Everything That Shines Isn't Gold

So what if my shoes are a bit worn, if I don't own more than a handful of towels, if I have to wait for my salary to buy paint to restore my wall? So what, what does it really matter? As long as I've got my music, got my friends, got a roof over my head and food on my table, as long as I'm ambitious with my studies, trying to learn outside of school, trying to develop myself as a rigger and an animator, as long as I've got words to get me by. It's like everything else is just distant, like I'm pushing all other responsibilities away. I've made the calls I need to make, I'm taking care of the details of moving to a new apartment, I'm taking care of myself and my life. I just spent a whole month on the west coast, near Strömstad, working at a nursery home, earning enough money to pay for my bills in both July and August. It's only right now that I don't have enough, only now that I'm living on borrowed money, only now that I'm really treating every penny with respect. I'm living off of money lent to me by Mom, which I feel bad about, because she had just scratched half of the debt I already had to her... I wish I didn't have to intrude on their money. I don't think of myself as poor, just the way every student is; but I do wish that sometimes, for once, I could buy something without gasping over the price tag first, that I could buy something that was brand new and wasn't found on a sale rack, that I could join a friend for spontaneous lunch; just every once in a while. I'm so scared I won't find a job when I graduate from university, so scared I WILL find one and fall back into the comfort of having a job, forgetting everything I strived for when I knew what money was worth. I'm so puzzled and worried about distant things, at the same time I can't seem to get myself together and sort my remaining stuff before moving or washing a plate after I used it. I hope that I'll be able to stick to all my principles, stick to all those beliefs I have about the world and the people in it, about myself and about what living is worth.

What if I wake up, years from now, and realize I've become a vegetable, completely deadened to everything that used to cut and tear?

POET IN THE JAR

Haphazard, Chaotic Attic

Isn't it easy, delving into your own mind when the world peels off the better of you? Isn't it done by magic, in a matter of only seconds, when everything you see becomes too sharp, too real, for your own liking? Isn't it easy to head blindly into imagination, when reality hurts, when mortality knocks on your door, when you're reminded how frail you are?


LIVE LIFE, you can read on my knuckles, Absolution, you can read on my wrist. Illusion and dream is written in my neck, turtles and lotus flowers are drawn on my arms. All of this art I've inked onto my skin, all of it on such different occasions for such different reasons, and still their message seems so incredibly similar in retrospect, seems to ring so incredibly clear. It all seems to come down to the same thing - reality, mortality, and making use of the moment. So why is it so hard to stay on the outside, to not float off into a daily dreamland, drenching ourselves in daydreams when we aren't allowed to sleep and scaring ourselves awake with nightmares when we're supposed to?


I wonder if everyone's dreamers, if everyone dreads to be entirely present, entirely absorbed by what is happening around them this very second. I want to be more like those people who forget everything but what needs to be done this here and this now, want to be more like those people who can care so much that they can forget entirely about themselves. I want to be in the moment, want to be here, want to be now. I want to be less forgetful, less abstract, less enclosed in a prison made of moving patterns turning me sea-sick, less chased by constant inner arguments, less troubled, less worried, less afraid. More than anything else I want to be less afraid. I'm so tired of waking up in the middle of the night scared half to death by my own nocturnal and haphazard visions, so tired of twitchingly tricking myself into sleep, so tired of counting minutes and seconds until the next time I'm required to present myself somewhere, so tired of not being able to choose what to think.


Is it supposed to be this chaotic? Is it supposed to be this dizzy? Am I supposed to shift this swiftly between emotional extremes? Am I supposed to spend this much time inside the messy attic I call mind? Am I supposed to latch on so easily to what lives and breathes?


