Disappointment in Change

Life is full of disappointments. That's not debatable, it's just the truth. Often people are the source of those disappointments; at least, that's been the case for me.
This summer I gave alot of people a clean slate. I threw away my preconceived ideas about people and decided to give everyone a second chance. I figured that if I was right about everyone, then I have lost nothing, and can not be held accountable for anything more than being too lenient with second chances. But if I was wrong, then hopefully I will have gained a more accurate judgement of people by the end of the summer.
This summer I witnessed people change, almost miraculously. I was deeply impressed and came to the conclusion that people change. But I was wrong, people don't change. They don't change in a summer, they don't even change in a lifetime. It's not even that people don't change, I not even sure people can change. I don't mean change as in the way people dress, or they way they talk, or their mannerisms. I mean real change; change in the way one reacts to situations, change in the way one treats another, change in the things one truly believes in. I'm not sure that change is possible. In the very least, I've never witnessed it. I read somewhere that our personalities is developed by age 4. Maybe after that, our efforts to change really are in vain.
People let you down, it's a fact of life. People seem to let me down alot. It's possible that I expect too much of people. It's possible that I hope too often. Apart from God, I've never had anyone who's never let me down, and I don't expect to ever meet someone like that. I don't expect perfection from anyone. But one day I really hope to meet to meet just one person in this world that does everything in their power not to let me down. I truly hope such a person exists.

As I Am

Take me as I am
Take me with the weakened soul I have
Take my every flaw
Take me by the hand
Love me just for me
Love me just for everything I could be
I hope you understand
And take me as I am

Maybe I am scared
Maybe I'm afraid and unprepared
Maybe I am lost
Whenever you're not there
Maybe this is real
Maybe I'm the only one who feel
I wish you never cared
I wish I wasn't scared

Not That Hard

This isn't really the hard part. Well, it is hard, but it isn't the hardest part. I've gotten pretty good at waiting, it seems like that's all I ever do. I used to think I was impatient, but in many ways, I'm the most patient person I know. I'd never really thought about it, but society on a whole spends alot of time waiting. Waiting for a phone call, waiting for the stores to open, waiting for a light to turn green. Waiting for the movie to start, waiting for the bus, waiting for the rain to stop. We wait in lines, we even have rooms designated specifically for waiting. For a world that is so focused on advancing and moving forward, we sure spend alot of time standing still. Some of us can go about our everyday lives and still be waiting for something. Waiting for forgiveness, waiting to get older, waiting for the person you love to figure out whether they love you back. But like I said, waiting isn't that hard. It's like the equivalent of pushing the pause button on our lives, or on our minds, or on our hearts. The hard part is figuring out what to do after the indefinite period of waiting is over. Figuring out what I want. Figuring out where to go from here.

Time Away

Words cannot describe,
The feelings that I keep inside.
And nothing seems to change,
The way I feel about you.

I know I haven't won.
And losing isn't fun.
So I try to rearrange,
My life so it's without you.

There's no more excuses I can make for you.
There's nothing left I'll let you take of me.
And whatever the truth was
It's hidden now in all of the
Time away, from you and me
Time away from just you and me

You didn't really lie.
But I never really asked why,
You just weren't completely honest,
And didn't tell me how you felt.

I'm sick of optimism.
Smiling through your criticism.
Well I'll never be the best,
And I'll never tell you how I felt.

There's no more excuses I can make of you.
There's nothing left that I'll let you take of me.
And whatever the truth was,
It's hidden now in all of the,
Time away, from you and me.
Time away from just you and me

No more excuses I'll make.
Nothing left for you to take.
Whatever the truth was,
It's hidden now.
And all I need is time away,
From you and me.
Time away from just you and me.

All I need is time.

Several Things I Enjoy In Life

1. Driving with the windows down
2. Swimming
3. Chocolate Chip Cookies
4. Majoung
5. Loud Music
6. Holding hands
7. Dresses
8. Sweat pants
9. Singing
10. Real Pictures
11. Red
12. Books
13. Good hair days
14. Dutch Blitz
15. Cucumbers
16. Writing
17. Giving advice
18. Listening to guitar
19. Titanic (the movie)
20. Day Dreaming
21. Roller coasters
22. Tubing
23. Skiing
24. Warm Blankets
25. Winter Nights
26. Looking at stars
27. Scalp Massages
28. Messages on the answering machine
29. Highway Driving
30. Soundtracks
31. Perfect scores
32. Chocolate turtle Cake
33. Christmas Eve
34. Sunsets
35. Long car rides
36. Big Waves
37. Laughing until I cry
38. Crying until I'm able to laugh again
39. Subway
40. Up north
41. Trampolines
42. Campfires
43. Disney movies
44. Being awake early
45. Empty fields
46. Peanut M&Ms
47. The smell of chlorine
48. My car
49. Being pushed on a swing
50. Falling asleep to thunderstorms
51. Rolling down a hill
52. Tans
53. Baking
54. Balconies
55. Diving
56. Hot air balloons
57. Drinking water
58. Getting lost in a story
59. Looking for frogs
60. Being the best at something
61. Buying Cds
62. The way guys smell
63. Peppermint
64. Plaid Pajama Bottoms
65. Huge hoodies
66. Raspberries
67. Marble Slab Cheesecake Ice Cream

I Am Feeling Fine

I haven't really gotten any answers. I don't know any more than I used to. But somehow I'm okay with that now. I can't define this, I don't know what I want, or what I expect. But somehow I'm comfortable in this turmoil. I don't need to know everything right now. The possibilities keep me company. I know that this feeling is new for me, a feeling I didn't realized existed until now. It feels like I'm inside this windowless box, completely alone. But it's not scary, or claustrophobic, or lonely. It's actually nice, I'm completely at ease in the solitude. Then quietly I hear this knocking, and a door suddenly appears. Soft knocking, coming from the other side of the door. Somehow I just know that the door is unlocked and I can open it if I want to. But the knocking isn't impatient or demanding immediate attention. Whoever's out there isn't in a hurry. And I'm in no rush to leave either. But I know that if and when I open that door, it'll all still be okay. Now how does one put all that into one word? I am feeling hopeful, I am feeling peaceful, I am feeling fine.

