Writings

I don’t understand why I went or what I was doing there, but that’s not the point. The point is that I was there, and for whatever reason I wasn’t leaving. I stood by the gate and slowly undressed myself. I approached the man standing at the opening, handing him my clothes in exchange for entrance. As I walked through the green grass I saw many people, People that I recognized. All of them naked as the day God made them. Some looked insecure, some looked ashamed – but why should they be. After all, everybody else was just as they were. Every person was exactly the same.

The classroom was so dark. I don’t know where the teacher went, but she hasn’t come back during the hour. The thunderstorm caused the electricity to go off. My classmates are just talking, listening to music, and ripping skin. My friend Tyler is addicted to ripping. He’s been doing it for two and a half years. I asked him once if he thought he could ever stop. The addiction is so strong he said that he couldn’t quit if his family’s life depended on it.

It’s insane to watch. The veins in his right hand pop out as they become redder and bluer. His hand trembles as he holds tightly to the mouse.

 

I am but a boy with dark eyes and a siding made of brick. I am at home with the concept of love, and in love with the concept of home. The letter L shape forms the basis of these concepts. The layers of the earth surrounding are so well defined forming pages of the storybook, and I’m in love with the binding at… the top that shadows the darkness of the trees.

I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything, but the words seem to clearly have their meanings even within this naïve state of mind. Writing is the only thing that’s kept me alive. Music is the only thing that’s made living purposeful. If only I could get someone to comprehend what is I think…If one could read minds, I wouldn’t be here still pondering…still thinking.

She was beautiful. And she wasn’t even beautiful in the conventional sense. Her hair was wavy: not straight with shine, or locks of bountiful curls. The kind of wave that looked effortless at the roots, yet intentional at the ends. Her hair was an awkward shade of orange, but it worked – especially with her eyes of emerald. The only thing that could match them would be divine jewels. Her teeth weren’t perfectly straight, but her smile was exquisite when you were able to catch it. Only two things made her smile: oddly colored furniture and her mother’s yelling. One’s ability to find humor in another’s rage is an amusing quality. Her taste in fashion was something else. I never seemed to figure out whether her clothing choices were intentional or catastrophic accidents.

All of these things made her appealing in a physical sense. Her sexual appeal to some might seem diminished, but for me it was utterly undeniable. Her personality was something to contribute to my lust, but that became insignificant when I discovered her lies. There was only one thing I knew for sure. The humans called her Merideth, but I called her Ride.

 

If I could go back, back to before this feeling, back to before this fear – I don’t know if I’d change anything that’s happened. There’s nothing to say that the preceding events brought this on, yet every past occurrence has revealed what is present. Indeed, whether or not such experiences bear any influence on the moment at hand is irrelevant now. For the feeling is here; and the fear will surely take you.

Outside, lying in the green grass, yellow daisies and glowing fireflies surround me. The sky, once a brilliant blue is now fading to a dull gray as nighttime draws near. Looking up towards the murky sky, I can experience the sensation of my body hanging on the side of the earth. Gravity is the only thing keeping me from floating away. Staring at the clouds, I feel as if they could swallow me whole. The longer I gaze, the closer they come, and the larger they appear. Clouds are so peculiar. One moment they can be light and luminous; the next they can be dark and shadowy. They’re so close now they could suffocate me like a pillow.

A pillow – it fell off the right side of the bed. My head is so heavy I can’t muster the energy to retrieve it. It’s so dark inside this congested room, with only a stream of light peeking through the Venetian blinds. I appear alone, but I discern that I am not. I see a shadow pass on the wall and suddenly the pillow is coming towards my face. I fight: pressing against the pillow, flailing my arms left and right. My arms slow down, my force weakens, and everything goes black.

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