Ornaments

"What a coincidence that out of all the days of the year the first snow day happens today." Sighed an averaged sized brunet. Looking out the open window while drinking coffee with a smoke in hand. "I love snow, but today I'm just not in the mood for happiness."  Wallowing in silence only frustrated the human, so grabbing his black jacket and sweatshirt he made his way outside.
   Going out didn't seem to lift his mood as he walked along the empty streets. Many people were in church or with their families today. Making her feel all the more isolated. "It's so quite, with only the crunch of fresh snow to accompany me. How sad." Her feet lead her everywhere and nowhere as the human made her way to the tram station. "Are they evening functioning today?" He asked no one in particular. His question was answered when a lone tram rode up and stopped. It wasn't one of those newer trams, but an old fashioned one with peeling red paint, squeaky doors and uncomfortable plastic chairs. He climbed in and noticed that this tram had no number unlike the usual trams.
   Getting in she was assaulted by a wave of warmth that made her shiver to her bones. "Can I get a ticket please?" she asked the conductor. "No tickets today," he replied. "Ok, where does this go to?"
"I'll tell you when it's your stop," smiled the kind looking driver. With that said the conductor started the tram and the brunet took a seat.
   It was strange for a stranger to know your destination before you yourself did, but at the moment the human was so lost he payed it no mind. He stared out the window, watching the scenery drive by and at one point started to wonder if the tram was moving or if everything outside was. "I haven't drunk anything and yet I'm having such strange thoughts." He sighed loudly and focused on the falling snow that was slowly starting to blanket the earth. "I'm going to end up in the loony bin for sure."
   Zoning out and just letting her thoughts wander allowed the human become just a bit more numb inside. It was broken after a while though when the driver called out "It's your stop." Seeing as she was the only one on board he got off only to sigh in annoyance. "I'm in Old Town just great. There's going to be people here, but isn't that what I want?" Slowly making way towards his unknown destination he only huffed in frustration. "I don't even know what I want."
   All city centers were dressed in lights at this time of year and this one was no different. Entering the center you were greeted by three giant, white, round ornaments made from lights. She stopped to observe the decorations only to notice the rest of the area. There were many white and blue lights all around the entrance and farther as the brunet continued walking. With the falling snow and eerily quite streets he made his way towards the center of the town with the knowledge that a giant tree was at the center of it all. "Old town is usually brown and red, because of it's bricked building, but today it seems to be lite like a pure white hearth." Once she reached Long street she found some people. Just a few couples and groups of families, but because of the dancing snow many of them were seeking shelter either in the small cafes or in their homes. "They seem happy," grumbled the human, somewhat jealous. "No banish those thoughts, bad bad bad."
   He did by grabbing a cigarette and lighting it as he stopped in front of the giant spruce tree. It was decorated in white and blue lights just like everything else with big ornaments and a star at the top. Around the bottom of the tree you could see people had hung up their own ornaments. They were different shapes and sizes, colors and made of different materials. Some people had even hung up chocolate and cookies. This brought a small smile to the brunets face, because around the tree was a metal fence about two meters tall and yet people still disobeyed the law. All so they could hang an ornament. "How silly."
   She was brought out of her thoughts by the ringing of the clock tower. "Oh, it's three, about time I head back." Instead of heading home though she stood there in front of the tree admiring the people who hung the illegal ornaments. He took a drag from his cancer stick and spoke in a soft whisper "I'm glad today isn't a miserable day for everyone. Maybe one day it won't be miserable for us either."
   With that the human walked on, back to the tram stop to return to an empty home.           
 

Maybe I'll see you around...

And we all fall down........

