May Break My Bones

Waking up to a bleeding sun in a bruised sky,
I wipe my swollen eyes, minding the swelling.
I pull on my jeans, careful of my broken leg,
Then slowly pull on my shirt, avoiding the cut on my chest.
I look in the mirror, not bothering to cover my wounds with makeup:
No one will see them anyway.
Gingerly, I make my way downstairs, to my car.
At school, they wonder why I’m slow and quiet:
I’m slow because moving hurts,
And I’m quiet because I hold my pain behind my sealed lips.
I make it through the day, functioning normally,
But I might as well be a zombie.
I feel blood oozing from my cuts,
I feel my broken bones going in strange directions,
I feel my bruises throbbing like the bass in your car.
I drive slowly home, loathe to return,
Knowing that in the silent loneliness you’ll hurt me again,
And again, and again, just because you don’t care,
And you want me to know it.
I walk through the door, and you’re right there,
Smiling at me like the cheshire cat,
Knowing that I’ll return to you no matter what.
I cringe, feeling the blow to my shoulder,
But I won’t fall, not now, today I can win.
Your smile deepens, because you know what I’m thinking,
And I know I’m gonna get it.
And I do, right in the chest, your favorite place to hit,
And my eyes start to tear as you pull the switchblade out,
Still smiling your horribly lovely smile.
Then you utter the curse:
“I love you, Jai”,
And I collapse to the floor, all my injuries hurting worse,
My will totally broken, until the next time.
Then you pick me up and carry me to the bed,
Crooning soft, caring words into my ear,
Making me love you even as I bleed from the wounds you inflicted.
It’s a common story: “I thought he loved me.”
But ours is slightly different.
No one can see these battle scars,
But they’re there, in the most obvious places.
Just look through my eyes and you’ll see.

Written by [Your Favorite Stranger]

People always say “It’s gonna be ok” when someone’s crying. Why do they say that? I mean, duh, it’s gonna be ok, thanks for that news update, but that may be a long way off, or feel a long way off. If you haven’t got anything brighter to say, it’s just as appreciated if you just hug the person, or let them cry on your shoulder, or rub their back, or w/e. Something I find comforting it someone hugging me and saying “Shh” like you would for a baby. Something that really irks me personally is when people say “It’s gonna be ok, I know, I’ve been there.” That’s you, and how do you know you’ve been there? Don’t make this whole thing about you, people! Another thing, when people are crying, or upset about something, and another person feels obligated to tell their story about it. I know all these people probably mean well, and just don’t know how to handle the situation, or they wish someone would comfort them too, but don’t be selfish, please. If you don’t know what to say, don’t say anything. And don’t tell them not to cry, or say that it’s gonna make you cry too. Guilt trips will not make a person feels better. Just let them cry.

Oh my gosh, the lock-in was so messed up! Okay, we were all there, hangin’ out after we had our pizza at nine, then they tell us all to get into the trailer cuz Matt had somethin’ to talk about. I was already in the trailer, but I went out to the worship place and sat down. Everyone was kinda wondering what was up. Then Matt tells us that someone was smoking in the girl’s bathroom, and that if someone doesn’t fess up, we’re all calling our parents and packing up. He went outside and said they had two minutes. So some of the guys stood up and said that no one was going to think less of the person who smoked if they confessed. We sat for about a minute, and still no one got up, so some of the guys started packing their game equipment up, and getting ready to leave. Then Ken came in and told us that we were all gonna go into the sanctuary, and whoever did it could just hang back. We all head out to the sanctuary, and some people start calling their parents. Then we’re told that the person confessed, so we’re all happy and stuff. But it was a false alarm: Matt came in and said the person had one last chance. Still no one goes forward. So I hitched a ride with Matt back to his house, where a couple girls spent the night. It was a bummer.

