports of young Megan being a trouble maker. ‘She used to miss out on her homework and assignments, would come to class with bruises after getting into fights, she even skipped classes from time to time,’ a teacher was reported to have said.

The accident raises a question in the hearts of many concerned parents and officials about the decision of the government to hand out driving licenses to teenagers at the age of 16. Many of them suggest that the legal age for driving be pushed back to the earlier age limit of 18 years when a person is considered no longer as a minor.”

The rest of the report was just bull shit talking more of stupid opinions that no one really cared about. They called Megan reckless. She might be reckless but do you know what made her that way? One doesn’t go from being a regular John Doe to James Bond over just a whim. There should have been more to the story.

Well, not that I knew much about Megan either. But I felt a desire to write down at least one perspective that I felt might lead someone to such an act. Maybe it’s my experiences from the past that made me feel that way but I just wanted to get it out there. Even if no one ever reads my story, it makes me glad that a part of Megan lives through me in this diary.

I guess I’ll keep writing in this diary for a while. Of course, I won’t be making entries every other day but on days that I really feel like it, but it would give my real self some shelter. This is the only place I can be myself anyway. A place where I don’t have to act like a normal teenager in society and can let my mind be free from the chains of social behavioral codes.

I’ve learned a lot from the time I started talking to other people. I realize now that most people aren’t really interested in listening about you but rather just in being listened to. I guess I’m no different except for the fact that I can’t really speak out the way they do. The only listener I have is this diary where I pour out my heart and soul.

Even my so called friends that I’ve made are all but people bound by their insecurities. They want to discuss all that they’ve gone through thinking that they’ve gone through a lot. I think empathy is but dead in people these days. No one is capable of wearing another’s shoe anymore. To each one’s perspective, they’ve got the biggest feet there is in the world.

And while I am listening to Eminem’s “Beautiful” while I write, I can’t agree more to the words he’s singing. What timing right? It’s all about empathy that doesn’t exist. It released just few days ago and I’m so glad I bought myself a copy. A song about trading shoes and having a private place. A song about how each one of us is beautiful.

I wish I could have given Megan this song. She would’ve loved it I’m sure. And maybe she might’ve even lived. Then again, no one’s got a time machine that I can borrow and go back in time with this CD. All I can do is wish about things that are no longer possible. Like maybe Hitler might’ve wished in his later years during the war about going back and getting it all right.

Well, I didn’t know Hitler and I don’t know anyone else either. All I know is myself. That’s all I can hope for I guess. In a world where many are in the dark about their own identities, I for one, am pretty sure about myself. I wonder if it’s sad that no matter what I or anyone else did, no one will understand me better than myself. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Who really knows right?

Jeez… I sure rant a lot these days. Kind of even feel like a girl these days. Guess Jamie lives on in my heart. Anyway, I should better get ready for church. It’s almost time. Shouldn’t keep my parents waiting or else they’ll try to figure me out again like two years back.

Not that I don’t appreciate the fact that they try but their efforts are, in all honesty, a huge nuisance to me. Just like the effort of any other person trying to judge me based on their preconceptions and limited knowledge of my life. No one can really know or understand another… After all… You can only see through your own eyes right?

THE DRIVE

“You know what? You do nothing else than eat and shit all day long! If you can’t do something useful you don’t have to live. Find someplace else or feel free to go die.”

I couldn’t bear gazing upon my dad. My mom just stood there looking disappointed in me. Of course, even greater was my own disappointment. I knew I was a good for nothing child, I wasn’t really helpful to my parents. But was it my fault?

By the time I get back from school, I’m exhausted. Bullies, stupid homework, assignments, tests, teachers, records etc. ate up most of my day. And when I came home, instead of being greeted by a smile, I had to go through another lecture.

“All we ask is for you to study.”

That’s what my mom used to say. It’s funny how people contradict their own statements sometimes. They say something at first and then the complete opposite in a later moment of time. This was kind of a daily routine for me now.

“You don’t get good grades, you don’t help out at home, you don’t keep your room in order, and you don’t even talk!”

Ah yes… What’s the point of talking when there isn’t a soul to listen? They say they’re listening but they’re not even trying to hear and so my words started to die before they even escaped my lips. Maybe I should just end this all like my father suggested.

