flaming tears's blog

I just want to stop existing.

     I just want to stay here with you forever.

I just want to stop breathing

     I just wanted you to know that you're the sweetest oxygen I've ever breathed in.

I just want to slice my arms off

     I wish I had more arms to hug you with.

I just want to make someone hurt like I do.

     I just want to help someone else to be as happy as I am.

I just want to dissapear.

     I wish I could be with you more.

I hate everything.

     I love my life.

I just want to die.

     You're my life, and I love you.

I wish someone understood my pain.

     I'm glad you're here to share in my joy.

I don't want to be hurt any more.

     I'm unfathomably happy.

I'm crying my eyes out.

     I'm smiling so hard it hurts.

I'm done with everything.

     There's still so much more left to explore!

I just want someone to save me.

     I just want you to know how much you mean to me.

I just want to let you know that I'll get through, somehow.

     I just want to let you know that I'm feeling grand.

I've wanted to write a poem about you for some time.

You, amazing, funny, intelligent

outgoing and accepting

( honorary) brother you are.

The only person to ever tell me

"This is a safe place,

as long as you don't tell me you rape kittens and leave their

bodies in rivers".

The person with whom

I wrote probably the oddest

story that will never be finished.

(It involved a giant monster falling in love with a girl Read more »

Good job.

You deserve a pat on the back, kiddo.

You finally did it, eh?

Finally got somewhere else to be.

Somewhere not with me.

I'm surprised you didn't realize what a horrible, horrible person I am sooner.

But then again, it took me thirteen years,

but it only look you a few months.

I'm glad you're moved on now.

Better for you.

Better to have someone who knows what to say

when you're feeling down

better to have something stable in your life,

instead of the fragile artist that I am.

Better to be done with the trash

throw it out to the curb

and wait for the trash man (or woman) to pick me up

and put me back with the rest of the trash.

Or at least, that's what you think they'll do.

But, you see, there are some pieces of trash that do not belong in dumpsters or landfills

they would ruin the other trash,

which is already horrid.

They put me in my own little place.

You call it a breakdown

I call it a revelation.

You call it death

I call it devine retribution.

You call it the end of what was once me

I call it the beginning of something better.

But I wish that I could forget you a little more.

Your threads still

bind me to this world

if only a little.

I wish for them to become weaker so that I could leave.

But pardon me,

this poem isn't about my salvation

it's about yours.

I don't know where you found it, excatly. Read more »

Why does my left arm always smell like chlorine?

Seriously, though,

it really does.

And I don't even

go swimming

or hang around pools.

Come to think of it,

why am I smelling my arm?

I there ought the be more people like you.

People with open minds and open arms,

Who are accepting and funny

hardworking and thoughtful.

There ought to be more people who

spend  their days planning and

working to make something beautiful.

There ought to be more people who

care about the fate of others and

want justice and truth.

There ought to be more people with your golden heart

that still somehow remains light.

There ought to be more people like you

who treat me as a friend and colleage instead of

that awkward kid who sits in the back of the classroom

staring at his computer screen,

because he knows looking up means that someone may talk to him.

And he doesn't want to disapoint another person.

There ought to be more people like you

people who I call honorary brothers.

People who smile upon the broken world and say,

"Well then. We've got a lot of cleaning to do, don't we?"

Whilst you leave,

whilst you go off into the world of

whatever you do.

Let me just say that I'm proud of you.

I'm happy for you, and gratefull for the time we spend together.

It was wonderful to spend these moments with you

as fragile as they may have been

they were perfect all the same.

You taught me of the beauty in emotion that I had been missing all along

you showed me that happy endings can be worth writing.

You taught me of a new world.

Of theories and myth,

of culture I had never seen before.

And you allowed me to experience

without pain

without denying myself.

You allowed me to be more myself than I had ever been.

So whilst you leave me for someone better

something better

somewhere better.

Allow me just to say thank you.

Thank you for being you

and for letting me be me.

I still remember how I would

always be so excited when you spoke to me.

You really are special,

unique,

amazing.

I hope you realize that.

I sure do.

Forever yours,

your delicate little flower.

It was fun while it lasted.

I tried not to cry, 

I didn't want you to know how sad I was when you

were forced away from me by the very force of nature itself.

