Tag Archives: Friend

My Golden Eagle

He was wild
Completely untamable
Wanting to go in all directions
Going in every direction
Back and forth
Never tiring
Blazing his own trails
Bowing not to another
Friend only to earth and sky
Riding forever on the wind
Tied only by gravity
Barely touching ground
No permanent name
No history
Freedom at its best
Passion for life
Facing every fear
Laughing at every foe
Defying destiny
A phantom
A drifter
A loner
An extraordinary man
One I loved to refer to as
My Golden Eagle


Life Through a Lens

How easy it is
For us to look at
Life through a hazed lens
Instead of seeing enemies
All we want to see
Is nothing but friends
So much so
We can even replace
Those of blood and kin
To a fault we
Desire personal perfection
Except of relationships mend
And to that fault
It is seen that
Personal rules bend
Sometimes so severely
Despite best efforts
Our emotions we cannot contend
It is at that time
We come to realize
There is often no end
All because we
Prefer to view
Life through a hazed lens


Room Full of Heathens (Friends)

My pace quickened, swishing my ponytail back and forth. I clutched my notebooks closer to my chest. Pushed my glasses up my nose. They would kill me if I was late. I would kill me if I was late. But all these dumb halls looked the same. Dull gray and bland. No creativity invested whatsoever. I huffed through my nose as I made a wrong turn. Again. Back tracking, I readjusted my hold on my notebooks. Where on Earth was the office? I checked my wrist, though I never wore watches. Did I have enough time to be continuously lost?

I rounded a corner and paused. A long stretch of hallway led to double doors that stood a mile high. My heart thumped hard. That was the office. No doubt in my mind. Taking a sharp breath, I checked myself over. Light gray slacks to compliment leg length, heeled ankle boots I finally learned to walk in, navy and white blouse. Mom always said blue was my color. It enhanced my dark blue gaze. Another breath. I felt professional, but I sweated more than I liked. As long as I wasn’t late, I’d be fine.

Determined strides carried me to the door. I had to play cool. Act like the boss. Wait. Wasn’t I technically the boss? I snorted. Yeah, right. Rapping on the door, I stepped back. It opened, and I saw all of them. Ten faces. Ten characters I recognized. I created them, after all. I entered the room, acknowledging everyone. Including muscled Demise. And Pathos and Sikura, who stood silently in their respective corners.

Scar rose from his place at the head of the conference table. Though he wasn’t the one I left in charge. “I told you not to come.” I shrugged. “Here I am.” Sir Ransom Mire, who stood on Scar’s right, crossed his arms. “You really don’t need to be here.” Rogue kicked her boots up on the table. “She can do whatever she wants.” I gave a nod. Moonshadow, the half-dragon bad boy who sat across from the rogue, winked at me. “You can come here anytime.”

I waved him away. “Oh, shut up.” My vision caught Black Ice moving to her place by Demise. She gave a nod, but that was it. I didn’t realize I had so many mutes. Zair, my first and only Naga, lounged on his well-positioned coils. “I agree with Moon Boy.” I shot a glare. “Again. Shut up.” The Suckerpunch-inspired Sunshine shifted her weight, shamelessly accentuating her hips. “Would you boys leave her alone? Otherwise, I’ll be inclined to shoot you.” The pair of partial reptiles flashed grins.

Not knowing what to do at this point, I stood awkwardly among them. I honestly hadn’t thought this far ahead. They made me nervous. Though they were all mine. Flicker of ideas that had grown into these beings. In a way, I was proud. In a way, I was intimidated. They were now their own characters. They told me how they wanted to be written. Which was why I came. Equipped with pen and paper.

Scar made his way to me, standing between me and them. “What are you doing here?” I jutted my chin at him. “You don’t scare me like you do everyone else.” I brushed past him and positioned myself at the head of the table. Sir Ransom Mire drilled me. “You know, if you like him so much, why didn’t you put him in charge?” I hesitated. Glanced at my favorite character, who had a special place in my heart. “As much as he isn’t a follower, he isn’t the best leader, either.”

I placed my notebooks on the table. “Listen up, everyone. You are my ten chosen heinous friends. I know you come from different worlds. I don’t expect you to get along. At all.” Rogue held up her enchanted sword. “So, can I kill those who annoy me, or…?” I smiled. “Kill them, and I’ll only bring them back. Any other questions?” No one responded, to my liking. However, it didn’t go unnoticed that Scar stood protectively behind me. “Now, I didn’t dress up for nothing. I’m here on business. The business of writing you all more.” My eyes sparkled. “Who wants to go first?”

 

Author’s Note: I won’t lie. Picking the ten characters introduced above was a very daunting task. A couple have been constant candidates. Others weren’t chosen to make the final cut. Before Suicide Squad came out, I was already inspired by Twenty One Pilots’ song “Heathens.” As an author, my closest friends are my characters. Every time I listen to that song, I imagine me in a room with my “heathen” friends. The not-so-good characters. I chose the number ten because of Suicide Squad, but that’s really where any relations to the movie ends. I wanted to finally write a scene of me interacting with my characters on a more meta level, if you will. It was quite fun.


Lily and Friend

7-8-2012-13


A Personal View of Depression

bravery

I’ve been struggling with depression off and on for many years. Even before I wanted to be a writer, writing down my feelings has helped me deal with them. While, now, I’m in more of a “stressed” phase than “depressed” phase, these words needed to be released. Otherwise, my brain would constantly dwell on them. So here they are, in raw passion, unedited and most likely scattered. Maybe, just maybe, if you’re struggling with depression or stress, as well, this can help you find your own words to help with your feelings. It is one of the worst things we can go through alone, and I want to give something that people can relate to at the very least.

