Falling

Some choices are like standing at the top of a skyscraper, staring over the 20 foot edge and wondering whether you are going to step back, jump or get pushed. Maybe you're going to get pushed, flying 20 stories down to where your body connects with the pavement and your life is ended once and for all. Now, think about it. You're at the top of the world right now. You're downtown, at the top of the highest building. Looking over the edge, and across the sky and wondering where you're going. It's your choice now, and you're the only one that can make it. Exhilarating, yes. Scary, yes. Amazing, yes. Then, something goes wrong. A shift in the air, or a bad feeling. Maybe some rain starts sprinkling out of the sky, and it increases in intensity until it's cascading over your entire body. And it's drowning you out, and wiping you out of the picture like the ugly equations you erased from that math quiz you failed. That was today, this is your life. The variables are endless, as are the thoughts crashing through your head as the storm pours down on the city. You can jump off the edge, and fly into nowhere because you feel there's nowhere to go anymore. Maybe you are making the wrong choice, and you might as well end everything now as your body flies through the harsh, cold air. Or, you can turn around and walk back. You can walk off that roof and down the blue set of stairs that you climbed half an hour ago, dodging the security guards who are probably searching for you right now, wondering where the hell you went as the intensity of the storm increases and wind howls around the building. Maybe someone's out there with you, to keep company, to sabotage, maybe both. Maybe they're a big fake, and you can do nothing about it. They could be just waiting to push you, watching as you fall and scream for your life, knowing the end is there but unable to do anything about it. Or maybe you sit there, and wait for something to happen. Breathing normally, you shoot back to reality, to the real scene, your actual life, snapping back to what's actually going on. Is this choice what you really want? You can't go back.

latest, newest rant. god. i am such an idiot.

So, you "Want to be the girl he points to, and says 'that's her'" eh?

And what if he's saying something bad. What if he's pointing and laughing at you? Maybe you deserve it, idiot. For making up such a stupid quote. We all know you want to be his girlfriend, but maybe you should get out there and try something for once? If you just wait, and suffer in silence, then no one is going to see anything about you. No one is going to see that maybe you have something great inside. Show yourself. Get out there. And then dear, maybe he will point to you, maybe he will say "that's her", even though your quote is stupid.
Maybe maybe maybe.
Life is so full of maybe.

Brittany. There's so much to say about you. I can't remember perfectly back into Grade 5 and 6, but what I remember are good memories of you. I miss you terribly and I still feel like an idiot. There's this one scene that keeps playing over and over in my head. My blood sugar was low at the park, it was summer. And my dad had Jenny outside, and he forgot to keep track of time. So I went to your house, and you gave me oreos. And I sat on that chair in your kitchen and called my dad, on your red phone that reminds me of a fire engine now. I'm not sure why. You were an amazing friend, you never talked about me. You were nice and you let me come over and we used your art supplies, you were amazing at art. And we went on your computer, and you made my my first hotmail account, I never forgot. You always told me not to bump the scanner, because it was really sensitive. You got upset when I did, so I always tried not to. This one time at your house, I'm not sure if you remember, but we ate a whole bunch of chips, and then you threw up, because junk food made you sick. It didn't make me sick, but god, maybe it should've. I still remember when your horse tried to jump over the poop pail, and he tripped and you fell off. It was cold in the stable, but it was fun watching you. It was interesting. God, you loved horses so much, I never did. That's the one thing we didn't share. But we still were such good friends back then. We walked Nika and Lucky all the time. Remember when you told me her name meant "friend" in inuit? And playing those silly math games on your computer?
You always had the coolest food too, it was good. I'd look forward to coming to your house. And then there was Sapreet. And, me, the idiot. And how that one day changed everything, how you were crying, and you asked me, in the saddest voice ever, "Rachel...did you just pretend to be my friend all along?". And I said yes. I said yes, and I hate myself for it. And you looked so sad.
I had just broken your heart, but I didn't know that later on I'd have broken my own. I miss you so much. I miss our fun afternoons and the times at the park and everything. Now, the new me wouldn't have cared if you were slightly on the nerdy side. She wouldn't have minded when the popular kids didn't want her to be around you, and would have stuck by you. And wouldn't have been swayed by them. I wish I knew that then. And the more I think about it, the more I miss you. I think you moved out of Edmonton. I tried adding your old email a long time ago, but it didn't work. In short, I wish we were friends again. That day, I lost an amazing person, and I was too stupid to notice. Maybe I'm going to pay for it now...

