Acid Rain
CRACK. My eyes open as my brain reboots. In the first second, I am bewildered and confused. "What happened to God posing as a mad clown, trying to kill my friends? Did he succeed in becoming a doppelganger of someone close to me?" By the second second, the real world to separate from the dream world. Within the third second, I have already forgotten what I had been dreaming about. Now, four seconds have passed, and I am in pain. I remember the days before, I remember my situation, I remember my life. A red light blinks unintelligible digits at me, as though taunting me. I squint my eyes; 2:37 PM. "Seven and a half hours of sleep," I mutter to myself. I don't want to leave the comfort of my bed. I have nothing to do today. I have nothing to live for today. If I were to only wake up on Tuesdays and Thursdays, nothing would change.
I want to go back to sleep. My body has energy, but my mind does not. "Is there anyway I can go to sleep, and wake up as a different person? Can I wake up happy?" I plead with my pillow. My prayers go unanswered. Much like any other "loving God", I am told to go become a different person by myself. Go become happy with my own power. This, of course, is told to me, by the pillow, in sign language. "Duh, of course pillows don't talk," I exclaim the the reader of my journal.
I stumble from my bed and push my glasses onto my face. I trudge to the bathroom and undress. I examine myself in the mirror. "Ugh. More acne." I sigh to myself sadly. My muscles are deteriorating daily, from misuse and malnutrition. Every day, they scream at me. I respond childishly, "Silly arm muscles, you know I've become deaf to any rational logic." Instead, I look to my stomach. I suck in my belly and wonder why I even care. I let it go and walk away sadly to the shower. The water falls. Cold. So very cold. After the water slowly warms up, I wonder why I ever leave the shower. If I had to call anything a saint, it would be the shower. I plug up the bath, and lie there, under the warm rain, as the water rises. I look to white skies and close my eyes. I drift off into a cozy world where nothing matters...
CRACK. My eyes open as my brain reboots. I guess I ran out of hot water. I look around, dazed and disappointed. I finally begin my shower. Cold. So very cold. With that, I finish my cleanse and dry off. I dress and return to my room. I look to my cell phone, where my words reach. I can still hear the sobs over the phone from a few nights before. Can I forgive myself? "Maybe when the tears dry," I respond sadly. I look away. I then look to my binder, where my writings lay. I can still feel the fire in my hands as I burned the letter that caused my greatest regret. No. The letter didn't cause it. I mean, I wrote it. I look instead to my computer, where my false world is contained. My computer. My blessed computer. How many lonely nights have you been there for me? For laughs, for tears, for better or worse, you were here for me. I suddenly have the urge to take a bat and smash my computer to pieces. If a third of your life is being asleep, how many hours have I used on video games, television, comics, and the computer itself? In that respect, I don't actually live even HALF of my life. More of it is spent in dream worlds, or false worlds. Do I really live? I curse under my breath.
I curse myself for wanting to see someone. "Why do I need people? Why am I so lonely?" The thought is immediately discarded when I think of how much I need to get done. Other people are naturally a distraction. Lots of times, I just want to be alone. I need time to think, and I have all the time in the world. But I don't. Outings and social events, friends coming over... It's like an alcohol. You can be addicted to it, or you can despise it. You can have it every now and then. But either way, when you partake in it, you become a different person and your emotions become less controlled. Maybe for happy things, or maybe for sad. The next day, you wake up with a headache. Your place is a mess, and you're out of food, but you still want more.
I am aware of my unhealthy lifestyle. Sleeping all day, watching movies, playing video games, or reading comics until the early hours of the morning. Rinse. Repeat. Often times, I forget to eat. "When did my life go down the toilet?" I wonder, without caring about the answer. Now, of course, I know I'm young, I have time to change and improve everything. I know I want to, somewhere deep inside. But my spirit's broken. Have you ever played a game for hours and hours, and suddenly either lost or the wall plug was pulled or the electricity ran out? You turn the game back on, and you haven't saved it. You're back where you've started. These are the times that are hardest to play again.
My neck aches. I talk to people. Somehow, the huge meteor that formed from the screams from everyone saying "It's NOT that big of a deal!!" approaches me. The tiniest fragment, the smallest pebble, bumps into my shoe, and I almost realize it. Sometimes, I don't understand why I make such a big deal of things. I expose my greatest regret and hear "Is that it?" Why can't I realize I'm making a fuss over nothing? Why do I care too much about what others think? Am I over-analyzing? Am I paranoid? No matter how much I tell myself "You're not special" why can't I let myself believe it? I just want to be important. I just want to be remembered. I just want you to care. Is that so wrong?
Eyes. Better than any painting, the true masterpiece are the eyes. A window into the soul, as though it's talking to you. I couldn't understand the language, but I still liked what I heard. I looked into her eyes and wondered why they were so lifeless. Is it only when you look at me? I looked into his eyes and wondered why I could never find any fear. How can you be so strong? I looked into your eyes and I wanted to cry. Why are you so sad? Yes, the eyes. I could have thrown away the rest of the world for a pair of eyes. But now... I'm feeling bitterness spreading into mine. With these eyes of mine, when I see the sparkling happiness in her pair of eyes, or his pair of eyes, or your pair of eyes, I'm stricken with grief and overridden with pain. I want to spread my despair, just so I don't have to feel that pain. "Please, stop smiling," I begged the lifeless photo. The feeling I get from watching a happy ending warms my heart. But after a while, I realize I'm not the main character. I realize that happy ending wasn't mine. No, nothing's like the movies.
