Rusted

Every now and then I feel like no one knows how I feel.
No one that is.
No one as in person.

But there is a way to describe how I feel -- and not in a textural sense.
Rust.

That's the best way to describe me -- rust.


Okay, so I'm not saying that my skin is very reddish orange and feels like metal sandpaper... no, indeed that would be crazy...

No, what I'm saying is that, I'm like rust.

Rust is something that I find beautiful. It is something that is burned and weathered by the elements around it, creating its harsh, coloured texture. Ultimately it is weak and isn't always appreciated.






The thing is, I feel like rust sometimes.

I can look beautiful... or I can be different colours that some find intriguing, but ultimately, I can be harsh. I can be weak and unappreciated.

My defective character or the fact that I am socially inept, (or something of the like) is the only reason I can explain these jaded, rough edges, carved away by the world around me -- these situations, these trials, these people that I meet.

At first, my rough surface is just that -- the wear and tear has only affected the outmost appearance. But eventually, it digs itself deep into my core, and I become brittle, ready to crack, break and cry -- a shattered pile on the floor.

Eventually, the Good Mechanic repairs me... when I've decided that it's no longer possible to maintain the fragile state that the rust finds itself in

Sometimes, I feel like rust.

Take My Hand

I'll cut this silence and make a stand
"Will you run with me? and
Take my hand?

"I've been living life a little too bland
So now to be bold, will you
Take my hand?

"I've been offered the world, but it aint too grand
But I've found what I need, if you'll
Take my hand.

"You see, life very rarely goes the way I planned,
I know things will make sense, just
Take my hand.

"I've searched the forests and fields in every land
But I'll search no more, if you'd just
Take my hand

"So you've heard my love and my laugh and my stand
Will you run with me? Will you
Take my hand?"




June 2 2008

What Are Words Anymore

What am I doing here?

No, that's a stupid question. 
The truth is, that doesnt even really matter right now.



Okay, here it is. I want to be broken, but I cant handle the pain... no

I dont want to handle the pain
not alone


Gotcha. Not alone. 
I know I'm not.
But yes. Yes I am.
Dont tell me I'm not.
If you do, than
you 
dont
know 
jack.





I've been there.
There. Where it deep down hurts.
Where I'm crying til 4 in the damn morning.
That's what you get.

And what do I do with it? God knows... 
... it's beyond me...

But the thing that gets me -- why are other people so calloused?

Doesn't anyone care anymore?


IF we are going to make a difference, shouldn't it start with caring? Loving? Does anyone know what that means anymore?







Love.
Words have lost their meaning.


May 30 2008

The Sounds of Silence

Every fifteen seconds or so, when there's no traffic going by -- none close by at all, it's as though the city streets are suspended.

All except for that constant loud and protrubing noise that seems to ever peirce my eardrums.

Some people who live in the city all their lives will never understand what the sound of silence is truly like.

Because in this city, this cities silence anyhow, there is never honest silence.





The sound of silence that I can best describe is a yearly, but also seasonally seasoned occurance back home.

Spring.
You will be greeted with the quiet rustlings of the newly forming leave buds. Beyond that? There is nothing. Only silence.

Summer. 
You will find yourself lying on your back with the window wide open, the occasional muskeeto that managed to break through your screen window buzzing off in the corner of your room. The sound of frogs chirping in the near-yet-distant ponds outside of your house are accompanied with the purest sound of silence.

Fall.
You will find yourself reminiscing over spring, yet also find that the rustling has become more bold, as the brilliant and vivid reds and yellows and oranges and greens scamper along the ground, together blending in a magnificent symphony of sweet lullabies. The only other sound to be heard, is silence.

Winter.
This time of year, you will be mainly met with the most bold silence you've ever dared to encounter. Aside from the silence, the occasional cracking of branches may be heard, as the weight of the snow pressures the limbs of the once beautifully decorated maple to become fragile and snap.

Oh silence.
In this city, what could come close to comparing with your soft hushes of sleep?
I shall sleep sound again when I enter your North-most boundaries.

Sitting the Fence

How does that work?

"Well, I can see how it works. There's really only two sides."

Really? There's only two sides?