My Dark Place

Have you ever wondered why all this unfortunate stuff happens to us? Where the justification is for all the crap we go through? Have you ever felt like you've endured more than your fair share of tragedy or heartache? If you've ever been there, then you know what it's like to be in a dark place. I think we've all been there at some point. Our dark places may not look the same, but they all feel the same. I've been in a dark place recently, and not many people know that. I don't often invite people into that place. There are times however, when you find that you're not alone in the darkness. There is another soul that has lost their way in the exact same pain and grief you've dealt with, the same pain you're dealing with. And suddenly, more than just being grateful for the company, you want nothing more than to lift that other person out of the darkness.
Why is there evil in this world? I can't give you a satisfying answer to that. I can't tell you why bad things happen to us. But it helps me get through it knowing that there's a chance I might meet someone in my darkness one day. Someone struggling with the same thing I've gone through. And there's a chance that I'll be able to say something to help them make sense of it. There's a chance I'll be able to lift them from that dark place. And if there's that chance, if my suffering now will somehow lessen someone else's suffering in the future, then I don't mind it so much. If mistakes turn into experience instead of regret, and hardships instead of weakening me, become the foundation on which I build my character, then I'm going to be okay. Time brings healing, and healing, perspective. And perspective in time may heal someone else.

Predictable

Sometimes I'm oblivious. Sometimes I'm completely out of the loop. But other times I can be so dead on the mark that it's scary. If other people are so tragically predictable, am I this way also?

Same Thing

The things that no one can really live without
The things that no one really appreciates

The excuses that no one really believes
The truth that no one really understands

The money that no one really needs
The money that no one really gives

The dreams that no one really remembers
The memories that no one really wants

The fame that no one really prospers from
The fame that no one really leaves behind

The wars that no one really wins
The peace that no one really keeps

The faces that no one really looks at
The faces that no one really forgets

One Decision

I sit here on this fence. I straddle this borderline. I am at an impasse between the realms of good and evil. And as I am standing here, the longer I am standing here, it becomes gradually more difficult to differentiate between the two sides. I imagine that if there were a visible line as a divider it would be grey. Not simply because black and white combined creates grey, because I am confident that most things in this world are more complicated than just black and white. When every colour imaginable is mixed together, the resulting colour is grey, every time. Just like the finger paintings of over-zealous children who want to make a rainbow, but don't know enough to keep the colours separate.
So I stand here on my imaginary grey line and shift my weight from one foot to the other. I wish it was easy to just pick a side. If that were the case I would have done it already. I tend to gravitate towards the easiest path, for better, or for worse. However, there is no easy path to be found leading one way or the other. And as I continue to stand here longer contemplating the direction of my life, the grey line thickens. Black and white burst into a vibrant rainbow and I am stunned into confused silence. The choice that had seemed difficult at best now seems impossible. Time steadily marches on past me and my indecision, and everything seems to mock me, as if saying that the choice is obvious and I am simply too unintelligent to see it. Instead of finding clarity or resolution, I am faced with the strong desire to drown in the grey. After all, grey makes perfect sense to me right now; a compromise, a middle ground. Perhaps I have found my easy way after all, walking the broadening grey line. Or maybe I should just take a step blindly and hope that it a step in the right direction. And as I contemplate this step of faith, all the many colours disappear, and I am once again faced with nothing more than black and white. And maybe the decision was never really that hard in the first place, after all, it's all just in my head.

So Many Fears

I used to be afraid to fail, to let people down, to feel their disappointment. Now I'm more afraid to succeed, to have people rely on me, to feel the burden of responsibility.
I used to be afraid of my future, of everything I'm headed towards or headed away from. Now I'm more afraid of revisiting the past, and looking back on things that can't be changed. Afraid of encountering regret.
I used to be afraid of never getting married. Afraid of spending my life alone. Now I'm afraid of never finding true love. And I'm still afraid of spending the rest of my life alone.
I used to be afraid of lying and being found out. Now I realize that lying is the easy part. I'm much more afraid of being honest and owning up to the truth.
I used to be afraid of opening up, of being vulnerable. Now I'm more afraid of what will happen if I continue to close myself off.
I used to be afraid of being lost in the sea of people everyday. Afraid of becoming just another face to everyone. Now I'm afraid of what It will be like if I'm ever found. Afraid of being the one face that sticks out to someone.
I used to be afraid of love, and I guess I still am. Afraid to release my heart, and let myself go there. Afraid of bonding myself to another person, and being somehow dependant on them. Now I'm more afraid to lose, afraid of having it all ripped away from me.
I used to be afraid of dying. Afraid of everything that may come after. Afraid of facing the things I'm not quite sure of. Now I'm more afraid of facing everything I do know. Now I'm more afraid of living.

