People

Some people are like land mines. No matter how hard you try to avoid them, you'll always run into one of them by accident. And when you do, a reaction happens. A reaction that you're not happy about, even though you try to look at it as a glass that's half full. Sometimes the glass is full of poison. A glass of poison that's half full is just as bad as a glass of poison that's half empty.

Some people are like wind. You can't see it, but you know it's there because your cheeks tell you that something is moving and you trust it. These people come and go from your life. They might pretend to care for a little while, but they're constantly moving, and the best thing you can do is let the breeze blow instead of fighting it off.

Some people are like volcanoes. Deep down inside, the heat is churning, waiting to be released. They hold it in and try not to let it show. But sooner or later, they erupt, and it destroys everything in it's path. There's no way of predicting what's to come. It just happens. And you can't ever take it personally.

Some people are like swimming pools, and some people are like swimmers. On a hot summer day, a pool full of cool water is just what you want. You jump in, and the water welcomes you. You splash around, you go under water, and you enjoy the aquatic experience. But after awhile, your fingers and toes start to prune. You get bored of the pool, and you get out. When winter comes, you forget all about the joy it gave you. These swimmers use you. But the important thing to realize is that other people will come along, and maybe they might stay long enough to get pneumonia.

Some people are like blankets. They keep you warm when you're cold. They are always there for you. No matter how bad of a day you've had, you always know that at night, you can crawl into bed and feel comfort for at least a few hours. Never let go of these blankets, and never take them for granted. Even if they seem worn down, or used, remember that they were always there for you when you needed them.

And some people are like robots. Another face in the crowd. A voice unheard. A shadow of a shadow of a shadow. They go unnoticed. And sometimes they're completely unaware that they are even alive.

Some people are just people.

Masquerade

You stare at the party before you. Glamorous. It’s exactly like a scene out of any fairytale. Chandeliers dangle from the high ceiling, weighed down by diamonds and crystals. Although they hang still, it still seems as if they are threatening to fall down.
The floor reflects the light from the chandeliers. The walls bounce the voices back and forth. Each heel that strikes the floor is accompanied by a clack. You hear the countless conversations swirling around you, but you don’t understand any of them. All the voices and words blend together in one giant murmur.
Long, gorgeous gowns trail the glossy floor. Every girl on the dance floor wears a mask corresponding with her dress. Every boy wears the same penguin suit costume, each with a mask concealing his identity. The room is full of mystery and unanswered questions as everyone peers curiously at one another, wondering who exactly they’re dealing with.
A penguin suit walks up to you. Although the mask covers his mouth, you see the twinkle in his eyes and hear the smile in his voice. “You seem familiar,” he says slowly.
You return the smile. “Is this how you try to pick up girls?” you remark playfully.
He doesn’t reply at first. You see his eyes studying you, sure that he’s still smiling.
Under his gaze, you try not to squirm. Instead, you lift your chin, straighten your back, and lock your own eyes to him.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks you, holding out his hand for you.
You briefly glance down at his welcoming hand before taking it. “It would be my pleasure,” you reply, excited. The moment his hand wraps around your own, your palm grows sweaty and your heart beats faster.
And so the two of you dance. It’s graceful; rhythmic. You aren’t touching him, but you still feel his warmth emanating off his body that it almost seems as if your body is pressed against his. He breathes. You match your own to his. The butterflies within your stomach rampage in circles.
You can’t keep your cool for much longer. A grin permanently paints itself on your face along with a rosy red color gently brushed onto your cheeks. Unfortunately, the mask covers your transparent feelings.
The song ends. The two of you step away from one another. His warmth you felt, however, remains lingering on you.
“I’ll be right back,” you squeal, your voice an octave higher than it was prior to the dance.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” he replies, fairly amused. He’s taken a liking to you.
You turn and hurry away, trying to regain your composure. It’s difficult, considering you can’t seem to concentrate on anything other than Mr. Penguin Suit.
Accidentally, you bump into someone while your mind is preoccupied.
“Sorry,” you say, looking up at the person you just ran into. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops as you see a replicate of yourself. Or, so it seems like a replicate.
She has the same dress as you. Maybe not exactly the same, but an extremely similar one. Her mask is very similar as well. She has the same hair color as you; the same shade of skin, the same height. You feel like you’re looking in a mirror. The two of you look chillingly alike.
The only aspect different between the two of you were the eyes. As she holds your stunned gaze, you notice her eyes are deeper and darker compared to your own glowing set of carefree eyes. Her eyes don’t show surprise. Instead, they’re knowing and understanding. Very different from yours.
"You’re--" you start, trying to place a name with her hidden face. Before you can finish, a large crash interrupts you. The moment of truth.
Heads turn toward the fallen chandelier in the middle of the dance floor. Shattered glass is scattered everywhere. The guests stare at the chandelier in horror before panicking. They begin to run for the doors.
You bring your attention back to the look-alike girl. She lifts her mask and reveals a smile.
"--Love," you finish.
"And you’re Infatuation," she responds.
Glancing across the dance floor, you see Mr. Penguin Suit staring back at you, clearly puzzled. He doesn’t know which girl he danced with earlier in the night.
"He’s not searching for you," she says before slipping the mask back on. Her voice is soft, gentle. You can’t make a noise as she walks away toward a confused Mr. Penguin Suit. He gives you one last fleeting glance before giving Love his undivided attention.
You look the other way and notice another boy in a mask and a penguin suit costume staring at you curiously. Slightly raising your mask, you grant him a smile as you drift toward him.
The other boy isn’t your problem anymore. A new set of butterflies, giggles, and heartbeats are awaiting for you. Of course, he’ll mistake you for Love like they all do, but you’re alright with that now. You’re used to the quick, thrilling moments you’ll shortly share with him. It’s who you are.