 

So far, I have woken up every morning. Many times, I wonder why. Surely my life can’t mean that much; even if eveyone around me tells me they love me. Every morning, I put my feet on the floor. Though I don’t feel anything solid. I feel like I’m forever falling. Forever falling into a bottomless pit of darkness filled with ravenous monsters eager to devour my soul. There are days, hopeful days. A few days where I feel like a warrior clad in impenetrable armor. I fight the darkness the entire day. Even if a part of my brain is scared of the darkness. I don’t know what lies ahead, what challenges I’ll face, or the monsters that will confront me. There is a fear of the unknown.

And that’s all it takes. That simple ounce of fear sends me sliding back toward the monsters. The majority of the time, I’m not as impenetrable as I believed. Stress finds its cracks and seeps under my skin, causing me pain. Then I wonder. What am I doing wrong? Rather, what is wrong with me? Am I the monster? Am I the one who needs to be destroyed? All I do is cause pain to those around me. I take up their time. I can’t bother them with my problems when they have their own. Who wants to listen to me whine? Surely that’s how they view me. As a pathetic baby who can’t handle life.

So I let myself fall. The majority of the time, I willingly walk back into the pit. Even though there’s nothing but darkness and solitude, at least it’s familiar. In a way, the cold is comforting. It’s something I know, something I can always go back to. Yet, my heart knows it’s wrong. Wrong to retreat. Is that what I’m doing? Retreating? So now I’m a coward. Another name to add to my mental insults. No one is more judgmental of me than me. Look at me. I’m not worth anything. Then I’m told I’m worth everything. But how can I believe something like that? I’m too far gone.

The pit seems friendlier than friends and family. Despite the monsters waiting for my soul. Some days, I try for the light. Most days, exhaustion leads me to darkness. And I follow. Why should I fight? I might win a handful of days, but I always end up right back where I started. At the bottom. Surrounded by darkness. Closed in by monsters. Though I wonder if I’m the monster. Or are they the feelings inside me? I care not to know anymore. I’m stuck in the middle of my feelings. And I’m done. Done fighting, done giving up. It’s hard to explain. I’m just done.

I don’t know what to do or where to go. I don’t know what’s right or wrong, don’t know what’s light or darkness. I don’t know if I want life or death, heaven or hell. I just want to be done. Done with the aches and pains. Done with the constant mental distress. Even when I have good days, all I count are the bad days. I want to stop. I don’t know how. I’m in a perpetual cycle of negative feelings. Even when I have everything to be positive about.

All I see, think, hear, feel is negative. I don’t understand how to make a positive. I’m convinced my brain doesn’t work that way. I have to messed up, broken inside. Nobody wants me even though everybody does. How do I know they want me? How do I know they really don’t see me as a burden? Words can mean everything or nothing. How do I know? I don’t. I’m running in circles, repeating myself. I’m a broken record. My body, mind, and soul are tired. I want to be done.


Don’t Forget to Doubt Me

Don’t forget to doubt me. Anyone can be deceiving. You know the saying about appearances. To many, I seem like the naive, innocent angel who wouldn’t harm a fly. But smart devils neve plan murders aloud. You may think you can trust me. Just realize I can be one of the first people to stab you in the back. You may think my arms are the safest place for you. However, you must know how easy it is to crush someone’s throat. You may think my I’m being flirtateous. Darling, I could kill you with the wink of my eye. How would you know I haven’t laced your drink? Have you forgotten many poisons are colorless, tasteless, and odorless? Do you honestly believe everything I tell you is truth? Oh, hun. It’s so easy for me to lie. It’s so easy for me to put on masks and pretened to be someone I’m not. Yet, at the same time, it’s so hard for me to be myself. I may act like I have everything pulled together when there’s nothing but chaos threatening my insanity. I can tell you I’m fine when I’m falling apart. I often lose myself to my inner demons though I say I vanquished them. And just because I make something look easy doesn’t mean I’m not struggling. One thing is true. I will tell you many things you may forget. I’ll leave you to figure out which statements are honest and which are false. I will tell you to no longer be my friend. I will tell you to no longer be my lover. I will tell you I’m in it for the money. I will tell you the words coming from my mouth are lies. I will tell you my words are true. I will tell you how you’ll die. And then, I will tell you to forget everything I just said. However, remember these words. Don’t forget to doubt me.


Second Chances

What would we give to have a second chance? To say the things we should’ve said and taken back what we shouldn’t have? What would we give to use our time more wisely? To make that visit or call? To not be inconvenienced by selfish needs? In truth, we never know what we would give until all is lost. We never stop and think about those we know. We refuse to share our lives until it’s too late. And then what? We’re filled with sorrow, dread. Filled with regret and hate for ourselves. All we can do is sit and contemplate what we could’ve done, what we should’ve done. But no. We were too busy living our own lives. We don’t have time for that distant family member or friend. We lie to ourselves. Tell ourselves they should’ve reached out first. Did we ever stop to think they were telling themselves the same thing? Did we ever stop to think about them at all? No. Of course not. And even if we did, it was a fleeting moment that quickly passed. We never made that call or visit. Though we deceived ourselves we would. We never took back the wrong things we said, never said the right things. Not all of us get a second chance. For some of us, the time with someone has passed. We’ll never get to feel that hug or see that smile. We’ll never get to see their eyes light up when they’re happy or darken when they’re upset. We’ll never get to hear their voice, hear that laugh. All we hear is silence. All we see is a stone marking what could’ve been and what will never be. All we feel is loss and depression. All we realize now is that we were too late. And all we can wonder is what we would’ve given to have that second chance.

In memory of the ones we’ve lost. And perhaps, the ones we can still save.


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