Silence

I hit square one
Just like I hit brick walls
The concrete buckling beneath the expected impact
Like it's my job to come undone
I'm back to where I began
The leafy greens rize above, proving my worth
To be shallow and small
In the cleverly constructed maze 
That's stretched before my eyes
Beneath the sunrise
It's the ultimate frustration, 
Finding such pain on a glorious morning.
I can't live like this anymore
But I can't move
I'm paralyzed, from the ground up
I never asked for this situation
I simply begged for redemption
And if it's a test, then a test it shall be
But if I'm encased forever in what could be
I'll keep circling what should be
What will never be
I hit square one
Just like I hit brick walls
I do it all the time,
My laughing audience the maze 
That's stretched beyond my eyes.

...Where the Ocean Meets the Sky

In limbo, I lie, preparing for the war

That will rage within, the moment your eyes grow cold.

My heart will surely shrink back

To its infinitely negative proportions

As it rests, frozen, out in the bay.

You can find the rest of me

Afloat among the ashes of yesterday.

I swoon and shudder along the perils of self-defeat

It's chaos in the breakdown

The beauty in the isolation of retreat

That keeps me reaching for stars

As they flutter along a depth I once knew.

Scraping sky in hopes to find the sun

Where I first found you,

As I fall, in plain sight

Before your very eyes

To where the ocean meets the sky.

Still Frames

The sun's rays create a lightshow 

as they dance across my face.

For a mere instant, I feel a long-lost warmth 

that I can't help but embrace.

For a moment, I'm not thinking the jumbled thoughts 

that still scatter themselves across the still-frames 

that play inside my head.

I'm not taunted, and for a split second, 

you're not dead and I'm not mourning.

It's days like these, when

eternity peeks through the dull grey clouds,

that I miss you the most.

It provokes an involuntary glimmer of hope

that tricks me into thinking of a summer

when I was simply a footnote 

in someone else's half-assed tall-tale

about the infinity of best friends.

Were we really best friends? It's so surreal now.

In summer, you were someone else entirely.

You were so lively, and I was so ...alive.

It must have been a miscommunication

that left you off at the station, 

crudely eager to say goodbye.  

But then again, so was I.

That very thought catalyzes the moment 

that when reality hits me, 

and it hits me hard, 

every time. 

Every memory.

Every word.

Every line.

I know I can't go back.

That hope is fragmented moments of what once was.

I'll bear being empty,

as I clutch on to sanity's coattails, begging for redemption.

But don't you have those days

where you just miss those days?

The Breakthrough

I never could figure out why I could only derive inspiration from pain.  Lately, the more I try to write, draw, or paint, the harder it is to develop something worthy of what I want others to see in me, or even simply of the raw expression that I'm looking for.  Up until tonight I've concluded that it's just that I've finally found an escape valve from the pain, and so the inspiration that came with it no longer exists.

The past few years of my life, before 2010, have been so full of tragedy.  I've had to rely simply on surviving, and through that, I was given so much inspiration.  At least, that's what I thought I got my inspiration from.  Struggle seems to be a very beautiful thing superficially, because it makes me stronger.  But underneath that struggle is the strength that you've given me to help me get through the bad things in life so that I can experience the marvel that surrounds me.  

Coming out of probably the darkest period I'll ever have experienced in my life, I have spent about a year with my heart caged in, concealed in liquid nitrogen and guarded by the intellect that you've blessed me with and the numbness that the fallen have talked me into.  I know that you understand I was just trying to protect myself, but I'm so sorry.  I feel as though I've taken from you the best parts of myself, and locked them away out of the world's sight.  It's just that I never took the time to believe that you were with me, giving me a reason to live through my art.  I never even considered that you valued my art.  I never took the time to even look behind me and see, friend, that you were standing there, bearing most of the pain I've resented, giving me an escape hatch through the one thing you knew would keep me alive by my own free will.  Friends didn't, family didn't,.... but my art did.  You knew that, and you handed it to me as my world (not to mention my self-destructive attitude) beat the crap out of you.