Last night, I got re-saved I guess. I wasn’t sure if that’s what I was supposed to do, so I was like, “Dad, what do you want me to do here?”, and I felt like I should do it, so I did.. The whole deal was this: They played a dvd called A Letter From Heaven and a Letter From Hell, which is basically, these two teens who died. In the letter from Heaven, Kimmi was a Christian, but hadn’t really lived her life for Christ. She gets to heaven, and sees the Master, and she’s so awed and humbled by the scars, scars that he chose to have so that he could save her. There’s a hugacious pile of twigs and rubble and mess, and she knows that’s all the times she sinned, all the times she disobeyed God, and she’s so ashamed. Then it catches on fire from God, who is, by the way, sitting enthroned with millions of saints and angels worshiping him. So she can’t even look at him, she’s so ashamed and she just kinda hunches over. Then, she feels a hand on her shoulder, and it’s Jesus, and he says her name and says “You’re forgiven.” And she sees that underneath the ashes from all her sins and stuff, there’s a solid base, the base of her Savior. Understand this, I started crying a little when Jesus said “You’re forgiven.” Cause it was like it was me, I was the one with all the burning trash, so ashamed, but then he touches me, he actually touches the one who’s messed up this bad, and tells me he forgives me. I’m tellin’ you, you gotta feel it to believe it.
Then you have the letter from Hell. Josh: The boy in Hell. Zach: The Christian friend of Josh who never told him how to be saved. It was scary. The guy really sounded terrified, and I felt so bad for him, and so scared that one of my friends might suffer the same fate. It’s really scary, you have to hear it. But I started crying and praying for everyone who popped into my mind, Nick, Chris, Sasha, Liz, Caleb, Bolton, a whole lot of people. I was begging my Dad to save my friends. I was scared. Not for me, but scared that the people that mean the most to me might be stuck burning forever and having emotional torment and a whole lot of other bad stuff. Lolly gave me a hug, and told me it was ok.
Then, Matt told everyone to close their eyes, bow their heads, and anyone who wanted to be saved to look up at him. After a second’s hesitation, I did. Then he said the sinner’s prayer, which I repeated. Next he asked everyone who said that prayer if they would come up on stage. There were eight of us from that one youth group who stood up there, silently proclaiming that we were Christians. You got a couple guys in Tripp pants, a few skater-looking guys, another girl, me, and the drummer from the youth’s band, crying his heart out like a big sad teddy bear that you just want to make happy. I love it.
Then hopefully tomorrow night I’ll be at a lock-in, watching a Halo tournament.

What's in a name? A name is a word, like 'gun', or 'car', or 'you'. A name is what people call you, it's not what you are. You get it?

Enjoy, my loves.

