Hello.

Hello. I'm the lie, living for you so you can hide. Don't cry.


-Evanescence.

Complication.

Dizzy up the girl.

-The Goo Goo Dolls.




Spin, spin, spin.

Spin.

Spin.

I'm getting a little too dizzy now. Okay, stop. Stop, I tell you. Stop, I say. But you just say spin, spin, spin. And there I go and there I go and you will not cease and you will not let me stop. Let me breathe, let me think. My head will fall off soon. I'm being pulled. Pulled into a spin.

Things, these things. These things I do not understand. Too many letters and too many words and I cannot determine any of them. Which one is my own? And I cannot understand. And I cannot comprehend. And I cannot think, no, I cannot think.

Getting too dizzy.

I'm with you.

Reach out and touch me.

-Hilary Duff.


I am sitting on the swing with earbuds perched in my ears. That's where they are as that's where they've always been. As I swing, I wonder if I could ever meet someone who speaks Music just as I do. Maybe not so much in the music notes and instruments; pianos, guitars, saxaphones..... But someone who will listen to the music and someone who will listen to the words.... Listen to the words....

Then I wonder if anyone would ever listen to the words I say....

My iPod is asleep in my back pocket, tucked nicely inbetween the cold seat of the swing and the soft pressure of my body. I wonder why none of my favorite artists and none of my favorite bands have visited me in the last hour. I realize that I have forgotten to turn my iPod on. And then I forgot to laugh.

Maybe it's just the quiet. Quiet, quiet, quiet. Shall we listen to ourselves for a while? That may be too much for me.

You approach me. I take that back. You have been standing next to me, watching me swing, for quite some time. I wonder how long, but then I tell myself that that matters the least. For I have been waiting for you as you have been waiting for me. We wait, and we wait for each other, and we wait for ourselves.

I stare at you as I let my swing stop. My feet do not drag, nor do they swing. They fall and drift away as the ride slows and slows and it's like you're carrying me already. Immobility does not matter once we are both still, and we stare and we stare, and we stare.

I do not question, I answer.

You hold out your hand. There is no hesitation. I take it with will. I take it, though I do not know this hand. I have never held this hand in my life. I do not know if it is dirty or clean. I do not know the color. What I do know, though, is that my own hand is starting to mold perfectly into yours. Was I expecting otherwise?

I do not question.

I smell your scent for the first time. I decide I like it. It seems to be worth my while, at least here and now. Here and now is where we are. We, us, together. I take another breath and let you fill my senses.

Name, I can feel you thinking. But I do not want to question and I do not want to answer. Your name, as my name, has letters, each one starting with a capital.

You take my hand away from yours. I go with it because I know that it's all right here. You put your arm, instead, around my waist and hug me and hold me there as we walk through the empty park, the empty lot, the empty space, the empty space, the empty space...

We drift.

I decide here and now and there and forever that I like the way you hold me; I like the way your skin feels against mine. I like you and you like me, and I like you liking me. Maybe it's the other way around. Our motives are connected.

You speak. You do not ask me my name. You do not ask me my age. You do not ask me where I come from or why I am here or where I am supposed to be. You do not ask me that.

"Where?" you ask me.

"On an adventure," I answer you. And I answer you.

Let go.

So let go. So let go. Jump in. Well, what'cha waiting for? It's all right, 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.

-Frou Frou


Is there really beauty in the breakdown? I wonder. I sit and listen and wonder. Am I right in thinking that they mean what I assume they mean? What I think they mean? What I feel they mean?

I'm terrified of one day having that breakdown. Then again, I look at what the word today means to me, and I pretty much hear this song. Of course, you'd have to hear it for full affect. It could be an amazing, thrilling, wonderful song.

It could be a frightening song.

Personally, I feel both. Thrill. Excitement. Adrenaline. Rush. Wind. Love.

Fear.

Day okay.

What makes a person happy? That's what I want to know.

It's cool that everyone usually has days that are just awesome. Like, nothing even really ever happens to make them awesome. Winning the lottery is extremely rare after all. But days that are normal are usually days that are happy, and for that, we are all extremely lucky.

But it just SUCKS that we all take advantage of that. Because when we have really bad days, all we can think about are the good ones.

I've decided to--if I follow through with it--name all of my blogs after songs. "We live in a beautiful world" was a line from Don't Panic by Coldplay. Mirror In The Bathroom is by The English Beat. This one is Day OK by a band you've never heard of, Spiral Beach. They happen to be one of my favorite bands, actually.

And, yeah, I know I spelled "okay" differently than how it's spelled in the song title. Spelling "okay" like "OK" bothers me greatly. You can skip on the taunting and teasing, because I am already aware of how weird I am.

Mirror in the bathroom.

What is beauty, really? I think I might be afraid to find that answer. Is it really only skin deep? I mean, we all run around telling each other that anything can be beautiful, and that it's all the way you look at it. But is that true? Are we just kidding ourselves?

But who am I to be so negative on that outlook, right? Do I sound like a pessimist? Maybe to you.

It's just so hard, though. I look in the mirror most days and don't really like what I see. I wear a mask. But, is there anyone who doesn't?

You know what's even more difficult? To live in a world where everything you see is all just so comforting to your eyes. You want to keep staring, more and more. You want to take in every angle. But staring is harmful. Staring is dangerous. When you look too long, you see what they are, and you see what you're not. I see boys I want to have and girls I want to be. Who knows....Maybe perfection really is ideal. It is sick, though, isn't it?

Through all of this, how do I find the me that I feel comfortable with?

We live in a beautiful world.

We live in a world where we are not good enough. Everything we do, we can always do better. Just thinking about school is one example: Adults grading you on how smart, knowledgable, and intelligent you are. In a way, the system kind of seems like a ranking system to me. You get an "F," so you're stupid and obviously fail at life. You get an "A," so you're smart and clearly better than everyone else. But is that really how life works?

It makes me sad that a "B" student can feel like an "F" student, just because there was that possibility of getting the golden-starred "A." Do you really have to be the top to be good enough?