prettyboysmakeprettygirlscry.

the pretty ones will break your heart
she told me one day, as we walked
through the broken trees, and the slushy streets
and the sidewalks, now covered in puddles
they look dead.
they look, and feels dead.
like my heart, which unfortunately
is still beating.
we plough through the mess
and she tells me about him
and what she thinks,
everything about him
and i don't want to hear it.
it hurts too much, and i am alone.
she goes on, and on and on.
if we weren't around each other so often, i would run
run and scream, to drown out the words
that are sinking through my brain like knives.
and sinking into my heart
like mud
my shoes are trapped
and so are my feelings.
for i can't handle them.
while i walk, with her
but truly by myself.
he isn't going to break her heart this time, she tells me
they are perfect, and they will be for quite a while
she has him this time, this time
it will be different.
but i wait, in my darkness, alone, i wait.
and she comes back crying,
and tells me what he has done.
and how her heart,
her heart is broken into a thousand pieces
how she should have listened to me in the first place.
and i remember what she has said;
that the pretty ones will break my heart
it's screaming in my head, "sweetheart, they already broke yours!"
but she cannot listen, as she is still going on, and on and on
so i shrug my shoulders, and get off the bus
and continue to walk, with my thoughts tumbling inside my head.
for it's not her, but me that is gone
and i slowly walk away, into the cold winter air
but i am still walking.
i am still walking on my own one way street to nowhere.
not sure which side of me to trust.

Pull the trigger and the nightmare stops.

Think of all the things you did before, write them in a letter that says reborn.
This is pretty much what I wish you would do, despite the fact you always hated Coheed and Cambria. You were the type of amazing close minded individual a lot of people could fall for...okay, so by a lot of people, I meant me. Except this time there was a difference, you fell back. At least at the beginning. Now, you've changed. We don't talk, except to argue over which of our favorite bands is better. I don't like the Blood Brothers, you still hate Avenged Sevenfold, like you did before. Before, it was different. We could accept the differences we had, and we lived with them and still were friends. We went to your house a lot, you've never been to this end of town. It was close to an hour bus ride there, and you never came here, although I didn't mind that. I'd ride the six to University, and hop the LRT until the second last stop. I loved riding the LRT by myself, I barely ever went on it, and when I did it was a signal that I was going to see you. I anticipated and as it went past Bay and Churchill and Central, the feelings got better. We'd meet at your stop, and walk the 10 blocks to your house on the North side of town. You told me stories as we walked, the story about that factory that burnt down, or whatever it was. And how you were there, and what you felt. I've always been a feelings person. We'd get to the field near your house, and make fun of the things like the Love Boutique. The first time I came, my mom gave me a ride. We got lost on the way. And then you gave me the wrong house number, I still remember. Your little sisters were so cute; they danced to the Unicorns, we both thought it was adorable. I guess one of the things I remember most is the futon. The squeaky one that you slept on. We'd lay on that together, and it was kind of like just sitting around and dreaming. It was happy. I wish we could go back. We could have laid there for hours, I bet. I remember the time we watched the Butterfly Effect. I was barely paying attention to the movie, I was paying more attention to what you looked like, and how you were feeling. At the time, I wanted to freeze the moment in my memory, and some days now I want it to melt away into the cracks of my mind. I don't remember what day you told me you liked me. But you did. "Rach" "I think I like you" or something similar or to that effect. I was so happy. And I liked you back, but I didn't say it. Maybe things would have been different if I did. I would take myself back if I could. I wanted to be around you a lot of the time. You were fun, and it made me happy. I miss those days. A while later, something happened, and you didn't like me anymore. Bright Eyes is my favorite artist now. I wonder if you know. I wonder if you remember the first song I listened to, because of you. It was Something Vague. Do you remember the time you told me to listen to The Tide by The Spill Canvas? I love them now. I guess I just wish I could go back. Things definetely aren't the same now. You had a girlfriend, and then you liked Steph. Now we argue over stupid things. You said I was annoying. I'm not sure you even respect me anymore, and I doubt that that will change. Do you know that I felt bad when you didn't add me to your new msn, because I thought you hated me or I did something wrong? I wonder if us being on each other's friends list on nexopia is just a pointless facade. I know you felt really guilty about leading me on before, and I've accepted that, even though it's still upsetting. I guess I miss the older you. A lot. Maybe you miss the old me, but I doubt that. We're both different now and we have to move on. Okay, so I have to move on...I'm living in the past I guess. I wonder how you'd feel if you read this. You'd probably think I'm stupid, and what's to say that I'm not? Nothing, that's what.
I'm not sure. I guess I just wish things would go back to the way they were, and I suppose it sucks that they never will.