After the long lecture I finally got some time in solitude. Ah sweet loneliness. They say being lonely is the biggest pain in the world but for me it’s my cradle of love. I chose to be all alone because people hurt me more.

Lying on my bed, I closed my eyes. The tears weren’t coming tonight. Maybe my eyes are tired and revolting against me trying to pull out from the reservoir that had dried out a long time ago. This was soon becoming a routine too.

I spent the night thinking what I should do. What should I do? I don’t want to cause my parents anymore trouble now do I? After all, they did bear with me for so long. I should at least find a way that may look like an accident.

As I picked up the keys to the car the next morning, it seemed perfect. Maybe it’s how it has to be. No one would suspect young blood sprayed inside a crashed car to be an act of self-sacrifice. We’re judged as reckless after all.

The plan, go as fast as you can on the freeway. As fast as the car would take me. And so, when I finally pulled into the freeway, there was only one thing to do. Push my feet down on the accelerator and close my eyes. It was time to enjoy the drive.

01/01/2009

Happy Birthday to me… Happy Birthday to me… Happy Birthday dear James…. Happy Birthday to me.

Lame but yeah… That’s the only birthday wish I’m getting this year. I’ve got birthday wishes before but they were from people only there because my parents had called them. Free chips, dips and cake would bring in a ton of toddlers even if they hated the star of the party. Well… some star I was, always sitting in the corner wearing that stupid birthday cone on my head.

Yup! That cone was my “Dunce Cap”. One that my parents adorned me with oblivious to the fact that they were forcefully humiliating me socially and psychologically. And as I sat there watching other people make merry on the day that was supposed to be all about me, I realized another sad part of being born on the first of January.

‘My birthday is going to be something everyone will celebrate except for me.’

Well back to topic. This is my 17th Birthday and I’m sitting in my room all alone writing a diary. I don’t even know why I bothered to pick up this diary again and write in it. It’s been a while though. More than a year and a half I guess according to my last entry. I used this diary to scribble down poetry and flash stories when I was bored in class Anyway so… yeah…

Now that I’ve stopped going to my shrink, it’s more or less a waste anyway to write entries. I mean who would bother reading all the crap I spew into this? Not that he would’ve read it either.

“Just write what you feel. It might be a good outlet,” I recall him saying.

Outlet? Sure is… I get to record all the embarrassing, unsettling, shitty memories in my life. If I added any more adjectives, I might go off the bridge and end up making this a book unfit for reading by minors. But then again, who am I kidding? Thinking someone would actually read this, I’m surely out of my mind!

I seriously can’t understand why I’m writing this really. Is it because I have no friends? Could be. Or is it just because I’m weird? I’m so confused right now. Confused… That sure brings back memories. I was so confused with the whole Jamie ordeal that I thought I should give it another try.

Yeah. I must be out of my mind. Don’t know what came over me. Maybe because I didn’t have a girlfriend and wanted a female perspective of things, I might’ve triggered the release of estrogen hidden away in some corner of my freakish body. And so Jamie was given life for another day.

I remember it clearly… That day when I ran out of the school wearing the skirt that I had stolen, I ended up running into Jennifer. I was so glad that she didn’t recognize me but it sure was one hell of a conversation.

“Watch where you’re running bitch!” I remember her shouting with her face all shriveled up.

I didn’t really enjoy being all sprawled across on top of her either but it couldn’t be helped. What was worse, I couldn’t say anything in reply. I mean sure I looked like a girl but I was certain I wouldn’t sound like one. So all I could do was get up from on top of her and help her up.

“What? Cat got your tongue? Or you just plain dumb? Don’t you know you should apologize?”

I knew I was the one who was responsible but I could only nod in response. I wasn’t sure who would be more embarrassed if she knew I was a boy and not a girl. I thought should at least hold my ears in order to show that I was apologetic since I couldn’t speak.

“Whatever,” she said in a pissed tone. “You even managed to knock down my soda all over us. Good job.”

I just stood there dumbstruck. The wetness kind of didn’t hit me till she actually pointed it out. Guess I should’ve gotten out of there quick but then again, I was never quick enough.

“Follow me… You’re helping me change,” she commanded and grabbed my hand pulling me back to the girls’ locker room.

I felt embarrassed as I walked in. Thank God the locker room was empty except for the two of us. Jenny pulled out a T-shirt from her bag before asking me to hold the bag for her. I immediately turned around, my ears red with embarrassment.