"What you live and breathe is why you're dying"
~ Poets of the Fall


I'll leave you with those words for now...
POET IN THE CHAOTIC JAR

Dollhouse World

It's throwing your dollhouse world in disarray... so you can rebuild or conform

Isn't that the ultimate truth for me right now, with all these thoughts whirling about in my head. What's new, you say, what's new about having a buzzing head, isn't that what the Poet in the Jar's all about? Well, you have a valid point there. But I'm thinking differently about things now, more heavily, trying to rationally argue with the voices inside. Trying to make rationality beat tradition, beat instinct. Not logic thinking... rational thinking, thinking that makes sense. Taking a problem and weighing its pros versus its cons, looking at it from afar instead of from right in the middle of it. Trying to think objectively. Maybe it doesn't sound as hard as I find it, hell, maybe to some people it isn't hard at all. But it's a slow and sometimes painstaking process, for me, and Poets of the Fall's words just... fit. Dollhouse world, a world of perfection, the truth I thought I could deduct by observing the world - thrown into disarray, into disassembly, into disorder; turning every conclusion upside-down, even the ones I had made about myself and about my past.

It's a strange feeling to wake up one day and decide to start looking at things differently... if that's even what happened. I can't really describe what happened. At one point I just looked at my past in a different light, and at everyone who had surrounded me up until that point. Things started to click into place. I wouldn't say questions were answered, it was more like questions were added. But now I could tell which questions mattered and which were less important. Which to try and answer and which to let be. And that can make a hell of a difference, to a pondering poet.

The past few days I've been thinking of a few things, trying to "solve" them in my head. The first major issue has been what should qualify as love, is it measureable, what happens when love falls out of society's norms, and does love really need to be physical? The other major issue has been whether you should trust your head more than your heart when they want two separate things, and how to balance your own life with the lives of others. How can you be a pioneer and an individual if doing so constantly pushes you out of the social context? Would you still go for the higher cause, or would you sooner or later long to be part of the herd? Tricky philosophical questions indeed.

Other than all my heavy mental workload, there isn't too much on my table right now. I'm staying at my cousin's house for the majority of the upcoming three weeks, my aunt got me a nice job at a home for the elderly. It's going alright, learning as I go, doing my best. I don't think they can expect miracles from a summer worker who's only staying three weeks. If they like me enough and I do a decent job, they might ask me to come back, though. I haven't really decided how I feel about that, that's for a later decision.

Oh, I don't know, I just want time to be frozen... frozen like a bubble in a moment from the past of my choosing, possibly December 2nd 2011... frozen there and forever. Untroubled. Safe. Complete.

And I wish friends didn't have to move so far away and that it didn't have to be so goddamn hard just missing them. I really feel like having a second family in your friends is the way to go, and if you've got a setup like that, count yourself lucky. And treasure every moment you get to spend with them, young and carefree.

I wish time didn't go by so fast. I swear time goes by faster for each year that passes. Soon I'll be a hundred years old, still having a go at the typewriter.

With that I bid you goodnight,

THE HUNDRED YEARS OLD

POET IN THE JAR

Robotic Machinery

I've noticed my automatic replies to your questions
Like sometimes I can't even force myself to listen
Can't keep track of your rollercoaster ride
As it speeds along, with me inside

Can you hear how cold I can be
How warm I can be

Sometimes I care so much that it hurts
That it feels like I'm about to explode out of love
Out of recently acquired respect
The moment I stopped thinking of you as kin
And started thinking of you as human

But I'm always taken aback by your robotic machinery
Your generated voice that covers for your absence
Turning me cold again, turning me into steel

Did you ever stop to think how it would sound to me
How your words might look, their shape, their pretense
For the one who's supposed to listen, to receive, and to feel

Strange how I always said I'd be different than you
I said I wouldn't look at things in your narrow way
And never become so unpredictable and unstable
Strange how I found I'm so similar to you
Shifting between cold and warm just the same
Eventually gaining the exact same label

I'm hoping I've got more control of it than you
That my awareness will prove to be part of the solution
And I'm hoping I can bloom at some point,
Before my whole life has gone by
I hope I can blossom,
I hope I can try