CRACK. My eyes open as my brain reboots. I guess I ran out of hot water. I look around, dazed and disappointed. I finally begin my shower. Cold. So very cold.
I want to go back to sleep. My body has energy, but my mind does not. "Is there anyway I can go to sleep, and wake up as a different person? Can I wake up happy?" I plead with my pillow. My prayers go unanswered. Much like any other "loving God", I am told to go become a different person by myself. Go become happy with my own power. This, of course, is told to me, by the pillow, in sign language. "Duh, of course pillows don't talk," I exclaim the the reader of my journal.
I stumble from my bed and push my glasses onto my face. I trudge to the bathroom and undress. I examine myself in the mirror. "Ugh. More acne." I sigh to myself sadly. My muscles are deteriorating daily, from misuse and malnutrition. Every day, they scream at me. I respond childishly, "Silly arm muscles, you know I've become deaf to any rational logic." Instead, I look to my stomach. I suck in my belly and wonder why I even care. I let it go and walk away sadly to the shower. The water falls. Cold. So very cold. After the water slowly warms up, I wonder why I ever leave the shower. If I had to call anything a saint, it would be the shower. I plug up the bath, and lie there, under the warm rain, as the water rises. I look to white skies and close my eyes. I drift off into a cozy world where nothing matters...
CRACK. My eyes open as my brain reboots. I guess I ran out of hot water. I look around, dazed and disappointed. I finally begin my shower. Cold. So very cold. With that, I finish my cleanse and dry off. I dress and return to my room. I look to my cell phone, where my words reach. I can still hear the sobs over the phone from a few nights before. Can I forgive myself? "Maybe when the tears dry," I respond sadly. I look away. I then look to my binder, where my writings lay. I can still feel the fire in my hands as I burned the letter that caused my greatest regret. No. The letter didn't cause it. I mean, I wrote it. I look instead to my computer, where my false world is contained. My computer. My blessed computer. How many lonely nights have you been there for me? For laughs, for tears, for better or worse, you were here for me. I suddenly have the urge to take a bat and smash my computer to pieces. If a third of your life is being asleep, how many hours have I used on video games, television, comics, and the computer itself? In that respect, I don't actually live even HALF of my life. More of it is spent in dream worlds, or false worlds. Do I really live? I curse under my breath.
I curse myself for wanting to see someone. "Why do I need people? Why am I so lonely?" The thought is immediately discarded when I think of how much I need to get done. Other people are naturally a distraction. Lots of times, I just want to be alone. I need time to think, and I have all the time in the world. But I don't. Outings and social events, friends coming over... It's like an alcohol. You can be addicted to it, or you can despise it. You can have it every now and then. But either way, when you partake in it, you become a different person and your emotions become less controlled. Maybe for happy things, or maybe for sad. The next day, you wake up with a headache. Your place is a mess, and you're out of food, but you still want more.
I am aware of my unhealthy lifestyle. Sleeping all day, watching movies, playing video games, or reading comics until the early hours of the morning. Rinse. Repeat. Often times, I forget to eat. "When did my life go down the toilet?" I wonder, without caring about the answer. Now, of course, I know I'm young, I have time to change and improve everything. I know I want to, somewhere deep inside. But my spirit's broken. Have you ever played a game for hours and hours, and suddenly either lost or the wall plug was pulled or the electricity ran out? You turn the game back on, and you haven't saved it. You're back where you've started. These are the times that are hardest to play again.
My neck aches. I talk to people. Somehow, the huge meteor that formed from the screams from everyone saying "It's NOT that big of a deal!!" approaches me. The tiniest fragment, the smallest pebble, bumps into my shoe, and I almost realize it. Sometimes, I don't understand why I make such a big deal of things. I expose my greatest regret and hear "Is that it?" Why can't I realize I'm making a fuss over nothing? Why do I care too much about what others think? Am I over-analyzing? Am I paranoid? No matter how much I tell myself "You're not special" why can't I let myself believe it? I just want to be important. I just want to be remembered. I just want you to care. Is that so wrong?
Eyes. Better than any painting, the true masterpiece are the eyes. A window into the soul, as though it's talking to you. I couldn't understand the language, but I still liked what I heard. I looked into her eyes and wondered why they were so lifeless. Is it only when you look at me? I looked into his eyes and wondered why I could never find any fear. How can you be so strong? I looked into your eyes and I wanted to cry. Why are you so sad? Yes, the eyes. I could have thrown away the rest of the world for a pair of eyes. But now... I'm feeling bitterness spreading into mine. With these eyes of mine, when I see the sparkling happiness in her pair of eyes, or his pair of eyes, or your pair of eyes, I'm stricken with grief and overridden with pain. I want to spread my despair, just so I don't have to feel that pain. "Please, stop smiling," I begged the lifeless photo. The feeling I get from watching a happy ending warms my heart. But after a while, I realize I'm not the main character. I realize that happy ending wasn't mine. No, nothing's like the movies.
CRACK. My eyes open as my brain reboots. I guess I ran out of hot water. I look around, dazed and disappointed. I finally begin my shower. Cold. So very cold.