   into the ground, with only the rain to get our asses into gear. Ok, random crazy quote, thing aside lets get to the point. That being said I've been meaning to write for so long, but I've either been to lazy too or swamped with work. Now instead of doing work I decided to procrastinate by finally writing! Anyway I have a lot of shit in my head at this moment and I'm going to try to write down everything, so that it can somehow organize itself in my head. So here's my warning this thing is most likely going to be long, chaotic and make absolutely no sense. Hell, if I come back to it say in two months time I'll most likely understand nothing from these rambles. Oh, well- shrug shoulders- what are you gonna do about it. Fucking nothing, that's what.
   Anyway, coming to my first point you have most likely realized I'm swearing a lot more than usual. There's a few reasons for this, the first being the literature I'm reading at the moment is not afraid to use profanities, but at the same time doesn't overuse them and they've just kinda sunken into my vocabulary. It's fine as long as I don't say something to terrible around my father. Luckily I seem to have a natural filter in my mouth, so when I'm around him I barely slip up. Even if I do I'm at the age where my father doesn't mind as long as I'm not cussing in every sentence. So, yay! I've also noticed that swearing along with masturbating is a great way to get rid of stress. There are plenty of times where a few females in my class will piss me off and I feel much better after going through a few colorful nicknames I have made up for them. I never say them out loud, because that'd be even more troublesome. Honestly, they give me enough of a headache as it is. I'd prefer that they forget about my existence as soon as possible.
   Swearing aside this seems to be the school year of 'make the emotionally stunted, shy genderless use all her abysmal people skills to get her life in order'- or MESSGUAHAPSLO. Eh, I'll probably try to come up with something shorter latter. Probably when I'm sitting in school bored out of my mind or just spacing out. Ya, anyway point being I have to do a lot of shit for this year, which bugs me a crap ton, but I know I have to do it for I can no longer rely on my father like a child. Legally I am now an adult and it's about time I started to be more responsible even if that involves talking with people and pretending to be social when in reality I'm thinking of ways to dissect the person in front of me as painfully and slowly as I can. Has anyone else thought of cooking eyes like marshmallows or making them into lollipops? Let's just say I don't lend people my notes anymore. Anyway it's all annoying with learning how to drive, calling banks, doctors and driving instructors, having my matura exams in less than eight months and being called in front during kung fu training to show something to the beginners. Uh, that last one is probably the worst. I was called up twice on Friday and on the outside I might have looked calm, but inside I was a nervous wreck and just wanted the ceiling to suck me up. Shoot me into the sky and then go plop. Maybe land on an unsuspecting annoying twat- yup, that would definitely ruin someones day.  
   Ok, just came back from a three hour lunch break- no I will not tell you how a one hour lunch break escalated into three, lets just say fanfiction and leave it that- and don't remember what my train of thought was doing, but lets just say the conductor took a day off and there's a circus on board along with a few asylum patient transfers.
   Now school started about two weeks ago for me, September first to be exact- a fucking monday!- and the start of the second world war. I always find it hilarious when school starts on the first. School can be a war zone for some kids with all the tests, homework, frickin annoying teachers and don't even get me started on moronic classmates- just no. Anyway, because it's my last official year in high school - fucking finally!!!!! I decided that maybe I should try to be a good student like in my innocent days- ehem jr. high. So maybe if I write down my goals here I just might kick my ass into gear and actually start to study, because if not then I'm screwed. Yay! No, I want to get into the university of my choosing so that I can become a computer programmer and eventually work from home. That is my dream- kind of- at this point in time. So my goal is to have a grade point average of 4.0 at the end of both my semesters! Something I came close to achieving last year in my final semester getting a 3,9. Oh so close. Not that it really matters, my father would be happy, but he's more interested in my Physics and Math grades, because I'll be writing the advanced exams for those subjects along with English (basic and advanced), Polish (basic) and I think that's it. I was thinking about writing the one for computers as well, but I heard it's crazy difficult and I may not be a total slacker in comp. class, but I'm no over achiever either. This means I have to put a shit ton of work into both math and physics  (damn that's annoying to spell I keep wanting to write fizyks) which I have not started doing yet. I also have that book assignment to read for polish class and I still haven't touched it yet. It's not that I don't like reading, I just have trouble reading things that other people tell me to read. Also fanfiction. It's taking up way to much of my time, I really have to try to curb that habit. I think that's everything when it comes to school so on to the next subject- driving!
   Which I have to say scared the hell out of me the first time I got behind a wheel. I officially started my driving lessons two weeks ago and so far have been doing ok, but it's still over whelming. After every driving lesson I come back with a stress induced headache with me wonder if I'll last till the end. I remember my first lesson where after five minutes of driving back and fourth in the parking lot my driving teacher had me go out on the streets. Lets just say the first thing to go through my mind was "No fucking way, you've got to be Jashin shitting me." Yup, crude language at it's finest folks. I continued to swear profusely in my head while driving on the road, glancing at the mirrors from time to time and trying to remember to switch gears. Ya, did I mention I'm learning how to drive a manual car or stick shift or whatever the heck it's called in english. I didn't do it on purpose, even though I wanted to learn on a manual, but it's still bloody difficult and nerve wracking when your starting the car or drive and you put the wrong gear on and the car turns off. Luckily most drivers know to be careful around the learning cars which tend to have a big blue L sign on top of the car and often on the sides as well. Conveying to other drivers 'Careful there's a high chance that the person behind the wheel barely knows how to drive.' Thank you magic L, thank you. So as you can see I'm having tons of fun learning how to drive.
   Now this next topic is not as light hearted as the rest, but it's something I would like to write down so I don't forget it. First a bit of back story, about a week or so ago I had a strange dream. I don't remember all of it, but I remember that my father suddenly died for some strange reason and then a few days after his death my brother passed away as well. Now what shocked me the most was my behavior in my dream I was numb when I heard of there deaths and somewhat in denial, but I never showed any of this on the outside. Outside I looked like I was made of stone which caused my mother to say I was a heartless monster (again). I never shed a tear for them in that dream, even though I care for both of them, all I felt was cold and empty. When I awoke I was a bit surprised at what I had dreamed up, although I easily deducted that it was my fault for the dream, because I was feeling guilty for not spending much time with my father recently before I feel asleep. This strange dream brought up a lot of thoughts that rarely come up, but what frightened me the most was, would I actually not cry at my brothers and fathers funeral? Would I be so stone faced that my mother would call me emotionless (again)? Yes to the last one, but no to the first. I think I would be shocked and I would cry, but that's something I'd prefer to do in the confines of my room- alone. Sure that might be heartless of me, but it's not something I haven't done before (kind of).
   When my first grandfather died I was ten and I cried a lot when I found out, but it was mostly in my room when I was alone. I cried a bit in my parents arms to find comfort, but at the funeral I don't remember outright crying like my cousins and younger brother did. I remember being sad that I'd never see him again and I shed a few more tears as I said my last goodbye, but I don't think I cried that heavily there. My memory isn't perfect, but I don't think I'm wrong when it comes to this. I'll have to ask my father when he gets home (if he remembers how I acted then). When my second grandfather died when I was 14 I wasn't surprised he'd been in a partial coma for over a year after he'd gotten hit by a car and as cruel as this might sound I was expecting it. I think I shed a few tears for him, but at the same time I can't be sure if I cried at all. Yes, I'm heartless I'm aware of that, but ever since he was switched to the coma ward it just felt like only his body was left while his spirit had long since left. There was a time where he woke up- a couple of times actually- mostly when my grandmother visited him. Even though he'd awaken he would rarely speak, but he would look at his wife and squeeze her hand. I was privy to this once by chance. My grandmother and I went to visit him while my brother and father went to go find my uncle, who worked at the hospital. My grandfather awoke for a few minutes and held my hand while he stared at me and I looked at his milky blue/green eyes. He gave my hand a tight squeeze before he fell asleep and that was the last time I saw my grandfather, before my grandmother pulled the plug. Even though he died on that day, to me he died the last time I saw him after that last tight squeeze. I shed no tears on that day, but my heart felt heavy as I left the hospital. That is a memory that I will cherish.
   All of this self thought brought me to the conclusion that no matter how big of a pain in the ass it may be to watch a boring movie with my father or have to deal with my mother when I call my brother it's worth it. Adding that small memory to my brain, enjoying the happiness on my fathers face as we spend time with each other, either watching a movie or just eating breakfast together or talking about how annoying going to school/work is. Making sure that even though I'm not there for my brother I can still bug him on the phone, because one day someone will be gone. Out of everyone in my family ie: my brother, sister, father and mother I hope I'm the first to die. I'd rather not be called a heartless monster by those around if when it looks as if I'm not mourning, even though on the inside I am. Life is a fickle little thing, isn't it?
   Sigh, on that note I think I've gone over everything I've wanted to write about. Meaning I should start studying for my history test on wednesday, but ummm hmmmmm, maybe later. I think I have laundry that I have to do. What do you mean I already did it? Shut up Czapla, no asked for your opinion. Ya, well these aren't the states and you're not even a citizen! Ya, sorry about that he  occasionally pops up for no random reason, probably because I don't really have any friends my age.
Oh, I knew I forgot something! Friends I forgot about that wonderful sparkly atomic bomb of doom subject. Did I mention that the unicorns of Atlas mountains most likely control it- no- well now you know. So when I started school this year I made a rule for myself called the 'give up on friends' rule. Yes, yes it sounds harsh, but it's been put in place so that I don't come back depressed from school every single frickin day. ya, I'm done with the emo train. I boarded it, went through all the compartments, couldn't find a seat and promptly exited it while in transit to it's next stop. I fell off a bridge and landed inside a lake with a shit ton of broken bones, but I'm not going back. Those piranha got my ass into gear and fast. Sillyness aside I decided I'm not going to chase after people to try and befriend them, I'll give others a chance, but if they don't want it I'm not gonna try. No point in wasting energy, especially since I don't mind being alone and take pleasure just from looking at a beautiful blue sky or enjoying the wind or sun. That's why I'm done trying. If I make friends cool, if not oh well maybe another time. I'm alright with acquaintances and good books are even better. Or my brother and sister, but they're out of reach at the moment so I have to make do with what I have.
   Now on to my final note, don't worry it's pretty short, although I'm surprised you've lasted this long since Czaplas long since fallen asleep on the piano in the corner of my room- silly bird. I spend a lot of time on youtube, just like most teenagers these days. With this comes watching vloggers of all kinds and it makes me wonder if I should start vlogging. I'd most likely still write on here, because I love writing and sometimes its not the same as talking, but I'm curious. I think it'd be fun to start vlogging, but I don't really know how to do it. The thing holding me back the most though is the fear that if I post it on youtube someone that I know will see it and make fun of it, taunting me or just making my life miserable. At the same time I could where a mask or something, but I don't want to hide. it's something I've been thinking about doing for a while, but am at a stagnate as to what to do.
Hm, who knows maybe I'll make up my mind eventually.

