Contagious [Part 1]

As the rain tumbled down, dancing beyond the silhouettes of the blackened trees, I tried my hardest to not join the puddled mud on the ground. Giving up seemed so easy; so comfortable. Yet, continuing on was the only chance I had at survival. I couldn't give up now.

I bent over, arms resting anxiously on my wavering knees, and puked the remaining contents of my stomach into the foggy landscape below me. I paused for a second, trying to remember whether I had eaten anything black or if I was just puking up pure bile at this point.

There was something about this moment that seemed so familiar, like it had already happened once before. Things like deja vu made me nervously suspicious of superstition. Maybe that's why I always wore two different colored socks. Maybe I was just disorganized.

As I traveled farther, I came across what seemed to be an abandoned Carnival. The dirt covered Merry-Go-Round reminded me of when I was little, and when I wanted to be big like my dad. And when he was my hero and I didn’t know where babies came from.

But that was alright because I knew that we would get ice cream later, and although I knew my dad wouldn’t let me get sprinkles because I always made a mess, I knew that it wasn’t a big deal, but I cried anyway. And then I got sprinkles because he felt bad.

I sat in one of the dusty, rotted seats of a Bumper Car, and closed my eyes. Everything went back to the way it used to be. Innocent, colorful, unaware. Like it was early in the morning on a Saturday, watching cartoons and eating all of the marshmallows right out of the Lucky Charms box.

For a brief second, I could almost hear the television blasting again. The smell of waking up to breakfast. The coldness of my feet as I realized that my socks had somehow disappeared sometime in the duration of my sleep. And then the emptiness returned.

I fell asleep, pretending. Pretending that everything was going to be alright.

Should I Be Less Pessimistic or Should You Be More Realistic?

For example, if I were to say, "The United States economy is only going to get worse until finally the country is in complete shambles" and someone were to reply, "Stop being so pessimistic!", where is the line drawn between pessimistic and realistic?


The truth is that pessimism is an emotion. It's only a choice in that when something bad happens, you can be pessimistic about it, or you can completely ignore reality and be optimistic.


Being optimistic when you know you or everyone else is in a bad place feels dishonest to me. Pessimism allows us to address and deal with issues in life.


And like I said before, pessimism is an emotion. When bad things happen to people, they get sad. They get depressed. And when you're standing at a funeral and half of the people around you are bawling their eyes out, you don't say "Stop being so sad!" Do you?


I do realize that some people can be overly-pessimistic. Some people overreact and blow things out of proportion.


But you have to realize, being realistic is efficient and would help so many people in this world. I know this is a lot more complex than I make it sound, but think of all of the over-weight people in the United States. If some of them came to grips with reality and said "Okay, I need to eat less. I don't really need to eat all of this food." Or some of the people that max out 5 credit cards. If they said "Maybe I don't need to buy these things." Their problems would be solved.


I think pessimism is so discouraged that some people have lost their sense of right and wrong.


And I say it doesn't matter how you look at a glass. If your glass is half full, great, I'm glad, but stop and think next time before you tell someone not to be so pessimistic. You never know how low their glass really is.

Being Distasteful Never Tasted So Good

It started with a one page letter,
so sweet and innocent.
Full of clichés and unbroken promises,
and still I was sure you meant it.
It happens like this every time,
that you make me believe in love.
You make the world seem so unimportant
Besides you, I have nothing else to dream of.

And yet, it fades, every time,
I guess for you, faithfulness gets kind of old.
I don't mean to complain, but I really did love you,
and now I'm dreaming of the lies that you told.
You tell your friends that you never even liked me,
kind of funny how that always works out.
You laugh like it's a joke, but these words are real,
and I hope you realize I'm not someone to doubt.

And here I am, still hoping you'll change,
but hope is blind in so many ways.
This never meant anything to you before,
but I'm lost in your distasteful maze.
When you decide to start caring, just let me know,
I'd love to laugh in your face.
Because I'll never believe in love again,
unless I find someone that won't make me chase.

Have you found God yet?