And every time I long for you,
For comforting arms and soothing words,
I'll remind myself I shouldn't turn to you,
Your attempts of comfort will only hurt
I'll turn to what I know as true
To my own diversions
Away from you

Inefficiency

Today has been so long and felt a little bit like an emotional rollercoaster ride. In some ways I've become very efficient in when to turn off my emotions, in some other ways, I'm more inefficient than ever. Just another one of those constant conflicts roaming in the back of my mind and perhaps a story for some other day. So many things going on in my mind right now, two things more than anything else. One thing - why it has to be so hard when someone important to you leaves, no matter for how long... Second thing - why you always have to choose between what you should do, and what you want to do. Choosing between your dreams and what's actually possible to achieve.


Off for late night pondering.
POET IN THE JAR

Speaking To Pages

What happened to my conception of time
When did minutes turn into days, into weeks
Every moment losing magic, losing shine
Can I mimic the real
Is the present mine

It used to feel like an ocean to cross
Like every passage took a toll on our lives
And every wave was a precious mime
Where thought wouldn't rule
Where emotion would thrive

I started speaking to pages
Started cutting through silence,
Through lonely rooms
For a while you felt alive
For a while I cut through my own
Designated gloom
Cut through the self-assigned
The realigned

The intertwined

I turned to another kind of journey
A journey that was only mine
I gave it false meaning
The original purpose
Redesigned
And I found I can't go on
Not when insights are based on lies
Everything artificial, even the most authentic
Of details, wandering my mind
I can't go on, if I don't speak to pages
If I don't speak to silence

They're the only ones who aren't too tired to listen
The only ones willing to accept my flood of words
Sometimes I have to speak into the moment
Sometimes I feel forced to share my voice
And they don't judge me
Although they never answer me
Or encourage me
Or really hear me

What happens to all the things I can't channel anymore
To all those fragile whispers that I used to share with you
What happens to my misdirected loneliness
That I knew I bought myself into
What happens when I speak
And all I want to do is listen
All I want to do is listen to you

But all I can do is speak
Speak until my voice is sore
Sore from all those things
Unchanneled before

Cleanse You

It can tear me to see you broken,

Like a coughing and spluttering machine

At least if I could wind you up

If you were mechanical

And didn't run on batteries

Could you let me fix you

Not change you,

not alter you

Just fix you

You won't let me see what you've hidden inside

Like it was a treasure you had to protect

You won't let me close to what ripped you apart

What made you label yourself as defect

If I could wind you up

If you worked that way

Could I fix you

Would you let me

It's like you're tangled in a spiral

That no one can unwind

Like your voice is immortalized

On a tape you can't rewind

Like a lost fragment of thought

In your mind

Could I fix you

Would you let me

I already know the answer

It feels like I've already tried

Although most of my confusion

Derives from sad illusions

From melancholia

From my visions

What did I get myself into, what did you

I didn't sign up for madness, did you

I knew you weren't undamaged

But none of us really are

Does that explain anything

Do you ever feel like you need explanations

I can't pinpoint who you are or what you've been

There's a darkness inside of you

I think only I have seen

I wouldn't change you

I wouldn't alter you

Just cleanse you of the darkest darkness

Just fix you

Would you let me

Symmetry

Your scent is still everywhere,

draped around me like a blanket

The way your voice is still everywhere,

whispering to me in the dark

I told you I'd follow you anywhere

Follow your broken heart

Like a tourniquet

Like a fresh start

Consider everything that happened until this point

Everything that made you change inside

Will you cherish those moments,

So sweet and invaluable

Learn how to rip them apart

So I couldn't project my life views on you

Couldn't apply my experiences on you

Here I thought I had become wiser,

With my insights

Weren't you more

Didn't you prove my hubris

You always make reevaluate what I see

But I never have to pretend that I'm not me

Do you realize how much that explodes

Into energy

Into symmetry

Algorithms

Is this the truth you wanted

Tell me - is this what you fought to uphold

While every memory told you not to

While every fiber told you to let go

Is this the truth you fought for

The truth you sought for

When did you involve me in your social experiment

Convinced that you could overturn your own experience

Pull the right strings, make all your puppets dance!

