Jumping Off A Bridge

This is not a metaphor. It happened. Someone I know jumped off a bridge. It's completely altered my state of mind and I feel frightened. It's an exposed feeling and I feel very vulnerable to the different things surrounding me. My sense of reality is parched and concentration ebbs but for the breathe I take in, and the breath I let out. I didn't know him very personally, but I think it is for this that I feel most shaken by the situation. We went to school together. I remember always knowing who he was and having spoke to him maybe on two different accounts. He was in my Drama class. He put on a dress for a scence once and made everyone laugh. His friends were mine and mine were his, but we didn't know each other. This makes me reaffirm the grand idea I hold dear that life is so precious and so full of such detail. I don't know why I didn't know him and I wish I had. What if? I know my influence would have been insignificant, but in times like these the thought of what if is inevitable. I feel overwhelmed and was told all I could do for him is pray. I wonder what people feel and I feel it kind of funny that moments after receiving the news, I felt it necessary to type out my thoughts in order to receive solace. I'm scared for people and I'm scared for the awful things that happen to us. It's so easy to live the way I do...to be carelessly happy and trot along with simple notions and romances. But these demons make themselves present and rattle your understanding and comfort of what life is to its core. The world, though very beautiful, is very ugly. I hate it. I am disgusted by myself. How could one possibly ever go on with the idea of peace and love and happiness when such awful things aren't retained. They burst in uninvited and toss you to the ground like a rag doll. The sheer conception of anything lit by a bright eminence and decorated by streamers and balloons is stupid. There is no need. It feels like a tired facade for it has been here all the while and no one dared mention it to their neighbor. This then brings my great disillusionment with all things trite and unoriginal. It then makes me think how incredibly scary it is to hold one's ignorance dear to you. But why? Why are we striving for things we do not know. Why is it that the thoughts already thunk by greater thinkers are revolving around our heads, but when grasped upon it is like a sense of an epiphany, but it is not. It is a reaffirmation of stupidity. I don't know anymore. I wish for humility and acceptance for myself and friends, but the concept is so silly and so vast. It's hard to find a point to it all and I know bad feelings go away, but why is nothing retained? Why is it all lost and replaced with such superficial and selfish ideas? It's times like these I feel very ashamed of the human race. Cynicism is something rooted in me and I shun it so often for hopes of my character to be more pleasing instead. But why? I wonder and am left baffled. So what's the point of even going on?

On The Brain

Do you ever see a picture of someone and immediately think, "I would like them."? Sometimes I feel like I want so much out of life, but I forget how much I want from what's so simply around me. A good conversation always gets my senses tingling. A good movie will often do the same, provoke a sort of notion and let you slip mindlessly into some broken idea of what better company or better circumstances are like. I don't mean anything by this. I don't mean there can be anything better, I mean there's something I've got that I can actually fulfill every so often. However, it's this insecurity that drives me. I know there's a vast, infinite, grand, astronomical, insert every other word in the english dictionary that means great amount of things that make this world. The places, the species, the plants, the culture, the weather, the sounds, the feelings. Oh I don't know what's happened here, there's no chance of being bored because there is just so much...depth to it all. I swear, in the most minute, tiniest, insignificant, microscopic, insert every other word in the english dictionary that means little things there's a story of it's beginnings, doings, purpose, and endings. And that's not to mention it's trials, trivialities, embarassments, discoveries, accomplishments and the like. I don't know. There was a woman I came upon one time. She smiled and I thought, "I want to have a conversation with her." But I didn't. So it made me sad that this piece of the world that was offered to me just carelessly slipped by and I'll surely never get to understand it. This then sparks another thing to mind. The word that immediately comes to mind is ashamed. However, this is not not not not not not true. I've been so honestly given an idea of what should be by my dad for so long growing up, that what actually had become is not the case. Sex, drugs and alcohol have indeed been so much of who I've been before and no doubt who I'll be. But it's who I am that day. Although the negative connotation plagues these things, I can only appreciate what's been a result from them. And that is me. And that is not to say I solely owe myself to these things, that would be tragic. No such thing can exist only because there's so much that can fuel a person. I'd like to think therein lies the story that is so intriguing. I don't know....Take me into the thick mist that is your story and I'll take you into mine. It's only fair.

This Is Silly

Garble, gufaw, chortle. There is a beat to follow... Listen to life chime. My coffee is done. Ding! The toast is done. Spring! Good morning text. Ring! There is a something written. It lies between the things I do. I take a shower. Clean! I put on clothes. Seamed! I walk outside. Green! I hum along, this beat is getting phat. It sounds something like: Lah lah lah lah ooh oh ooh. It's something written in the mundane. I see it something plain. I want to get on a plane. Far far far far far away from here. Here I go, away from here. Escape the plain by plane. But when I get there, I'll hum along to: Lah lah lah lah ooh oh ooh. It's always the same this thing I thought was plain. Why'd I waste money on that plane? It's here and now, the things that are happening. These things are bright and ring around me. They tease and taunt and keep me. They keep me sane. Garble, gufaw, chortle. I smile at the noises. I smile at the people. I smile at your smile. It's all I wanted, anyways. It's gonna be alright, there's no reason not to. What I can tell you, however, is good advice is often hard to follow. Things happen. I can't stop it. It is what is. That's what I've been told before, and I believe it. People are different. People are so much the same sometimes, but people are different. I appreciate this. I appreciate what's been said to me. It's helped make me. Besides from the point...I can't stop this beat. It's not my favorite song, but it's always in my head. Garble, gufaw, chortle.