See ya around, maybe...

                 

Four years

   Today marks the day of my four year anniversary. No, I'm not married. Exactly four years ago on this day I officially moved here. It used to be my brothers and my anniversary, but as of last year it's just mine. Is it a silly thing to remember? The day you moved out of a country into a new one to start anew, but not of your own accord. I remember when we first landed I was a bit nervous, but it didn't really feel like I lived here- not yet. It was the middle of summer, so it felt like summer vacation. Even if our house was being remodeled. My brother and I still shared the same room, we still spoke in a different language and most of the time it was just the two of us. Just like when we would come here for the summer, so that what it felt like. At the time I wasn't aware that I was keeping my emotions bottled up. My brother voiced his displeasure quite often, but eventually stopped seeing it was pointless. So I kept my emotions locked up, until one night I couldn't sleep, so I decided to read my friends present.
   About a week before my move I held a party at my house with my friends from school and they surprised me by bringing me presents. One of them was a trunk with letters inside them. Each letter was from one of my friends. They wrote them hoping I'd read them at the party so they could see me cry, but I tucked them away and said I'd save them for another time. They were of course disappointed, but quickly got over it.
   So there I sat looking at this small pile of letters, sometime in the middle of the night, and started to read them. They made me laugh, smile and cry. That's when it hit me. I would most likely never see most of these girls again. I'd never go to school with them or talk to them- anything. It felt strange and at that moment the dam just burst. I broke into silent sobs, but the tears streamed down my face. I remember needing to talk to someone-anyone- so I tried calling a few of my friends. None of them answered, except for Nikki.
   We talked for a bit, but not long. I think she was uncomfortable with the state I was in, but I told her I read the letters and I thanked her. After this I told myself to get some sleep and to get it together. My past was my past, now I have to look forward. It hurt to think like this, but over time the pain turned into a dull throb. I never read the letters again. I'm not sure why. I've looked over them, but never read them. I'm not sure if it's just to keep passed memories locked up or it's because I'm afraid of my reaction to reading them again.
   Anyway after that I started school and probably had one of the most stressful years in my life. That's an anthill I want to burn. Along with the next year too. I'm not sure if I wrote about this, but my first school in this new place wasn't a very good one when it comes to caring for the students. If you had straight As and perfect attendance than they treated you very kindly, but if you were an average student, just bringing down the grade average. They'd rather you transfer school than help you out. Honestly, that was a load of batshit and even thought those two years were my toughest I actually learned something from that fuckin sanatorium. That school showed and taught me first hand that life can be cruel, brutal and heartless. If it wasn't for my friend Marta I might have come out of that school even worse than I had. My father once told me that while attending the school I'd become a lot quieter, meeker and even more shy. I still am those things, but it's not as bad. I've rebuilt some of my confidence and now I watch what I say a bit more closely.
  After that the next two years weren't as stressful, but they were still tough. My mother left us, then I left my brother. I had a good awful summer last year and my hormones and emotions were so out of control for a good eight months after. Now though life's slowly calmed down. I still get the occasional blues, but it doesn't control me anymore. I've been looking into myself a bit and experimenting- kind of.
  A few months back I found this channel on youtube-a blog- of this boy called Alex. Well a couple of videos into the blog I realized he was actually a she and this channel was her way of document her life. She was a FTM (female to male [don't remember the technical term]). This interested me greatly, because I'd heard of cross dressing, but I never though people felt uncomfortable in there own bodies. This got me thinking about myself, because I have more than once wished I could be a boy. I'm just not feminine. I hate my chest, but I don't hate my body. I've learned to accept my body and I'm slowly falling in love with it. That aside I was interested in FTMs and I was curious whether I was one. After a week of searching on the internet for more information, trying out compression shirts and just reflecting I realized something. I couldn't give a bigger crap if I were a boy or a girl. I don't mind being mistaken as a boy, nor do I care if I'm called a girl. My names pretty, but sometimes I'd prefer to be called Mat. It was thanks to this tiny yet mind blowing revelation that I started to accept my body. I'm still not a fan of my boobs, but honestly compression shirts make me look completely flat (almost), so that's my compromise for now.
    Overall looking back at my four years they weren't the happiest, but now that I've gone through those raging hormones and some drama. I think I'll be able to handle it better next time I have to go through something similar. Hopefully.

Maybe, I'll see you around?  

       