The invisible music in your mind that's built of algorithms

Will suit their every step and put them all in trance!

Isn't that a quite modified truth,

the one you pull out of reluctant puppets

Isn't it a quite molded reality,

the one that's reflected in their eyes

There was a time I let myself be swayed by you

I let myself fall into that hypnosis I despise

And a time I told myself I needed you

But I got tangled in my own feeble lie

I made a mistake, trusting the wrong solution

I made a mistake by trusting you

Who can claim ownership of what's true

Claim to own the underlying meaning

Behind every word, every thought, every reaction

Who can claim they know how you feel

Claim to have seen what you are seeing

Painting your new, improved way of thinking

Across your face and across your heart

Across your soul

In place of your own

There's only paint

There's only pain

I've created a refuge, my own little settlement,

Where I will stand for my every sentiment,

Where I will forge my own non-religious beliefs,

And distance myself from everything that drains me,

Where I will dress in words my every thought,

Until you're convinced it's the truth I've caught

The truth you sought

Just Another Valley

Maybe I'm just climbing another hill

And there's just another valley on the other side

Maybe there's another hill beyond that valley

Maybe I miscalculated everything

Maybe I misread the signs

Could you tell me

Could you tell me I'm going the right way

Maybe I'm just following the same fragmented instructions

That kept leading me to other valleys

Some valleys deep enough to cut through the crust of the earth

Some valleys darker than anything you could imagine

Some valleys making me blind,

stumbling with every step

Wherever did the wild flowers grow

Whenever was their scent carried to me by the wind

I fear that I'm climbing just another hill

And when I reach the top a part of me will die

When just thinking of pushing on

This unforgiving landscape, I've always pushed through

But I can't do it this time without you

I can't do it if you turn into a valley

Will your walls be steep

Will your stone be cold

Will I be able to recover

Or will I only age inside

That's left to uncover

Don't turn into a valley, please

I'm already losing my way

Among these hills

Intellectually, Emotionally

It's 4 AM and I feel the spontaneous need to write down some of my thoughts. I came here looking to write some poetry, but while I'm waiting for that, I might as well go on... about other things. My current dilemma is that intellectually, I've never felt this at ease, never felt this challenged and stimulated. But emotionally, I've been living on a rollercoaster for the past few weeks, hell, even months, I haven't kept count. So much has happened for me in my private life. I've had a few revelations, at the least; and while risking sounding like an old and wise lady, I thought I'd just write them off my mind, to start off what I suspect might become a long (and partially coffee-fuelled) post.

I need to look at people when I talk to them. I look people in the eyes when I'm listening to what they're saying. I tend to look away and flicker with my eyes when they're not talking about anything interesting, and when I'm telling my own anecdotes. I've been told that if I look people in the eyes more when I talk, what I say will keep people's interest better.

I don't have to share my every little idea. My mind is constantly racing and I'm always coming up with and discarding new thoughts and ideas. Out of every ten ideas, maybe I'll follow up on one of them. It's not relevant for everyone to hear about the other nine.

I have gained some new-found respect. I've given a lot of thought lately to how I've been shaped and become who I am. I've re-established my respect for people around me, especially people in my family, who are the only ones who have been with me through all this time. I rediscovered the love I have for them, no matter what their flaws are. I have flaws too.

Bad people aren't necessarily bad people. I've lifted the lid off the jar to many things, people and events from my past recently. I've forced myself to remove the blindfold made of pain that I've kept on for so many years, and look to see what's behind it. With this new perspective, I can judge people in a new way. I think that people who have done bad or unfair things to me, aren't necessarily bad people. I think they were also shaped by the people around them, and perhaps bad and unfair things were made to them first. I don't mean to forgive more easily. Only to try and understand, that we're all people, after all, and we're all molded by who surrounds us.

