Endings

On Thursday night, I couldn't sleep.
I was lying in bed, feeling like shit, tired, but not sleepy.
So I went and found that story I had written so long ago. It was sitting squished under a pile of old crap, and it looked forlorn and unfinished. I hadn't been able to look at the story since my realization of what an asshole PassionFruitJuice actually was and how stupid I had been to think I was in love with him.
Anyhow certain life circumstances finally convinced me to let go of that story for once and for all. I would lay it to rest by finishing it.
I gave PassionFruitJuice an ending. The ending I wrote was completely different from all the endings I thought I would give it, different from the endings I thought I would give him.
When I was a lovesick little seventh grader, I always thought I would end the story with an engagement scene that would sweep you off your feet and melt your heart or at least an epic kiss in the snow with sparkling snowflakes on everyone's eyelashes.
Then as a bitter and disillusioned ninth grader, I couldn't even bear to think of the hours I'd wasted writing the stupid story, all out of love for him. And if I did chance to think of an ending for the story, it woud have been quite the violent and unhappy ending for PassionFruitJuice. Perhaps he would end up being eaten by a ten-headed slow-torturing monster from hell. Or he'd be trapped in a sewer forever or something fun like that.
Two nights ago, I realized that I really didn't care that much about this boy anymore. But the story didn't need to die because of that. I didn't have to kill it, or him, figuratively, just because I had fallen out of love. The ending was acceptance that not every little girl's crush ends up being a gorgeous fairy tale, but it doesn't have to end in blood and guts either. It felt good to move on without destroying the past. I'm actually getting back into this story, but not as a sort of manifestation of an affection gone awry. It's just a story that I wrote when I was younger, and it's quite amusing and fascinating to see the way I thought. Plus the story's not terrible either.
PassionFruitJuice has strolled nonchalantly back into my life, but not as an object of adoration or abomination. He's just a piece of the past that I'm rediscovering.

Why do some friendships end up being crazy mind games?

I wonder how I'm going to find time for the things that I truly enjoy doing, while trying to fulfill "priorities" that are obviously more "important" than reading a good book or playing my clarinet.  Junior year seems so promising...

Dammit

Everything seems to be absurd these days.  A friend you've trusted for years suddenly becomes your worst enemy.  The hard work and effort you've allocated for a good cause goes to bust when you realize that no one gives a rat's ass about it.  And then you find out that your lover's been harboring malicious feelings towards you for reasons completely irrelevant to your relationship with her.

When things end up like this, nothing seems to matter.  It's all absurd really, so I don't care what happens anymore.  Hell, I wouldn't even blink an eye if a horny rhino came charging into town and destroyed everything.  Just ignore everything.  It will all pass.  They can't touch me.  I'm friggin' immortal.  

Laughter Redux

I heard a child laugh today.  It made me regain some of my sanity.  This day's off to a pretty good start.

The Grudge

It frightens me how one can invoke a killing intent over petty reasons.  All thought process and emotional stability cease to exist when a person is overwhelmed by the desire to kill.  He does not bother to think about the consequences nor does he think about how he will cover up his crime.  The only thing that moves him is the incessant chanting of his brain, "kill...kill...kill."

How many times have we said "I'll kill you" to a friend while horsing around?  Sure, it may seem like a joke at first because killing someone in the act of making merry is highly unlikely.  Yet, what are the ramifications of that statement, "I will kill you?", even when just having fun?

Could it be possible that people are inherently murderous creatures?  Maybe that is the reason why we gain satisfaction from bullying and threatening others over trivial things. 

Formspring is a prime example of the manifestation of the killing intent.  There were people who apparently found it amusing to write "Why don't you just kill yourself?" on my friend's wall.  Just what did my friend do to deserve such treatment?  How can any teenager, their life full of ambitions and blooming with forthcoming possibilities for greatness, be urged to give up their lives for the satisfaction of crude, immature individuals?

Life is something that cannot be taken on a whim.  Yes, the idea of a despicable person being liquidated is temporarily satisfying, but remember that even the most disliked person has friends, lovers, and dreams. 

Today, I was the victim of my own killing intent.  I rose from my bed, half-frenzied from sleep-deprivation and stress, and grudgingly boarded the school bus to begin my day.  When I got to school I encountered my reagent to my killing intent.  It was a girl that had used her good looks and charm to screw with my head and make a complete asinine out of myself.  She was chattering away with another guy, who was completely unaware that this cute-looking girl had hurt countless number of other people with her persona. 

I looked at the girl.  Her face broad with an ingratiating smile and her body curved in a coy posture, she resembled a teenage Mrs. Robinson.  My anger at her boiled over.  She seemed so nonchalant about herself that it made me want to smash the glass door through which I was observing the whole scene.  My hands curled into fists and my jaw began to ache from being clenched so hard.  I imagined myself running her through with a knife.  As I envisioned this, my lips twisted into a crooked smile.

Then the killing intent dissipated.  For the rest of the day, I felt awful for having had such cruel and violent thoughts.  I wanted to cry when I got home but I was too numb from my killing intent to do so.  I never imagined that I could have had such a vivid murder scene conjured in my very own head just because some girl had irked me with her insincerity.  God, I felt terrible.  I almost wished that I was the one who was dead.

Today, I had demonstrated that I too, am crude and immature.  The only difference between the Formspring bullies and I is that I had kept my killing intent to myself.  But otherwise, we are all the same.  We are always at each other's throats, ready to strike at the moment a bare spot is unveiled.

Can we ever be freed of this killing intent?  Can we ever learn to genuinely love each other?  I wish I could forgive people and move on, but to no avail; I still hold grudges against people that certainly don't deserve them.  I get annoyed even at well-acquainted friends when they reveal their flaws out of the blue.

I'm afraid I've steadily deteriorated in both character and maturity.  Hopefully there will come a time when this downward spiral comes to an end and a new chapter in my life brings to me the true meaning of virtue and happiness.  I'm not going to stop searching for that time.  I will make it happen, for no one is as miserable as the vengeful, grudge-fixated individual.

this is not poetry

So apparently
People think that
If you write with broken, short lines
It's automatically poetry
That's a stereotype
and stereotypes are bad
That's like saying
Oh, she's yellow, she must have had sushi for lunch
I actually had popcorn for lunch
Anyhow
This is OBVIOUSLY not a poem
It's simply a paragraph where I chose,
stylistically,
to break
lines
very
often