I faked happiness.

I still am.

Every day is just another day I wake up and remember that I live alone

because you're no longer there beside me.

And every day is just a struggle to follow my dreams like you would have wanted me to even though

they're not worth following without you.

And every day is another thousand tears cried at night

because if I cried them during the day someone might hear.

In the time I knew you, you swiftly became my one and only friend,

and even though I have other friends now they mean nothing

because you're not here to cheer me on.

You once asked how I'm so happy all the time and

I never told you but it's because you were there beside me.

I could stay happy because you were my reason to.

And now my reason is gone and I'm living.

I'm living without you.

It was hard to give you up but I had to

pretend like I was okay because I didn't

want you to worry and I

wanted you to go back to your loved ones.

That's why I stayed away from you that night.

I let you go.

But over the course of time you've become more important to me

than the blood in my veins,

more nessicary than the oxygen I breathe.

I would give my life just to be your friend again Read more »

The fact that you would actually stick with me

even though I'm pretty sure I'm a horrible human being who may have

sacraficed a past friend to save his own skin is amazing.

The fact that you would let millions of people in the future die to let me live

is incredible.

Being someone who cares for the people as you are.

The very thought that you want to see me again so badly

that you would go forth with almost no chance of survival

just to see me again is astouding.

Especially because you have your own dreams to live

and you were willing to give those up because it wasn't worth

living your dream without me.

This is incredible. This amazing sense of loyalty you have,

the belief in me,

the caring.

I've never had someone care so much about me before you.

Someone who would risk their lives just to be with me

believe in me even when I don't believe in myself.

I guess that's why I've come to know you as my best friend.

Thank you for pushing me away

across the ocean

and to the bay

of an island nearby.

Thank you for not thinking that I was far away enough yet,

for sending an army to force me farther away from you.

Thank you for the cuts and bruises on my body from the

words that you said which hurt more than the swords of the soldiers who you

secretly hoped would kill me.

Thank you for pushing me all the way to the deepest depths of the oceans,

because now I don't even know what is real and I love it.

You pushed me so far away that the only thing

keeping my from dying was my own growing insanity

building inside me.

Thank you for introducting me to the me that I never know I wanted to be

but found after just missing death.

Thank you for hating me and making me feel like I should end it all because

now I have a reason not to.

And sure my reason's insane but when you

left me out in the cold on my own it was the only reason I could find.

My mind prefers life to death and the only thing keeping me alive was

this insanity you unknowingly gave to me.

So thank you for pushing me off the end of the Earth

to the place I call home.

Where I am finally free from problems because I

can only see solutions to

the problems that don't exist.

Thank you for pushing me so close to death,

Because now I have her.

You complain of pain.

What do you know of pain?

Whenever you fall there's always fifty people ready to pick you up and

tell you that everything's going to be okay and

that you're beautiful.

When I fall,

I get up on my own lest I

die in the cold.

Or starve because

no one would bother to help me up.

You complain of abandonment,

but what do you know of it?

You may know the feeling of being abandoned by a few people

but you don't know the pain of being abandoned by everyone

you care about and realizing that

you were never anything more to them than a person

to help them when they still needed you

and that they found people who can fill their needs far better than you ever could.

You complain of loneliness,

but what do you know about those Friday nights

spent praying that someone would call, even if only a telemarketer,

just so you have someone to talk to?

Of knowing that no one will call,

of putting your phone number in graffiti just hoping that one day

someone will find it in stall three in the girl's bathroom and

call just to find out who it is.

You complain of your trust issues,

but what do you know about them?

When you have at least one confidant,

a best friend.

And here I am nuzzled in my own world

because at least the people in my head

can't leave me like you can.

You complain about those nights when I went crazy, Read more »

I don't know why I thought that history's pattern would change.

The laws of the universe bind us to a certain communal reality.

I don't know why I thought that such a reality could change.

But either way, I gave it the chance to.

I found that history cannot be re-written in you.

That our communal reality rejects certain ideas.

The idea of ever having a person who doesn't abandon me.

The idea of having a friend who actually stays when they learn enough about me.

Am I destined to be some lonely wolf

howling at the moon

knowing that no one will hear me?