I need to visit the outside world sometimes. This is an advice that is a little specifically for me (and others like me). I spend so much time inside my own head, thinking things over, or just drifting among memories, among thoughts. I'm rarely fully present in the present, so to speak; I'm always operating on another level of my mind at the same time. What I've found is that when I step outside of that world and consciously try to live in the present, to appreciate what surrounds me this very minute and to be fully aware of what's going on, I feel more alive. I feel relieved to come outside, where I can react to things that are actually happening, instead of what's going on inside my head. Being outside my mind is a bit straining because it requires conscious effort from my part, but it's also rewarding, and I'm trying to do it a bit more often. I'm not looking for enormous change. I'm just looking for small changes. Slowly improving my own existence in this world, and how to deal with myself.

I can't keep running from the voices. Before you label this as crazy, I'm of the notion that everyone has their inner voices; how they work might vary from person to person. But my inner voices (there's two of them) are always bickering. If they aren't bickering, they are usually completely absent. One of them spews out negative statements and comments, and the other tries to make the first one shut up. If I tried to listen to what these voices are really saying, I might be able to deal with them. I have to try and read between the lines.

These are all of the revelations that I've deemed important enough for me to spend further thought on. I'm doing a lot of thinking at the moment.

I'd like to talk about the intellectual aspect now, for a while.

I've been asked to take part of a few projects and running a few personal ones at the same time. One of these projects is being a student ambassadeur for the university during visitor's day. I did this last year as well, but this year I was asked to assist in the Motion Capture studio instead of showing visitors around; and it was really educational and fun to get a first insight into the workings of motion capture. I'm also part of a recently started project at the University which aims to recruit more women to the game industry (and to the education as such). We're hosting a couple of events over the next weeks that aim to draw interest to the programs and to games as such, among others a game night which I'll be responsible for. It feels good to be this involved in university business - it's fun, a good merit and a chance to do some networking, all at once.

As for the writing group I'm in, things are going alright. I've picked a book and a chapter for inspiration, and now I only need to write the text itself. I have a pretty clear image in my head of what it'll be, but if I know myself well enough I'll be writing it on the day before submission; not that it's really a problem. I work well under pressure.

Speaking of pressure, the second game project is coming up, starting on Tuesday. I'm really excited to work on a full 3D game for a span of ten weeks and really hope we'll be able to create an impressive and good-looking result. I'm hoping my ambition and level of hard work will be enough for me to make an imprint on the people I'll be working with, and to contribute to the final product.

And at last, we have our side project as I like to call it, the platform sidescroller I'm working on with a selected few. Things have been standing a little still, we're trying to learn some new software and haven't really developed the game further from there; but I'm in no rush. Tomorrow I'll be working on a rig and refreshing my rigging skills, hopefully that will inspire me to do some work on the platformer as well.

It's 04.48 now, and I think I'm gonna try and close my eyes now and get some sleep so I'm relatively rested tomorrow when I'm going to rig. I just wanted to get all of this out of my head and of my heart for the time being.

Long time no see,

POET ON THE SHIP IN THE JAR (NO, NOT A BOTTLE)

