Mind Tricks Or The Plague Of Forgetfulness?

It was around 11 ‘o clock or so when it began to come on. Again.

The routine 11 to 11:30 episode of The Big Bang Theory was an earlier one from the first season, entitled “The Pancake Batter Anomaly”. Even though I knew I more than likely saw the episode before, I didn’t dare touch the remote…Granted, my dad had the remote and honestly, why wouldn’t you want to watch a rerun of Big Bang? It’s one of those shows I can watch and not get sick of…Long story short (and without giving too much away), Sheldon gets sick and Penny is stuck nursing him back to health. How does this particular episode pertain to what I’m currently typing?

Uncanny coincidence.

Sometime in that half-hour, I sneezed. Immediately after that one harmless sneeze, I felt that familiar haze of a sinus headache coming on. Of course. The day before I planned on finally retaking the English test, I start to feel like Death.

When I made the remark to my dad about how that’s just my luck, he told me maybe it’s psychological. Somehow my body is turning the fact that I’m a tad nervous into some kind of cold. Is it really possible for the psyche to turn something so little as a bit of nerves into the start of yet another temporary cold?…I honestly have no idea.

The cause of such random, short-term bouts with the common cold could either all be in my head or the fact that I’ve forgotten my scarf every time I go somewhere. The one thing that might actually be beneficial in the cold Ohio winter has been hanging over my comfy red chair in my bedroom, untouched and unused.

It’s 4:48 a.m. and I can still feel that familiar acquaintance known as headache plague my sinuses. Two decongestants and countless Kleenex, and the product hasn’t changed. I know the better half of me is saying that sleep is probably the best idea at this moment, and it does sound like a pretty nice idea. I want to say that my mind is racing (because it usually is at this time in the morning if sleep eludes me) but that could just be the soreness in my body (goddamn coughing!) and pressure in my sinuses talking. I know it is indeed the troublesome pain talking. I think I will actually give into my better judgement, and sleep this annoyance away.

Is it subliminal mind tricks or the every day action of forgetting?…This green-eyed girl may never know.

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Suspended

Tug on the strings a little bit tighter, I’m unsure if I can be pulled any further.
Pull on the ties that bind a little bit harder, I’m unsure if you’ve tugged enough flesh and muscle.
We’re holding out for each other for all the wrong reasons, our ideas of being whole again is absurd at best.
I’m asphyxiating ever so slowly in hopes of finding some solution,
hanging on your every word,
every falsified promise.

Tug on the strings a little bit tighter, you’re oh so certain to pull the blame where you see fit.
Pull on the ties that bind a little bit harder, you’re oh so certain that everything is tugged into its proper place.
We’re holding out for each other with all the right motives, our ideas of being completely sound again is ridiculous.
You’re suffocating ever so slowly in hopes of finding some explanation, exhausted to the point of leaving, drained from the constant state of my being.

Tug on the strings a little bit tighter, we’re positively certain that the fault is mutual, pulled further down the spiral.
Pull on the ties that bind a little bit harder, we’re positively certain we’ve made our point clear a million times over, tugging at hearts that cannot be thawed.
We’re not holding out for each other anymore, no thought-provoking notion to breathe a sigh of reassurance.
Neither of us choke on any heartfelt solution, no more expressions to pine over, every undertaking is torn away with the least bit of compassion.

We searched to find structure again, only discover that maybe we’re better off apart.
We worked to create a sense of belonging among the disorder only to find that it would crumble right before our eyes.
We lack the energy to compromise anymore, the drive to understand the difference between then and now.

We can tug and pull all we desire,
the remnants of what our love
used to be will never be as such.
We can pull and tug all we want,
the memories of what our love
was will twist at our hearts every now and then.

Maybe this is how it’s meant to be.

© Copyright November 2012

Destruction

This red piece of metal I’m navigating can’t take away the simple fact.
The simple truth that I can’t
see what’s in front of me.
This road is desolate and burning, as am I.
I’m slowly beginning to burn.
But not from the heat, it’s something else entirely.
My system feels like it’s shot to Hell, but I know it’s only the beginning.
I’ll be to Hell and back before nightfall.
My surroundings are as clear and bright as ever.
The sky looks like glass.
I look up and watch it seethe right before my eyes.

The roaring of wings obstructs my hearing; a sea of black obstructs my view.
I feel the pavement beneath my steel joyride breathe, its words inaudible.
Its heartbeat becomes louder and
stronger with every touch of the rubber and chrome.
My skin is burning now; I can feel it slowly sear through each layer.
I have absolutely no direction,
absolutely no control of where I’ll be going next.
All I know is that I have no one here to stop me, no one to break me away.
I’m too deep inside this world I’ve created for myself, too deep inside each and every dose.
The sound of wings abruptly brings me back into this distorted reality, the blackness doesn’t fade.
I look in the rear view mirror; my reflection is something of another kind, shot to Hell just like the rest of me.
I can still see the ocean of black; it’s followed me for miles now,
no intention of stopping anytime soon.
My hands are still on the wheel,
but my body isn’t in the driver’s seat anymore.