Is this who I was meant to be?

I would think so,

because history repeats inself

and I've never been able to find a pack who accepts me.

The moon is my only constant friend

in our communal reality.

Because at least it doesn't leave

when it sees me cry.

He paints a blue sky

an orange setting sun.

He adds a tree,

two people

holding hands

and a picnic basket.

He paints an iris

under the tree

protected.

Her name was Iris.

He paints the smile he remembers,

innocent, pure.

He paints her hair in a ponytail

(she always looked happier with her hair like that).

And in the middle of the picture he paints a pillow

laughing while doing so.

She had always loved pillows.

It's silly,

but so was she.

He paints in all colors he knows

but black and red.

Because those remind him

that the painting can never be real

(he wishes she hadn't driven the car that day).

I look into the mirror

curiously

to see what I would find in the void in front of me.

But I did not see what I expected to see

I didn't see myself

but I saw her.

She waved hello in sync with me

perfect harmony

I smile,

as does she,

I breathe in time with her.

In and out

in and out.

Maybe this girl is me,

the mirror girl sure seems to be.

Her hands extend just a little farther, though

her head just a bit lower.

Her eyes sparkle like the moon

do my eyes do that too?

I wave goodbye and off I go,

on my merry way.

I'll visit later, I resolve.

And solve the mystery of

the ever mysterious mirror girl.

I take one more peek and she's gone.

And reality faded into illusions.

The mirror girl,

the other me,

dissapears without a trace.

And I would find her,

but I've got things to do

and people to see.

Maybe some other time,

when I'm not so busy.

By the time I see it next,

several months have passed.

The mirror is broken

shattered into so many pieces.

and I would fix it.

But I've got things to do,

and people to see.

Certainly the mirror girl can wait

until I'm a little less busy.

I saw her dancing

alone one Saturday morning

during a nice little jog.

I stopped to look at her.

Oddly

it seemed like no one else noticed her.

How odd indeed.

She saw me staring and flashed a smile at me.

Sticking out her hand

as an invitation.

"Care to join me?"

I instantly realized just how nervous I should be in this situation.

At beautiful girl was actually talking to me,

inviting me to dance,

which I don't know how to do.

"Thanks, but I don't know how to dance."

"Nor do I.

I'm just doing whatever feels natural.

Following my heart and what not."

I look around again.

I see people frowning at us.

They must not want her to dance.

She sees my looking.

"Yeah, they're not too pleased

about my dancing." She sighs.

"Everyone's a critic."

She smiles through her sentence.

The smile feels real,

natural,

inviting.

Maybe if so many people weren't looking,

maybe I would dance with her.

It looks like fun.

"So what do you think?

You want to dance with me?"

"I would if it weren't for all of them.

I would hate to have so many people frown upon me.

I don't know how you live with it."

"I feel sorry for them.

They don't know any better than to frown upon me.

After all,

I'm expressing something deep within me, Read more »

A small string snaps.

It didn't matter.

The wieght shifted slightly.

Who cares?

The other strings began to tear and break

they're just strings.

And the whole world began to fall apart.

Only to those weak enough to need strings at all.

Cracks through the face of the statue.

A perfect sign of its weakness.

The true form begins to shape.

Too little, too late.

Finally escaping its cacoon.

There's no beauty to this butterfly.

He puts rope where the strings once were.

It's not the same, he's no bound to anything.

And he finds a place.

A shabby home, but suiting of such a pathetic man.

He starts there. Every inch of the town soon envoleped in color.

For what good it will do him. No one can see the art from where he is. No one crosses the ropes like the did with the strings.

He smiles at his creation.

All alone.

He is finally free.

Free to find how useless he is.

Elevated from a world of peril.

Because he could never save it.

I'm sure of it for one minute.

We will fall in love,

get married,

have 2.2 children

(it's a decent estimate, I think it's somewhere near average).

Because love is starting to make sense

and life makes sense now.

And finally I will fit in somewhere. Read more »

It starts as a murmur,

a faint whisper travelling through the air,

but not quite heard

not quite understood.

It moves to a low growl,

constant, but still unheard,

unknown to the

ears of another.

It rises into plainly spoken words

finally reaching its intended audience of one,

"I love you."