I grew up in a sort of Christian family. We went to church every week, at least when I was younger (around 5 years old). I remember the repetitiveness of the few hours a week that I spent sitting there doodling on a piece of paper.

Most of the people that went to the church I went to as a young'n were older ladies. They knew they weren't far from finding out what happens after you die. It must be a troubling thing to know that soon you will figure out the truth to the world's greatest mystery, only to understand that you can't bring that knowledge back to 'life'.

I think that fear is what brings most people to Christianity. "Have you found God yet?" is a question that I'm sure many of you have heard before. I have a few sarcastic answers to that one. "Have you found the end of a rainbow yet?" "Have you found the Easter bunny or Santa Claus yet?"

Of course not. It is in my beliefs that Christianity only serves a couple purposes.

1. To keep the people of Earth morally correct.

2. To give Hope to people.

The first one doesn't even work. Look at all of the people that are Christians that are morally corrupt. Just because you "know God", doesn't mean you're not going to sexually molest young children. Just because you "know God", doesn't mean you wouldn't kill a prostitute after you rape her.

And who would forgive people that do that kind of stuff if they only ask for forgiveness? That's not kindness, that's stupidity.

Besides, it's human nature to be immoral. We are all born with an urgency to do wrong, and it's within ourselves that we must choose to do right. Just because you're not religious, doesn't mean you are a BAD person, and just because you don't believe in "God", doesn't mean you won't do GOOD things.

So what do people look for when they pray?

They are asking for help. They want hope that things will get better. I don't believe in Christianity, but I believe in hope. I don't think that we need to ask an imaginary friend for help to have hope, though. It's like doing a "rain dance" to urge the Gods to make it rain.

I don't judge people by their religious beliefs. In fact, I don't really care what a person believes in, because no one knows for certain how the world was made. No one knows for certain if God really exists.

So until we find out, after we're dead and we're fertilizer for the grass above us, I'll keep praying to Hope, not God, and my Bible will continue to be a coaster for my drinks.

For Anyone That's Ever Been Hated On

This post will not contain any well thought out sarcastic remarks that will try to make you laugh. This is for anyone that's ever been hated on for being themselves, or in my case, for no reason at all. This is as serious as I get.

Today a random person that I've never met or talked to before decided to let me know that I am too negative, and that I should crack a smile once in awhile. (Maybe he should have read my post called "Should I Be Less Pessimistic or Should You Be More Realistic?") I then asked them "Do I know you?". The reply was "No, and I don't want to know you nor do I care to know you." Rude, right? I probably should've ended the conversation right there, but no I decide to pursue it.

I told the person that "I'm not negative all the time, I'm just realistic. The world isn't made of marshmallows and candy canes." and said that "I do smile, actually. How would you know if I don't smile? Do you stalk me?"

Then all Hell broke loose. He proceeded to call me names, tell me how I am a nobody, I'm a low life, I'm cocky, ignorant, a "dumb broad", etc. etc.

As if I don't already know that I'm a nobody? I'm 17 years old. The only people that know my name are the 16,000 people on Twitter and the people that read this blog. I'm not a popular kid in real life. I've known that my whole life and I'm fine with it. From what I've seen, being popular isn't a good thing.

And this is what really gets to me. After all of his middle school drama is over and I've done my best to tell him to "Fuck off" without actually saying it, he makes it out like I "failed at hating on him" and that he "danced circles around me and embarrassed me" and even said that I was the one that attacked him!

Nothing pisses me off more than people like this that think they know someone when they don't, and then even have the balls to make you out to look like the bad guy.

Look, I might not be the most optimistic person in the world, but I'm real. I say what I feel, and that's all. If you don't like that, you have that right, but you DON'T have the right to bring someone else down, for any reason.

I realize that I'm getting sort of popular on Twitter, and this blog is getting more visitors and comments than it ever has before. And I love you guys for that. And I know that as my Twitter account and this blog grows, I'm going to be getting more haters. It's just hard for me to accept that, because I don't know how to deal with people that are so mean for no apparent reason.