Second Verse Same as the First

We didn't cross that line
Was it smart or foolish
Played it safe this time
I don't know what this is
Or what you want this to be

There's that awkward silence
Where no one says anything
We sit in quiet
I don't know what to think
What do you want me to say

It's foreign land
I've never been here before
I try to shrug it off
But then I worry some more
Rationalizing everything you do
My conscience's shot
Decisions in lingo
I can't decide
So why don't you let me know
If this all leads me back to you

Oops!

oops! I trusted you again, for too long. Long enough for you to know I trusted you. Oops, you broke my trust again. I expected more, I shouldn't have

Things I Truly Hated as a Child

Every so often, one remembers things about themselves. Things from their past. For me these things are : the uncomfortable tightness of the jeans I refused to wear ~ The annoying black elastics of my spandex pants, the ones that cut off the circulation in my feet, at least until I cut them off ~ The shocking cold after I step out of the shower ~ The excessive heat from the blow dryer ~ The feeling of sleeping on a towel with wet hair ~ Turtle necks that slowly choke you, really tight ponytails that leave a kink in your hair ~ Having my hair brushed, through the knots ~ Zucchini, especially when mixed with strawberry milk ~ Throwing up ~ Trying to kick a soccer ball ~ Failing at anything ~ Practicing piano ~ Getting splashed ~ Getting my face wet ~ Rain ~ Sleeping in a tent ~ Anything made of wool ~ Eating oranges ~ Having to hide my oranges in the couch ~ Watching scary movies like Chicken Run ~ Going to the cottage ~ Wearing thong flip flops ~ Yogurt, except for strawberry ~ Bunnies, the ones that pee on you and the couch ~ Going to the dentist ~ Losing a tooth ~ The colour blue ~ Having short hair ~ Being force fed porridge ~ Soap, except if I was feeding it to my brother ~ Sleeping in past 8 ~ Having to type properly ~ Painting my nails . These are the things I truly hated as a child.

Crash and Burn

Crash and burn
I know that I'll pay later
For every thought I have about you now
Every word
Engraves itself into my skin
How stupid can I really be
That i would let you get to me
And now I'm even more in debt
Drowning drowning in regret
So now I think you're right to bet
Against me getting free
Everything
Is worse off than the last time
It all reminds me of your existence
Nothing's safe
It all points back to you
How stupid can I really be
That I would let you get to me'
Each smile makes me fall apart
I have such a pathetic heart
Owning up is good to start
To start becoming free

Dreaming of Sailboats

Pulled into the driveway of the home I've always dreamed of

And in my dream someone's coming rushing out to me

The life I've always wanted

The life that I've been waiting for

Just a couple years more

Finishing college, we've just got one year left to go

And I know that we're ready for whatever's out there

Our first little apartment

No furniture, eat on the floor

In a couple years more

We'll be wrapped in our housecoats

Dreaming of sailboats

Sipping stale coffee

And saving our dimes

Huddled by the fireplace

All of our doubts erased

We're young and we're free

Baby, just you and me

Outside the window I know that none of them get it

With you I see paradise in this main street landscape

One day we'll fix up what's outside

Of our ivy covered walls

With a couple years more

And I'll get all that I'm missing

At last do more than wishing

In a couple years more

You'll play guitar and sing to

That song and I will fall for you

Just like I did that first time

And that feeling of elation

Will be more than confirmation

That all my wildest dreams came true

In a couple years more

In a couple years more

In a couple years more

In a couple years more

We'll be wrapped in our housecoats

Dreaming of sailboats

Sipping stale coffee

And saving our dimes

Huddled by the fireplace

All of our doubts erased

We're young and we're free

Baby just you and me

What if we dreamed?

It's not really a clear sky tonight. The moon is really only half visible through the cloud cover. It's not the perfect night for stargazing, but sometimes these things get put off or forgotten about. This isn't where I wanted to see the stars from, but often we must make do with second best, because often life takes us somewhere unexpected. As I look at life, I really can't make any sense of it. I can't see how there's a point to any of this. I can't see how we'll ever find peace in this world. I can't see the path my life is supposed to take, or where I'm supposed to find my future. But somehow, I can see all that in the stars. Not in the constellations or in the riddles of astrology, none of that means anything. But sometimes I feel like, even though I know that the stars are millions of light years away, sometimes it feels like if I jumped high enough, maybe I could grasp just one. Even if none of us ever get there, what's there to keep us going in life if we don't have our dreams. Dreams so far fetched and impossible that we are surely the only ones to ever believe in them. And what if we dreamed for peace? When I look at the stars in their stillness, in their harmony and sanctitude with one another, it doesn't show me peace in the heavens. It shows me a reflection of something we could have here. And what if we dreamed for purpose? When I look at the stars and see how some shine brighter than others, I know that those stars are not necessarily bigger or closer or more astonishing than the other stars. I somehow find the purpose in being who I am, maybe I need to question it sometimes, but why hide a star from the world? And what if we dreamed of love? What of love? I haven't the slightest comprehension of love and it seems that even the universe can't make sense of it. If one of the stars disappeared from the sky one night, I doubt anyone would even notice. I don't believe that we live in this world of fairytale plots where everyone gets their happily ever after. But if we all can't have happily ever after, can't we all just live happy, for as much time as we have? If one of the stars disappeared from the sky tonight I doubt anyone would notice. Then again, maybe someone would. After all, I can't be the only one looking at the stars.

Returning

Who could've guessed that it would feel like this to come back. I hadn't thought about it, I didn't consider how it would affect me. But that seems foolish now, I should have prepared myself, because this is the weirdest feeling ever. It's as if I'm walking through a graveyard. Not in a morbid way, but it's the quiet, peaceful, emptiness that makes it feel like that now. I suppose lonely would be another word for it. I keep expecting to see people, it's like a continuous deja vu. I know it sound cliche, but everything is different now, it looks different, it feels different. This is probably what it feels like to attend your high school reunion. To see people you once knew, and know that nothing will ever be as it was then, and these people are not the same as you remember them. Or maybe it's like visiting as old house that you've long since moved out of and is now inhabited by different people. It might be the same house, but it's no longer home, it's been redecorated, it smells different, the atmosphere it different, so different it's almost uncomfortable. It's not that I don't still love it here, well actually I can't figure out whether I love it or hate it right now, but either way it's such a strong emotion that this place will stick with me. This place is like my own personal graveyard. Even though the memories have began to fade and remembering the stories is harder. This place is still full of things I have sacrificed and left behind. Returning here is inevitable, it is impossible to stay away. The connections I have to this place make it an integral part of my life. It will never go back to being just a place.

