Farewell, Tumblr.

It’s not you, it’s me.

But there is someone else.

A bit daunting

A bit guilt-inducing

A bit depressing

To lay where I do, and indulge in reveries as I do.

Looking straight ahead, alone and instead

of sunshine and noon, I find darkness and doom.

Sigh

And it feels like a million things at a million different times.
Thorought my life,
it felt like time ticked at a different pace;
and the world changed.

See, the other day I was reading this book. I’m sure many of you know about it and have even read it, it’s called Fahrenheit 451. A book about a world where books are illegal and burned, it is pretty much focused on a dystopian society and it’s a satire of our lives. Although, that is not what I want to talk about this book; not the ignorance of people, their conformity with everything, how close minded they are, nothing of the sort. I want to talk about a little fragment, can’t remember where it is, but it talks about how billboards are now 200 meters long because people go by so fast, everything is a blur to them. And it got me thinking.

Some people go by fast on the road that is life. Some people go slow. Others keep a steady pace. You see people, events, and ideas go by you. You see things behind, things ahead, things around, and the panorama is constantly changing. Sometimes there are people who stop moving because they don’t like change. They think that staying still will keep things the way they are, but it’s not like that. People keep moving, the sun rises and sets, time keeps on ticking; but they refuse to acknowledge this. Other people stop because they wonder why they were even walking in the first place. They stop and wonder, and they find that they don’t know why they’re moving. So they just stop because they don’t know what to do anymore. Others stop because they lost sight of what they were following or getting to. They stop, look around, and realize that they’re lost. Whatever keot them going was now gone and so was their drive to move forward.

There are other people who never stop until they die. Some think it’s just gibberish, others find it to be a waste of time, some just want to reach the sun on the horizon, some go by because if they stay, they’ll grow attached and won’t be able to move once again. There are different people, and there isn’t neccessarily anything wrong with them, but I find it unsettling if they can’t balance when they stop or move. You have to rest and relax, eat calmly, appreciate the things around you, have time for others. On the other hand you can’t be lazy, or keep on being afraid of change, you can’t be ok with the fact that your lost, if you lost whomever got you to move, well it’s time you gave yourself a little hope. You have to move. Your body and mind will grow weak if you don’t, you will only see one side to the world, people you care for will move on, and time will fly right past ya. Don’t always move, you’ll leave things that you cared for behind, you will get tired, you will get dizzy, you will never know something well enough to remember it, can’t you look around.

Change isn’t always good or bad; sometimes it’s just change.

Now,
MOVE
STOP
REPEAT

Let me start by saying that this is as exciting as it gets. Don’t expect a well-structured narrative or critique of any type; I mean really, like at all. This will be just me bitching, grunting, and just generally being a pain in the ass to everybody. In case you do read this though, I want you to know that this is just me generally ranting about random topics and questioning just as many random things. Not that I’m trying to be intellectual or deep, I’m quite the contrary, humans make mistakes, I seem to be more ‘human’ than most people. With that note, allow me to write out the first A.T.A.R. in this series..

I walked back and forth between the stove and the counter. Back and Forth. Checking how the food cooked, watching the oil and fat sizzle, seeing the meat sear and turn a dark and bloody brown. I lifted a lid in an adjacent pot to see how the noodles were coming along. The water was a deep and dark yellow, bubbles constantly broke the uniformity of the surface. I turned back and saw on top of the counter some tomatoes, onions, and a celery leaf. All of them lied on top of a short plank with a knife by their side. I continued cutting these vegetables, and searching for something else I could add. I walked back and forth. 

My mind was elsewhere, thinking of many other trivial things, and somehow, they all lead to the same point. I needed to speak to someone about everything and anything at all. I needed to vent everything that had ever happened to anyone at all. I just needed to talk to someone. There I was, needing someone to talk to, and something absolutely brilliant seemed to occur to myself! I could just talk. It might look weird and creepy, but I’d be somehow doing what I wanted to, I would just talk to myself.

I was, as weird as it might’ve appeared to be, in the company of myself.

And so I talked, it felt weird at first, really weird. I kept going though, and I thought I would feel lighter and the weight would be removed from my shoulders, but it wasn’t so. As I talked and addressed different matters on different subjects, I felt much more tired, sadness seemed to take over my body, and I wanted to stop, now it just felt like I was bleeding words. Saying these things out loud forced me to accept them and turn them into a much more imposing reality. 