I know I have to keep my head up, and be a bigger person than them. But I just want you guys to know that life is rough as it is. Don't make someone's day any worse by unnecessarily calling them names or bringing them down. Try to make positive influences.

The person that attacked me earlier today first called me "Negative". But look, you don't try to make someone less negative by calling them names. That will only make them feel worse about themself.

That's all for now,

What the Heck is an ACT Anyway?

1. ACT stands for _______________.

a. Accurately Corrupted Teenagers
b. Asshole Cheating Turtles
c. Angry Cat Tigers
d. American College Testing


If you chose D, you are correct. Although, while I took the ACT test, I saw some of those angry cat tigers.

Today I embarked on a journey that most high school students in the United States go through at one point. I took a test that is a reflection of all of the boring days when I sat in class drawing deranged kittens and writing stupid stories that I shared with my easily-humored classmates.

My experiences in nerdy things such as Math Field Day, which is basically a math competition where you take a test and the top 3 scorers get a trophy, followed by places 4-7 receiving a less macho "ribbon", guided me along through the anxious 4 hours where my brain was in turbo mode. (By the way, I've placed 2nd and 4th in the two times I've competed in Math Field Day. Don't judge me.)

It seemed like everything came together for me while I was taking the test. Although my stomach hurt from the nervousness of knowing I was about to take a test that would determine exactly how much knowledge I have randomly collected throughout my 17 years of existence (I have room for improvement), and I was only running on 3 hours of sleep (So much for a good night's rest), and I did NOT eat any breakfast before taking it (So much for the most important meal of the day), I felt like I f***ing aced it, for the most part. Excuse my language.

Speaking of language, English was the first section of the test. A good way to start, seeing as writing is basically all I do that is semi-productive, and I'm pretty good at it. Did I mention I love writing? 70 questions about grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, and whatnot. And I don't think I missed any of them. So far, so good.

Next was Math. Did I mention I'm good at math? Although I'm sure I missed a few questions in this section, I'm pretty confident that I scored extremely high. And the best part was that I was over halfway done at this point.

The third section was Reading, where you had to read a passage and answer questions about it. Did I mention I love reading? Aced this part of the test also. Perfect score, here I come.

The final part of my journey was Science. Oh crap. Did I mention my last 3 science teachers have been nut jobs? One of them only talked about her stupid fish and the other one acts like she's a kindergarten teacher. Her assignments include COLORING. I love coloring, but I didn't see any coloring questions on the ACT! Luckily for me though, the science section was all about reading graphs for the most part. I think I did the worst in this part of the test, but I still did really well overall.

The ACT is graded out of a composite score of 36. Around 20/36 is average or something. I'm expecting low 30's for myself. A 36 would be nice, a 35 would be grand, but I'll settle for a 31 or a 32.

Oh, and did I mention I hate the ACT?

Re:Creations

Re:Creations making way...

I Just F***ed Indifference

Half of the time an idea makes its way to me, I’m a half mile down the road before I can get anyone else up to the starting line. I don’t know whether it’s over-ambition itself that tires me, or the fact that I create such a vivid picture in my headspace that explaining it turns into more of a burden than a relief. I spend more time in conversation with myself than with anyone else. I was raised by 2 of the most independent, good-willed, driven people that ever existed on this planet. I can’t take blame for this tireless drive that bee-lines me straight to exhaustion, but I can partially blame myself for the early headfull of greys. With all these thoughts and the will to carry them out comes a tidal wave of worry. The worrisome attitude and all it includes is my main enemy in these 21 year old foot steps. There’s enough attention to detail in my life to shade out all possible relief in any pay-offs. I’ve started to celebrate though.
Through simple changes and eye openers like world wide travel, I’m able to connect 2 & 2 when it comes to the world of confusion that lies before figuring out personalities. I’ve begun to split my differences with the rest of the world by only noticing similarites between myself and anything else. I’m on the top end of gratitude for those who agree, and now for those who agree to disagree. We all walk the same plains. It’s time to just take into account in general. Before leaping to the closest conclusions and holding on for dear life, there are other shoes to try on.
World peace?
-M

What Will Your Verse Be?