Hidden World

A thin sliver of light shines through the doorway, she had left the door open just a crack. Not enough to allow anyone to see through, not quite enough for her to see out. If you could see in you would see that her blankets are covered in wet splotches from catching her tears. Kleenex is scattered across the bed and there are perfect imprints from where her black eyelashes touched the covers and left marks. If you could see in you would see her biting down on her bottom lip, suppressing the screams of anguish that long to escape her. If you could see in you would see the way she grips her pillow, as if she were clinging to life itself. If you could see in, you would see her confused face, you could watch her as she wonders. If one learns to endure physical pain, will emotional pain hurt less? Will it be easier to become like stone? If you could see in, you would see her staring blankly at the mirror, and in her eyes you might be able to glimpse the distorted image that stares blankly back. She feels her last meal rotting inside her and knows how relieving it will feel to throw it all up. There's a sliver of light that shines through her doorway. Not quite enough for anyone to see in.

The Clouds

Every great romantic, every famous author, every talented poet has passed time looking at the clouds. They've wondered at their beauty and their shape. How many artists have tried to capture their essence? How many children lie down to watch them each day? Any good philosopher, any renownd thinker can tell you this, as can i , and i am neither great nor talented; we are like the clouds. Just as unique, just as individually fascinating, and each just as easily over looked. Clouds are constantly moving and changing. They drift across the sky with no real destination, just like the journey of our lives. Clouds can bring peace and the feeling of a happy calm, or clouds and bring angst and a feeling of dread. Sometimes things build up inside a cloud and the cloud changes. The cloud tries to hold itself together, and in doing so it changes appearance. And sometimes clouds cry. Sometimes they're exceptionally emotional and there is a flood of tears. When the clouds have no tears left to cry, they might find their old selves again, or they might have crossed the line of no return. They might be unrecognizable, and they continue to drift. Sometimes new clouds appear, and sometimes clouds disappear. Sometimes clouds join together and sometimes clouds drift apart. It's all part of nature's cycle, it's all part of the circle of life. Everyday, clouds bask in the light of the sun. Some clouds block the sun's light from reaching the earth, some willingly let it's light through. The sun will always shine, it's light will always reach the earth, eventually. Some clouds are closer to the sun, some clouds are closer to the earth. As a cloud drifts closer or farther from the sun it changes. it has to change, it cannot move closer to the sun without changing. For a cloud, and for us, change is part of life. Clouds have learned to except that. But we, unlike the clouds have a choice. We have control over the changes in our lives. Each choice will bring a change and with each change comes another choice. Life is a journey of choices and of change. And sometimes when we're having trouble with that, it helps to take a second and look up at the clouds. You know, we are like the clouds.

Deeper Still

Your eyes are deeper still than the ocean of lies i try to tell you. If your eyes meet mine I have no doubt they'll see truth.

Your eyes are deeper still than my vast abyss of worries. When your eyes look into mine I find nothing but clarity, and absolute calm.

Your eyes are deeper still than the expanse of my fears. When you look me in the eyes, I know I can be brave

But your eyes are not deep enough

More Than Rich

Shes gotten everything she's ever wanted and everything she never thought to ask for. It's not that she's greedy really, she's just loved, and definitely spolied. She's not rich, she's more than that, she's fortunate. Fortunate enough to not be considered poor, fortunate enough to have everything the rich want but can't have. Money can't buy family, money can't buy loyalty, the kind that never falters. Money can't buy faith or truth or salvation. She has all that and more, and yet she can still sit around somedays and feel sorry for herself. She wonders why life is seems so pointless as she hoards her blessings and walks through life with tunnel vision. She has far more than any perosn needs. Far more than a selfish person wants. She has the perfect life, it's okay, you can say it.

Armadillo

What's with this girl? She's beautiful and she's smart, and she's got bruises all over her body. Some think her father's abusive, some swear it's her mom, other put their money on an ex-boyfriend. But the question isn't which one?
What's with this girl? She's got bruises all over her heart. She's in and out of relationships like clockwork, and yet for some reason she pours her whole heart into each one. They've promised her lies, they've kept them all. They've cheated her, maybe beaten her, and before she knows it, she's letting them.
What's with this girl? She's got bruises all over her pride. She's been built up and torn down too many times for anyone to count, and somewhere along the way she just couldn't pick up all the pieces. She doesn't have time to rebuild herself before the next fatal blow. So she lays among the rubble, hoping that if a mighty fortress wasn't enough stop the army, then maybe it's fallen wreckage will be.
What's with this girl? There's bruises all over her self-image. Each school picture shows a new hurting face, one that grows thinner each year. It's not enough though, it's never enough, for her father, for herself. People notice, but it would be rude to comment.
What's with this girl? She's got bruises all over her friendships. She's got friends, probably too many, and as each new friend becomes one of the hundred, she also disappears into the many faces of popularity. She immerses herself into the lives of others to block out the troubles in her own life. I wonder if any of her friends ever stopped to ask.... "What's with this girl? She's beautiful, she's smart, and she's bruised."

Trying My Best

I'm going to be happy for you, because that's what's expected of me. Not that happy describes what I'm feeling right now, but it's what you want me to feel, and I'll pretend that's all that matters for now. Even if I have to paint this smile on, I will try to be happy for you, because that's what you would do for me. Besides, you don't know any better. I would never want to wreck anything for you, just as you would never wreck anything for me. Never purposefully wreck anything for me. I can't put my bitterness on you, you're not to blame. I can't blame you for your ignorance, for my habit of internalizing. It's not your fault, it's mine. You will remain oblivious so you don't carry a burden you don't deserve. I'll stop wishing and hoping for everythign to be different. My dream come true would mean your dream shattered. I will discard the slightest thought of interfering. You deserve this, I guess. You'll be good together, maybe. But there was never any question about it, no matter what, you would have always won.