Imagine a world where the colors are not colors, where the shapes defy geometry, where there is no mass, no weight, no area, but it is a place. There are boundaries, you can’t walk out, but it goes on forever. Where you wouldn’t know if you were walking, running, or even flying. Where nights are days, and days are nights, and no one ever gets tired because of it. Where there is light, but the light isn’t really light, it’s darkness, and there is darkness, but it’s really light. Where you have to chase after emotions and add them to your collection like trading cards. Where people forget they forgot they were sad, and remember they’re supposed to be happy. And sometimes vice-versa, because you can’t always be happy. Where you know what something is, even if you can’t see it with your eys, because it carries a feeling that you remember, but not all the time. Where there is no up or down, no ceiling or floor, no space and earth, no sky and ground. Where you don’t just see with your eyes, you see with everything you have; every taste you can see vividly, every smell is a picture, every caught emotion like a painting. This is why this world is so real, so alive, because you see everything there is to see, every spectrum is combined into one that allows you to see them all, all these things people can only see here. Every new thing allows you to go further into forever, to chase new emotions, to see new things, taste new tastes, smell new smells, feel news feelings, and understand more of this world.
   This place is full of empty, endless hall ways, which are sometimes not so empty, because people run inside and hide in them, or run down them, looking for an end. Silly people, all they have to do is look up, and they would see freedom, for there are no roofs. There are rooms too, where people hide, where they say out loud the things they can’t say out loud, where they fight with mirrors and sometimes lose, sometimes win, where they yell at, or talk to, or just cry to people who aren’t really there, but who are standing beside them.. Yes, this place is full of hiding spots and empty places: woods, rooms, hallways, skies, but there’s always more, always more places, more visions, more feelings for the people. And many times you will meet someone who’s not there as well, and you may talk, or you may just look, or you may nod in acceptance. You may even learn something from this person, see a new emotions to chase down, and maybe, if yu’re lucky, you’ll chase it down together
   Ah, those emotions, sometimes they are so fast and hard to catch, and sometimes they are slow and you practically run into them, which sometimes hurts, and sometimes makes you laugh for hours, and sometimes makes you go to an empty place and think. But once you have them, many of them are really hard to lose, so be careful which ones you chase after: you don’t want to be stuck with a useless one, like Malice, or Depression.
   Also, all the images there are floating around are obtained in an interesting way. They are absorbed somehow into the place that goes on forever, and they just stay, always. But sometimes, they are hard to find, and you may think they’ve gone away. Or they are hard to get to hold still, slipping and dancing away right when you get to them, and you end up bothered by them. Which is really silly, because often, if you ignore the image, it will come to you. They’re really spiteful things sometimes, jumping on you when you least want them, or evading you when you want them so badly. But not all imgaes are like that, some are really quite kind and come to comfort you when you’ve caught Sadness, or when another image is really giving you a hard time.
   Sometime these places are fortified by strong brick walls, which is sad, because on the other side of the walls are better things, more places. Walls are for the fearful, and the fearful don’t learn very much, they don’t smell all the smells, or taste all the tastes or feel all the emotions, because they are scared of them, which is really silly, because they rule this place, and they should discover and conquer everything. Some of these places are full to the brim with all they hold, because they are never used, and we must wonder if this is worse than the walled places. Nothing is savored, nothing is cried over, or laughed over, no floating about, no climbing to heights that never end. No alone places, nothing. That must really be horrible, like having a door that you want to open without a key, and you have the key, but you don’t know it.
   Among the many empty rooms, there are also rooms filled with gazillions of things. There’s the Beauty Room, which you fill with all the beautiful images you worked hard to catch, or that pleasantly surprised you with a one-way visit. There’s the Black Room, where you can hide all the nasty, dirty, scary images you mistakenly caught or that rudely pounced on you. There’s the Library, where you can store all the knowledge you obtain from the images, the feelings, the tastes, the smells, the sights, and of course, the random words and thoughts and sentences and even whole books that sometimes slip into the place that goes on forever. The Library is often the largest room, or it is divided into smaller rooms for easier access. Some of these Library Sub-Division Rooms may have titles like Random Information Room, Embarrassing Things Room, Wisdom Room, Things-I-Should’ve-Done Room, Secrets Room, Memories Room, Fears Room and millions upon millions of others. Just as a note for housekeeping, having Library Sub-Division Rooms is a definite plus, because you’ll never run out of rooms, you don’t have to use a 50 story ladder to reach something on the top shelf, and you can always make another room. Some places also have a very well locked up, cold room, that even they don’t enter. It’s filled with one thing, something they try so very hard to forget, to lock up, to never deal with, ever. It’s normally placed far away from all the other rooms, far away from anywhere that person goes or wants to go. It’s normally fairly quiet, it keeps to itself, but sometimes the person will catch an image, or emotion, have a taste, smell, or sight, and the room will leak out a little bit of the dark, cold, locked-upness and it will chase the person around until it wears away, or is forced back into the room by an army of good, bright warm images, emotion, tastes, smells, and sights. These rooms often act like a brick wall, because the person stays away from anything near the room, or anything that would allow the room to open up even a little.
   Lots of places that go on forever are littered all over with torn emotions, emotions that have been marred by other emotions. The same with images, though they aren’t so common, or so easily torn. Most all of the broken emotions are good ones that have been set upon by bad ones. You couldn’t save them, or you didn’t know they were being torn up. Emotions are a lot easier to bang around then you are, remember that. Sometimes, a really bad thing can happen: the spiteful emotions from the Black Room will massacre the good emotions in the Beautiful Room. Hate ripping at Love’s throat, Pain and Broken clawing at Happy and Whole, Wisdom fighting off Fear, Jealousy, and Foolishness singlehandedly. Not a great thing to walk into. Why not lock them up, you say? There are no locks on the Black Room or the Beautiful Room, because you have to control these emotions, you have to be the master. And you can’t master something if you never face it, now can you?