In a hundred years, everyone currently on this planet will be dead. We'll all be gone, replaced by smarter, more technologically inclined children and grandchildren. This is a very frightening thing to think about. The future of this planet is in our hands, and we can choose to positively or negatively influence it. Like a ripple effect, our actions will culminate and decide the course of future history.

A quote by Chuck Palahniuk got me thinking about this.

"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will."

As a teenager, it's all we hear our parents talking about. "You have to stay in school and do well and go to college so you'll get a good job." Make good grades. Do better. Be better. It's a constant pressure that is put on us as teenagers. But it's so much more than that.

It's my belief that we aren't put on this planet to go to school, go to college, get a decent job, retire, and then die. To succeed and grow we must create and give someone in the future the chance to learn from our own struggles.

A quote from the movie "Dead Poet's Society" reflects on this--well, more so on the subject of creating poetry.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

This quote inspires me every time I read it. I try to ask myself this everyday --"What is my verse?" What am I contributing to this world, not just as everyone else is doing, but as an individual, as a creative minded thinker. The thought that WE, meaning all of us, get to contribute our own verse to the gigantic poem that is life is such a gift. And I try to take advantage of that gift every day.

A lot of people ask me where I get my inspiration from. The truth is I don't really know how to answer that. I get my inspiration from life, mainly, from doing a lot of thinking and observing of the everyday tragedies and disappointments of life. From sitting alone in my room and wondering about things. I write what I feel. And that's something that's hard to do sometimes.

Anyways, I think I just remembered why I don't do classic "blog posts" very often. Because I tend to change the subject a lot. While I'm rambling, I might as well just say that "Contagious" Part 16 will be posted tomorrow. Which is Sunday in case you're living in a different part of the world.

Oh, and the next time you wake up in the morning, ask yourself "What will your verse be?" Take a look from another person's point of view. You might be surprised what you find out about yourself that you didn't already know.

Encouragement

When I think about encouragement, oddly enough, I think about my dog, Winston. He's a short chubby mixed breed with long black curly hair and much like me, his hair seems to get in the way of his vision sometimes. He follows me around everywhere I go. Everywhere. Not once does he leave my side. He protects me from human-like dangers, including relatives and friends, by nipping at them if they even dare come near me. And although he's vicious to strangers, he's my best animal friend, and his heart is just as big as his ever-growing belly.

Unfortunately, his slight weight disadvantage limits him from jumping as high as he should be able to. Our couch is a few feet off of the ground; easily reachable by our two other dogs, but Winston seems to have trouble. In fact, it's not often that he is able to leap onto the couch by himself.

While he's yelping and whining and scratching to find his way onto the couch and I look at him like I expect him to do it by himself, he gives me the opportunity to witness the miracle that is "encouragement". Patting the couch and saying "Come on Winston, you can do it. Jump" is enough motivation for him to use his abilities to the fullest and make his way onto the couch without me having to lift him up. That's all it takes.

I wonder about the people, dogs, Sasquatches, water buffalos, etc., that don't have these encouraging figures in their life, and I feel bad for them. It's hard to reach your potential without a little push or a little guidance. Just think of how much better the world would be if instead of condescendingly criticizing others, we encourage them to grow and think and do their best. After all, if there's no one there to say "You can do it", we can't do it. We'd all just be yelping and scratching to climb onto the couch. And even if we did make it onto the couch by some leap of faith, without encouragement, we would be so tired by then that all we could do is take a nap.

Pillars of Introversion

They say great minds think alike. If indeed I may call my fellow writers and myself great minds without seeming pretentious, then this platitudinal ponder holds true. As evidenced by the new writers' “About Me” pages, we are more alike than we are different. As I read the short biographies, I noticed multiple parallels that seem to be definitive of the quintessential ‘writer’ personality. Amongst them, the most prevalent and defining was introversion.