Blanket Of Denial

Every time you resurfaced I shunned you away

And pretended you weren't there, you didn't exist

I've been too scared to even look you in the eyes

To acknowledge our brewing connection

I covered you up in thousands of lies

Wrapped you in a convenient blanket of denial

Every time you reached for me I turned away

I didn't have the strength to deal with this condition

I don't have the lengthened arms to fully embrace it

There's my old bravery that I've been trying to hide

Like I've forgotten how to control my darkest moments

How to face them directly and steer them towards the light

Instead I've been isolating myself from you

I've run at every given occasion

Like you were a contamination

In my system of classification

Don't remind me again that you're dormant in my mind

Always sleeping in the outskirts of my conscious thoughts

Don't show yourself again, now you've been successfully fought

Your return will only get you burned and caught

You don't know who I am anymore

I've become dangerous

You don't know me but I've learned every aspect of you

I know every clouded corner of you, every scar

I know how to patch you up and how to resist you

You've made that absolute, you've set it in stone

You've written it in the largest readable letters

Your greatest fear that I might miss it

That I might, for a moment,

forget that you're still alive

And I can tell there's something behind your idolized ideas

As it's seemingly impossible to treat you with denial

Every time you resurfaced I shunned you away

and pretended you weren't there

You reminded me again

And wrote those large letters

And every letter hurt

I was hurt by every word

Still, I can't seem to remember how to face you

How to look you directly in the eyes

I can't remember how to deal with you

Or how to reconquer my control of you

Still, the only thing I seem to be capable of is decadence

The only thing I can achieve under your influence

And I'll run at every given occasion

I'll run, run away

from depression

Deep Inside Insomnia

We bought some time now, didn't we

before the world as we know it will end

Just extending this temporary haven

for a few more precious moments

this temporary solution

Did I willingly drink this delicious poison

And buy into this familiar phenomenon

I convinced myself I would cherish it, relish it

That this time the taste wouldn't be bitter, but sweet

It wouldn't eventually lead to my defeat

I knew what I was buying into, didn't I, didn't you

I knew there was a chance the world might come tumbling down

Shattering everything, every hard-earned feeling

Paid for in blood, in tears, in agony, in memory

It was part of the mechanical calculations

Carried out inside my tired mind

Deep inside insomnia

We don't live forever, do we

There isn't really time for calculations, is there

Better to follow your intuition, deeply buried

Buried beneath pride and social constructions

Rather than any actual restrictions

We don't live forever, do we

But we bought some time

Didn't we

The Nest Of Fear

Well if I haven't fallen back into the same dark dream again

Fallen back into the same dark abyss, sprawled on my back

Pain spreading through my core and attack through my fingers

Slowly mingled with an insight of mortality that lingers

And only gradually is worn out

So that every time I've fought it down

It's strong enough to heal itself,

strong enough to return

Knocking me off my feet

This eternal circle,

isn't it familiar, doesn't it burn

Oh if I'm not dreaming again

This tight knot of worry that I'm quite failing to repress

That entangled little knot of unspeakable threat

With the ability to endanger our entire situation

With the ability to render it extinct

Is that what you think, that I've lost all instinct

That I've lost all comprehension of what links

us all together in a series of metal rings

In a neverending chain,

isn't it familiar, isn't it pain

Oh, if I'm not dreaming again

Could I pinpoint the source of this inexplicable outburst

Could I circle with my fingertips my anger at my own thirst

Could I extinguish just that little flame that you awoke

Only that I thought I was dead inside,

thought I had taught myself the blunt, the dull

How to become a wall

Oh, haven't you learned how to tear those down with fire

Haven't you learned how to tear those down with catapults

Haven't you learned, haven't you learned

That nest of fear that's lived in my chest for years

That dark little monster that fed from abandonment

It's that shipwreck of mine that's now resurfaced

Complete with sails that were never tried at sea

Complete with the salt water pouring right through me

Like waterfalls, like vertical ponds of sorrow

This nest of weakness,

oh, isn't it familiar

Isn't it

Haven't I gone and fallen back into

the same dark dream again

Clarity Disabled

I've put myself in a hopeless situation

Willingly marched towards my own destruction

Knowingly fallen deep into addiction

Licking every last crumb off my fingers

Clutching my head, clutching my hands

Clutching my head

I can't stop perceiving these visions

Can't protect my mind from the intrusion

I'm only addicted, addicted to the infusion

Alarmed whenever my head clears

Whenever it's unclouded

Clarity is enabled

You didn't always fear clarity, did you