The words pass right through the ears

barely heard

not understood.

The voice becomes a roar,

a desperate last yell to

fight for one last

slim chance.

"I love you!"

The words are heard,

understood,

a choice in a matter of seconds to be made.

The second voice joins in harmony;

the lions roaring together,

"I love you."

Your last hour is near;

One last hour.

Understand you only have 60 minutes left to redeem yourself

Repent your sins and pray that your god, any god will save you.

Death's knocking at your door

Evil spirits out for your soul

A shriek arrises in

The silence of the night.

He's coming, you don't have much time.

"I can run, I can cheat this death,"

Says you, though you don't believe a word.

Night's silence is more terrifying than death.

"Enough," you decide, "I will end this nightmare."

A glimmer of last hope

Repent your sins, and pray that something, anything will save you.

.

A smile

nothing went wrong.

A life,

a new energy born into the world.

New ideas,

new smiles.

He's a brother to a girl,

her first brother,

she holds him gently,

so that he won't be hurt.

I will protect him, she resolves.

I will do everything I can for him, even if it costs me my life.

Ten years later, the girl lies

in the same hospital where her brother once lived.

Car crash,

severe burns to her left side

massing cuts and bruses all over.

The boy cries when he sees his sister so hurt.

It hurts to move,

her leg won't move at all.

Maybe driving downtown to work out

wasn't such a great idea.

The very leg she hated for being so weak is now broken

completely off of her body (a leg that isn't there won't move).

It hurts,

she asks why she isn't sedated.

She is, they tell her.

Another dose of morphine.

The boy remembers back to when

his sister protected him from the bullies.

She had practiced tyjutsu just for such an occasion.

Eight year old boys, as it turns out,

can't beat a blue belt when she's angry.

And she was sure angry.

He breaks down crying again.

Out of all of the people in the world,

why her, why now?

Why did she have to be that one person out of a million?

How come the other guy in the accident didn't have to go to the hospital?

The injuries were more serious than they though. Read more »

I don't hold it against anyone.

I understand that believing in me

actually being there for me is

one heck of a tough job.

That's why I don't have any resumes.

It doesn't stop me from wanting someone who can understand, though

someone who stands up for me when no one else will

who actually pursues me when I'm being distant.

Someone who won't leave if a better offer comes along.

Someone who enjoys spending time with me

even if we're just being stupid

being stupid together, and enjoying it.

I want someone who understands that I am more than meets the eye

and knows that I still have hidden strength that no one can see

(just because I show weakness doesn't mean that it's all that I am).

I want a person who knows that I'm not just dead weight,

and who actually thinks of me highly enough to bother

picking me up when I feel down.

I understand why no one wants to do it,

it's a hard job.

And I'm not the most worthy candidate.

That doesn't mean that I can stop wishing, though

that I'll ever stop wanting that one friend.

But I can't change the past

so all I can do is hope for one in the future.

But if I've learned anything about patterns,

it's that they never change.

"Talk more? Yes, I miss you"

Well where do you think I've gone?

"I promise to always be there for you, and I don't make promises that I don't plan on keeping" (6).

Since when where you a liar?

"You're the best" (17).

You don't believe that.

"How can I help you?" (13)

Well that didn't last long.

"I'm here for you"(13).

But where are you now?

"I don't abandon my friends" (12)

Then why do I feel like you threw me away?

"We used to have such nice conversations" (18).

We still could.

"You've changed" (18)

Hardly, you've just gotten to know me too deeply.

"What's wrong? You're acting different" (18)

I'm acting like I usually do, I used to act different around you.

"Can I always talk to you?" (16)

Ask yourself that question. My answer has been yes all along. You seem to disagree.

"What are we?" (17)

We're friends.

"Why do you care so much about my well being?" (17)

We're friends.

"You say it so simply" (7)

It's something to be simply said.

"We don't talk any more" (17).

I've been here, where have you been?

"Do you actually want to hang out with me?" (16)

If not, I wouldn't be here.

"I'm leaving you. You've changed" (18)

I haven't changed at all. You've just gotten a glimpse of the me that's hidden a little beneath the skin.

"And I don't like it" (18)

Well it's not going to go away.