Introverts thrive on solidarity. Being alone allows us time and temperance to look within. Heavy socializing is detrimental to our mental and physical energy and only "alone time" can restore it. Despite what you may believe, introverts are not simply ‘shy’. Although true shyness is a relatively common characteristic of introverts, it is not defining. Essentially, an introvert is someone who internalizes phenomena. We dwell in the realm of thought. Of idea. Of emotion. What is perceived as “shyness” in most cases is the introvert’s aversion to casual conversation, chit-chat. Trivial things are not our forte, outwardly this may project as a facade of vanity or indifference. If we must speak, we want it to be well thought out and meaningful, preferably pertaining to a concept or idea.

There are certain qualities exuded by introspective individuals that are helpful in suppressing our insecurities. I call these four characteristics the “Pillars of Introversion”.

1) Emerging Leaders: Introverts are surprisingly efficient and natural leaders. Have you worked on a group project only to find yourself wishing you could do it all on your own? By taking a strong leadership role, the introvert assures that the project is completed to his or her standard. However, the impediment comes when they must actually adapt to the role; if someone else can take the spotlight away from the introvert, they will gladly offer it up. Great minds make great leaders, but when that mind is too involved in itself it forms an endless circle, perpetually remaining within, unheard. With the right coaxing and encouragement, a leader can emerge from their put introspective thoughts; it only takes one person to give the introvert the boost they need to flourish.

2) Open Minds, Hearts, Eyes, and Ears: Introverts know the mind. By being intimately familiar with one’s own mind they are granted greater insight into another’s. Because of this, introverts are exceptional listeners. They are empathic towards others, able to relate and offer sound input or even just a shoulder to cry on if the situation calls for it. Introverts are not quick to judge, they listen and reflect openly and honestly.

3) A Different Perspective: Introverts see the world differently than extroverts. Our eyes can focus on a metaphysical level. Our concern is not with the outward aesthetics, but the inner workings. Nothing is skin-deep to an introvert; there is more meaning, more life beneath the surface. Imagination and creativity abound in introverts; most of the world’s greatest minds: Leonardo da Vinci, Charles Darwin, Stephen Hawking, Vincent Van Gogh, yielded ideas that would have been unfathomable if not for their introspective nature.

4) The Art of Words: As the new writers illustrate, introverts express themselves exceptionally well with the written word. Introverts need time to process and reflect on the abstract; this is why we prefer to express our inner thoughts and emotion in writing. More mundanely, most introverts probably prefer to draft a letter or email, or even a concisely worded text message than pick up the phone. Despite the distaste for impromptu speaking, introverts can actually be talented orators. As nauseating as the prospect of delivering a speech in front of a large group of people may be, public speaking is actually good for an introvert. Given time to write and practice a speech, and provided the complete attention of a group, an introvert can easily and movingly convey a message, saving themselves energy-draining socializing and small talk.

These four pillars are invaluable to an introvert. They are the things that make the introvert’s mind unique, empowers them, supports them, and lifts their minds to heights never before reached.

Wait

I'm swimming.

Only, my legs are motionless, my arms stretched out

infinitely at my sides.

The silence is so deep, so compelling.

I reach for it, without moving, I reach with my soul.

I feel myself slipping, into the silence, into time.

Limitless time.

All at once, it's moving too fast, forcing me back into noise.

Your fingers find mine and twine themselves through, effortless.

The silence fades away completely as you pull me out and into

the screaming grey.

Your eyes are locked on mine, but you don't see me. I look

desperately for myself, but the old warmth is now drenched in pity.

You sigh, your warm breath mingling with the cool night air, and

tickling my frozen cheeks.

The wind whips around us, blowing strands of damp hair across

my face. I don't brush them away.

I'm trapped in your steely, uninterrupted gaze.

Finally, you stand up, breaking the unspoken link between us. I

see you flinch, but only slightly.

I stand too, but your back is turned, your shoulders hunched.

You begin to walk, slowly, but confidently, into the swallowing

unknown that is your future.

Dawn breaks the starry sky, casting tendrils of light

through the deep darkness.

I stumble, falling after you.

Your heart is racing, but you won't turn around, you can't.