Numbness. It sucks. It ruined. No maybe saved. It ruined the best moment of my life. Or it saved me from the worst.

Break me together,
Figure me in,
Put me apart,
At the end you begin.
A commonality of individuality,
A saint of the sinners,
A galaxy in a molecule,
A loser who beats winners.
An extrovertish introvert,
A tearless mourner,
An inarticulate poet,
A circle with a corner.
The insecure security,
The comfortless sympathizer,
The tuneless melody,
The slowly trickling geyser.
Your favorite stranger,
Your friendly enemy,
Your guardian demon,
Yourself in me.
The publicly esoteric,
The cryptically plain
The inconsequentially important,
The extraordinarily mundane.
The seriously silly,
The dreamer of reality,
The color-blind artist,
The outlaw of legality.
A word with no sound,
A book with no cover,
A smile with no lips,
A rival and a lover.

Ambiguous

*sigh* I talked with someone on here who talked with him whilst he was on here. She says he should come back. I say he should not. I am right. She is wrong. And that is life. She said she deletes all her messages, and therefore, cannot supply me with the stuff I was looking for. She simply told me that he talked about me all the time. Which is nice to know, but I'd like to know what he said. Which is dumb. Very dumb. But what's a girl to do? Leave it alone, that's what. That's what a girl should do.

1.Who are you? i guy standing at a door
2. Are we friends? of course, i hope forever, i dont know what i would do without you
3. When and how did we meet? i dont remember that far
4. Do you have a crush on me? i don't think, but i havn't figured that out, just kidding, uh no
5. Would you kiss me? it depends
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. sexy baby, cause you are
7. Describe me in one word. that is impossible
8. What was your first impression? dont remember
9. Do you still think that way about me now? yeah
10. What reminds you of me? a beautiful girl more beautiful than everything in all the world(just cause i am a player doesn't mean i fell that way about everyone
11. If you could give me anything what would it be? a book on how not to be sudductive
12. How well do you know me? not as much as i would like to think
13. When's the last time you saw me? about a milasecond ago
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? oh yeah
15. Did you message me just because of how i look? no
16. If i had something stuck in my teeth would you tell me? of course and i wouldn't laugh
17. Do you cyber? no
18. Do you smoke?no, i would die from amy ashma
19. Could you keep a secret? i know i say this all the time, but, yes, over the last couple of weeks in your room i have learned what it is to be a freind
20. Would You ever date me? maybe in the future, but only if it was something serious, not just a 8th through 11th grade crush
21. would you ever fuck me? no, sex is one thing but you don't deserve the to be fucked, only hoes get fucked
22. Do you think im hott? i think your beautiful
23. Are you going to put this on your house and see what I say about you? no

From [Man In The Box](bestest real friend), to me! I told him that he and benj ought to get together and compare their compliments. I feel loved though! Yayness.

i stand there and knock,
i forever knock at the door,
the empty lifeless door,
the door that separates my loneliness from companionship,
i forever wait,
i wait until the door opens,
i wait until i see the beautiful face ushers me in,
my life is in darkness,
i see light on the other side,
but i never stand in it,
i never see the beautiful face,
all i see is the door and the darkness,
so i am waiting and knocking forevermore.

By [Man In The Box]
For [Your Favorite Stranger]

