the lily pads

taking off the crown and returning the lion's mane cape, i can no longer avoid the reality: i am simply green and mucus-ridden. but that is life and while i may have found the raiment warm and comforting, they were not made to fit me.

alas, i've accepted my place amongst the lily pads and understand that i'm no longer your prince. while i may still speak in a prince's full regalia, i cannot deny these webbed toes and potruding eyes.

so i'll submit and croak and hop away, crossing log and pond into the swampy deep. but promise that i'll have a place in your pocket so i may whisper words into your ear and catch the bugs before they sting you.

but for now, i'll leave you one last whisper: good luck. i hope you'll find your prince. remember that i love you and always will.

mosaic

i envy the empty because they can always begin anew. while the hollowness hurts, only time passes before something refills the vessel.

on the other hand, i am broken, shattered. i am the millions of pieces of what i once was. the empty are lucky: they can be refilled while the shattered bleed anew, being filled up with the brokenness they are from the inside.

so what can i do? remain immobile. out of fear of being hurt, i move neither here nor there.

but that is a static life, a perpetual state of mourning. these pieces are not to be mourned over, but rather, used to create something new.

it takes the brave hand to grasp each shard and fear not the blood and torn flesh. a patient hand to craft and place them. a loving hand to direct the work of art into something glorious.

i've already started. my hands are raw but i can't stop now or i'll bleed to death.

i hope what i've created when i'm done with the pieces will be worthy of the glass sculpture that stood before it.

crescendo

from upstairs, my mother's painful sobs shake the ceiling above me and slice me right into my core.

she's reacting. there's a thud and some more sobs. shriek. crescendo. her voice is sharp and hysterical like shattering china.

i don't hear my dad's voice. i never do. but i know he's in there. trying to get her to calm down.

i don't want to know what happened this time because i already do know what happened. i can't fix it.

i just want to get the fuck out of here now.

real talk

2010:

i will have occupied, bustin' my ass days and i will have wake up at 4pm, brush my teeth, and go back to bed with my laptop days. i will go to classy parties with trashy tendencies and have chilly nights where the smoke coming out of my mouth isn't just condensed, cold air.

i will get fucked up and fucked over but never fucked and that's the way i prefer it to be.

i will sign up for more classes than i can handle, but attempt them anyway, and get decent grades putting in a bare minimum of effort. i will not be challenged because i will realize that i learn more from being in the world than reading it from a textbook.

i will celebrate turning 20 without a celebration, remembering the painful way i entered the previous decade and how not too much has changed except a goatee. i will unfairly hope for a phone call on this day but it won't come and i will be sad even if i shouldn't.

i will get angry and i will get emotional but i dont expect the same degree of happiness as i had last year. i will continue to lose my faith in humanity but i will try, i HONESTLY WILL TRY, to remain optimistic. i will meet new people, but secretly hate them because they will cheat on their wives and husbands in the future and hurt their loved ones, but i hope i will meet the hopeful (not the foolish) few who still are optimistic about love and life, to show me what there is to look forward to.

i will go to the gym, but inconsistently, and get toned, but still look like a boy.

i will go on dates but will only quickly realize what a terrible idea it was because of the paltry conversation and the hungry look in his eyes. i will realize that i need to be with a man rather than a boy, but boys are all that i'm surrounded with. i will think about bringing one to my bed, but never act on it because i will realize i am not made for cheap sex unlike most people.

i will attempt to blog again, but i will continue to be unsatisfied with my work, like with many other things in my life.

i will tell people that 2010 is a new year and will carry new possibilities and better times, but honestly, i don't think that at all. it already feels old and retread to me.

ultimately, 2010 will be just another 365 sunrises and sunsets, another 360 degrees around the sun.

so before it has a chance to say it to me, i'll say it first: fuck you, 2010.

& the frog

i need to take care of me:
what do i want?
what do i need?

i need to start thinking about
me and my wants.
it's not healthy
living for
everyone else.

i need to have wants.
and be a little more
selfish.

two.

quel jour, quelle journée.

forty-love

congratulations, you win. you broke my heart again.