Starting Point

I've been feeling the need to write for a few days now, but I'm not exactly sure what I should write. A few things have happened some good, some bad- mostly bad. I guess I'll just load it all off one by one- okay?
   During break I flew to Belgium. It wasn't some long boring flight, but two separate short flights. I realized I was almost happy just traveling. Just getting from one place to the other, finding my gates, getting on the plan and just waiting to board it. Thinking about it all the only thing that could explain it was the destination. I couldn't wait to get to Belgium, relax a bit and get away from life, but at the same time I loved getting there. I found myself thinking once I got there- I wish I had one more flight to get on. I wanted the journey to last longer, because it was nice. Slowly making my way towards my goal, passing over hurtles along the way. Then I realized that was a metaphor for life. My journey is me living the everyday, while my destination is deaths embrace. It's so easy to notice, but it doesn't really make living any easier.
   For many death is scary, terrifying. All because it's an unknown, but even if our destination is know, isn't it still unknown? For instance when we travel to say China, yes technically we know were it is and can even show me where it's on the map, but you've never been to China. You've never seen the streets, the people. Ok, so you've seen a picture, but that can't show you what all of your senses can show you. You can't smell the rice fields, or feel how wet the dirt is, taste the tea they serve, hear there dialects, or see what shade the sky is. This is something that can't be experienced from a picture. Even if you have been to the destination your going to- there will be changes. Nothing stays the same forever, so it will be again unknown to you- maybe not completely- but still.
   Maybe if people knew of what waited for them after death they wouldn't be so afraid. Although sometimes people are more afraid of what they are leaving behind then what they are heading towards. For a while now I've found myself thinking- How would I feel if I died right now?What would be my biggest regret?- Most of the time I find myself honestly not minding the fact that I could die at that moment and my biggest regret tends to be sorrow. Sorrow for the poor soul that finds my body. I don't have many things I'll be leaving behind- a broken family and a few close friends. I know that at first they would grieve, but then they'd get over it and learn to move on. I wish to say a few things to those people, but I shall do that another time. Next time I'll write my testament.
   So yes, I realized that at this moment if I faced death I don't think I'd hesitate to embrace it. Does that make me suicidal? I don't think so, I think I've slowly gotten passed that. I'm not looking to end my life- although I still have my deadline- I'm just taking one step at a time. This is where my next trouble comes along. My every day, day to day life. (Too many day's in that sentence, makes me cringe, sorry about that.)
   Anyway my regular life is kind of bad, I guess. Not bad as in I'm doing terrible in school, constantly getting in trouble and stuff. No, bad as in there's a lot of things that seem to be out of my control and I can't seem to bring myself to care about certain things. Things I've stopped caring about  are my math grades, as long as I'm passing I couldn't give a bigger shit. My teacher doesn't seem to understand that though and continues to pester me. The annoying cazzo. I feel as if I'm losing control over my body though, like I'm struggling with it. I keep eating way too much and a lot of unhealthy things. Today alone I've had a bar and a half of chocolate, a whole chocolate bar and half of another if that's unclear, sorry. Along with that I had two big helpings of ice cream. Today I finished a tub of ice cream that I got Sunday, it was 2,5 liters. My eating habits are just everywhere and I don't know what to do! I'm not going to buy ice cream again and the chocolate was given to me by my grandmothers friend and I just kind of ate it all. God, I'm pathetic. I should have just thrown it out! My self control is in the toilet. I keep trying to be better, but it all just goes up in smoke.
   I can't get myself to go running at least once a week, because i don't like it. I always think I should do some stretching exercise or strength training when I have a free moment, but when I do I waste it on stupid things like surfing the net. It's not only that though. I have a ton of books I want to read, but what do I do, read fanfiction on the internet. I've blocked the page now, we shall see how long I last. So far it's three days and counting. There are so many things I want to do, but I hold myself back or I just don't do it! Why is that!? Why is that when I want to do something I keep myself from doing it? I get distracted by the computer and useless websites. Or I get back from school eat a ton of food and then laze about for three hours wasting time. Unable to do anything, because I stuffed myself too much. I'm sick of my own way of doing things.
   That's it!!! I've had enough! This time God fucking damn it I'm going to do it!!! I don't care if I suddenly have a craving or if I had a bad day at school. I'm going to moderate. I'm going to stop being so lazy. I'm not saying I'll suddenly do a 180 degrees flip, because sometimes taking a nap after school is really refreshing, but I need to work on my self control. I won't let my body control my actions. Yes, I know that doesn't make sense, but my body is my tool and right now that tool is kinda dull. There's plenty of room for improvement, so while I have the time I'm going to improve myself. Now this is  a great place to stop, but there's one more thing I want to get off my chest.
   I've been thinking about my life philosophy. I'm not quite sure why I want one, or more like why I'm searching for mine. Maybe it's because in the book I'm reading everyone has something they live for. The main characters philosophy is 'Everything will work out,' but honestly that's just too optimistic for me. I've been thinking about it for a while now, what do I strive for in life? Honestly I wish for an easy going life. One where I have a decent job that pays the bills and I'm not stressing about being layed off or fired. I have a small place to call my own with a view of the sky and i'm not swimming in bank loans. It's not a glamorous, but it would be calm and if I could share that peaceful life with someone. Well I wouldn't mind it. So how do I break that down into my philosophy? How do I remember what i strive towards, no matter how vague or lame it is? Maybe "Working hard will get you where you want to go?" I believe in it and it's something my parents have told me since I was little. They would always say "Work hard during the first 20 years of your life, so that when your old you're not struggling." Or something similar. I took it to heart in elementary school and jr high. Now though I guess I kind of forgot. Here I am ruining my education, because of honestly I don't even know why. I've noticed my mistakes now. Better late than never right?

   Next time I see you, I won't be holding myself back.

    See you around.   

Tumble

This weekend has been a roller coaster of emotions for me. It started Friday at first everything was fine. I was perfectly content and excited for Kung Fu training and happily went. It's when I got there that things took a turn for the worst. It was easter weekend, so I didn't expect many people, but I thought there would be more than seven. It meant for a really strange training, where the teacher could easily watch every single one of the students. That's what frightened me the most, the fact that the teacher could easily pick each of us out. There was no hiding in the crowd here, nope everyone was in plain view. I didn't help that this teacher never seemed to like me, we have two teachers. It's not like this teacher has ever done anything that really bothered me it's just his gaze. I know it sounds weird and stupid, but it felt like every time he looked at me he would be disappointed or he'd think I'm a waste of space. I was able to ignore the nerves fluttering through my stomach until we got to sparing. There were to be five quick one minute matches, so everyone would get to spare with each other and then some. I got through the first one well enough, the second one too, but something shook me up after the third one and I ran out of the gym. I headed straight to the changing room where I knew no one would bother me and promptly curled into a ball in the dark room. I'm not sure if I closed my eyes as the shivers ran through my body all I knew was that I was scared. It's just I'm scared of so many things that I don't know what I'm afraid of anymore.
   I'm afraid of peoples eyes staring straight at me. Why can't they look through me?
   I'm afraid of fighting and yet I train Kung Fu, so that I can protect those I care about.
   I'm afraid of speaking out, so I stay quiet, but then people question me.
   I'm afraid to get hurt emotionally. I'd rather get beaten to a pulp then lose my mind.
There are so many things that scare me and I feel like the biggest coward in the world. I'm honestly contemplating about whether or not I should continue to go for Kung Fu training, honestly whats the point if I can't even fight?
That was just Fridays mind suck. Saturday made me void of emotions all together. It was like christmas all over again. All day I felt numb, sad and lonely and this continued onto Sunday too. My face was blank and my eyes empty. My father didn't really question me as to what was wrong. Either he never noticed or he gave me space. Technically it's the holidays and I should be joyful and happy, but truth be told I felt like shit. Tortured by my thoughts: last year there were three of us, two years ago there were four, what's going to happen next year? My mind kept going over and over these thoughts breaking my heart, because honestly I was sick of it all.
I'm so tired of the aching hole in my chest I can't see. This hollow feeling that's killing me. I know it will go down and turn into a dull throb, but for now I can feel it in my heart. It hurt the most Saturday night. Maybe it was because my mother called me and I held and emotionless conversation with her that barely lasted ten minutes. I say emotionless, when really it was wonderful acting skills- fake enthusiasm, curiosity and all that shit. She believed it all and maybe that's what hurt, that she didn't realize I don't care anymore. At one point right when I went to bed the pain was the worst as if my heart disappeared for a few moments. I scramble out of bed then and almost ran for my phone the only person on my mind was my best friend. I stopped though right before I got to my phone and fell to the floor in a crumpled heep. Why should I bother her with my problems when she has her own. It's Easter for god's sake! Let her have a happy life and you should deal with your own problems. Truth is I just wanted to hear her voice, even if it was the answering machine, but at the same time I really wanted to see her.
I wish I had someone here that I could go to and curl up in their laps where for just a few minutes I could forget about the world, all my fucked up problems and everything else. A few minutes of peace where the only thing that matter are me and the person I'm hugging. It's a weakness to want something like this, I know, but sometimes.... Sometimes I wish to have such a person.