*feels sad, but cannot open the emotional door*

Hurrying his ethereal body past, and sometimes through the humans around him, Tammi rushed to the abandoned chapel that had been his home since he could remember. His Keeper had smiled when they had found the place, announcing it the perfect place for the younglings and himself. But Tammi wasn’t thinking about that now, his mind was a terrified jumble of images: of his best friend, Kerri; of the man with the loud voice; of Kerri screaming, and then disappearing with a poof. None of the humans saw him, though the ones he passed through experienced a sort of chill, which they attributed to the fall night air.
When he got to the chapel, Tammi went right through the door, and ran promptly into his Keeper. After rebounding off the larger spirit, Tammi rushed into his story, in an amazed and panicked voice:
“Me and Kerri, we were doin’ what we usually do, uh, that is, hangin’ around the teenagers in the arcades an’ stuff, lookin’ for a ride. So Kerri finds this, uh, this kid, and he tells me he’s found his ride. The kid has a buddy, so I take him for my ride, and we go. Just like we always do. We didn’t think there was anything special about these kids, they were just our rides, ya know?”
Tammi trailed off and looked at the Keeper, who nodded at him, and gestured for him to continue. By then, other younglings had gathered around, and were listening to Tammi. Tammi continued.
“So me and Kerri, we’re ridin’ just like we always do, nothin’s different really, except that there’s different kids every day, you know. The kids go home, right, and that’s when things start getting weird. The parents are freaking out for some reason, and I think now that these were some good kids, and the parents weren’t used to them cussin’, and bein’ rebellious. Whatever it was, they took the kids, and us, because we thought it was pretty funny to see the way those parents were flipping out, to another chapel, like this one, but not rundown. When we went inside, I got a weird feeling, and I stopped ridin’. I told Kerri that he should too, but he laughed and said he was havin’ too much fun. They were practically dragging the kids to this office inside the chapel, and I followed along, tryin’ to get Kerri to come with me, and all the while this feeling I have is getting stronger. When they got inside the office, there was this tall man, in a casual suit, sittin’ behind a desk. The weird feeling was coming from him, and it was really strong. I tried tearin’ Kerri off the kid, but he wouldn’t come, he shoved me away. The man stood up and put his hands on the boys’ heads. It shames me to say, I backed up, I moved back away from the man and the boys. Then Kerri started gettin’ scared, but the man was talking now, with his eyes closed and his hands still on the boys’ heads, and Kerri gave me one terrified look, and poof. He was gone.”
Tammi was hunched forward now, tears in his eyes, and a few of his comrades came forward to pat him on the back, tell him it was ok. Kerri was a nice spirit, most of the younglings liked him, even if he did have a certain knack for getting into trouble. But the Keeper wasn’t through yet.
“What was the man saying, Tammeryll? Do you remember?”
Tammi looked up through watery eyes. “Uh yeah, he was sayin’ stuff like, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit” and tellin’ Kerri to go away, go back where he belonged, like he could see him or something.” Tammi cocked his head in a confused manner. “What on earth did he mean?”
The Keeper put his hand on his chin, then sighed as if he had decided something. Ignoring Tammi’s question, he boomed out “Are all the younglings here?” He looked around at the nodding heads, and satisfied that all were accounted for, he started speaking.
“First off, the man Tammeryll speaks of is a priest. You all remember priests from the stories I tell you. They worship God, who you also know from the stories. What the priest did is called exorcism.” He paused for a moment here, letting all the younglings murmur, and wonder among themselves what exorcism was. Then he continued: “I’m sure you all know what demons are, I’ve told you numerous stories about demons.” The younglings nodded, wondering where this talk was leading. “Well, exorcism is the act of sending a...how did you say it Tammeryll? “Riding”? Exorcism is the act of sending a riding demon to the Abyss.” The younglings gasped. They had heard about the Abyss in the stories, and they knew it was a horrible place.
Tammi was astonished. “So Kerri was a demon? My best friend was a demon? That’s crazy, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes!” All the younglings agreed, and started talking among themselves, sharing memories of Kerri.
