Lately I've been wondering if anyone reads my blog. I'm thinking 100% absolutely not. No one reads it. I have two followers (ooh, two followers!) and I'm pretty certain they only "followed" me out of pity or obligation and that they never care to read what I put out. No matter, though. I don't really care. My life isn't all that interesting and I don't tend to write about it anyway. So if anyone likes random snippets of story ideas, then this blog is for you. Otherwise...I guess just tip your hat and carry on.
It's like a pitiful version of Facebook. Everyone posts statuses and expects everybody else to read them, but let's face it people, that just doesn't happen. Facebook is all about the person who's name is in blue bar at the top right corner of the page. It makes people incredibly self-centered. Instead of posting pictures just because you want to, you post pictures and have an expectation in your head that it "needs" to be "liked" within the first half hour of posting it or else it sucks or you're not pretty or whatever comment you're striving for.
Facebook is a big fat life-waster and ego-inflater. And I absolutely despise it's addictive power.
Yeah.
So I thought, what the heck? What if I posted some of my deepest, darkest thoughts on here? Still, no one would read it. Maybe that's what I should do, though. Since no one pays any mind to these blocky, virtual journal postings, it wouldn't make any difference.
Still, though, I won't do that. If I posted that sort of thing, someone may, by chance or destiny, stumble upon the blog and seriously consider whether I belong in the looney bin.
So, adios, I suppose. I'm sure I'll write soon.
Or probably not.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
The Stuff of Night Terrors
Bleed Out My Decay
I didn't know where I was; all I knew was that it wasn't anywhere safe, it was nowhere I wanted to be. Panic choked me, leaving me helpless, as quiet tears streamed down my battered cheeks. I had an impending sense that any second I was going to die.
A scream left me when I looked down at my hands. Blood began to gush from my nail-beds, dying them crimson. It felt like someone had lit the tips of my fingers on fire, burning like some kind of macabre candles.
I couldn't stand and I couldn't speak. I could only scream and whimper.
Blood flowed faster than I thought possible, coating my palms with sticky red and making my cries louder. My skin started cracking like scorched, parched earth and more blood spilled from my pores. I couldn't stop staring as my body slowly died.
---------
Forsaken and Falling
I call out, screaming into the darkness. I stretch my arms forward, grasping nothingness, but wishing for a familiar presence. I know nobody is there, not close, not anywhere; I can sense the vacancy, but my hope runs away with me, and I shout louder, wanting to pierce the never-ending quiet and blackness, to not feel so alone.
I lose my balance and slowly I begin to fall backward, as if the ground just crumbled away beneath my bare feet. There's no stopping this. Bending back, I take a deep breath before the free fall begins.
I don't know where I'm going, racing headfirst through the pitch blackness like a stray bullet, unable to see the bottom of the canyon. Is this where I die? Where I've finally reached my limit and can take no more? What a pitiful death; to lie crumpled at the bottom of a ravine with no one to ever find you, to ever bring you back home. The casket will be closed and empty while my family weeps and my friends wonder.
I clasp my arms tightly about me, wishing one last time for a comforting embrace. Why couldn't my ending be happy? Somehow I knew it never would be. The realization turned my heart into a stone. I always told myself if I was loyal enough, if I loved enough, I'd get my fairy tale life and the career I continuously strove for.
That's why I can't help but write sad endings, I think as I close my eyes against silent tears, the air that rushed about me whipping them away.
Solid ground quickly came up to meet me.
---
I was half asleep when I wrote these. I'm sure it's easy to tell. Anywho, these are the kinds of things I've been dreaming the past few nights. Perhaps that's why I've felt so gosh darn tired lately.
I didn't know where I was; all I knew was that it wasn't anywhere safe, it was nowhere I wanted to be. Panic choked me, leaving me helpless, as quiet tears streamed down my battered cheeks. I had an impending sense that any second I was going to die.
A scream left me when I looked down at my hands. Blood began to gush from my nail-beds, dying them crimson. It felt like someone had lit the tips of my fingers on fire, burning like some kind of macabre candles.
I couldn't stand and I couldn't speak. I could only scream and whimper.
Blood flowed faster than I thought possible, coating my palms with sticky red and making my cries louder. My skin started cracking like scorched, parched earth and more blood spilled from my pores. I couldn't stop staring as my body slowly died.
---------
Forsaken and Falling
I call out, screaming into the darkness. I stretch my arms forward, grasping nothingness, but wishing for a familiar presence. I know nobody is there, not close, not anywhere; I can sense the vacancy, but my hope runs away with me, and I shout louder, wanting to pierce the never-ending quiet and blackness, to not feel so alone.
I lose my balance and slowly I begin to fall backward, as if the ground just crumbled away beneath my bare feet. There's no stopping this. Bending back, I take a deep breath before the free fall begins.
I don't know where I'm going, racing headfirst through the pitch blackness like a stray bullet, unable to see the bottom of the canyon. Is this where I die? Where I've finally reached my limit and can take no more? What a pitiful death; to lie crumpled at the bottom of a ravine with no one to ever find you, to ever bring you back home. The casket will be closed and empty while my family weeps and my friends wonder.
I clasp my arms tightly about me, wishing one last time for a comforting embrace. Why couldn't my ending be happy? Somehow I knew it never would be. The realization turned my heart into a stone. I always told myself if I was loyal enough, if I loved enough, I'd get my fairy tale life and the career I continuously strove for.
That's why I can't help but write sad endings, I think as I close my eyes against silent tears, the air that rushed about me whipping them away.
Solid ground quickly came up to meet me.
---
I was half asleep when I wrote these. I'm sure it's easy to tell. Anywho, these are the kinds of things I've been dreaming the past few nights. Perhaps that's why I've felt so gosh darn tired lately.
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