Maybe I'll see you around, but I probably won't.     

Conflict or Revelation?

   I used to think I was a loner, someone who can live without people and be perfectly happy, but that's not the case anymore. Well not fully at least. My father left this early morning for a business trip. He'll be in Finland for a good two weeks leaving me mostly alone for some time. I'm not completely alone, but my grandmother and dog don't really count. Why? Well my gram has her own part of the house and there are times where we go days without seeing each other and my dog well he's always with my gram. So you see how it is. It's depressing coming home to a empty house that has more rooms than inhabitants. It hurts even more, because at one point this place was alive. Bustling with noise and life. Now though it's just an empty shell made of concrete walls and a tiled roof.
   I know I'm not a people person, because social events drain me. Coming back from school I tend to be super tired sometimes even down right exhausted. Thursdays are always the worst for me leaving me drained completely. So I know that I'm not a social butterfly, but I never thought I was so dependent on my family. Before the move I had lots of friends and my family. They were both important to me like they are for most people, but after the move all I had was my family. While my brother filled in a bigger role over time I became dependent on my family. They were the only thing I counted on in this strange semi familiar yet different new place. Then slowly that too fell apart. It started with my mother which I new was coming and at some point I might have even encouraged, but then my brother was taken and it became a lot harder. I latched onto my father like a life boat, because he was the only thing left from my past.
   When someones last life line dissolves into thin air life becomes sadder. Sitting here in this empty house is slowly driving me insane and the fact that I can't stop this on flow of thoughts that are making it worse, well let's just say it's not fun. I can't help but keep thinking "A year ago I could open my doors and hear my brothers voice on the other side of the door across from mine." or "A year ago I'd be able to go into my brothers room and spend some time bugging him to pass the time." Or one that tears me up no matter how hard I try to push it back: "I wish he was still here to pop into my room when he's bored to bug me."
   These thoughts prove that I was dependent on my brother the most and that now that he's gone and now that my father is away. I can't help but think what's the point anymore? So often I've caught myself thinking "What am I doing?Why am I here? What's the point of this all? Why am I wasting space and air for someone who could probably use it so much better then me." I'm looking into a well to find the answer in the pitch black, only to find my search in vain for there is no answer. That's what depresses me the most. The fact that I can't find pleasure in my life, aside from little things that help me get by. Kids having innocent fun, the color of the morning sky, the beginning of blooming flowers, seeing my breath on a cold morning or evening and the sound of falling rain. These little things I find bring a small smile to my face, but at one point it just what be enough, so what then?

I probably won't see you around, but if I do then 'see ya.' 

   Closing my eyes I can see wisps, swirling lazily about, but there's a strong wind and in a matter of moments the colorful wisps start to mix and form together. Their bright colors and shapeless forms come together to form a multicolored tornado. This is the chaos that I see inside my mind when I enter it. Every night since last week or even earlier then that I'm greeted by a tornado. It was a hurricane last Monday, but by Wednesday I had calmed it down some. I'd like to blame this on my hormones, but I know it's not there fault- it's mine.

   I've made some revelations recently, looked into my mind, thought about some things, noticed others and I've come to the conclusion that I don't know what I'm doing with myself. It feels as if I'm just stumbling along barely keeping up and I'm just so tired of keeping my head above the water. Today has been a particularly terrible day. The only thing that kept me going was the mantra "Nine more years" and my music. If I hadn't had my ipod with me today I would have killed one of my moronic classmates. My head has been pounding since the middle of the day and it's only gotten worse. I'd like nothing more then to scream and shout and break things to let out all of this frustration, confusion- emotion, but even if I did I wouldn't feel any better after it. 

   What I wish for at this very moment is silence and darkness. A room so quite that after a while you can hear your blood rushing through your veins, hear your heart pumping blood. Pair that with a room that makes you blind and maybe I'd finally be able to organize my thoughts, that or go insane from them. 

   Another thing I'd like is for time to just stop. I've noticed that I'm almost constantly looking at the clock, as if I'm in a hurry for something, waiting on someone. It doesn't make any sense. I should be obsessively looking at the clock as if waiting for something to happen, because nothing will! My life feels empty at this time. I don't really live for much or anything and I'm not sure how much longer I can just go on with this monotonous existence. I have my siblings sure, but they live on the other side of the ocean! On is just starting her life. She has a kind boyfriend and is getting ready to leave high school behind and go out into the adult world. The other is too young to even contemplate what it is that I'm thinking about. He's just begging to get his bearings with the world. So no matter how much I write or call it just doesn't fill the void. No matter how many times I look at their initials on my hands I don't feel any better. I just hate these feelings inside me. I'm not sure if it's because of recently identified feelings, my bad grades or just past memories. I think it's past memories, because when I wrote it down I started to tear up. God, I'm so fucked up.

    Five days from now is the anniversary to the stepping stone- my mother left. Why do I call it the stepping stone? It's because that was the beginning move to what I now live with and in. My mother left our family on February 25th 2013, how do I remember the exact date, because it was two days from my birthday. Anyway I'd known about a month earlier, or maybe more, that she was leaving and I was ok with. I still am, hell I'm glad she left. After she left my life calmed down, my brother and father were calmer and we were all more happy. Then we visited her in the summer and I lost my brother and everything's gone haywire from their. I went through the classic phases of losing someone- anger, sadness, depression, anger. I've been constantly going through that cycle for a while now. It stopped for a bit when I showed my sister this page and we grew closer, but it's just not helping anymore.