The Keeper wasn’t finished though. “Quiet, younglings.” There was silence. “You’re missing the picture here. Kerrimana was no different from any of you. Every single one of you are demons. I myself am a demon, though far older.” He was finished now, and stood there with his arms crossed, waiting for the questions he knew would come.
Tammi was the first to break the shocked silence. “But in all your stories, the demons are bad, they’re the ones that fight against the angels and God.” Tammi had always loved the stories with the angels, the mighty warriors of God, with bright, sharp swords, and powerful white wings.
The Keeper nodded, and said “Yes, we are the evil ones, we fight against the angels for our Master while they fight for God. But we have been given power on earth, we can play with the humans, we can do whatever we want with them, unless the angels step in. Then we fight.” He had a shine in his eyes, and looked far away, remembering some battles. Then he snapped back. “We rarely get orders, while the angels get nothing but. Our duty is simple: play with the humans, toy with them, irritate them. And if an angel tries to stop you, gather your brothers and fight.”
The question “But what about the priest, and the ... exorcism stuff?” brought a loud chorus of “Yeah!”s. The Keeper made a face as if the answer was obvious, but answered the question anyway.
“Simply get out of the person before you even reach the building. Whenever you feel that feeling, like Tammeryll felt, leave. Or you’ll go poof, like Kerrimana. Now, I have raised you on stories of us, and our enemies so that you would know what to do, so that you would know how to play the game. You are all young, as far as demons go, only 100 years, which is really just 17 or 16 in human years. You have much still to learn, but I have trained you to fight, and do your jobs well. Do you accept you mission?”
This was greeted by almost unanimous approval. The Keeper knew that one voice was missing, and asked, “Which of you does not accept your mission?” He cut his eyes fiercely at the younglings, and they stepped back, leaving Tammi standing rather alone and small looking. The Keeper lifted an eyebrow. “Tammeryll. You showed true promise in all your training. Do you really mean to throw it all away?”
Tammi looked down, clutching his hands behind his back. Then he looked up and straightened himself. “I don’t want to be evil. I will be good, and follow the God the angels and the priest follow.”
The Keeper’s face became cold and heartless. “No one will accept you now, Tammeryll. If you hope to join the angels, you will be sadly disappointed. And your own kind will not accept you. Humans will fear and loathe you. And God?” He sneered. “God won’t accept you.” The door swung open. “Get out. And if I ever see you around here, I’ll treat you as I would an angel, and send your own brothers after you.”
Tammi stepped toward the door, then turned to look at his one-time brothers. Some wouldn’t meet his gaze, and the ones who did simply gave him a blank gaze. He turned and stepped out of the door. He had made it down the steps before he felt any difference. He lifted a hand and nearly fainted in shock. He couldn’t see through himself! He felt his head. His horns were there! He looked down at himself. He had a physical body, like a human, but it didn’t look exactly like a human body. He knew he had to find clothes, and then get out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tammi sighed as he came back from his memories. It had been barely a month since he’d left the chapel, and life had been hard. He remembered that first night.
He’d been lucky to find an abandoned alley to hide in until he saw a homeless man come staggering by. His sense of smell had not left him, nor his keen night vision, for that he had thanked the God of the angels. He was able to tell that the man was drunk, and wouldn’t remember much from the night. With the darkness to hide him, he had jumped the man and dragged him into the alley quite unconscious. After going into him for a split second to be sure he was alright, Tammi stole the clothes he needed: a long, but very dirty trenchcoat, and a ragged hat. The pants and shirt would not have fit over his irregularly shaped body.
After putting on his nearly acquired clothing, he’d left the man there, against the wall, and went to find another empty alley, begging forgiveness from God and hoping that angels wouldn’t come to attack him for his sin.
Tammi shook his head at his naive belief that angels were all-knowing and attacked every evil-doer. He had learned since then that they didn’t. He still had the ability to see and communicate with spirits, and though he had seen many demons (which he had avoided), he hadn’t seen any angels, even at the rampant crime scenes that plagued the city.
His stomach grumbled loudly, and Tammi regretted again that he couldn’t get rid of his horns and get a job.