You weren't always consent with ignorance

Wasn't there a time you fought for innocence

When did you exchange it for vengeance

When did you exchange it for

Indulgence

I don't even think I'm equipped for defense

Even with the right tools I'll be unmotivated

There's no reason for me anymore to resist

Why not simply give in to permanent decadence

Whenever your head's unclouded

Clarity is enabled

You didn't always fear clarity, did you

You weren't always consent with ignorance

Wasn't there a time you fought for innocence

When did you exchange it for vengeance

When did you exchange it for

Indulgence

You told me I had betrayed my past self and inner child

That while my mind grew dull, my heart grew wild

Am I now supposed to adjust these regulations

Force myself back into ancient patterns

So I could fit with your intentions

Without any compensation

Is that part of your current implication

I'm divided within my own moral framework

Undecided between the young and the old

Undecided between what was only thought

And what was really told

All I can guarantee is that the two halves

Together, seem to make a whole

Complementing eachother

Compensating one another

Until I'm clutching my head

Clarity disabled

Lovely Bones

I don't know how to describe my current state of mind if not dull, blunt, encapsuled in a bubble where I feel enclosed from the world, isolated, alone. It's like I've forgotten everything I used to care for, forgotten what used to be delicate, what used to be valuable, how the smallest things could triumph over the daily and trivial. I can probably blame this mood on stress, big deadline coming up this week and everything; but it does trouble me. Not bother me, I'm too closed off from everything to feel like it's bothering me... but the thought of it is slightly discouraging. It's hard to describe, but for someone whose belief is that emotion is key, feeling robbed of your emotions is like giving away one of your arms... I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels like this. It's strange though. I used to believe that what you did in the daytime didn't matter as long as the rest was deep, was meaningful, being with your friends, listening to that music, going to this and that place, travelling... and now it seems my whole life revolves around school, I don't even have time to do laundry or clean my apartment, everything is so frantic and I feel like I've been walking around like a useless zombie ever since I came back from England. Something happened to my level of ambition while away; I can't seem to get back into the right focus and I hate myself a little for that; I'm sure I could have been more efficient than I have been since I got back here... But I think it'll work out... and hopefully, eventually, I'll feel that I can feel again, so that I'm not this deadened poet walking the streets and randomly sleeping at off hours as I was some fucking cat. I even feel bad because my Mom called me earlier and I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about because I was still so tired, and she said she just called me to say she and Dad loves me and I felt horrible for not paying them the proper attention back. But I'm just so monotonous and my post-three-hours-on-sofa mood was pretty intense and like Glenda said, confusi-fying.


To just please change the topic, I'm currently reading Alice Sebold's "The Lovely Bones" and it's so, so saddening. You'd think this clashes with my previously described lack of emotion but in my world it definitely and easily coincides. It's saddening in itself that a piece of fiction can be more touching and real to me than everything I see and feel around me. I guess I'm a little tired of reality, simply...


That's really all I have to say now... see you in some other, less exhausted stage.
POET IN THE JAR

Post-Happiness Infusion

Are these my real thoughts
My actual ideas put in words
Or are they just a product of depression
A post-happiness infusion
A post-happiness display

Everything was so stable
Until I was murdered
By sentimental happiness

Have you ever felt it's impossible to learn
That you always fall back into your own past mistakes
As if you set a pattern for yourself that you must now follow
It's in your blood and carved in stone
Forged from your fear of the comfortable
And from your fear of being alone
In combination

Everything was so stable
I had pieced together everything I could find
Every little piece of paper, pieced together with glue
Forming the most delicate of statues
I had waterproofed it
So it would sail safely
In the rain
In the gutters

Had I ever expected the glue to dissolve
Or for the sun to kill its way through the darkness
Had I ever expected all these connections
All these encapsuled memories
Trapped in my mind
Escaping in laughter
And in tears

Why can't I embrace the unpredictable
Why am I dependent on scenarios in my mind
I relive them always, chasing the undeniable
And creating new ones from time to time
The plausible, the impossible, the improbable
They all struggle in my mind
And when reality strikes
I realize

It never matters what wars go on inside of me
When I only struggled for show and for comfort
Forcing my demons to believe my sugarcoated whispers
In promises about tomorrows I had no right to give away
Tomorrows that were never mine
They were only mine to borrow

