Content with Discontent

   As it happens often, 8th hour rolled around, and the world around me fell to pieces, caved into my head. I have no problem with the class of physical education as they call it; in fact, it's often quite nice, to be able to run around and do this and that without having to put much mental focus into it. I am not an athlete, and have never been, save for my rather successful years in martial arts which like an old relationship, I seem to miss the good parts of and forget why I left in the first place. A game called knock-out usually leaves me standing away from the long line for a while, because when I throw the ball toward the hoop, my lack of skill -- and more so, sentiment -- keeps it far from it's intended path, allowing the person behind me ample time to make the shot. No worries, think I, for my mind has many places to wander, and the act of standing idle in P.E. class brings a sense of satisfaction in defeating the entire purpose of it. While I would rather be running around, feeling my pulse quicken and my features redden, I take pleasure in the irony that often it is those who need it most that get the least motion by the set-up of such games and classes.
   So I stand aside, fixating my eyes on that netted goal, not out of interest but of thinking there is not a more appropriate place for them to lie. Unsure of what to do with my hands, I will hold them, finger my bracelets, put them behind my back or on my hips, each action feeling a bit forced and unnatural, yet better than feeling them weigh down, immobilized, by my sides. My face is wholly expressionless, if not a bit stern with bent eyebrows. Behind the eyes locked onto the hanging net, a mind works in places besides its physical location.  Many times, no words run through, no sentences or ideas that are in any sense tangible or able to be properly expressed or written, because I am clearing my head of all unnecessary monologue in order to feel the emotions of my heart and read life's philosophy from my soul. I am thinking, very hard, just not with my head. And though I might so desire it, it's often impossible to share this with other inquiring souls, blessed be their hearts, rare amongst the weeds of society. I worry because sometimes I try this but I feel completely empty, in heart and mind, as well as spirit, as if my essence has temporarily taken hiatus. Today, however, my brain's sulci presented me with intelligible words and thoughts.
  While far from a new revelation, a certain idea pervaded the emptiness of my head. This being, that we should seek to be content with discontent. It will never be a good thing to be entirely happy, for that is the opposite of from which bears change, motivation, focus, and action. We work for a desired effect, because we currently are lacking it.  We aim and dream for that which we do not have. If we feel whole, and satisfied with all of life's aspects, then we do not want change, and thus we do not want growth or progression.  Why work towards something when where we are is perfect? Why should a student work harder when they are pleased with a B? In the right scope, in the proper dosage, unhappiness is our greatest asset, spurring all new discoveries and achievements. I am bothered by not knowing the answer to this, so I will work to seek it, thus finding happiness. So we must strive for what we can never reach -- perfection -- but accept that we will never obtain it. One cannot be a winner all the time, and must realize that for the most part, he is a loser, in order to win at all.
   Humans spend too much time dwelling on negativity and its affiliations, treating it as an undesirable disease.  We have so driven this boon into ignominy that this natural and necessary state is medicated against; fought just as valiantly as wars are. Here is to embracing our healthy stress and that which causes it, to happiness with our secretly fertile unhappiness. When we accept the ebb and flow of life, it's much harder for any emotion to spiral out of control, taking over the minds and hearts which try to resist it so fruitlessly. And while I certainly will not follow what I've spoken, I will try my damnedest to be content with discontent - just not too content.

Why'd you let me win?

Simple Cards

Don't be tricked by aces in your face
They'll tell you that it won't be a difficult game
But they don't show what they're hiding beneath
What comes quick can never last
So don't jump so quick at weak prey
In a shuffle soon, your queen will appear
And your eyes will open to the meaning of the game

Throw away all the cards,

You're the light in the dark

Box

Under an amaretto sunrise I found a box
It's sturdy, dense, and heavy; it's all covered in locks
An aura emanates, sometimes light and sometimes dark
I took it with me, and saw it's presence to be interminable, like the song of a lark
More than anything I wanted to open it, but the seams were sealed shut
I couldn't slice the chains open no matter how much I cut
I fought and fought until I reached exhaustion
I never knew my desires were so Faustian
A moment from death, I'd found my design
To accept the unobtainable, and face the malign 

No matter how many deaths that I die I will never forget No matter how many lives that I live I will never regret

Along the Way

Somewhere along the way,  I found the letter I had lost. 
Maybe it was an A, or a B, or a Z;  I couldn't tell because the light wasn't so good.
It was one of those things that always stays a part of you, but you sort of let yourself forget.
You let life pass you by, flowing down the current of time, and then, all of a sudden,
"Oh yeah, I remember you. I was looking for you all this time."
And you did just fine in its absence, but in front of your face, you can't imagine yourself without it.