   Recent events haven't made my mind any lighter. I realized I have a huge crush on a friend at school and I don't know how to squash these feelings. I'm not telling him- there's no fucking way. I just want the feelings to stop, to go away, to leave me alone. I know that there's very little chance we will ever get together and at the moment I have to focus on school, but no. My brain or hormones or whatever they are have decided to add to my frustration, because I apparently don't have enough emotional problems. What's worse is none of this shows on the outside and I'm not sure if I'm bothered by this or not. In one way I'm glad people can't see I'm angry, but in another I wish someone would notice. Someone would see through this disguise, this mask. I don't know what I'm searching for anymore, I don't even know what I'm feeling besides this empty void in my chest that hurts more than any physical wound. 

   I just want to keel over already. I hate my pointless existence. Getting up going to school, doing homework, studying for tests, hanging with friends, practicing the piano, traing kung fu, training parkour, having lessons with tutors. I don't have enough time for all of this. I feel as if I'm breaking down. The worst part is my father doesn't know, he hasn't noticed. Which is a good thing, but sometimes I just want to beat him up. He's cool about my less than stellar grades, but he says I'm not getting good ones anymore because I'm not trying as hard as I used to. When he said this I saw red, but I held my tongue. I wasn't in the mood for talking so I nodded blankly and he went on with his life, while I continue to sit at my desk and curse at the noise coming from the tv. Usually I like it- the noise- today though I wish for silence inside and out. 

   There are so many things I want to do and yet I just don't have the energy sometimes. I wish I would study german words, that way I wouldn't be struggling with the class as much, but I'm so tired of german. So sick of not understanding, of learning words then forgetting them a few weeks later that I don't even know what to do with the language. Ever since we've started trigonometry in math I've cursed the teacher on an hourly basis along with my class. I just can't keep up. The fact that I have a history test looming over my shoulder and it's my worst subject doesn't help me at all. Just like the physics test I have next week, along with the english, math and every other subject that decided to make next week the worst in the history of my school year. 

   I want to do good in school, better then I did last semester with my C plus average grades. I'd like to bring them up to a B plus, but I feel as if I'm in quicksand. No matter how much effort I'm putting into school I'm getting worse effects then when I put in close to no effort. All I know is that I'm driving myself mad. My body is sluggish, just like my brain and I just don't know any more. I've had enough of all of this of everything and this semester started just last month. 

I wish to become invisible.

I wish people would stop expecting things from me.

I wish I could straighten myself out.

I wish I could sleep without dreams. 

To top it all off- my birthday is next week and the thing I want most of all lives on the other side of the ocean and will forever be out of my reach. Words of advice: Never under appreciate what it is that you have, because once it's gone you will regret it. At this very moment my biggest regret is not hugging my brother tightly and whispering those three sappy words into his ear.      

I probably won't see you around.

One step

One step is all it takes to end it all.

One step is needed to finally fall.

One step is sometimes wanted to be done with it all.

At times that final step may seem like the scariest of things where everything is going to end, but

But sometimes that final step is not your last but your first.

One step can be the start of something new.

One step can be the reawakening that is needed.

One step can be your wake up call that there is something worth living for.

   Recently I had a (typed) conversation with my closest friend. It started with simple teen things and I'm still not sure how, but I must have written something about my mother, because she was asking me about why I don't like talking to her. Which made me think of this place, because just the other day I had written a post kind of explaining that answer. I debated with myself for a few minutes should I share this with her. After all I've literally dumped all of my past thoughts on to here and most of them aren't very pretty, but this is the person who I would call if I was dieing! I would leave my final words to her, so why not allow her a look into my head? So I gathered the small bit of courage I had and wrote. I wrote a small explanation telling her what it was that I was giving her and as soon as I hit the send button I logged off and tried to keep my thoughts away from what I'd just done. I debated going back on and deleting the post why should I put this on my friends shoulders? She has enough baggage, she doesn't need anymore. I kept it though and throughout the next day her reply was constantly on my mind. What would she say? How will she think of me now? Will this be the end of our friendship? I kept think 'God, I'm so stupid I ruined it. This is over.' Finally in the evening I checked for her reply and a weight lifted off of me. My shoulders literally sagged with relief when I found out that she was thanking me. It wasn't till a few days later after conversing with each other everyday, about ourselves, my posts, and her just recently started blog. That I noticed we were closer then before. I'd just realized we had a lot more in common emotionally then I had previously thought. It was a big eye opener for me, because it made me realize a few things. One my friend was hurting just as much as me, I'm not alone in my feelings of despair and sadness. Two I wasn't as alone as I'd originally thought.

   Opening myself up like that was the scariest thing in the world and something I don't want to repeat anytime soon or ever really, but because of it my day has become just a bit more bearable. After reading her replies it made me see a bit differently. I know I'm a pawn. That's what I've been thinking for over a year. It makes sense to me, because not everyone can be kings, queens or knights in shining armor. I was fine with this and still am, but Morgan put a little bit of color in my black pawn theory. Her exact words were "Also: you may just be a pawn, or you could be a queen. Whatever piece you play, no matter how many pieces you have on your side, you can always turn the game around. You will always have me." These words made me remember that if a pawn is taken across the board they do indeed become a queen. This also had me running downstairs to get my fall jacket and going through it's pockets. Where I extracted an old wooden chess piece- a pawn. I don't remember exactly when I found the pawn, just that I was coming back from school and picked it up without even thinking about it. From then on I carried it in my jacket, just to remind myself not to get too confident, too cocky. To remind me that I'm just a chess piece waiting to be used. This upset me, but it was the truth. There are so many people out there in the world and that means not everybody can be the best. Not everyone can be kings and queens, but that doesn't mean we can't try. So this is my new theory- Everyone starts off as pawns, because without them there is no challenge, no game. That doesn't mean a pawn can't become a queen, knight, tower or bishop. They just have to work hard to get across the board to reach that goal. So for now I'm a pawn, getting in the way of my enemies, making sure I help my team, keeping life interesting for others while I slowly make my way across the board to see what I become. To make sure I don't forget this theory my black pawn now has a 'Q' carved on it's bottom.