I had talked and muttered and said all I could and wanted to. Now, I felt much worse than before. Things seemed to take on a hue of grey, a much more darker gray than I had seen before. I felt crazy, what had I done? I’d talked to myself and that had just made matters worse, I hadn’t eased the pain by releasing the words, I had chained them to myself once again. Reliving and experiencing once again those dreadful moments. I knew that I truly needed to talk to someone different than myself. Where where the others? 

I found myself chained, and tied down. Beaten and severed from any good. Even lonelier than I ever was before, in the company of, yours truly.

The sky was a greyish blue and rain fell down quickly, pounding on the trees’ leaves. The earth was darker, desolate, abandoned. As I saw the streaks of lightning boom in the distance through my reflection on the window-pane, I wondered if it was all true. I had always had a thing for her, a minor crush you could say, a minor crush I had wanted to ignore. This crush, had happened for reasons, that to this day, remains a mystery to me; but I’m guessing it was the little things, it is always the little things. The reason I ignored ‘that’ was because I felt that there could never be chemistry between us (one of those ’ I’m happy if she’s happy’ kind of things) and I also prefered to watch the world from afar. So I remained there in body but not in mind, as I wondered what was the correct thing to do. What should I do anyways? Time passed by and things changed.

Now I realize, that I am over her, I also realize, that I still have a thing for her. Allow me to explain, I grew up and so did my mind. She did too. She moved on, through time, leaving little wisps of who she was floating around indefinetely, I looked at these. I saw them and saw much more clearly who she was, and then I knew that my current self, no longer had a thing for her. Then, I looked to the current girl I knew,
And I knew I didn’t know her at all.
And I knew I had a thing for her.
And I thought, maybe I could ignore it.
.
.
.

And as I laughed alone at apparently nothing, I realized in an eerie way, that I was finally free and happy.

***Prologue***

Facing the fire, there was a tall, stout, and dark ebony chair in the middle of the room. Its cushions were wide and quite comfortable but, on it, sat an old frail man. His hair was as white as a dove, he had a thick mustache covering his mouth, and fancy clothes adorned his body. Embers sparked up and the wood in the fire crackled; on the hearth, atop an extensive rug, two figures sat cross legged.

” But Grandfather! Mother and Father won’t be here until supper, or bedtime at most! Could you not read us a story or two?”

“Please Grandfather!”

The two youngsters uttered and repeated the words over and over relentlessly. One was a boy, the other a girl. They both had chestnut hair and almond eyes. Their skin was a fair tan and so were the garments they ported. A glimmer in their eyes showed how enthusiastic they were for the prospect of a story. On the other hand, the old man puffed his cheeks and cracked a smile.

“Oh alright! You’re my grandkids!” His mustache bobbed up and down as he spoke, ” I can’t say no to ya! Yer too darn cute. Hmm, what should we read…”

Tiffany spoke up, “How about some Goblin mischief? Those are fun!”

Brandon followed, ” I’d rather like some villainous stories!”

Frail as he were, the man managed to stand up, and walk up to the library. His eyes rummaged through the various books that filled the shelves. Some tomes were wide and yellowed by the years, others were thin but covered with dust, the rest were fairly new or in some good condition. Finally, after what had seemed an hour for the children, his arm reached onto a shelf and pulled out a wide book. The leather that embraced the weathered pages felt smooth and frail to the touch. It was heavy and dust obscured its title. With a swipe and a small wind from the man’s arm the legend was revealed, and it read, *”The Hazardous and Marvelous deeds done by,”*
and below it were three words inscribed with three different symbols on them, they were of three different colors. Unfortunately it was written in a strange and forgotten language who few remembered and so the man took the boom down with both hands and carried it over slowly to the chair. He sat, smacked his lips, licked his index finger, and opened the tome but before he could begin he was interrupted.

” What is that?”

” Is it some boring old book that teaches something?”

With calm, patience, and care in his voice he answered, ” It is a book given to me by my father who received it from his father who got it from his previous predecessor,” tears rose in his eyes but he waved them away, he smiled and said, ” It is a book about a very furry flying byson and a not so furry frog. It is a book about a man who walked on land just as he did in water. It is about a crafty foxy woman, and you’ll see what I mean. This book tells their story and what followed in their wake.”