Mumble Jumble

I wish I could put my thoughts down in poetry, because I currently feel pretty poetic and deep, but there's just random lines floating about in my head that don't make sense, don't correlate... I'm a little confused and very tired and my head is filled with recent moments of laughter and timeless bubbles cut away from the rest of the world... I wonder if there's something remarkable about certain people. I feel like the people surrounding me daily just fill me with energy and it's like I had forgotten what that felt like, forgotten what people like that could do, what difference they could make. I guess the conclusion I can draw from that is that I really feel like I'm at home and it feels like I would never trade these days for anything. I think I'm going to miss these times a lot when it's all over... I'll try not to think about that, for now...

So at the same time why is everything so depressing? Everyone's feelings, my own feelings, how they clash, how they rebel, how they go into war. All the thoughts jumbled in my head mixing the hopes I have about the future while being absolutely convinced that future will never appear before me, I'll never live to see it...

It was a long time since I felt so split, but it may be a good thing. It can be turned into words. Into art. Into determination and ambition... if only I learn to catch up properly on my sleep...

POET IN THE GLASS JAR

Details

When will I stop reading things into every detail
Things that only flickered by in the minds of others
But to me they are enlarged and deemed important
Deemed vital for unknown reasons I'm sure will show
Reasons I'm sure will save the world or the universe
Or at least save me

I wonder if the insight will eventually break me down
When I realize there was never anything grand
about all those small things that no one ever noticed
Those small things that I lived for
Those small things that I breathed for

When will I stop hoping for the naivest of dreams
And when will I stop nurturing that little knot in my chest
That only unties at certain occasions
At certain inclinations

Are you even aware that I'm breathing
Are you aware what I read into everything you say
What would you say to me if you were able to read me too
Like I was an open book, kind of like you

Let's pretend I don't recognize this feeling
Pretend I don't know what path I'm going down
The highway to my own destruction
Neatly laid out under my feet
By my treacherous heart

I thought I had told myself I could be rational
I could listen to my own logic, reason and rhyme
But it seems I keep being unpredictable, untameable
Time, after time

When will I stop reading things into every detail
Stop intercepting every imaginary message
Sent down the imaginary tubes
Signed by the invisible
Signed by you

POET IN THE JAR

A Word Or A Feeling

Let's pretend I've grown out of disappointment
Let's pretend I'm too old to be naive
That I embrace the rational
Let's pretend that's me

Is disappointment a word or a feeling
Does it have meaning
Is it nothing but the bitter taste in your mouth
The taste of sour on your lips and on your tongue
Is it just the air going down your lungs
Every time you breathe
Just a little less air

Can you say your heart was painted by the feeling
From the inside and out, drowning in paint
Can you say you understand me
When I try to describe how I feel
Or are you just a portrait on the wall
Without thought or feeling at all

Did you smell those chrysant flowers
Did you smell the ocean waves
Did you ever expect more than the world
currently had on display for you
And did you see them,
when they tore it all away
Under your feet

Or did you read about disappointment in a dictionary
Was it explained to you in descriptive words
Did they show you pictures, and play you interviews
With everyone who had ever had the feeling
And do you remember what they said to you

Aren't they just whispers when they whisper from the dark
Aren't they just drifting sound that you interpret
Aren't they just screaming voices in your mind
When you try to silence them, every time
They resurface

I can't embrace what reason and rhyme tells me to believe
I only believe what I see and what I feel as real
When my heart burns and aches with pain,
born and raised in the disappointment game
My mind can tell it to quiet down and to control itself
My mind can even convince my heart that the mind is right
But I can't change what is felt in the heart
When logic and chaos crash together,
and fall apart

Let's pretend I've grown out of disappointment
It's a fun game, isn't it, built on lies
One of the games that every adult plays
A game that doesn't improve with time
Let's pretend I've embraced the rational
But I can't agree

That sense alone is enough
to silence me