My Version with commentary
I have run through that song over and over again ironically. I remember the moment that it started playing. I took her hand in mine. She put her head against my chest. Life was defenitely very good. It was kind of ironic sitting there. Someone who is as frantic about things as I, just dancing there, relaxed was the opposite of what most would expect. Just sitting here typing it now gives me those butterflies again. I feel them rising up my trachea and feel the rush of cold emotion run down my arms. And as I sit here tonight remembering, that was the night I realized something very important. This world is here and now. I realized, I have always been looking to the future. When I was in elementary school, I was always looking foreward to the next grade. In middle school, I was always looking foreward to high school. In high school, I was always looking foreward to death(9th and 10th) then college(11th and 12th). Yet, as I sat there at 2 o'clock in the morning, shaking, I suddenly asked why. For such a fast paced world, do we ever truly suck the nectar from life. Life is referred to as a journey, yet you never truly are stuck in the present. The present instantly becomes the past. So, we look towards the future. This concerns me a bit. Here I am going off to Tech next year simply wondering, what now. As I sit at the pinnacle of my high school career, what now. When I get to Tech, what will I have to look forward to, graduating, the real world? When I get into the "real world", what do I look forward to then, retirement? When I get to retirement, what do I look forward to then, death? So, as the shaking subsided, I decided to move into a more isolated spot to continue my questions as the evening progressed. As I laid there in the small crypt between the bed and the crypt, I continued my pondering of life. Life is a quest. According to Darwin, my life was a failure if I do not reproduce viable offspring. I have been thinking about that a lot as well. Everyone always says, dating is crap until you get to college. Well, these are also people who have plenty of experience. I however, have extremely limited amounts of experience. I have asked 5 girls to go out on a date. 1 said yes and I had a lousy time(no chemistry), 2 said yes but I never did anything about it, and 2 said no. It was kind of ironic how life throws you a curve ball. Here I am questioning the point, wondering if it is truly worth waking up tomorrow if I am just going to look forward to the day after that, then here she comes. Very ironic how at your lowest low and your highest high, you always get stableizers. You kind of question whether there truly is something out there controlling everything. Almost like a "god" so to say. Well, here she pops her head over the side of the bed with that magnificent smile. Interesting how some things are programmed into peoples memory. Almost as if they are brainwashed into things. You say 93, I say Carlos Hathcock II. These things are like automatic responses. Amazing how a simple trigger can invoke such a response from humans. I say "That's great it starts with an earthquake" and she finishes the entire verse. No amount of alcohol can interfere with the comprehension of these triggers. I have an immense talent with memory. I can remember everything about a situation, saying, etc. if it catches my interest. I remember they day I asked her. It was the craziest day ever. Looking back upon it, I believe it to be a spontaneous thing that happened due to a lack of effect by inhibitors to keep me to my normal behavioral and social contact. Still, I remember as she bent down and made contact. The feeling was utter shock. Not in a bad way, but just in a suprised way. As her lips touched mine, it was ridiculous. A million thoughts race through my head. Alas, she pulled away. Even today I wonder if I should have done something different. Here is where my lack of experience hurts me. That was it though. When I returned from Wal-Mart, she was on the bed asleep. So, being I got her a blanket. Everyone kept telling me that I was a good date so to say. But, as I sat there for those next 2-3 hours(memory is a little foggy), I seriously wondered how could I be. My demons took over and I lost the war. No longer was I run by a weak country under the attack of invading devils. I was the new country run by the devils and for the devils.
Have you ever felt disconnected? Like you were just cut off from the world. Like something that hurts you so severly on the inside, yet you can express no emotion on the outside. You remain the solemn person. A never-changing format, almost like a robot. Yet, your head and heart are screaming at you from the inside, while you do nothing. The pain you feel just cannot be expressed to the world. What must you do, quell the uprising. As you wonder how to stop the pain, the answer becomes ever more obvious. Have you ever been told when one thing hurts, hurt another so that it doesn't hurt as bad. Then you look into your left hand. The fag that you have been smoking is almost to the filter. Your lungs are full of the toxic fumes that will one day kill you and your clothes wreak of the stench of defeat. Yet, you find no comfort in the support that you onced loved. Brandishing your failures, you plunge deep into the skin. You see the smoke rise and see the epidermal skin layer begin to boil. Yet, you feel nothing. The skin is alive with the combustion of organic chemicals as you are roasting your own cells alive. Yet again, nothing. No pain, no worry. You twist it around just to make sure that the weapon has been fully used and toss away the empty shell. You smile that wicked smile as if the battle was won. You are not in control, it is something worse, much worse. You are a slave to the mind with a yearning for the heart. You bow to the invulnerable feelings. You are more machine than man.
Still, everyday is a struggle. I wake up wondering why. Those 10 minutes I am in the shower are the best. There is no pain as the devils sleep. I load up all the ammunition I can get to fight the war. Yet it is not enough, it never is nor was. It hurts everytime I see what should be and what is. Daily am I reminded of what happened. I yearn for compassion, yet strike down any contact. I am on an island, unreachable. I am as good as dead to the rest of the world. I see the fallen angel every morning. He is there upon the wall. Blaring with the trumpets of a mighty message. I hear it day in and day out. The words consuming me like a plague.
I am not what I am
Have you ever felt disconnected? Like you were just cut off from the world. Like something that hurts you so severly on the inside, yet you can express no emotion on the outside. You remain the solemn person. A never-changing format, almost like a robot. Yet, your head and heart are screaming at you from the inside, while you do nothing. The pain you feel just cannot be expressed to the world. What must you do, quell the uprising. As you wonder how to stop the pain, the answer becomes ever more obvious. Have you ever been told when one thing hurts, hurt another so that it doesn't hurt as bad. Then you look into your left hand. The fag that you have been smoking is almost to the filter. Your lungs are full of the toxic fumes that will one day kill you and your clothes wreak of the stench of defeat. Yet, you find no comfort in the support that you onced loved. Brandishing your failures, you plunge deep into the skin. You see the smoke rise and see the epidermal skin layer begin to boil. Yet, you feel nothing. The skin is alive with the combustion of organic chemicals as you are roasting your own cells alive. Yet again, nothing. No pain, no worry. You twist it around just to make sure that the weapon has been fully used and toss away the empty shell. You smile that wicked smile as if the battle was won. You are not in control, it is something worse, much worse. You are a slave to the mind with a yearning for the heart. You bow to the invulnerable feelings. You are more machine than man.
Still, everyday is a struggle. I wake up wondering why. Those 10 minutes I am in the shower are the best. There is no pain as the devils sleep. I load up all the ammunition I can get to fight the war. Yet it is not enough, it never is nor was. It hurts everytime I see what should be and what is. Daily am I reminded of what happened. I yearn for compassion, yet strike down any contact. I am on an island, unreachable. I am as good as dead to the rest of the world. I see the fallen angel every morning. He is there upon the wall. Blaring with the trumpets of a mighty message. I hear it day in and day out. The words consuming me like a plague.
I am not what I am