The children stared silently at their elder, a glint in both their eyes, they could not wait to hear this story but who could? For these stories were hundreds of years old, but they lived on, for the deeds done by those within were impossible to forget. Now, our storyteller opened his book up to the very first page, he blowed and puffed small gusts which sent the dust into the air and caused the children to cough. And on the very first page it read, …

Farewell my love,
I must go forever.
Into a dark cove,
Filled with an ember.

This is how I want you to remember me;
that is why I announce my departure.
Know that I cried, and that if it must be,
to avoid tears, I was not even a bit pure.

I will not return,
wait if you want to.
Maybe for an urn,
filled with ashes too.

I travel to a secluded world.
Unseen by humans and most monsters.
I go to find a mystical light, foretold
through time to have the power of masters.

That little glimmer,
will mend my soul,
it will cure my illness,
it will sooth my mind.

And when I find it, know that my heart will come together again.

On New Year’s Resolutions:

I’ve always wanted to try out doing a resolution. Saying, “Ok, I’m going to learn this and that, get good at that, and be more responsible,” and actually fulfilling it. 

I’ve tried a dozen times, and a dozen times I failed and left my promises behind. Every resolution I ever made, was never fulfilled.

I’ve finally decided that this year I won’t be setting a task for myself. If I do set a task or goal for myself, it’s going to seem as if it’s work and I won’t want to do it.

I’ve adopted a new general resolution, if anybody asks me, which is to be as happy as I can and do what I want if I can. I’ll build my life along the way, no planning ahead. 

I’ve concluded that if I want to change something (including myself), I’ll do it at anytime and anywhere, it doesn’t have to be New Years Eve for me to say that someday I’ll write a book or compose a song or run a marathon or paint a picture. I just have to want to do it and I’ll do it sometime in the near or distant future.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions, but those work out for some people. So cheers to you, those who only set goals for themselves once a year. 

On The New Year:

Let me start off by saying that I don’t consider New Year’s Eve to be some kind of special event that should be remembered. It’s a bit depressing for me actually.

Basically, you are celebrating the coming of a New Year and saying goodbye to the last one. 

Now, what did you achieve last year? Nothing? Or something insignificant? Or, ok, maybe a lot. Now, another year goes by, as does another month, another week, another day, and another hour. Maybe that’s why I don’t like it? It makes me think of what I have done with the time I was given, and I see how I have wasted it. I have no one to blame but myself. Maybe I will finally appreciate this holiday when I feel better about what I have done.  It makes me sad to say goodbye to that time I wasted and being able to recuperate it, and greeting this new time with great expectations and shaking hands. 

I don’t want to disappoint time. 

(via radiomaru)

Yesterday,

I walked outside with my pajamas and slippers on. I allowed the cool nocturnal breeze to engulf my body. My movement was brisk, my arm was parallel to the ground, and at the end of it was a leash. I had taken my dog with me, he moved quite quickly and pulled my arm with extreme force; but I allowed it since his tail was wagging, and his tongue was out. He sniffed everything within his reach and I followed behind him obediently. We passed by houses, trees, grass, people, worlds. Time passed by, and eventually, as I glanced in every general direction, I saw that no one was around anymore. I kneeled on one knee and removed the collar on my dog. All the while he looked at me expectantly through his long snoozer hair, with colorful eyes like chocolate. He ran off happily, I smiled and then, I glanced up above. The sky was littered all around with stars but the moon shone brightly in the middle, too brightly. It was almost as painful as looking at a pale sun. I did not like it.
It was so unlike the moon. She used to be so darker, so much prettier, so much like herself. She looked stronger, yet something made me uneasy. I left, a bit disturbed, but nothing that time couldn’t fix.

Today,

I surveyed the sky closely. The stars seemed as still as ever, and in the middle, there was nothing. The moon had dissapeared. She wasn’t there, now it was worse. I would have much preferred to have her shine but be here with me. To blind me and not see her, but still feel her. Now it was too late. I was devastated and shocked because of my lost love. This, this time wouldn’t fix.

Tomorrow,

She may return, but I can’t risk losing her again and suffering that much again. ‘Decathect,’ I thought, and I did. I realized, time never fixes anything, it doesn’t make it worse, it makes it unexpected.

What will happen now?

Yes, I have horrible handwriting and pulse. And drawings.