When You Weren’t Looking

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It seems like there has been a lot of death around me lately.  Usually it’s not something I feel comfortable talking about but it’s been making me feel so much.  I’ve decided that maybe the best way to deal with these feelings is to write.

You hear about people dying in genocides, terrorist attacks, wars of religion etc. and it has become such a common occurrence that that now it no longer phases us.  Not one of us remembers the faces of the dead who bare no names.  Not one of us remembers the names of the of the dead who bare no connection to our world.  We go on like nothing is happening.  We live in a paradise, with our backs to the shadows.

Sometimes death will hit very close to home.  It’s harder to ignore.  Yet I’ve noticed that somehow we are all still withdrawn, even once death has now made itself very real.  Even once death has touched us.  Is it all the death on the news, in the movies, and in our games?  Or is it normal?  Is it normal that no one seems to ache for the loss of precious lives?  Or is it weird to feel such anguish, when you have no connection to the deceased?

I am sure people do feel something when strangers pass but they have just become so skilled at isolating themselves from it.

I know I am not alone in feeling such pain for the dead.  I know I am not alone in feeling such pain for their families.  I know I am not alone in wishing I could fix what was broken… but I feel so empty.  What is the point?  Why are the least deserving taken the earliest?  Who decides their fate?  I am sure that is not the choice they would have made.

Life is so fleeting, so beautiful, and so full of pain.  It is a light in the darkness that you weren’t sure you saw.  It is that taste in your mouth that you can’t seem to place.  Life is time that passed when you weren’t looking and now you can’t remember where you’ve come from.  And in the end, it doesn’t really matter, because it’ll all be gone once you get where you’re going.

I think it’s really disturbing that at one moment, everything could be fine.  Then in a second later, the world flips, and you’re gone; as fast as sparks flying up from the fire.  There is no goodbye, the end comes too fast.

Now here I am by myself, crying for all the people I don’t know and never will.  I am thinking of all the things they’ll never see, all the things they’ll never do, and always wondering why they weren’t supposed to.

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I Am

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I am procrastination at its finest

Its juiciest and its ripest

I have many dreams and ambitions

Never to unfold

I am the tail end of a story

Never to be told

I am that dream in the night

That easily escapes no matter how hard you fight

So long to such feelings

Give in to believing

In the miracles that live in your mind

The art of relaxing, it is divine

Give in to temptation

Like the warm covers keeping you from facing a nation

I am procrastination at its finest

Its juiciest and its ripest

Just take a bite.

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Why?

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Sometimes it’s really hard to not think about the question “why”.  It lingers in the dusty cupboard in the back room of all of our minds. Why?

Why am I here?  Why are you here? Why?  And there are no answers, only the whimsical theories of mysterious men.

Spirituality, I find, is often hard to comprehend.  Why is one spirituality deemed better over another?  Why is spirituality deemed wrong if it is not the same as our own? Why?

Why is my spirituality better?  Why is yours? Why?  And there are no answers, just the closed-minded theories of those unwilling to admit that they ask why too.

Everything is deemed destiny by few.  Some others do not agree.  Why would each of our lives have a purpose?  Why is it not just a big soup of nonsense?  And if it is, why does it exist? Why?

Why is my life important?  Why do you take part in it?  And there are no answers, just bangle-wearing women with foggy crystal balls and tarot cards.

And who really knows if there’s a god? Who really cares? And who really knows how far science can go? Who?

Maybe nothing I see is here and maybe there is no purpose. If that is so then why the need for survival?  Why the fight?  Why the passion, the fear, the dreams? Why the music and the screams?  Why do I run, and why do I seek, the answers to why, oh why, oh why?

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Schizophrenia

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I’m living in a shadow

A shadow of dreams

The voices I can hear them

They are calling my name

They whisper sweet nothings

And they can’t be seen

This shadow casts mirages

That tingle deep within my soul

But take a second glance

And where did they go?

Search and search as I might

Through the shadows and cobwebs

For the faces crying out

Only to see nothing but the same old same

So I spend my time

Time with eyes open

And fists tight

I spend my time ready and waiting

For something I’m sure is coming

For something that’s not there

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