"Honestly, I'm looking right now. There's one side, and then there's the other side. Two sides. "

Have you considered the third side? Maybe there's an alternative choice.

"Listen God, there's clearly only two visible options. And cant you see that I'm sitting smack in the middle, right on this fence? Trust me, I see both sides. One side, and the other. It's as clear as night and day."

But between night and day, is there not also dusk and dawn?

"Okay, God, no, You're missing the point, You're getting caught up on the logistics of -- look. I can see both sides, and to tell Ya the truth, neither of them look like great options."

Okay, I'm listening. Go on.

"Well, on the one side, it's miserable. It's dark, and I can feel the heaviness and dampness seeping into my bones here. There's tears and pain, and a lot of emotion. God, the emotion on this side of the fence is overwhelming. But You know God, its not a bad place, it just hurts like -- well, You get the picture."

I do. 
Please, continue.

"Well okay. Then there's the other side of the fence. God, this side is bright and lively and it's full of smiles, but -- I cant feel anything here God. It's the opposite of the other side. There, I was flooded with emotion, but here, God, there's none at all. I feel numb. No, I choose to be numb. Oh, it's a happy place, but, the richness of "emotion" is lacking here. It's all forced on this side."

I see.

"So, I've decided that I'll try to sit on this fence here in the middle God. This is the only good option You've provided me with. I'm not angry or bitter toward You God. No, I love You so much! That doesn't change. And I love the people that You've put around me God! That doesn't change either. But I feel like a bathtub thats never satisfying. I'm either filled and overflowing with emotions, or I'm shallow and empty God."


I see. And which option do you choose?

"God, I cant! So, I'll sit on the nifty little fence right in between. Its quite the balancing act, but hopefully I can do it Lord."

Well, my child, this is where being God comes in handy. I can see a third option that you've missed.

"What do You mean?"

Well, I didn't intend for you, or anyone for that matter, to sit on the fence. The fence you sit on, well, it is not mine child. I did not intend for a split between the two sides, but alas! It has come to be.

"So You mean, the third option is... no fence at all?"

That's right.

"Wait, but -- no fence?"

No fence. None.

"But how can two opposites come together to be one? The feeling and not feeling? How God?"





And so, I am left praying to God.
I dont have answers.
This is where I'm at.
This is my prayer: finish the story Lord.

Amen.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

I think the hardest thing is not knowing where you're going in life.





All of our lives, we've wondered and puzzled about that light at the end of the tunnel, but I find myself wondering why no one stops to take a look at the beautiful, yet painfully sculpted walls that lead us to the end. I know I'm not the only person who is uncertain about the future, but I cant help but wonder how much deeper the lines of worry will dig their way into my already crazy and stressful life.





Sometimes I wish I could see what lay on the walls ahead of me in this tunnel we're in. I feel like I'm stumbling, eyes shut, feeling my way towards the light. 
Sometimes, I dont even know if I'm going in the right direction.


I think the hardest thing is not knowing where you're going in life. 

Faith Like Swing

You know when you're little, and it's really easy to do what your mom or dad tells you to do, because you pretty much trust that they know what they're talking about? I dont find it very easy to do anymore. You know -- the whole, trust thing...

This is how I figure it: faith is a lot like swing dancing. When my friend was teaching me some basics about swing, I started off by worrying about how to step properly, how to move the right way -- pretty much butchering the dance. My friend told me that I had to trust him, and that if I trusted him, I would go where his hands lead me. I tried again, trusting him a little more, but not entirely. The dance was still awkward and choppy. "Trust me," he said, and I let go, and just gave in to the fact that I was not the one who was leading, I was not the one in control, -- he was.

That's kinda how it is with faith -- at least, that's how I figure it. God is leading us in this crazy dance we call life. He's taken us in His arms, and He's whispering in our ear, "Trust me." It's not easy. We try to let go, but we still want to be in control. "Trust me," He says, and sometimes we let go.
Sometimes though, when we arent expecting a certain move, we tense up and go back to trying to control our lives. God's patient voice and loving eyes are still telling us to trust Him, but trust isn't something that comes easily to most of us.

So I figure, faith is a lot like swing. You might get dizzy from all the dips and spins, but once you let go and just trust, everything works out to be quite a lovely dance in the end.