I've ignorantly climbed the ladder of surviving a world by playing its rules, and I've finally reached the top- a cluttered soapbox of my own personal strength.  Tonight, though, I'm humbled.  The pain I've complained about, preached about, and idolized has mainly reared its infliction on you, and I finally get it.  I'm deeply sorry for that.  It breaks my heart that you had to exponentially go through what I went through, and it silences me to know that you bore my pain just so I didn't have to.  You're a true friend, bearing the pain that I never could.  Thank you for that.  As far as my self-defeating nature, my scars are like a bad tattoo that I can look back on in 20 years and laugh; they'll remind me of who's really in charge in my life.

I won't be perfect, and I can't make any promises about my future actions.  But I can promise to try.  I'm done living by the world's rules.  You can rest assured that I'll always love you.  I'm flawed, but you chose a very fitting name for me, Jesus.  Amanda, as you know, means worthy or deserving of love.  I've always laughed at the irony that I see in my own name, but tonight I finally understand.  I'm not only worthy of your love, but you've blessed my heart with the strength to be worthy to love as well. I'm taking a stand.  My heart has the potential to be staggering in its ability to love. 

It's my life, and I'm taking a stand.  I'm choosing to love regardless of circumstance, because no matter what happens in my future, you'll be next to me, ready to take the world on.

Solitary Dandelions

You know those dandelions that we used to blow on as children, completely oblivious to the fact that we were planting multitudes more with each breath as the cotton-like seeds scattered across the grass?  

Sometimes, I feel like one of those little flecks of white that fly across the summer sky, only I'm still floating years later.  Spring, autumn, and winter have echoed as they crossed my path multiple times since I've felt attached to something.  I'm alone, and lonely, floating through the sky.  People can appreciate me from a distance, but they can't really catch me.  Or maybe they don't want to.  I really don't know.  I'm not depressed, but I think the silence, or the segregation is finally taking its full impact.

Sometimes I think I'm watching myself live my life, and I'm never really happy with the complacency that I'm stuck in, but no matter how much I try to get this person who's living my life to live beautifully, she won't seem to parallel her actions with my aspirations.  Her replacement is cold, and the person she once was is gone.  I'm sorry for that, to you who expected more from me.

What's worse is that I can't pretend I'm not scared for the eventual seed I'll place in the earth when I finally land on the grass, or that I'm not wretchedly terrified of the person who will pick me up for the sake of simple appreciation.  I can't pretend that I'm not afraid to wake up, or to reattach myself to someone.  It's like people who spend years in solitary confinement.  How do we live when we return to earth as so many have seen it for years?

It's insane that I even think about my life in terms of something as ridiculous as a dandelion, but you know, I can't seem to get that idea out of my head.

Rain

There is something about rain that is so cleansing.  It's been raining all day, and I've happily traded my flip-flops for my tattered converse sneakers to walk across campus.  I can't seem to focus on where I am supposed to be, though.  Rainy days remind me of the smell of cedar, that great feeling when you are drenched in cold rain and go inside to take a really hot shower, trips to Galeton to yardsale with my Grandmother, and at the same time cottages in the middle of the woods.  They make me feel the great, innocent things of childhood and ironically like a calm, cool, collected adult.  I just want to curl up with a chai latte, a great old book like Into the Wild, and waste the day away.  Forgive me if I sound bitter but here I am, in the Cyber Cafe, drinking starbucks and doing homework.  Boo, hiss.

(:

A Dream

Here I ride along the blurred line
Of insanity, sanity, and foolproof mediocrity
A display of smoke and mirrors
Prevents me from finding the finish line.
I'm too numb to remember the feeling
Of a good day in the sun
And the heroin as it infiltrated my veins
The insanity that infiltrated my airways
As I breathed it in like an addict
Who was down to my final days.
How long will I do time
In this prison of a life?
They chastise me for being honest,
When they hide behind their pride
It's all that I can do 
To stay stable, as I ride the blurred line
Of insanity, sanity, and foolproof mediocrity.