copyright of J. K. Maxwell

And that is the first part of the second book in my ongoing series. The first one, Burning Black, isn't done yet, but this one popped into my head. I will make a wiki for them, if I get enough people who like it. I'll also put Burning Black in here as a teaser when I get it onto this computer. Enjoy, people!
   -[Your Favorite Stranger]

Who wants a fairy-tale ending?
They're not as great as they seem.
For a prince, you have to wait forever,
An evil villain is good enough for me.
I'll leave the princes for all those princesses,
The knights for maids in distress.
Simply give me the dastardly villain --
Maybe then I'd be impressed.
Princes are far too predictable,
And knights turn out to be knaves,
What I want is something different,
Maybe a pirating life on the waves!
I don't want a man in bright colors,
He can't wear more makeup than me.
I want a man to surprise me,
Not ride around on a steed.
Kidnap me in the night through a window,
Cause slaying the dragon's so old.
Don't invite me for tea and some biscuits,
Take me out on a fight -- now that's bold!
Don't take me dancing at a ball
(Unless blood is the main course),
Don't baby me, or be too polite:
Let me see darkness; we can both use force.
Give me passion and danger!
Give me blood and gore!
But you have been warned:
I'm no man's whore.
It won't be easy,
You may have to fight.
Oh, and be careful!
Cause this chica bites.
You can have your pretty sunsets,
I don't need that flowing skirt.
Just give me a night with a full moon,
I'll slip on some pants and a shirt.
Who wants a fairy-tale ending?
They're not all they're cracked out to be.
I'm just fine as the bad guy's lover,
Cause kickin' good-girl butt is for me!

No Sleeping Beauty
By [Your Favorite Stranger]

The introspectiveness that always follows reading one of Anne Rice’s Vampire novels. The absurd eloquence that my thoughts and writing always seem to have. I can tell myself that it’s all in my head (and it very well may be), but I don’t believe myself. Perhaps it’s the eloquence of the books, maybe the eloquent idea of the vampires themselves. Or perhaps it’s all a figment of my highly over-active imagination. Whatever it is, I do feel very introspective and thoughtful. I do feel like purchasing a whole wardrobe of clothes like Lestat’s, all trimmed out with lace, and, in all honesty, rather eccentric. I do feel a nudging desire to see New Orleans, go to the French Quarter, visit around after dark (which is a foolish thing to do regardless of vampires), look for Lestat, and maybe even Quinn and Mona. Why I would want to see Lestat is the question that I ask myself most, not in trying to take away the desire, but to find out what I would ask him, what I would say to him if I did happen upon him. I have, so far, come to the conclusion that I would ask him to impart to me some of the knowledge he has gained over his many years. It’s really a pretty presumptuous request, and I know that the chances of it actually being honored are laughably small, but it’s still what I’d ask. I have no wish at all to be immortal, other than to gain more knowledge and strength. I wouldn’t be able to do what I feel I am called to do. And living solely for the purpose of gaining knowledge isn’t living for much, in my opinion, especially when you aren’t technically “living” at all. I want to do something with that knowledge. I have a small hope that bringing such a request to him would appeal to Lestat’s immense, yet understandable, vanity. But why do I ramble on about this sort of thing when the Vampire Chronicles, and Lestat, and Mona, and Quinn are all fiction? Am I obsessive? Am I mad? It’s possible. I sort of like to think that a very microscopic part deep inside me knows it’s fiction. I sort of like to think that, just to keep the “mature” side of me happy. But it seems so real to me, and I desperately need something dark, and different, and magical, and impossible to believe in, so I let myself toy with these notions. As I have said before, dreams keep me alive. When I run out of dreams to believe in, what will happen to me?

Do you know the feeling you have when there is no space between you and heaven, between you and God? I know he’s always there, but when you feel that close to him, it’s just different, somehow. It’s like...the hug you always needed, but never got, it’s like all your good memories in one breath, like all your dreams can come true, like you could fly. Well, really, it’s undescribable, but I always attempt to describe the undescribable. I feel like I’m submerged in a warm, solid, yet liquid something, and I belong there like I don’t belong anywhere else. It makes me feel...perfect. If that’s a sin, I’ll repent later, because that feeling is not something I feel often. Normally, I feel like the least of God’s children (not like there is such a thing, but still), like a sinner (which I am), like a disobedient kid (which I also am, often). But when God’s around, it’s like I see me like he sees me, and that is absolutely amazing to me.

Someone save me. Please. I don’t care who or what you are, or how you do it, just save me from this. Don’t hurt me emotionally. Don’t lie to me. Don’t leave me alone. And don’t ever say you love me.