“What? You’ve never seen yourself in the mirror before?”

I couldn’t believe my rotten luck. Wait… Rotten? There was a girl changing there right behind me. Jeez… What the hell! I didn’t want her to think of me as a pervert. But, it might be the only chance for me to get a look. Argh! Why was it so hard to make a decision?

“Well… I’m just glad you ain’t a perv,” she said from behind me.

What? Does a girl looking at a girl come off as perversion? Wait… I’m a guy! I guess my brain was going bonkers or something because nothing seemed to be going right.

“Aren’t you going to change? You got the soda on your shirt too.”

Those words struck me like lightning. I was in trouble for sure.

“You ain’t got a spare shirt or what?”

I just shook my head to say no without looking back at her.

“It’s okay to look you know. I’ve already changed.”

When I turned, she took her bag out of my hand and grabbed another T-shirt from inside.

“It’s cool. I always carry extras. I play tennis after school. Beats walking home sweaty. You’re lucky I haven’t got practice today.”

I grabbed the T-shirt and looked at her with eyes wide.

“What? Okay, I’ll turn around. I promise not to look so get changed already.”

I’ve never changed so quick in my life as I did back then. Boy was I scared of being found out. I was almost shivering in my skirts. Yes skirts. I was wearing girl clothes after all. Not my proudest moment but what the hell right? I had come this far.

Finally I did get out of the locker room and managed to get home but not before running into Brian again. Oh I guess I forgot to mention the second meeting with Brian in my last entry. Yeah. I ran into the douche again. And there he was drooling over me again. I wonder what he would do if he ever knew I was a guy and he was drooling all over me.

“Who’s your girlfriend Jenny?” he asked.

“You don’t have to know you dumbass. Now get out of the way,” she replied curtly.

“Come on. Stop being a bitch,” he said grabbing her hand. ‘Give me a kiss and you’re free to go.”

“In your dreams!” Jenny said spitting on his face.

I watched him wipe his face, rage burning in his eyes.

“You bitch!” He screamed raising his hand in order to hit her.

I didn’t know what came over me but I just swung at him without even realizing it. Boy did that feel good. No wonder these bullies do it all the time. Maybe I should make a habit of it. Anyway, before he could recover I grabbed Jenny’s hand and made a run for it. We were out of the school in seconds and panting on the sidewalk of a nearby street.

“You know…” Jenny panted. “You may not be as meek as I thought you were when we met. You sure gave it to him nice.”

And there was my dilemma again. I couldn’t say a word. I just nodded in response.

“You should talk more often you know. Anyway, I’ve got to meet some friends at the arcade. You can return me the shirt later on. Here’s my address,” she said taking out a pen from her jeans and writing down her address on my hand. “See you around.”

And then she was gone. It all happened so fast that I couldn’t even make much sense out of it. Well, anyway, since she had given me the address to her place, becoming Jamie one more time was inevitable.

It took me a week’s practice to get the voice right. I recall all those painful practice sessions alone in my room. I finally did get it right too. So I thought it was finally time for me to go meet Jenny. I recall how sweaty I got, without even playing tennis, when I walked to her place one evening. Luckily my parents weren’t home to see me walk out of the front door, dressed as a girl.

“Hey! I never got your name you know,” Jenny said when she opened the door and found me standing there.

“Jamie.”

“Jenny. Don’t just stand there, come on in,” she said pulling me in by my hand.

Her room sure was something different. There was pink everywhere. I never knew people could have so much pink stuffed into one room. Pink pillows, pink teddy bears, pink bed sheets, pink wardrobe… It was literally bathed in pink. If Jenny would be wearing pink instead of the white PJs she was in, I was sure she would’ve camouflaged herself like some chameleon.

“You know what? That bloke Brian never bothered to harass me again. Guess your punch really got to him.”

Oh yeah… Brian did get the shock of his life getting punched in front of his friends by a girl. He kind of became the laughing stock because he was down on the floor with a single hit. Too bad for him that people would always think he was knocked out by a girl. I guess he’ll never overcome the embarrassment as long as he lives.

“Glad I could help,” I managed to say wearing a practiced smile.

What was weird was the fact that I was, for the first time in my life, having a real time conversation with a girl without creeping her out. I guess it was the skirt and the wig.

“I’ve never seen you at school before. Where you from?”

Now this was what I was practicing all week for.