Life is Funny Sometimes

Life is funny sometimes. It lets you think you've got it almost all figured out, just to prove to you that you actually haven't got the first clue. Life often leads you to believe one thing only for you to be hit hard by something else, something unexpected. Life isn't fair, but there are times when it fools you into thinking it is. Life doesn't let you try things over. It won't slow down and explain things to you. It won't speed things up and let you bypass difficulties. Life promises to always ask you trick questions, and to always throw you curve balls. This isn't the game of life where everyone is guaranteed a stop along the road for schooling, a career, marriage, a home, and a cozy retirement at the end. Life is not a game. Life will try you from different angles. It can make you feel alone and isolated, like a patient with an unknown disease that no one has ever experienced before. Sometimes life can make you feel like what you feel isn't worth saying since everyone's been there before. Life will constantly play with your emotions, and then tell you that what you're feeling is wrong. Life will shuffle your priorities and mess with your thinking. In life, right and wrong will never be as definite as right and left. In life, laughter can be mean and tears can show joy. Lies are often only one step from the truth, and sometimes the truth can be more dreadfully painful than the lie. Life won't give you answers, only more questions. Life is funny sometimes.

Things I Only Wish Were Mine To Remember

Most of the time I'm fine now. The distance has helped, as well as the distractions, it's only an issue now on the rare occasions I'm forced to remember everything. I'm fine as long as no one mentions it, as long as I don't at pictures or overhear conversations. I really don't have a problem so long as I don't listen to music or watch movies or am around people too often. I'm fine as long as I'm not left alone by myself too much. The time between rest and sleep is dangerous as I have very little control over my thoughts then. And in the times I am reminded, everything is vivid, nothing has faded or grown cold. Everything is still bittersweet and unresolved, identical to the last time I was forced to dwell upon it. Eyes locked, piercing me, and I look away, too afraid that you could see my thoughts and make me more transparent. Hands clasped, in comfort, in support, in prayer. Voices, paired with the strumming of a guitar. Smiles that haunt me because I know what they're supposed to look like but can't see them anymore. The laughter will make me break, now and every other time I remember it. The things my mind drags up again and again. The makings of the perfect memory I never quite had.

Rays of Hope

A new dawn approaches, a dawn that has been expected, perhaps even anticipated. With the new dawn comes expectations. Expectations that things will be the same, expectations for things to be different. Expectations that my hopes will be fulfilled. Many of these expectations stem from my subconscious, thoughts I should never let myself wish for, dreams I would never put into audible words. But deep inside, I'm pretty confident that I know what's coming. I mean once you've seen one sunrise you've basically seen them all, and like all early mornings this time of year there's a mist that hangs over everything, disguising it, at least for the first few hours of dawn. I know though that all I have to do is wait a little while until it's time for the sun to make an appearance. Not that it ever really left, it just drifted out of sight for a little while. But when it does reappear, and it will, it will reclaim everything, exposing that which was hidden by the mist, distorted by the only remainder of the night. So, as I wait to see how this new day will play out, I wait with expectations, and though they may not all be met, I have hope that some will be exceeded. I know that hope is often broken but it's also very resilient, and often seems to act on it's own accord. It is the sun that gives me hope and so I rest with the constant assurance of that sun.

One Princess Story

Once upon a time there lived a girl. A girl with big dreams and a wild imagination. The girl often pretended she was a princess and her heart's desire was to one day find her prince. Full of fairy tales and fantasies her life continued. Dreams of wedding gowns and far away castles possessed her thoughts. The girl, now not so much a girl realized that her prince was really taking his time finding her. There were plenty of dragons, but no one to slay them for her. Time passed as it almost always does and there came a time for the girl to put on some armour of her own and fight back the many fire breathing dragons that encircled her. With a shield that was much too heavy and a sword that was not meant for her, she set out. She fought gallantly, and independently, and success greeted her. She returned from battle with scars on her body but pride in her heart. Upon her return she found not one but three charming princes awaiting her. The first was brave and bold, he promised to fight off all of the dragons for her. The second was handsome and hardworking, he showered her with compliments, though he cringed at her scars. The third was wealthy and witty, he told her of his many castles and promised her every luxury. Not one of the princes gained her favour that day. She turned them all down, convinced that there would be a fourth, and she waited once more. For the rest of her life she waited, but another prince never came.

Family Situation

They live in their grandma's basement. They've had it rough you could say. Sheets and laundry divide the rooms. Space is a little tight. Eight cords are plugged into the outlet. Extension cords run everywhere. The temperature sits at about 62' F in the winter. Single beds pushed together, one sleeps on a floor mattress, one sleeps on the couch. Fans run constantly to diminish the smell that emanates from the carpet and the floor itself. One car sits in the driveway, three people have to go to work. The gas meter is nearing empty, I wonder when there will be money to fill it up, or time. The family is patched and frayed, the hard times bringing out the best, but also the worst. There's been alot of the latter recently. Depression isn't a temporary condition, it's a lifestyle. Dad can't hold a job, but it's not his fault. Mom's job doesn't pay the bills. Grandma's helped too much already, and two teenage boys have been through way too much. They haven't exactly grown up though, they've tried almost everything, and I wonder how that will effect their lives later. If they lean on each other they all fall, if they stick it out on their own, they fall apart. They're just your average family, with extraordinary dreams that have been put on hold. Aspiring musicians, passionate missionaries, talented, loving, striving individuals. The plastered smiles, the rehearsed answers. The bible verses are posted throughout the house. Their only hope, God where are you now? Help your children.