"What's wrong with you?" (18)

I'm myself. That seems to be the fault you find in me. Read more »

Wish one:World Peace.

Really,

who doesn't want to see the constant

worry of being attacked

and the loss of many loved ones go away?

It's not an original wish, but I believe in it strongly.

Wish two:Screw reality.

Let's face it,

what fantasy writer wouldn't want to escape to

a place where he (or she) can actually

be a true hero?

Where I am more than that boy who

sits next to you in class and

gives you an occasional smile that you never return?

(Unless you're that girl from history, in which case,

thank you for actually smiling back.

It means more to me than you know.)

It's a pathetic wish, I know

but with all the good this world's given me

why not?

I have no ties

no bonds that would need to be broken

but weak strings that hold me to a few important people

(And since there would be world peace, I wouldn't really need to worry about them).

Wish three:Her.

A constant companion who

never gives up on me and

never leaves me.

She would probably have blue eyes,

but maybe green.

(Eyes, in my mind, are more important than curves.

I don't understand curves, and probably never will.)

She would have a fierce spirit

one that gets me through the toughest of trials.

And she would want to spend time with me,

enjoy it, even.

She would never get sick of me

(though some of my horrible jokes may not suffer the same fate) Read more »

I cannot love.

I can hate,

oh can I hate.

But I cannot love.

My best friend is a tin can.

I call him Tinny.

He likes liquids.

Especially red ones.

He wants to be fed.

He only accepts the finest of red liquids.

I just need another five liters of your blood, darling.

I'm sure you won't die.

I feel more comfortable with a knife in my hand,

like I was meant to stab you.

I like kicking, punching,

simulating your death thousands of times over in my head.

I like the taste of blood.

The warm feeling that I get when I

lick my wounds clean

(the blood was injected into me to make me seem human).

But there is one fatal flaw in my design,

I love life.

I love nothing but life,

and I want people to keep on living.

I value peace over war

and I hate conflict.

Whoever made me to kill you all and take over the world

must have screwed up somehow.

Unless, of course,

they meant for my primary function to be failure.

So can I have a hug?

Don't worry about the knife in my hand

It's just a decoration.

It just needs a little splotch of red to be complete.

You have some red in you,

don't you?

You turn your head away

when we lock eyes.

Just before I greet you with

a smile and the simple two letter word,

"hi".

You turn away.

Did I upset you in some way?

We used to exchange thousands of words

but now one word seems to be too much

from me.

Are you sick of me?

The only words I hear you say to me are

forced out of your mouth.

Always said when I'm not looking at you.

Like you fear the

daggers that are my eyes.

If you're sick of me I understand,

I am too.

I'm sick of the disease that I am

this horrible plague that causes the people

who I once loved to

leave me

and I never know why.

And that's right,

I said loved.

Because the emotions rebelled

broke through the cell walls that kept them contained for so long.

I loved you.

But don't worry,

I've erased those feelings.

Love cannot survive in my

cold soul.

I sincerely apologize for my love of you,

I never meant for the emotions to escape.

I completely understand that you don't like me,

but is a two letter word such a crime?

Is it wrong to just want to greet you

and if I don't want to cry every time I look at you?

I remember when I was first dumped,

I never really liked her in that way

(I am a broken human being who does not know love).

She was nervous about it,

so I ended her pain.

"You're breaking up with me,

don't feel bad about it."

I remember the next sweet girl I met,

I wanted to fall in love with her,

to be part of my own romance novel

for once.

But I didn't,

I couldn't force it,

even though I tried.

Because I am a soulless being who

doesn't want to be.

And there there was the storm.

Everything come out in a shrill shriek

but love.

I can't lose what I don't have.

And it's depressing to think

that anyone would fall in love with me.

Because I am a soulless being,

who doesn't want to break hearts.

Don't spend a second on me,

I'm broken.

What is

reality?

When you really think about it, darling,

reality is relative.

In my reality,

maybe there are unicorns,

and maybe I have three roomates who

I have become best friends with.

Maybe we play board games together

and laugh while

reading odd stories we found on the Internet

(possibly involving dancing polar bears;

the Internet's an odd place.)

And in yours my room is empty albiet for the

board games and printed stories

scattered across my floor and desk,

because, to you, I am too lazy to bother with organization.