“I just came to meet my cousin James. That’s why I was in the school. I couldn’t find him and then well… You know the rest.”

Perfect! I’m sure she would not ask much about it since I mentioned my own name. The rest of the time we just chatted. She told me all about her hobbies and stuff and asked me questions like where I was from and all that. My cover story was fool proof. After all, I spent all week preparing it.

So that’s how it went. The first real conversation I had with a girl, was while pretending to be one. I sure did grow from that experience. I grew enough to finally talk to people. Busted out of my shell. It’s kind of amusing how one little act of insignificance to many may prove to bring about a drastic change in someone else’s life.

Of course Jamie was put to rest in a tomb of imagination from where she came, but I guess I would always be thankful to her. After all, she was the one responsible for getting me to start hanging out with people. Even got me social enough that my parents thought I no longer needed a shrink.

Only I know the truth behind it all. The facade that I’ve set up in order to prevent peeping eyes of the easily deceived from looking at the reality within. I have come to live a lie that would soon become my life. I wonder how long it will be that way. I wonder how long it will take for it all to end. For better or for worse… I kind of wish that day would arrive sooner than later.

LIFE’S NOT FAIR

It’s what I’ve always said

Life’s not fair

But no one would listen

No one would care

I shouted at the top of my lungs

Until they were out of air

But no one would listen

As no one would care

I used to sit alone at lunch

Had a box but no one to share

No one would look my way

No one would care

My foster parents

Do nothing but stare

Cause they don’t understand

As they too don’t care

And then when I hear

The others kids swear

A rage builds inside

Beyond compare

They cry over little things

Like an action figure all rare

Claim they’re not loved

Call life as not fair

And I, looking at the mirror

With scars and dirty hair

Can’t help but think

Life’s not fair

So to myself I cried

For in a crowd I wouldn’t dare

It hurts to be ignored

But No one would care

27/10/2007

So today I met with my shrink. I feel sorry for the guy. He thinks he can figure me out. Every time I go sit on his stupid uncomfortable couch, watching him stare me down and write in his small diary, I can’t help pitying the dude. Well, I pity my foster parents more because they’re paying for this session that has no use.

Hmm… But I guess I should pity him more because he’s stuck with me. Well anyway, he started off with some basic questions about how I was doing at my home and how I was feeling. Kind of stupid really… I had a chronic case of depression. Why else would I be here?

“You’re writing that diary like I asked you to?” he asked all of a sudden.

“Well, yeah… Not regularly though.”

“As long as you’re taking the initiative,” he replied.

“I don’t have to show it to you now do I?” I asked kind of worried.

“Oh no. Consider it just a medium to vent all of your pent up feelings.”

Pent up feelings eh? Right. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’ll be writing about all the stupid things you say to me most of the times and how I pitied you. I do get the idea of writing in a diary and all. It’s fun sometimes. But then again, I don’t really see it helping me much.

Most of the times, I get much more depressed and upset with myself when I read my own diary entries. I wonder how someone else would take all this. I sure hope it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Someone might commit suicide if he or she took it to heart.

There’s some awfully depressing stuff in it. I know… I’m the one writing it after all. Well, the meeting with my shrink wasn’t that bad. Compared to the chaos and stupidity of school, I’d rather take on the shrink’s quiet office any day.

I still remember clearly how yesterday Suzy cried over the fact that someone spilled some water on her. I was like, “Seriously? It’s just water. Not like it’s an acid burning you down to the bone or something”. I guess it was a good thing that I didn’t say that out loud. Didn’t want to be in any more trouble than usual.

Besides… Walking around in a girl’s clothing once was enough for me. Oh yeah. I never wrote that down now did I? It was like last month or something. Like usual, Brian and his gang were after me. I really don’t understand what they gain from hurting the weak. Maybe some kind of sick satisfaction for their insecure lives or something.

Anyway, there I was running around school with them at my heels and I end up walking into the girls’ locker room. Thank God it was empty at that time. In order to ditch them, I came up with a great plan and stole some of the clothes the girls left in their lockers. When I say clothes, just a skirt really.

I don’t know if it was just luck, fate or some weird crazy fetish of some girl, I even found a wig in one of the lockers. So I came out with stupid lip stick painting my lips red, eye liners, eye shadows and all that crap plastered to my face along with the fake blonde hair on my head.