   My friend said a few more things that made me change my views of myself and those around me. Ever since I left my brother I've kept minimal contact with him and was thinking about almost completely cutting ties with him. Morgan made me realize how stupid of an idea that would be. I found out that the reason for my existence are two people. Two people that I love and care for deeply. My last post was that of my lost virtues. My empty existence. This was brought to my attention after reading and discussing the drama "Kordian." I found that I could relate to the character very closely and on closer inspection I found the two of us very similar. Our biggest difference Kordian followed his emotions to a fault, while I half the time don't understand my emotions and tend to pick at them in curiosity. We both lost our virtues and found it difficult to move on, but in the end we both found something to keep us moving, For Kordian it was his home country which was taken over and split into three. Therefore it didn't exist, except in the heart and minds of it's once citizens. He made it his goal to help bring it back. While my goal is to live for my brother and sister. I know it's not something that will get me through my whole life, for eventually we will all drift apart, but for now it helps me wake up in the morning. I wrote there letters on my hands, the area where the thumb meets the hand to be exact, on my left hand there is a capital E while my right has a capital M. It's a good thing I did it, because I've caught myself countless times thinking terrible things about myself and then I glance at my hands and Morgans words come to mind specifically "One more thing, about your best not being good enough: it just has to be good enough for you." Thanks to them and her words I'm a bit more content then I once was. I look at the world in a lighter tone and after calling my brother and hearing the happiness in his voice I know that at this moment my life isn't awe full or terrible. My existence isn't worthless or pointless. I have a reason to get up and move forward to keep the fog from surrounding me completely again. All because I opened myself up to a dear friend of mine. Now I've taken my first step and I don't know where it will lead me, but for now I don't mind, because I'm going to focus on those single steps of mine.

Maybe I'll see you around.

Where am I going?

   It's grey. Everywhere I look I see grey. Any shade of grey you can imagine and it'll be there floating innocently as if it's done nothing wrong. Though it's true I can't help, but glare at the grey abyss before me. The complete unknown before my eyes is- my life. That's what I see when I look to my future, however short it may be, and can't help but look for some small light. A glimpse to at least give me a reason to continue on with this pointless existence of mine. I do not wish for hope, for hope is what destroys people. I already had to go through it once and I am no longer looking towards some bright glowing light promising false happiness. No, what I look for is a reason as to why I am here. Before I lived for my family and friends. I valued school and what I learned there- I used to be happy, but now, now I'm not so sure. Three years ago my family moved to a different continent. Where they spoke a different language that I could barely grasp. My dad had already moved here a year earlier, so my brother and I lived with just my mother for a year until we finally moved. Though my mom stayed behind and we lived with just my father for a good six months or so. When I moved I left behind my closest friend. We were practically sisters in all but blood. I was fine for about two months before it finally hit- I had left her behind. We've kept in contact though it isn't the same as seeing each other every day. I lost one virtue of life, which left me with two.

   School started before my mother arrived. The first month was tense. It was difficult adapting to a new school with a different system, language and culture. It didn't help that my classmates avoided me like the plague. My first month of school was filled with stress over plenty of failed or barely passed test, sleepless nights and sadness. Though I stayed strong in front of my parents I would occasionally cry at night. When my mother arrived I'd gotten use to the pointless work load. Halfway through the year the school psychologist called me and my mother into her office. She claimed that if I wasn't taken from the school soon I'd commit suicide. That broke me and I hate to admit it, but I gave her the satisfaction of showing desperation on my face and crying. Later I realized the whole thing was a plot to get me out of the school. Apparently I was lowering the schools grade average, tarnishing there high record. Bunch of pompous arses they all were. This is where I lost my belief in school. In my three years there I learned that most of the teachers cared about the schools reputation then the students or their checks. Once I'd transferred schools I gave up. Those two years showed me that I'm not A average student, but a C average one. I learned that not everyone can be at the top, that's why there are more pawns then knights in chess. I'm just another pawn waiting to be sacrificed so that someone else can get to the queen. 

   After that talk with the psychologist my mother took a turn for the worst, but it didn't really show until about a year and a half ago. Whenever my mother drank even if it was just a glass of wine she would get emotional or violent. She never hit my brother and me, but she'd try to take it out on my father. Who in turn would run into my room so he wouldn't be blamed for hitting her. One night it was so bad that my brother, father and I all sat in my room while my mother banged on the door yelling at us. She hated it here. This wasn't a surprise. I knew from the moment we left the schools shrink that something had changed. I was just waiting for the bomb to drop. Two months after that incident my mother took me for ice cream and told me she was leaving. I wasn't surprised, but I listened and nodded at all the right parts told her I understood and wasn't angry at her. That I still loved her and all that mushy junk. It was me who gave her that final push to leave and I hate to say it, but I was happy when she said she was leaving. At that point I wanted my mother to be happy and so I let her go. My father and I dropped her off at the aeroport one early saturday morning and I had a few tears in my eye's, but that was it. Those were the last tears I ever shed for my mother. We all adjusted quickly to life without her. It was peaceful maybe at times a bit hectic, but I was content for the first time in months and I think my brother was too. We kept in contact with my mother, calling her once a week and writing emails. I used to enjoy our talks together, they could last up to an hour sometimes. Now they barely last ten minutes. Life was going well my brother and I grew closer then ever before, which was strange because we had always been close. We'd become siblings and friends. Writing this I realize my brother had become my world. My center. I lived to talk, play, argue and spend time with him.

   For months we lived like this spending time together, annoying each other. We got to know each other inside and out. Knew how to push each others buttons- everything really. That summer my father bought us tickets to the states to see our mother. That's when the stress started again. The constant badgering to stay with my mother. My grandmothers pleas to not leave her. Then one day in July my mother came to my brother and told him he was staying with her whether he wanted to or not. I still remember the talk we had when he got back. We were on the swings at the park and my brother broke down saying he didn't want to leave me. I told him I'd try to figure something out and when we were in visiting my aunt I gave an empty promise saying that I'd take him back with me. But it was just a lie. Broken words on helpless ears. I gave him false hope. I still hate myself for that. It's cruel, because I still remember my exact words "I'll fight tooth and nail to get you to come back." All a lie, for by the time we got back I had no fight left in me. We were literally glued to each others sides by then, but soon my brother started school and I asked to leave early. At the airport I was dropped off by my mother, grandmother, her friends and brother. I first said goodbye to my grandmother, she handed me an envelop after. I tore it into pieces after reading it's contents later. Then my mother. She like grandmother were crying and I can still hear the words she whispered into my ears when we hugged goodbye, "why are you so cold?" I was stoned face during our exchange just like with my grandmother. I turned my back to them when saying my goodbye with my brother. We didn't say anything touching I could only muster a "see you later kid," while he nodded. I messed up his hair and turned to leave, before he said "why don't you kick me one last time? Just for fun." I just gave him a somber smile and right then almost teared up, but I shook my head waved goodbye then turned my back on half of my family. This is where my last virtue was killed, by me. 