I’m floating into the sky that
is still aflame and smoldering.
I’m unsure if I’m alone, I can’t remember anyone coming on with me.
The passenger seat seems to be empty, but that could be the fact that he’s lost in the sky with me.
He looks just as bad as I do, I see he’s shaking, I don’t remember if I’m shaking or not.
I strangely feel the wheel again; he’s next to me now.
He’s crouched over, his head in-between his knees, blood flowing fast.
Or what I think is blood.
The bleak look in his eyes tells
me that he’s out of it, which means I am as well.
I look on the floor by his feet, blood everywhere.
My head falls back into the seat;
my vision goes blacker than it already is.

I wake up; my vision is much brighter than before.
I can’t remember if it’s night or day, I can’t even remember where I am.
I’m lying in a massive pool of water, empty bottles of vodka and whiskey adrift.
Searching my memory of the night
or possible day before, I can’t trace how I got here.
I’m unsure of how much I took, or of what exactly I took.
Maybe I took more than one thing
or maybe nothing at all.
Maybe all of this is a dream.
An illusion devised by the
intense heat and my resolve, leading me to this utter destruction.
Maybe it all just proves how
disgusting and corrupt the world is.
Everyone is so provoked by their own negligence.

My vision is more precise than it’s ever been, I can feel my fingers effortlessly glide across the keys of my typewriter.
Documenting the frightening and surreal events brings me to the crossroads of shock and excitement, my intentions once innocent are now borderline manic and crazed.
The exact thing this generation needs.
We’re all so preoccupied with the
preconceived notions of our predecessors to evolve and blaze on forth.
So indecisive to that we’ve forgotten what it’s like to truly be human and just let go.
There is nothing stronger than the fear that resides in
the hearts of all of us.
The fear that there is some destructive danger, some heartless peril that will swallow us whole.
The paranoia that makes us
believe that slipping through the cracks of the society’s view of what it truly means to be a man is strictly forbidden.
Silence such cowardice.
It only breeds ignorance.

We searched for the American Dream only to find it was
never truly meant for us.
We searched for the American Dream only to create our own,
any other perceptions
rendered meaningless.

We found the American Dream.
Just. Let. Go.

© Copyright November 2012

My Own Worst Enemy

My body hates me.

I’m more than certain that my immune system is trying to sabotage any and all important goals that need accomplishing. Okay, maybe not any and all goals, but just the one I’ve been trying to make a reality since last Friday.

Typical.

I woke up at 8 ‘o clock yesterday morning, actually psyched and determined to retake an English test at the community college I plan to attend in the Spring…Yes, it’s a community college, but it’s a college nonetheless…That, however, did not happen. After sitting through a half hour of news stories that I’d heard about the day before, I remembered that Supernatural moved the air time an hour early to 9 ‘o clock. I turned on the respective channel, only to watch a rerun of a season three episode, which wasn’t really a big deal. It’s the kind of show I can watch reruns over and over again without getting sick of it because there’s something that I seem to notice upon the second or third watch, and honestly, it’s always good to refresh your memory.

In what seemed like a matter of minutes, I started sneezing. I could instantly feel that dreaded cloud of the common cold weigh me down. After the sneezing came the sinus headache, which then proceeded into coughing…The same thing happened last Friday (my first attempt at going to the desired destination), only with sneezing and a stomach-ache…I took a non-drowsy decongestant only to wind up falling asleep for a half an hour or so.

By the time I woke up, I felt like my whole day was wasted. Even though that wasn’t the case. Sure, it was noon, maybe 12:30 at the latest (I honestly can’t remember) and I didn’t accomplish the goal I’d been trying to complete since last week, but it’s not a waste of a day if you do what needs to be done to get your day started then chill out and relax, in hopes of feeling better. I did everything I needed to do and other things around the house, then proceeded turn on my Dell and watch something on Netflix.

After watching a long assortment of the paranormal misadventures of Sam and Dean Winchester on Supernatural, using countless Kleenex, and self-medicating with three decongestants, I can say that I do feel a little better. Not much. That sounds horrible because I’ve been trying to feel better the majority of the day and right when I start to feel good, it goes downhill. The fact that I’m only feeling a little better can be blamed for the other evident fact that I cannot fall asleep. Sure, my eyes are starting to get a little heavy and my muscles are sore from coughing, but I don’t feel drowsiness envelop me yet.

And I take that back. Okay, I don’t totally take it back because the feeling just hit me, but you get the idea. The warmth from the heat coming from the vent in my room blowing directly onto me just a couple of seconds ago was honestly making me tired. Not to mention the fact that I’m cold. I have my Emily The Strange blanket my best friend bought me some 8 years ago, but that doesn’t seem to be doing me any justice.

I feel like this whole post I just wrote is about how horrible I felt today…And I did. Sometimes I feel like I should sugarcoat things as far as my health goes because I don’t want to have a sympathy for the devil thing going on, but today was nothing serious. Just a cold, everyone gets them. Unless of course you happen to have an amazing immune system or are some kind of superhero. While the latter is the most absurd of notions, it is far more interesting than the immune system. Now I’m just rambling mindlessly because I’m tired.

It’s 5:44 a.m. on this Saturday morning, sixteen minutes until 6 a.m. The warmth from the vent is making another appearance, and I’m going to take that as a way of my house letting me know I should hit the hay…And by typing what I just did, I think it’s a good idea that I go to bed.

My body is my worst enemy…

Sleep is the best medicine.