Passing Angel

You and I,

We used to walk the same path.

Both of us were lost on a never-ending road,

Looking for answers around the darkest corners.

We both were searching for someone.

No one in particular,

Not a soul mate,

Not a friend,

Just someone who could understand.

The stars were brighter when you were walking beside me.

I felt stronger and safer in a world filled with danger.

We lived like we were winning the race,

Both knowing that it was impossible,

We acted like we were in the sky,

While they had us kissing the ground.

I never knew how lucky I was until I lost you,

You walked off the path,

Not leaving even footsteps for evidence.

The comfort you brought was washed away with the rain,

That hasn’t stopped since your hand left mine.

You were my angel,

You made me smile when my world crumbled around me.

Now all I see is the rubble left of what used to be,

My life and everything you meant to me.

Looking back now,

It’s almost as if you never had wings.

Violins

Entranced among the dancing masses,

the violins still play.

Wherever you go, the shadows follow

to slow you, to make you pray.

And you can hide, you can cover,

you can even make a run.

But the sleeping greys,

with their fiery passion,

will straddle along the Sun.

The swaying highs and the morning lows,

combined with all the blue,

stops for no one, no matter what

no matter what you do.

And you can hide, you can flounder,

you can even run away.

But then again, it's all the same.

February, March, April, May.

Ten thousand smiles could light the path

with the words that you'll never say.

Entranced among the dancing masses,

the violins still play.

Seven Minutes In Heaven (Part One)

“They say, when you’re about to die, that your life flashes before your eyes. Time practically comes to a halt and all your memories are relived in that final moment. From your first day of kindergarten when you tried to cut that cootie-infected girl’s hair while you were supposed to be napping. Crying your eyes out the first time you fell after taking the training wheels off of your bicycle, when dad gives you the standard talk about getting back on the horse. High school; finding out who you are and who you want to be. Trying out for the basketball team and tripping over your own feet. Discovering who your friends are and who just wanted to cheat on the Spanish test. And walking across the stage on that final day, without ever telling that special girl how you feel about her. One of many missed opportunities. Like blowing off the SATs to practice with your garage band. I mean, who needs college when you’re gonna be a rock star? Sooner or later though, reality sets in and the only opportunities still afforded to you are a minimum wage job and splitting the rent of a tiny cramped apartment with your former band mates. Sure, there are tough times. Memories you wish you didn’t have to see again. But I’ve realized that in our short stay in this world, the tough times, the difficult and dark days in our past, don’t have to spoil the good ones. Likewise, the good times don’t necessary make up for the bad ones. However… there are some truly perfect times; gloriously shining moments that no depressing thought or forgotten sin can overshadow… like when you stand up in front of everyone you know and say ‘I do’ to the love of your life. Or the first time you hold your baby girl and see just how precious she really is... hear her beautiful shrill voice crying for mommy… feel her take her first breathes of air… and listen to her heartbeat through her fragile little chest while she sleeps…”

Eric trailed off into silence and stared out of focus into his empty palms, gently overlaying each other in his lap.

“Is that what you saw, Eric?” Dr. Parker softly asked, rousing him from his trance-like gaze.