   This is where I realized my family virtue had become my brother. Every since we were little we had been together. My parents would often send us to Europe to visit my dads Grandparents for the whole summer. During that time we were without my parent's and we got used to being without both of or one of them. So the split we're facing now is painful for me and for him. I've heard from my mother that He has day's were he's quiet, sad and depressed. Mother claims he misses the time when we all lived together in our old home. I think he just misses his father and sister. While my father has told me that there have been times where my brother would break down crying and ask him to call back in ten minutes or so. I think it's painful for him and though I can only speculate I think he misses me just as much as I miss him. We never mention these feelings though. When we talk, which is rare, we stay to safe topics such as school and free time. When we were on vacation people would comment about how well we got along or how close we were. I thought nothing of it, because for me it was natural to treat my brother as an equal. In the spam of three years we had become each others best friends. Now sitting alone in this empty house knowing that the dusty room across from mine is empty- it hurts. What hurts more thought is the fact that I am causing the same pain for my brother. I hurt him, deeply. Abandoned him and I don't know when I'll see him again. If I'm lucky it'll be in two years time, but I doubt it. What's even worse is that in that time we could just become two strangers. The only thing connecting us would be our blood. It hurts knowing something like this will probably happen and even though I still love my brother and will do anything for him. He will grow and he will forget, because despite his maturity he is still a young teen. 

   Now my virtues are all gone! One abandoned, one shattered and one taken away. So tell me now how do I go on? What is the point of me floating here endlessly without rhyme or reason? My chest hurts and my mind aches. I'm tired of all of this pointless breathing. My life is a routine that I live by which is slowly driving me insane. I get up, go to school, come home, eat dinner, tutor comes, tutor goes, homework, training, sleep. That is literally my day everyday. With a few small exceptions, but living that week by week. It's killing me and I don't know what to do about it. I can set a goal to strive towards, but why bother when even though I do my best, my best just isn't good enough. I sit here pouring my dirty soul out and wonder why I don't just end myself now? The only thing stopping me is my father. He would break if I suddenly disappeared. He wouldn't understand what is wrong, why I did it. My father and I talk a lot, but I don't tell him everything. So here I sit and contemplate what do I do now? One of the most annoying things though is the fact that despite all these emotions swirling through me nothing is seen on the outside. Only dry tears are on my face, but even then I didn't make a sound. I didn't suddenly break down into sobs. A couple of tears dropped and then they stopped. When I saw my friend this summer she told me I had gotten a lot better at lying and holding in my emotions. It's sad but true. Now it's difficult to rile me up, because only my brother knew how to do that. I get annoyed, frustrated and find amusement in my classes antics, but those seem to be the basic emotions I show on a daily basis. Five months I've lived like this. In this state of numbness, that I don't know what to do about. 

   So I ask again what do I do now? It's not like I'm asking for some great mission that'll mark me in the history books I just want a reason for my existence again. I wish to stop being lonely, so that the pain in my chest can go away. I wish for something that will never happen for even I am unsure of what the void could fill or if it even can be filled. Maybe I'm broken? In a months time my deadline will be nine years, although I still wish to die this year. Even if it's to go to hell or wherever the heck I'll go. Maybe I'll just disappear from existence. 

Maybe, I'll see you around? Probably not.   

    

My last voice

   It was a normal cold, dreary, rainy Sunday in my little town. I was catching my breath at the tram stop while waiting for the number 11 to arrive and my thought's bounced from my parkour activities to something a bit more dark. I couldn't help, but wonder if at that moment there was a drive by who would I call and leave my final words to? At first I thought of my father, but I can't imagine putting him through such pain. Being so close, but unable to do anything, I think I'd break him. My thoughts then drifted to my brother, but he's so young and innocent. I couldn't scar him like that. Then I thought of friends- well I only really have 5 and three I immediately ruled out, because we just aren't that close. While the two left were so different yet exactly the same. I think of both as something akin to sisters- I feel undeserving of them in a way. Although I settled on one eventually. The one who's known me the longest. The one who's so far away from where I am she could never blame herself for what could happen. In a way I think she might have been pissed at me that I'd decide to call her instead of the police. She'd be angry with me for what I'd say. I think she'd cry for me, although I wish she wouldn't. Tears should not be wasted on me. Here's what my thought's brought me:
   The only thing I heard were the screeching of tires, before gunfire was let loose. In the chaos I had landed on the ground cover in glass from the broken tram stop and as soon as the shots started they ended. With tires once again speeding away. I try to stand, but immediately my body protests. Feeling the wetness on my hands I bring them into view and can see the dull red liquid on them. Looking down I can see it all around me. I'm the only one at the stop though, so it must be from me. No wonder I'm not panicking my body's trying to survive. My head feels heavy, so I stay there laying on the ground, trying to fish my phone out of my bag. I finally find it and slowly start to type in a number. The only number I know by heart that's still in use. It starts to ring and I wait for it to reach voice mail, as I know it will. It's too early for her to be up and even if she was, she never answers my call the first time. Finally I hear the annoying female operator and after the beep I start to talk. "Hey Morgan, it's me..... Listen sorry if I wake you but it might not ever happen again so don't get too angry, please?" I take a slow gasp and struggle with my breath, "I just wanna say 'thank you' and I'm sorry for being such a jackass friend." I can't help but laugh at this part. "I'm hurt, real bad and I'm not sure I'll survive." My breathing becomes more labored and even though I can hear the sirens in the background I know it's too late. "Can you tell my brother I'm sorry, as well? Give him a hug for me? I'm so sorry. So sorry. I was awful to both of you, but I love you both so much and I feel terrible for leaving you." I can tell it's over, but I struggle, "Live, live your lives. Be happy and move forward. I love you. Thank you and I'm sorry." My breath ends with this and my vision quickly fades. With my last strength I hang up. There's no reason to let her hear my final halfhearted breaths. The last thing I see is the headlights of the bright red number ll tram making it's way toward my stop.
   Is it cruel of me to record my dieing words on my best friends answering machine? Is it cruel that the only two people I had in mind was Morgan and my brother and not my parent's? Maybe it's because my biggest regret is leaving them behind and never being able to apologize to them for that. Maybe it's because I'm still angry with my mother that I don't have her in mind. As for my father I think it'd hurt him too much. He'd torture himself with the message. The biggest question: Is it strange that one of my first thoughts for the year 2014 were "I hope I die this year" ? It's sad, but at the end of the day I can't help but wish for it all to end. My existence is pointless, useless. I'm a waste of space and air. My only wish is to be cremated and my ashes put back where they belong- in the dirt.

Maybe I'll see you around, or maybe not.