You Can't Hear Me Now

The words smudged in black ink
The words don't have time to sink in
I'm stronger on paper
No sword's quite as sharp as my pen
But nothing that I write
Will change the fact that you were right mistaken
I'm sick of false hope
And there's nothing left to write again

After tonight what's the point in these letters
After tonight where's the power in these words
After tonight I will always remember
Nothing I say now will ever be heard

The laughter is missing
The laughing and kissing is gone
The good times are short lived
The days all seem three times too long
I'll stay here forever
In silence it goes on and on and on
And not that it matters
But I thought I mattered, I'm wrong

After tonight what's the point in these letters
(Now I stand here asking why)
After tonight where's the power in these words
(There's nothing left so I cry)
After tonight I will always remember
(I never could forget you)
Nothing I say now will ever be heard
(You can't hear me)

Nothing I do
Is ever gonna change you
Never gonna change your mind
And all the self assurance
In the world can't buy me
One more second of time

After tonight what's the point in these letters
(Now I stand here asking why)
After tonight where's the power in these words
(There's nothing left so I cry)
After tonight I will always remember
(I never could forget you)
After tonight nothing I say will ever be heard
(You can't hear me)

You can't hear me
You can't hear me.....now

I Hate Fireworks

The fireworks explode from outside the car window, each the same as the next. How many more times do we have to sit through them until the novelty wears off. And it's alot less enjoyable when you're alone and would rather be anywhere else. The tinted glass dims the luster but the sound of each explosion blasts through the air. Why are we here? Because as long as we're playing by majority rules, I am always going to lose. No matter how you do the math three will always beat one. If it ends in a tie we all lose, and there's no real point in voting if you already know the outcome. It doesn't matter if we're being selfish or rude, if we happen to wreck some friendships in the process, then bonus. If I could do it all over, I wouldn't even be here. But here I am, here I waste my night, with one earphone and the echos from outside. The images of how it should have been run through my mind like a video on fast forward. Everythings too blurred now because I'm too wrapped up in it all. I'm thinking of drastic ways to make my point, none of them even close to the point I'm really trying to make. My screams are drowned out by the fireworks, my tears frozen before they fall from the cold. My hands shake from the anger, my lips bleed from being bitten. The finale, identical to the beginning bursts into view, and as the sparks fade, there's nothing left but clouds of smoke blowing across the sky.

Kinda Too Bad

Her hair comes off the curling iron in perfect little ringlets. She takes care to hairspray each piece so that her head of curls remains perfect. Prom night, the day ever girl waits for. The reason a girl tolerates highschool. Her pricey red dress hangs off both shoulders giving her tanned skin even more colour. Each feature on her face has been perfectly accented. She is a masterpiece. The mirror struggles to find an imperfection. Around her room pictures hang, of adventures and friendships, of camping trips and shopping trips. Ribbons intermingle with the photographs, awards and certificates commemorating her achievements. She's always been told her future is bright, she can be anything she wants to be. Her closet doors are covered in drawings. Those of children she's babysat, and some of her own. A budding artist and a talented writer. Her book shelves are filled with journals and her own stories. Her computer's resting light flickers, the hard drive is filled with music and digital camera images, projects and saved IM messages. She's got it together, she's got it all, and there's nothing standing in her way. She's admired and she's envied. The clock says 7:00. She gracefully slips into her heels embracing the height. Descending the stairs with the praise of her family. She has the perfect life, but the one thing she's really ever wanted is missing. It's prom night and this is every girls nightmare. She grabs the car keys, she goes alone.

Closer to Home

The gravel shifts beneath your feet
You're walking down a one way street
And on this street you can not turn around
There's travellers alongside you
You wonder where they're travelling to
The message of your life starts to resound

If only you'd have known
Just how short life was
If only you'd have known
What's worth living for
If only you'd have known
You might have made a choice
If only you'd have known
Heavens coming closer to home

The crowds around you fade away
All the colours blend to grey
Your whole life just flashed before your eyes
Grasping for the one who's near
The world around you disappears
Stripped, you can't depend on your disguise

If only you'd have known
Just how short life was
If only you'd have known
What's worth living for
If only you'd have known
You might have made a choice
If only you'd have known
Heavens coming closer to home

There's This Guy I Know

A boy came into the pub today
He's throwing them back without delay
He's barely nineteen
And as strong as he seems
It just helps keep his fears at bay

There's a boy out in the parking lot
He's with the dropouts smoking pot
He seems cool and collected
Hopes his mind's not affected
These are all of the friends that he's got

Here's the boy with a girl in his bed
Sex is his way of getting ahead
You don't get it back
Don't you understand that
One day you'll regret this instead

A boy steals major cash from his mom
Then he's arrested with a much smaller sum
He waits lonely in jail
And prays for the bail
That he knows is never going to come

Judgement

There's a shadow on the floor in the corner of the room. A crumpled huddled figure, masked in the blacks and greys. The figure is human, small, frail. The eyes are dull and hard like granite. Like a stone that the ocean has broken and crashed against an infinite number of times. Eventually that rock will turn to sand, ground down enough times that it becomes less and less each beating. The rock is no longer something one can trip on, or stub their toe on, the rock can not even prove it's own existence once it is sand. Sand goes unnoticed, no grain of sand more important than the next, reduced to nothing. The figure's frame is shaking. Perhaps with fear, the fear of being discovered, or the fear of never being found. Perhaps with cold as the wind whips through the drafty room. The emotions are as well concealed as the figure itself. Buried behind hollow eyes and dirty sunken cheeks. The rest of the room is well lit and crowded. Happy, chatter carries through the crowds. It is easy to miss the camouflaged creature. Amidst the laughing and dancing and frivolity going on, who has time to spare a glance at an idle guest. Perhaps the figure has bigger problems than being a wallflower. You step into the room, and after initially having to shove your way through the crowd, you are immediately engulfed by the party. You're passed a drink and offered a dance, stumbling towards an open space in the crowd, into a corner. What do you find their but a drunken girl rude enough to pass out on the floor. Her limbs are bleeding, you've assessed her as a drug addict and her lack of dress also implies prostitute. Who is this stranger? Who cares?