Don’t ask where I got the make-up. It was a girls’ locker room after all. I thanked my stars that I had practiced make up for becoming a Goth. Yeah… I should write about that someday too. And that’s the story of how James gave birth to Jamie.

I know it sounds awkward. But that’s how I felt walking around in a skirt. I know I did a great job because I saw Brian giving me a creepy look and almost drooling as I walked past him. Well… anything that saves me from a beating is good enough.

Jeez. I can’t believe I just wrote that in here. But then again, no one’s going to read this so I guess it’s going to be okay. Anyway, life’s hard and never really fair. I can’t believe people crib and cry over the little things when there are obviously others having a lot more to deal with on their plates.

But then again, everyone considers their troubles as the greatest in the world. I’m sure that Suzy thought that way too. I remember how she cried again and again over the fact that her dress was all wet and it wasn’t fair. And I remember little Duke from next door crying about his broken toy.

Maybe I should also mention Brian saying it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t catch me. Whatever the case, everyone’s got their problems and most think they’ve got it the hardest. I wonder if there’s a soul alive that’ll hear my troubles. I guess not.

Maybe I’ll write another poem like last time. An Elegy to Thought surely was a complicated piece. I think I’ll keep it simple this time. I’ve even got a great title… “Life’s not Fair”. Yup. Sure is a good one if you ask me. But then again… Who really asks for my opinion?

AN ELEGY TO THOUGHT

In a world full of lies

Full of hatred and broken ties

I sing along with my heart’s lament

At the grave of my only friend

Fangs are revealed by the night

The weakness of the morning light

The moments I have come to resent

Is this world nearing its end?

A toast in the honor of the living dead

Corpses removed from their eternal bed

And for a message solemnly sent

I cry for an ear none will lend

I beg to the one entrusted with the power

Breathe some life lest the earth devour

Shells with no oceans to vent

Actions forsaken and unable to mend

Here lies an honest friend

Betrayed all the way to the end

A Price tag for tears never spent

Woe is me, for myself I fend

04/05/2007

Yeah… I shouldn’t really be writing flash stories in here. I mean the shrink said I should be writing stupid entries about myself. Easier said than done. How do you write something when you’re not really interested in it? So I guess stories and poems are the only way this diary’s going anywhere.

It is bothersome to write my story first in my notebook then copy it off here. I guess I’ll just reduce all that effort. But then again, if I write it straight here, it would mean I’d have to make a lot of corrections and stuff. Notebook it is then, not like I use them for their real purpose anyway.

Anyway, here I am in class this time rather than the comfort of my study table back at home. Yeah… I don’t really know why I bother with school. There’s no real meaning to education. Schools run nothing but a scam where they pass off training, similar to the kind you can find in a circus, as education.

Write stupid assignments, essays, tests… Nothing but a waste of paper really. If they really wanted to teach something, they should’ve taught us to write something new. Why are we learning Shakespeare in a classroom when we should live it out there in the open world?

Ideas that once were are nothing but letters, words and sentences hanging atop the sharp knife of cruel judgment and senseless analysis by people calling themselves teachers. Poetry is an art where people hide their true selves. They do so because they want to be heard.

Yes, poets want to be heard. But not by people without imagination. They want those creative and alive enough to enjoy the morning dew sitting peacefully on a leaf of grass. They do not want to be heard by unworthy people complicating simple things and simplifying the complicated. They want to be heard by those capable of telling the difference.

And so, a blue curtain in a poem turns into the mood of the poet according to the teacher while the actual picture outside that window is ignored. I sympathize with the poet who would definitely cry as the beauty of the nature outside he or she tried so hard to portray was simply brushed out of the way.

Is thought really so hard to come by? Are people unable to think these days? I may have become an anomaly in the equation of the world, thinking different and wanting to be known. But alas, I won’t ever be. Maybe one day, but I’m afraid that day would be when there would be flowers adorning my picture.

And so I sit here in my class, looking at the hustle and bustle of school life pass me by, sitting in my favorite corner seat. The teacher going on about Shakespeare’s “All the World’s a Stage” and I can’t help but smile at how right he was. Here we are, playing our parts in life, waiting for our exits.

As I sit here mourning the exit of my friend known to the world as “Thought”, what interests me more would be the bow that we might have to take after each of our exits. Would that be real or is that just an illusion? Will it ever happen? I wonder…