I'm on my knees now, with the pressure of the world

closing in around me, holding me firmly to

the ground. I try to lift my head to look at you one last

time, but my heart holds it in place.

"Wait," I whisper.

Peace in the Chaos

I want you to find me,

I'm hidden beneath the words I'm too afraid to say,

I need to be rescued from this hopeless abyss,

The weight of this world is crushing me,

I'm sinking

There's no stopping to breathe,

I'm going to drown in a sea of pressure,

Please pull me out,

I need a life boat, something to hold on to,

You're my rock, my stronghold,

I hope you know how much you mean to me

In this never-ending lifestyle, I need hope

The noise will never stop, we will never stop,

Forever haunted by the ghosts of our past,

We will shove the skeletons back in our closets,

We are not how we once were,

If we stop, we die

It's up to me and you now,

We need to find a way to end this

This world is so chaotic,

I can't find my peace, we need to find our peace

So run until you collapse on the ground,

Dream until you can't see the end,

There is a hope here and it's hiding beneath the suffering

I need you to come with me on this journey

This love we share is a weapon,

Please aim carefully,

Scream the thoughts inside your head,

Release the emotions under your skin

You are the light to my darkness,

The candle in the storms of my head,

Please catch me when I fall,

Don't let me drown

It's so noisy here,

The hustle and bustle is excruciating,

This city never sleeps, my insomnia is worsening,

We are a broken people now,

You are my peace in the chaos

Her name is Love

You’re spinning. You're spinning so fast, almost as if you're floating. Your hair follows the wind, hitting your face hard. The faster you twirl, the more it stings. It begins to become more painful along the way.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see his familiar figure approaching you.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
You don't say anything as you stop spinning. Instead, you carefully watch his dark eyes pass through you. His mind wanders to the past, replaying every precious moment he spent with you. The Care and Comfort you gave him shines the brightest. The sun gives its laughter to him, and deepens the smile you once shared with him.
Slowly, you notice Fear darkening the edges of his memory. The light dims; the sun is covered by big, gray thundering clouds of Anger as the rain rampages its way through his body. Agony blackens his mind.
The darkness shrouds your eyes, and you no longer can see. Still, he desperately reaches out for you, searching. But you can't find him. You can no longer guide him.
“I’m lost,” he cries. His tight grasp catches your wrists. The pain pulsates through you.
“It hurts,” you whisper.
You picture his dark eyes looking at you. “I know,” he says just as quietly. You hear the softness in his voice. The image of him expands. You sketch out his familiar face and his familiar eyes. Your body remembers the lines of his body, and the warmth you felt when he held you close.
Blinking, your eyes readjust to the darkness. His eyes are drawn again. They're begging you not to leave yet. He’s telling you to stay a little longer.
Temptation is there, patient and waiting. You feel yourself lower your defenses slightly, ready to give in. But then you remember all the suffering you've caused him. You know Pain. You never wanted to give him Pain. It wasn't intentional.
Yet, you know you cannot take back the hurt you've given him. Only Time can heal, and Time could not begin his healing until you've gone away.
Your decision is made.
The pattering of the rain begins to slow. His grip on you loosens a bit. You take this opportunity to remove all chains binding the two of you. His face pales as you back away from him.
“I’ll be back,” you promise him.
He doesn’t hear you. Bitterness has already taken your place. She wraps her arms around his crumbling figure, giving you one last complacent smile before completely consuming him.
The rain has stopped, but the sky still hasn’t cleared yet.
Swallowing your sobs back, you reluctantly turn away from the empty past. With every step you take, you find it harder to hold the tears in. Sadness takes your hand and begins to twirl you again. The wind steals your tears away before Regret can make his move. You're following the wind again, floating.
And you understand your role.
You are meant to give light and Happiness to whomever you attach yourself to. In the end, however, Pain and heartbreak come along with you to ruin it all. You cannot break free from these kin.
You've learned that you cannot stay in one place for too long. You'd be shrouded and concealed in the face of Jealousy and Compromise. Your job is to move on. You must leave the mess you've left behind for another to clean up.
You sign your messes with your own familiar scribble. The world recognizes your neatly written signature. Wherever you go, wherever you end up; the people call your name. The crowd knows who you are; we know you are Love.