How does it feel to know?

How does it feel to know
That every secret you tell someone
Is most likely going to get told to someone else,
And you're never going to know.
That things that appear too good to be true
Usually are, and if you accept them
Then you're going to fall
And not be able to pick yourself up.
And sweetheart, how does it feel to know
That people are lying to you, right this second,
And they're using you to get what they want
But it's up to you to figure it out before you get hurt.
How does it feel to wake up in the morning
And wish you could curl up, and back in to bed
And stay there forever, because maybe, just maybe
It might stop the hurt.
You struggle through your schoolwork
Trying as hard as is possible for you
At this moment, and pulling off
70s, maybe lower, and having to be proud
Because that's the best you can do
When a million other thoughts are running through your head
And you can't shut them out, but you must face them
With the courage, of the soul inside you
The soul you don't have.
How does it feel sweetheart,
To know that it already happened?
To know that it's all true.

Lyrics of the moment. Breaking Benjamin--So Cold.

Crowded streets are cleared away, one by one
Hollow heroes seperate, as they run

You're so cold keep your
Hand in mine
Wise men wonder while
Strong men die

[Chorus]
Show me how we end this alright
Show me how defenseless you really are
Satisfied and empty inside
That's alright, let's give this another try

If you find your family, don't you cry
In this land of make-believe, dead and dry

You're so cold, but you
Feel alive
Lay your hands on me
One last time

[Chorus x2]

It's alright [x9]

So; this isn't really a rant. But I guess it needs to get done.

Dear Brandon,

It's been a year since we broke up. A year ago today. I figured I needed to write this, just to tell you that I'm over you, and things aren't going to bother me as much as they used to. I have new friends now, people who really care about me for who I am, and who are going to stick by me. They're not going to go hideously depressed on me, and they're not going to make themselves bleed and make me feel bad.
Maybe you were trying to do the best, I'm not sure, I'm kind of trying to understand how it was from your point of view. You said you loved me, but did you really? I don't know if you actually put the meanings behind the words. I thought at one point you were just trying to get into my pants, because you kept asking me to have sex. At points I wanted to, but I'm glad I stood my ground because it was a good choice for me.
I'm over you now, and I don't want to go back. I don't want to do much drugs anymore, I don't want to drink or smoke. What happened on New Years was a mistake. I know it, I hope you know it too. It was a bad choice on our part, and we're lucky Krysta didn't find out. I'm glad she didn't. I don't ever want something like that to happen again, it made me feel horrible after it happened. I quit drinking after that. I haven't had anything since January 1. It feels like a personal accomplishment to me, and I'm happy about that.
I think about you all the time, sometimes it's just remembering, and sometimes it's being upset. It's kind of weird, but I can handle it now. Some days I wonder if you think about me, then I realize it's irrelevant.
Nonetheless, I'm writing this just to say we're completely through now after all this time.
And you can't affect me, not anymore.
-Rach