A Pair of Blue Jeans

She bought a pair of really nice blue jeans. She paid top dollar for them but they were worth it. They were high quality denim, a deep blue, and they were designer, one of a kind. They had some bead work around the pockets and tiny cloth stars sewn on the bottom hem. She wore them right out of the store and strode confidently through the mall. People turned to watch her walk by and she was sure that they were admiring her new jeans. However when she stepped outside into the parking lot she couldn't help but notice that the blue wasn't quite as rich out here. She wore her jeans to school the next day, hoping for praise and approval. Strangely, no one said anything, and then she noticed the jeans that all the other girls wore. Their jeans all looked similar, the other girls all wore their pants lower and their jeans were all bleached.
She went home that night and took the jeans down to the laundry room. Reluctantly, and with shaking hands she pulled the container of bleach off the shelf. She doused the jeans, wincing with the knowledge that the bleach would ruin the quality fibres. She knew the soft texture of the denim would never return. Nonetheless she proudly wore the newly bleached jeans to school again. They were blotchy in some spots and splattered with careless drips, but they were closer to fitting in than before. She even got a compliment on them that day.
She wore her jeans all through the winter, but as spring approached the styles began to change. The other girls now had holes in their jeans, just above the knees where it looked like they'd worn through. She looked down at her own jeans and noted that apart from the obvious bleaching, they were in excellent condition. However, when she got home, she spread the jeans out over the kitchen table and with dull craft scissors cut one slit in each leg. She ripped the opening further apart and let the white strings hang and fray, just like the other girls did. Satisfied, she set the jeans aside for the next day. When she put them on again, she accidentally stuck her foot through one of the holes. Easily widening the weakened material.
At school her friends raved about her newly adapted jeans. She was even invited to a sleepover, to which she would be sure to wear the jeans everyone loved so much. Everyone else wore their jeans to the party too. The girls all sat on the floor with markers and pens strewn around them. She was told that they were all going to sign each others jeans and write comments. Happily signing her name and writing little compliments to each girl, she excitedly ran back for her own jeans once the exchanges were finished. Still gathered in a circle, one of the girls pointed out that her jeans would look better without the stars, which looked so childish. searching for a seam ripper, she hastily tore away all the little stars.
After the party, she spent more time at home carefully reading all the little inscriptions on her jeans. Smiling she traced her own signature and a few of the other girls, however the smile faded as she read the comments further. far from words of encouragement or friendly jokes, the harsh criticisms and cruel jabs stung her eyes and tears began to form. She also noticed that there were large blank patches where no one had bothered to sign. In a last resort, she hurriedly threw the jeans into the washer hoping that maybe they'd be wiped clean, the way they were. To her dismay, the washing machine had done little more than blur the words into messy smudges, certain words were still very legible. She emptied the entire container of bleach into a bucket and plunged the jeans in. Returning hours later to find the jeans had been reduced to an ugly, white, partially see through crumpled mess of fabric. Nothing at all like the beautiful blue designer jeans she had once bought. ruined not by time, but by insecurity and loneliness. Destroyed by jealousy and the unkindness of others. Her one of a kind jeans, a masterpiece, lost for the price of fitting in.

Queen of Mediocrity

I wrote some words upon a desk
I hoped you'd never see
But with the force I wrote those words
It's clear you got to me
I told myself I wouldn't fall
For anyone like you
No fairy tales, no royal ball
My skies are never blue

Why should this change now
I don't believe in destiny
Get on your knees and bow
To the Queen of mediocrity
And nothing else makes sense
Nothing else rings true
So try at your expense
I'll never be with you

And the world keeps spinning onwards
Won't stop for fools like me
My life is spinning backwards
How could I ever believe

Why should this change now
I don't believe in destiny
Get on your knees and bow
To the Queen of mediocrity
Nothing else makes sense
And nothing else rings true
So try at your expense
But I'll never be with you

I'll never be with you
Get on your knees and bow

More Than Stage Fright?

The bright stage lights are blinding. The reds, and blues and greens all blend to brilliant white. You shade your eyes from the intense glare, and take in some of the audience. Some are waiting expectantly for you to begin, some chatter loudly in their seats not paying you the least bit of attention. Some are already sleeping, some are laughing, others are pointing. Pointing at blank space as if they can't see that you're the only one on the stage, surrounded by a raw black. Centred in the spotlights. Your mind is spinning from the lights and the heat. you simply want to collapse, but can't, how embarrassing. They're all waiting, and they'll continue to wait. you just need to say you piece, maybe they'll listen, but you daren't hope for applause. Say what you need to say, and then maybe you'll be able to escape from here, from where you stand alone. Or maybe they can just dim the lights for a while, if you must continue to parade. your mind is as blank as all the watching faces, wiped clean of all that you had rehearsed, all that you remember. You realize that you've been here longer than you'd anticipated. And why must you continue to provide their entertainment? Why must your life be a constant spectacle? The curtain isn't closing anytime soon, so you have two choices. Make a brave face and push onwards, improvise your way through, make it up as you go. Far from perfect, but probably the best you can hope for. You can remain under the lights, coated in makeup, acting a part you were never meant to play. Or you can walk out. Walk away. Away from the expectations of what your performance must be. you can leave behind the pressures of always having to outdo the previous act. You could leave what you've always known and pray there's something better out there. And maybe there is, and maybe there will be. Away from the spotlights, maybe you'll take off the plastic mask, remove the ridiculous costume and makeup. Maybe then you'll know more than these black walls and this wooden floor. But you must make a choice, for the show must go on, with or without you. The exit is stage left.

Funeral Song

David Phelps - Fly Again

His trembling hands held the church pew that day,
Stryggling to stand when they asked him to pray.
With wisdom and strength his words were spoken.
But his body grew weary for his wings were broken.