The Generation of Hate

Every day I see a thousand new examples of hate. And scattered around those examples are the (seemingly) less popular examples of love and understanding.

It's not even necessarily about what you look like anymore. It's not even about what you say, or how you think or act, or what you do in your free time. In this generation, you could be anybody, anywhere, doing anything, and still be the victim of random and undeserving hate.

Allow me to explain further.

If Gandhi somehow rose from the dead and made his way into this world, he would be hated on just because he was bald, or he was too skinny, or because his thoughts were different from some of the other brainless people on Earth. It wouldn't matter that he was a peacemaker that fought for India's independence. It wouldn't even matter that he inspires so many people to this day. He was one of the most influential non-violent protesters in history, and he would be hated on by today's generation.

It's sickening almost to the point where I just want to scream at everyone that speaks a negative sentence.

So I'm proposing something, for the better of this world, and for the good of this generation. From what I can tell, this generation is going to be put through a lot of difficult times. The world is at a point where we must make changes, or destroy everything.

The changes we need to make are many, and it starts with our attitudes towards other people. I seriously lose sleep at night because I think about these things. People are so quick to judge, so quick to misunderstand, and so quick to speak hateful words.

Am I the only person that remembers learning The Golden Rule in elementary school?

"Do unto others as you would want them to do to you."

Treat others as you want to be treated. We are all born with a desire to be loved. If you want to receive love, you won't do so by treating others badly.

It's really that easy. If you feel the same way that I do, share this with your friends. Maybe one day the negative people will join our side.

Moment of Silence

Thoughtful minds long for silence.


A mere moment of peace and tranquility to reflect and bask in the solitude of our inner conscience. A short respite from the constant noise and useless babble of the outside world, just to hear the ambience of life and our own beating hearts. Perhaps we imagine silence so pure that we are only aware of a serene ethereal melody, resonating just for the existence of being?


However, our quixotic notions betray us. True silence is fear. Rage. Passion. Rapture. Silence such that if it were known by humans would drive them mad million times over in the span of a second.


Silence falls…


First on the ears then the mind. By cruel irony, thought cannot be. Consciousness too is fleeting and soon is silenced. Mortal senses fail; no sound, no sight, no taste, no touch.


Movement must halt. The finite connections, the simplest charges that bind together physical existence are broken and matter dissolves from being. Corporeal form is lost. The idea of life no longer exists.


Light fades, but not even darkness can remain. Darkness requires the absence of light, but need and necessity are no more. The synchronicity of rhyme and reason falter. No action can take place, thus no consequence can be incurred. Cause and effect are null.


In a single moment we fall to oblivion and ascend to infinity, an eternal distortion of Alpha and Omega. Time unravels. Creation never was. An infinite howling void of endless and absolute nothingness. Reality ceases.


Silence is the end.

It's Over

Questioning the overly simplistic thoughts running through your head,
You reach for your gun but find that you're out of bullets.
Stare down the hopeless abyss that threatens to overcome you,
There's nothing that anybody can do anymore.


It's over
You're just going to have to turn around now
Just turn around and never look back
Forget about everyone and everything you've ever done
It's over
Pick up your things and walk out the door
Close your mouth and bottle the words inside yourself
Screaming never did you any good before, why should it now?


You single-handedly ruined the best thing that could have happened to you
By saying nothing the whispered rumors silently overtook the beating of your heart
Have the inconsistent breathing patterns of your insomnia killed you yet?
The shattered memories of your past will haunt you as you sleep
Don't close your eyes just yet, wait for the sirens in your head to still
If you wait long enough the bleeding will stop just enough for you to cry out


Stare down this bottomless pit before jumping inside

Don't scream
Don't cry
Don't make a noise
Just fall

Close your eyes and whisper the words you're too afraid to say aloud
Count the seconds that pass before you longingly reach the bottom


It's over now.