Maybe the pain that was set in place of the proximity of my letter made me repress my affections.
Maybe it hurt so bad I tried to hate it and told everyone I did. 
But the hate was set inward because I knew I'd never let it go, not all the way.
I could reach a staged happiness, tricking even myself it worked.
And I believed myself too. Why wouldn't I?

I spent so much effort, using all sorts of erasers and paints, to make it disappear from my mind, to cover it.
But the memory bled through, and smudges remained.
Because I couldn't forget the places we'd been to, and the stories I'd written with you.
Then to drop you from my alphabet, but keep writing. How could I do that? 
I'd look at all the other letters, and they're fine, they're lovely.
They have their places and purposes.
They aren't you though. They never could be. Such a shape and sound could never be reproduced.

I'm holding you tight; now, I have you.
My only fear?
Somewhere along the way, I'll lose you forever.

 

Fire in my heart, burning just for you

Prologue

We'll have a story to tell one day. We'll talk about the crazy way we met, the coincidence that just wasn't.  The way something entirely unintentional turned into furious potential. Maybe we'll talk about the way we waited for each other in every sense of the word. The way it drove us crazy, and toward each other.  We'll look back and see that a break didn't mean anything was broken, only paused. Thoughts never ceased when the words did, and thoughts are the precursors to every single thing in life. Thoughts and feelings, which were present, although it took me a while to untangle all the wires of my heart and disconnect some here, plug them in there, make a strong connection to my mind which is the only thing I trust sometimes, but perhaps the most unreliable. Rose-colored goggles are real. I swear, there's a pinkish tint to everything I see and hear and feel and taste, and I know that hue comes from you. I'm drunk on love, high off of a passion for another person I never thought I'd have. Challenges are my specialty. And this one, damn, it's harder than anything I've ever done before. Isn't it funny how something so passive as waiting can be so difficult? I'm pretty sure this is a bigger trial than my USMLE's will be. It's also hard how others look on seeking justification and verification when they deserve none. Only we know how we feel and it's a shame that most people will never have what we do. But I'll wait. I was really never one for instant gratification if it meant giving up something substantially valuable. The painful time I sit through makes that moment of achievement all the more glorious.

                                          "Summer has come and passed

The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends"

The Darkening Insanity

A battle you can't win
A dream you can't touch
Every night you fight in this war
Sleep is your defeat
Avoid it like a plague
Succumb to the irresistible temptation
An omnipotent force 
Irrevocable like the gravity that pulls us down
You go in headfirst
Eyes ablaze with passion
A soft ticking passes
The ground seems closer
So much more attractive than the minute before
You pull through
Not now, not tonight
A smile at your temporary triumph
Don't worry, it's not to last
The laughter in the distance creeps in
The shadowy figures effectively avert your gaze
You become hypersensitive
Every light burns like the sun
Every sound an explosion
Every smell a rancid corpse
Every touch your lover's hand
Or perhaps a knife a bit dull
The ticking never ceases
So the edges fade
Your eyes are open but you can't tell the difference
They come in through every orifice
And force what you deny
Tear your fingers from their white-knuckled grasp
They know you hate the silence
Loathe it
So they fill it with screams instead
The palpitations have been continuous
Are you dying?
No
You're sleeping
You're sleeping
You'll wake soon
It'll be over soon
The racing thoughts
The hastened heart
The failing senses
You need to calm down
Just make them stop, please
You think lying still will help
Just
For a second
You lose
Lights out

Strength

Are you strong if you can lift 300 pounds? Are you strong if you can reach the top bell in one of those hammer games at the amusement parks? Are you strong if you can run a marathon? Are you strong if you have a lot of muscle? Are you strong if you can say no? Are you strong if you can tell the truth, as painful as it may be? Are you strong if you can walk away? Are you strong if you don't cry? Are you strong if you never give up on a task, a goal, a dream? Are you strong if you push yourself to the limit despite tears, pain, blood, and any other obstacles standing in your way? Are you strong if you resist temptation? Are you strong if you can stand on your own two feet? Is there strength in numbers? Are you strong if you're brave, fearless? Or are you brave, fearless, if you're strong? The sort of power that makes us strong comes from a sort of energy that can't be contained or defined. I don't know what it means to be strong but I'd like to some day.  Despite the ambiguity, we all have our moments of strength. We're all a sort of sexy, a kind of strong, a type of invincible.

Some things, some people, seem to be put in front of you to test that strength. I'm here to say that it is imperative you don't let your knees buckle under the pressure of the world.

I will not break