But he will fly once again.
He will soar with his wings unfolded.
Hear the angels applaud,
As he rides on the wind to the arms of God.
And he will fly, he will fly again.

And on that day when he left for the sky,
I saw him smile as he told me goodbye.
No more would he weep for missed tomorrows,
No more would he suffer in this land of sorrows.

But he will fly once again.
He will soar with his wings unfolded.
Hear the angels applaud,
As he rieds on the wind to the arms of God.
And he will fly, he will fly again.

I know he's in a better place.
I still dream of the day,
When I'll see his face,
And we'll embrace, and...

We will fly once again.
We will soar, with our wings unfolded.
Hear the angels applaud,
As we ride on the wind to the arms of God.
And we will fly, we will fly again.

My Last Goodbye

I haven't been to see you in while, I regret that now. This could be the end of the road for you. you're weak and you're tired of fighting, and you haven't been yourself for a long time. Maybe you'll hold on, I don't know, but I hope you know you don't have to. This is in God's hands and that is without a doubt the best place for it to be. We all knew at was coming for a while, but that doesn't mean we're ready for it. Still, in a way, this is a very good thing. You're headed for a better place, they're rolling out the red carpet now and anxiously awaiting your arrival, as we prepare for your departure. We love you, we'll always keep a special place for you. i have happy memories of another time when you were healthy. That's the grandpa I will try to remember. I'm trying to be strong, for dad, for everyone. We know the tears are temporary and we'll all meet again soon. It'll just be hard for us to wait, but it will be just the blink of an eye in heaven. You'll be happy there. No more pain, no more Parkinsons, and you'll have all your memories back and won't have to worry about losing them ever again. At least you got to see the twins once. We'll tell them about you, your sense of humour, the way you teased us. The organ playing and scripture reading at Christmas. I'll tell them about your garden and raspberry patch, and the way you wanted orange cake when the rest of us wanted lemon. If this is the end stretch then I'll thank God for the blessing you've been, and for all the time we did have. If we've still got time, then I thank God for his continual compassion. I love you grandpa, but it's okay to let go. We're going to miss you, probably more than we expected, but it's okay to let go. You'll be with Jesus, you're going home. Go home grandpa, let go.

Just Putting it Out There

So, I really thought I was over you, like over a year ago. But apparently, I'm sorta not, but I sorta have to be because it sorta doesn't make a difference. I was getting to the point where all the lingering feelings where gone and everything began to feel normal. Now, I don't know what to think, or feel and a whole bunch of whys keep building up. It's different this time, less intimidating this time, but I still don't think its the right time. It never really is though is it? There will never be that absolute clarity, there will never be a point in time where everything just lines up perfectly and minds are crystal clear. It doesn't happen that way, and I don't think this can happen right now. But it's not all about me anymore and I guess it never was. It all rests on your choices, and if you can't choose me, then I understand.

Defending the Faith

Those without faith, can you honestly deny God? Can you honestly look around you, look in a mirror at your incredibly intricate being, at your uniqueness from every other person who's ever walked the planet and who ever will walk it in future; can you look at all that and deny the existence of a God? How can you really claim that this all happened one day by chance by some arbitrary forces and particles that were pressurized, and BANG! Human life! Really? Some force of nature created us? All of us, individuals with feelings and minds and bodies so complex that thousands of years of science and research have still failed to make sense of. Or perhaps you insist that we evolved, that after the earth came to be there were organisms that became creatures that became mammals that became humans. And then we stop? I didn't know that evolution reaches an end point. Isn't that contradictory? Evolution, an evolving cycle, a circle, never ending. And if we evolved from apes, why do apes still exist? Why are the remaining apes not evolving? But even still, even with the absurdity and flaws in the theory, still lets pause and consider the possibility that we did come to be through evolution. Does that really change anything? Really, at the very core of what I believe, why does that matter overly much? Does it matter whether creation lasted 6 days or 6 billion years? No, I still do not doubt my God. My God who created the ever changing oceans, the still unknown number of sea life below. My God who forms each cloud and sends out each raindrop. My God who changes the weather, who allowed natural catastrophes which appall even the most learned scholars. My God whose presence I feel always. Those who want proof are closing their eyes. There is no way to prove to a blind person that colour exists. They call believers narrow minded, and yet they fail look at themselves and see how they have God's own fingerprint etched deep onto their very souls. If you exist how can you possibly doubt God's existence? If there was no God, if you truly are determined to outright proclaim his non-existence, how can you live? If I had no God fear would be engulfing. If I had no God every terrible thing in this world would consume me and I would still feel empty. There would be no peace in this world of war. If you don't know God's peace how can you expect to sow peace on earth. There would be no hope in our world of despair. Nothing to live for, nothing to love for, nothing to strive for, nothing to trust in. If this world was void of a God we could not have survived this long. If there is no God, there is no good. If there is no devil, there is no evil. There would be no white and no black, only grey or white would be black and black would be white. We would be without a conscience and therefore human beings as a species would have killed each other off. With unsuppressed violence and unchallenged hatred, we would have self destructed. Without God, there would never be this argument because without God we could not exist. But just incase there's something I've overlooked, perhaps it's safer not to generalize, rather, without God, I would not, could not exist.

Who We Really Are

Now is not the time to start being honest. Now is not the time to start showing people who you really are. For now you can only continue to portray the lie. For now you have to live with yourself, whether or not you want to live at all. The blame from death itself would be put on you, and as there is no insurance coverage, no one would benefit from your suicide. This twisted world doesn't care if you're the person you're meant to be, and it's unlikely you'll ever get the chance to try to be that person now. Second chances seem to be limited, and reserved for those who deserve them, namely, no one. And wouldn't it be a shame to take advantage of this precious resource of second chances only to find out that the real you is worse than the fake one? I think pretending to be someone can eventually turn you into that person anyways. So what the point if there's no difference, and you find out that you're the same person you're pretending to be.