He looked up with glossy, reddening eyes. He was tired. Permanent dark circles and deep cut wrinkles made him appear older than he actually was. His short dark hair and scruffy unshaven face were peppered with pre-mature gray.

“Yeah,” he sighed after a beat, “the last thing I saw was my daughter’s face.”

“Er…” Dr. Parker started.

“BUT,” Eric exclaimed before she could finish a syllable, “but that’s not the end!”

“Oh really?” the doctor asked, somewhat taken aback by the vibrancy of her patient’s words, “What else did you see?”

“You know how folks say they’re in a dark tunnel and see a light that gets closer and closer?” He paused for Dr. Parker to nod in agreement. “Well Tess,” he started with half a grin, “do you know what’s at the other end of the tunnel?”

To be continued...

Sweet Life

Death is inevitable. We all know that life is fragile and must eventually come to an end. However hard we try, we can’t last forever. Despite our own mortality, nothing is more tragic than a life unnecessarily cut short.

There is a history of suicide in my family. My great-grandfather was depressed and convinced he was ridden with cancer, after he shot himself, the autopsy didn’t show a single malignancy. A great uncle divorced his wife then purposely overdosed on sleeping pills. And a great aunt unsuccessfully attempted suicide by cutting her wrists. Because of the impact that suicide has had on my life I know that it is not something to be taken lightly and it certainly isn’t an acceptable way to garner attention. So when teenagers threaten to kill themselves for some trivial reason such as a the end of a 3 day relationship, I, a complete pacifist, am overcome by the urge to hunt them down and shake and/or slap some sense into them!

Where is the perspective? Your life isn’t ruined and the world isn’t ending. Tomorrow the sun will rise and the planet will continue to spin. And on the off chance that it doesn’t, it’s because the sun went supernova and annihilated the solar system, not because your heart is broken.

Some people think that by committing suicide they are “doing the world a favor”. That they are relieving a burden from other people’s lives; perhaps because they have hurt someone and regret it so much that they believe some sort of martyrdom is the only acceptable retribution. In reality, what they’re doing is causing unbearable pain, guilt, regret, and uncertainty on an unknowable number of people.

Sometimes those who consider suicide do so because they think no one cares about them. Think again. Everyone has someone. No exceptions. Even if it’s not someone near you, there are people in this world who care about you... me, for example. Caring about a vast number of people whom you will never meet is a relatively new concept to human nature; nevertheless there are thousands out there, like myself, who care about you just because we share this lifetime.

To consider suicide is to consider that you would be better off dead than alive. Where is the logic? Despite what you may believe, death isn’t like going to sleep and it certainly isn’t like dreaming. Even saying that you see only darkness or nothingness is an overstatement. The neural connections in the brain cease, awareness or consciousness of any sort is simply impossible. If you believe in some form of the soul living on after physical death then suicide makes even less sense! Most religions maintain that killing yourself prevents you from entering their version of utopia (e.g. Heaven). Basically a religious person committing suicide says ‘eternal damnation in a fiery realm of torment would be better than living another day’. Whichever way you look at it, death is final and absolute.

Life is precious. Why is this so hard for us to understand? We consider suicide because we lose all hope. But there is always hope, even if it's beyond our sight. No matter how bleak your outlook, there is always something worth going on for. Always. Everyday has its own sweetness, even the sad ones. You mourn, but you live.

Remember This Parade

We float by as clouds after a rainy afternoon

Our silhouettes dance like reflections inside a foggy mirror

The sun shines brightly on the beating of our hearts

Violins play as wind whistles through gold-colored trees

Bare feet pad across white-washed wooden floors

Lips press softly in between hushed breaths

Hands interlock and whispers cue the interlude

Rain couldn't fall on this glorious parade

Right here, where the streets have no names

Where waves crash endlessly against rocky cliffs

Birds sing melodies to the sound of blood rushing

Bodies dance circles in the dim light

We are a red umbrella under a stormy night

"Love" doesn't sound strong enough for this

This is what happens when two souls collide

Because everything I stand for is in your eyes

Your smile fills my days with blinding light

The warmth of your skin cascades across my body

Sending shivers down my spine, we dance

Midnight spirals pirouette in our dreams

Masquerade the truth and unveil the lies

Haunted as you are by your past, just forget

Now, as the darkness creeps upon us,

Wrap me in your incandescent arms

I am completely fascinated by you

You're always on my mind