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I find it hard.


Life is hard,
that's why it is worth living.


I find it hard to trust.


Trust is meant to be earned,
that's why it is worth having.


I find it hard to trust...


If trust came easily,
it would not exist.


I find it hard to trust...


Trust me, I'll be here.
I'll be the wind beneath your wings,
the bones in your body,
the air in your lungs.
Trust me, I'll be here.


I find it hard to trust... you.










Silence


Pretty words and attractive promises
are all you have to offer.
Fill my head with nonsense.
Fill my heart with love.
Play up my girlish fantasies.
Make me believe that you love me.


I find it hard.


The mind is a scary place.
So deep and dark with instincts
and subconscious desires.
The gears grind with new ideas,
new thoughts and plans and schemes.


My mind is a scary place.
In it, I am drowning.
Not metaphorically.
Not in love or money or happiness.


I am drowning in life.


The daily routine grabs at my feet,
each day dragging me further.
Wake up, think, feel.
Feel - since when?
Another day, another inch.


And still,
I find it hard to trust.


Little white lies build UP and bre ak down.
Ironic how love does the same.
The rollercoaster spins and falls,
my stomach is left behind and I feel sick.
The rollercoaster rises
and the whole world is in my hands.
My face hurts from the smile.
Ironic how happiness brings pain.


If I were the earth, and you the sky
would you show me how to fly?
Could I trust that no harm would come to me,
could I just live and let be?
Would I find peace in your love?
If we were meant for something greater,
would I find it, or be left to wonder?


If your love is so profound, why must I search?
I cannot solve your riddle,
and you cannot see.


I find it hard.
I find it hard to trust.
I find it hard to trust you.


Every dog has its day.
Every good boy deserves fudge.
And,
every story has its end.

Friday, June 12, 2009 - 8:32am

I've sat right here on this bed, procrastinating getting ready every morning, and yet this time I'm not avoiding going to school, I'm trying to make the day slower, make it last longer. I've always thought that I'd be ready for whatever the "real world" threw at me when high school was done. It's just like a really, really long summer, isn't it? It sure doesn't feel like it. Sending in high school transcripts, terrified that the conditional acceptance won't return the letter that I'm looking for, working double shifts at the restaurant, saving every penny that I have - this is what I have to look forward to now.

Today is the last last day. I come back to the school three more times for finals and diplomas. Then that's it. Come to pick up the report cards and off with the rest of my life. In 20 days, I'll be 18, responsible for myself and responsible for bills. Bills. Is this what my life is now? I always waited so long to grow up; first it was I couldn't wait to be 10, then 16, now 18... but I'd like to stop right there, thank you. I don't want to grow up. Take me to Neverland sans MJ, and I'll be good. I'll be happy as a clam for the rest of my life.

So, my fellow graduates, don't take today for granted. Don't get too excited that this is the last last day of your grade school career. Life only goes on faster from now, and it won't stop to wait for you to be ready. Each and every one of you have made a difference in my life, whether it was because we were close as can be, acquaintences or simply just a glance by in the hallway, that simple understanding of who the other is without words uttered. I'll have those memories of those I went to junior high with - the first year that I lived in Calgary. Those first people made such a change a smooth transition. I wouldn't be anywhere without you today. I'll have memories of those that I grew close to in high school, of those I lost, of those I've never spoken to. I won't forget you.

This is it - the end of an era. But not all is lost, it's a new beginning just as much as it is any end. I'll take it as a new chapter in my life, not the end of the novel. It's not the climax yet, so keep reading.

A T-Boned Predicament

There is much to think about with the gas light on.

So many miles to go and yet I have so little left. It is ironic that this old beat up car is still running and the only thing forcing us apart is the fuel to power it. Much like a relationship, the car cannot run without the fuel and the relationship cannot flourish without the love. This relationship is at the yellow light, in limbo between green and red. When the yellow light turns, the opposing green lights up and life catches you in a perpendicular situation. Between you and I... that yellow light turns to red, the brakes squeal and hearts hit the dashboard.

The authorities do not care what could have been; they are only associated with what did become. Friends, family and strangers rush to the chaos and do not focus on what would have happened if... if the yellow light was a fraction longer, if the opposing green did not turn so swiftly, if the red was not so aggressive.

The explosion of the aftermath encircles all who are involved. The witnesses must testify, the authorities must steal your money for the other party and grief must be dealt with. To disobey with the righteous procedure is to live life a negatively sought after, cold and dying old maid.

Yet if the car ceases to run before the yellow light, precautions could be taken to live life more successfully. The car may be abandoned, just as the love I once felt for you, but one can always come back for it in the morning with more fuel. Just a bump in the road is a mere obstacle to jump over, rather than a brick wall or a red light. If the cost of fuel increases before morn however...

Some may not be quite ready to pay the price of more fuel to the fire. I, however, am eager to rekindle the situation and find myself once again in that old beater to finish those miles. The long trek to ultimate utopia with you is a greater reward than giving up and would serve me more good than walking away. I cannot go down without a fight, so I pray that yellow light is a little longer to give me more time or the night allows for time to rethink and carry out a solution. Anything but catastrophe. Anything but Murphy's law.

Il y a tellement de choses à penser avec la lumière du gaz sur.

Switch

"I am slowly going crazy
1-2-3-4-5-6, switch."
I take my showers too hot
so the steam might mirror my clouded mind
I sleep in a room too cold
so the winter's touch might freeze my body

prematurely


I stand naked before you
look inside
beyond the imperfections of this earthly shell
into the sweatshop of the mind



"1-2-3-4-5-6, switch."

Slow down, slow down, slow down
STOP

My straw house has been blown over
I am in limbo
what next?
Life's greatest question: sticks or bricks
I want this house blown down
The only thing I missed
when you left
was being torn apart


I need to throw up
but it won't come out
I need to scream
but there's no place to
I'm at the tipping point
but I can't fall over
Someone catch me

"6-5-4-3-2-1, crazy going slowly am I."