In your messed up version of reality you don't

belong anywhere but in a

rusty coffin six feet underground

(which will be hard to get out when you get turned into a zombie

via the zombie apocalyspe, so at least you've got that going for you.)

Whereas in mine you belong right where you are,

occasionally by my side

with a few witty remarks and

some light moral support that

never really helped anything because

by now you're broken most of your

promises to me

but hey, I never expected anyone to keep their promises to me

after the first twenty failed to even attempt to.

Really,

all I'm saying is that you shouldn't

accept your own reality as the only reality there is,

there's as many realities as there are people,

as many as the stars that you see in the sky at night, Read more »

I remember back when you bothered to notice me.

Wasn't that nice?

Two outsiders creating their own inside?

Wasn't that fun?

I remember how you would brag about how

amazing you were and

I never minded.

After all,

the best thing about being a narcassist's best friend

is that you get the title of the second best person in the world.

Do you remember when we

made a fake trial?

It didn't work out the way that my

organized mind had planned it out,

it was crazy,

but it was fun.

Wasn't it fun to accuse

my client of being a mass murderer

and cultist?

It was fun to defend him, too.

And remember when you and I

took some old tennis rackets and

hit a ball against

your house's wall?

On the side of your house,

of course,

where there wasn't a bee farm

Do you remember when we parted ways?

We said our goodbye with

your usual insults

and my usual partially good spirit about it.

And now we've lost contact,

but that's okay.

I know that you're off doing more important things than

losing to me in a virtual soccer match,

or killing those virtual zombies who would

jump out of the ceiling and

eat your character who unless you

remembered to save your bullets

just in case.

Just in case.

And soon enough you'll

be the starting goalkeeper for my

virtual soccer team Read more »

Do you like swords?

You always told me stories of peace,

how you wished nothing more than for it to come.

So why did you find it

nessicary to cut her wrists?

Is she really so low that you must

tell her what you think is good for her

and blackmail her for it?

(And yes, darling,

it's still blackmail if you don't get anything but for her to do something.)

And how can you even say that you

care for her when you treat her

as no better than a puppet?

A marrionette who suddenly

abandoned your commands.

Why must you assume things so rashly?

Why must you bring your assumptions to

harm her?

Is she really so pitiful that she will never seek her own health?

Is she really that low to you?

I understand what you were doing.

It was misguided,

ill informed,

and a total disregard to the fact that she has her own life

and choices to make.

We've all tread our own dark paths,

but please don't bring her into yours.

Personal hells, as it turns out,

are not made for other people to inhabit with you

by deciet and lies.

It's your own personal hell,

not hers.

Why do you fail to see that she is not like you?

She is not like you are,

she does not walk the path of hot coals

and bitter tongues that you do.

So stop torturing your "friend"!

If she means anything to you any more, Read more »

I don't have some

magic wand to make the years go back

or some words that will make you realize

that you're more than a waste of space,

more than a vacuum whose only purpose

is to such up the oxygen that other people could use.

I wish that I could help you with

what you're going through.

But any words from my lips would

be offensive because I

don't understand you pain and I

shouldn't even pretend to.

I know that you're going through a hardship,

that is all that I can really say.

Not even, though.

Perhaps that's an understatement.

Perhaps your pain is much more than that.

Or perphaps you consider youself idiotic for making

such a big deal about this.

To the latter I say:

it's not about the experiences you've had,

it's about the emotions that you're going through.

Don't let yourself,

or anyone devalue your suffering because they

don't know you like you do.

No one knows you like you do.

You're the only one who knows the extent of the pain

you're going through.

And I wish that I had words to say to help you

realize how much you're loved

and how special you are

just by being alive.

Your unique and amazing

in your own ways.

I wish that I had some spell to make you see

that the answers are not where you find them.

Answers cannot be found in knives,

guns,

or nooses Read more »

This is a poem from my nanowrimo novel. I felt like I should post it here too.

One day

I saw myself.

That girl whom I've been too afraid to

look at for so long.

She was in the mirror

staring back at me.

I didn't ask to be this girl,

I don't want to be her.

I wish that life had given me the choice to be someone else, Read more »