A New End

http://atticatay.blogspot.com/

Continue to live on as you like.

Just Breathe

It's like breathing. Breathing which keeps you alive, and when you inhale deeply you feel alive, you feel strong, like you can hold on for so long you can die old holding your breath. You close your lips, figuratively close your nostrils and you wait, you hold it, you stand still waiting with your cheeks puffed out, looking ridiculous to boot. For a moment it's peaceful, things are quiet as you wait without air. But then your face turns red and frustration begins as you continue waiting. You try harder to hold it, to keep it just a little longer, you keep waiting, trying to hold on, to keep waiting but you know you can't. You know you can only hold on so long and your time is almost up. Your chest gives in and your lungs hurt. You feel like a rock sits on you to squish all the air out. Your arms are week, your knees begin to shake, tears push out from your eyes like diamonds but you keep holding on and fighting it all. You shake your head telling yourself you won't give in and up, you can't because you need it. But then your throat heaves, hoe, heaves hoe, and suddenly your down on the floor out cold. Your lids are like blankets, easily moved in whatever position you're thrown in by a seizure. You stop, frozen on the floor, limp as a sack doll, and your heart stops. You can hear it, pure silence as everyone else waits for you to live again. And there you go, breathing once more until you see it and decide to hold your breath again.

That is what it's like when you wait for love, that is what it's like to be heartbroken, and that is what it's like to live after a broken heart.

I sat on the couch thinking about the week I wasted in bed and in my room. "Stay here. Rot with me." Thats all I could think. This drowsiness is a murderer. I need to wake up, get up, fight it. It's like a new unbeatable cancer in my system bringing me down. Like peer pressure. I've got to live while I live. Sleep is a wonderful experience but it only goes so far. I need more, I might not always want it, but I need it.

Taylor Pan

I was thinking on the plane. Thinking about harsh words spat the night before. About growing up since I'm so old now. Whats so great about growing up? If you have reason behind what you do, and you think of others sometimes and yourself other times, and if you're able to succeed in what you do then what more do you really need? What growing do you need? You can't always think of others, thats unrealistic and it'll get you no where, not always. Selfishness isn't always bad. I think that maybe when they call you immature, or when they get angry at you and you beat yourself, you have to remember it was all said out of anger. The world as a whole is childish, being spitting bulls whenever something goes wrong. Embrace the mistakes that are made rather than punishing them. Teach rather than punish.

It's like in psychology when instead of teaching they used meds, shock therapy, lobotomies and naps to care for their patients. It was wrong but thats human life. We're wrong.

Needle In A Hay Stack

Looking for an expectation? Petty. "Despicable". I write for memory more so than relief, so in memory I write a solid unlatching. Chest pain, nothing like those 7 months. Stomach furies, nothing like the those for mom. A reach forward means absolutely nothing but it's for safe measure, coincidentally at the same moment they tell me safe measurements are good to take but still refusal is inevitable at my end. Quick and u-turn to return but what crushing of my soap box might that cause? Hurt every teens and tweens high horse and leave it for dead, smartass. Try to tend to the horse they shot, they try, the horse is fine, the horse kicks, knocks an eye, both eyes, is on its feet and begins to trot off. Leave you gnarly beast, and never return.

Salem Footprints They Say

My footsteps feel lighter against the ground compared to how they feel against my chest. Heavy thumping as if I stomp on my own lungs while I walk. My brain refuses to flush and my walking is slow, long and feeling purposeless. I continue on giving myself check points, keeping in checking, checking surrounding, check check check. I reach asphalt, I reach the glass, barefooted, raggedy I step on glass and asphalt still wandering. I reach the opposite corner, and island in my journey, and I stop. I stop concluding my decision, I stop knowing my own words. The direction switches, I begin retracing, I begin formulating. I no longer feel a heave of weight anywhere but under me as I walk in a more determined fashion,... as I know my footprints.

Daily, Expected, Guarenteed Frustrations

It's the same routine every day. It's the same lack of common sense that I have to deal with. The same complaints. The same explanations. The same reaction. I feel like the mom asking the kid to pick up the toys so I don't hurt my feet, but they never do it. I'm going to break my neck one day, then we'll see if you pick up your toys.