Nothing Happened

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I remember when nothing happened. When everybody just sat, and remembered, and recalled bluntly that nothing had happened, nothing ever had happened, nothing would ever happen. It’s like that online torrent of answer that translate to “nothing much, you?”, when really, everything is happening and nobody even knows it. And it’s so automatic that nobody stops to realize that it isn’t true. They don’t even bother to write it in real words; it’s always just the same “nm, u?” and the conversation ends.

But what is nothing much? Really it’s everything. In my world, nothing is everything and everything is nothing. And red means green and green means red so you can cross all the roads as you reach them; don’t wait. Every time, I’m forced to reply “nothing much,” it’s like there’s something missing. Because even though I say that nothing is everything, it’s an all-to-common and hardly true reality that nothing is nothing, and that’s how it is. And so, nothing will happen ever again, as people rush through their jam-packed lives and never stop to realize that everything is happening, and they don’t bother to know it.

my life is currently a marshmallow-toothpick tower. somebody is gradually poking it, and if you poke a marshmallow-toothpick tower too hard or too many times, it falls down. i think that's going to happen quite soon.

One Moment

August 8th, 2004

It was the melting of an iceberg
Running in sparkling rivers
Down the dark face of the moon;
The dissolving steel
In a single glance
That changed the world.
It was the piercing of a vein
That released the truth;
Sunlight rushing from a buried heart
To heal my wounds.
A chill that warmed me,
A salty ocean forming a puddle on my sleeves,
In an eruption of truth
I didn’t know was there.
The simple tension of muscles
A remarkable humanness
And a recognition
Of the quakes in my heart.
***

Jumble

April 24th, 2004

Sometimes there are defined lines
Of where the pain stops and starts
And sometimes there aren’t.
All I know is, when there isn’t a line,
I draw it,
Carving upon the scars
Of yesterday’s sorrows
Drawing a bold red line
To remember tomorrow.
And hating myself
For what I’ve done to myself
And hating the world
For what it’s done to me.
And wishing that somewhere out there
Somebody could really see
All the things that chase
My vision into a whirl
And just understand I’m sixteen
But still just a little girl.
And I want to run around
In my multicoloured shoes.
Knee hits pavement,
Tears are shed:
The only tears I’d lose.
Cover it up with a Barbie band-aid,
Kiss it, make it better.
Now it’s not so concrete,
Never really better.
My head hurts from the noise
My stomach from the turbulence.
Supposed to fall in love with boys
But I don’t, and nothing makes sense.
And I wish people knew
That I want something real
Or else I might drown.
Nothing’s there, nothing’s under me;
I shut my eyes and just fall down,
Spiral through dark tunnels
Roller coasters through my mind.
Take the wonder out of Wonderland;
It’s not so grand
When you’re left screaming
In the haunted houses in your sleep.
And a veil shimmers over me,
Black as death.
Falling, falling
Half in, half out
Of a dreamlike haze;
Two contrasting worlds
Confusing my gaze.
No stories to tell,
No heaven, no hell.
Waking up with vampire bites,
Eating myself these torturous nights
In half a dreamland
Where my memories dwell.
Trapped beneath the ice
Memories die hard.
I shine my light
But nothing’s there
Under the shell of my mind.
***

Happy birthday, blog!

It's not such a happy birthday.

Here's a poem for today. I've called it "Jungle"

I dig trenches

With a small, silver plow

To plant a jungle.

In red, brown and orange thorns

Watered with blood

It grows wilder and wilder.

I only wish this were a jungle

That I could hide in.

I'm back from Italy, and everything is falling apart. It is April 16th, I am 16, and I don't want anything to be happening.

Poison

Another thing for writer's club. I didn't share this one with the group. It would freak out the teachers. I don't want it to be tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. I just don't.

The pain is always here, no matter what I do, no matter how I try to hide from it. The memories whirl by me in an instant splash of colour and noise, and then they’re gone, leaving behind just a dull ache that tugs at my heart, and the inevitable red cuts, slices in a loose cross-hatch, that cover my body.

I hurt. My confused brain can figure out almost nothing more than that it is hurting. Someone hurt me, and now I feel pain. A simple cause-and-effect model, but I just can’t understand it too well. And I can’t model it. It just doesn’t fit into those neat little charts from history class. Simple my ass.

I can feel the pain before it hits me, like the energy brewing before a storm. It starts as a prickly tingling, moving through my neck and ears, chilling me before moving into the core of my head. It chokes me, crushing out every sense of happiness I’ve ever felt, and replacing it with my most painful memories. And then it has me.

It’s like being possessed. Possessed by only my fear, hatred, and helplessness, by my memories of sheer agony. A train rushes through my head, turning off every light of hope that was ever ignited there. I am nowhere, falling through a perpetual hole of my nightmares.

The smells hit me first; sweet and sour odours that I twist my head to avoid by cannot escape from. I writhe, often falling, trying to banish the smells that define my memories before my other senses are captured. My efforts are purely futile; there is no way out. My other senses succumb to the memories until it has me fully in its grasp. The memory surrounds me, until it is more real than reality.

I come out slowly, like a baby being born out of hell, only to find itself in a cold, lonely world. I can feel the pain sinking from my head down into my gut, where it stays. My head grows hot, until I feel like it might combust. And still the pain stays.

I can’t keep the pain as part of me for too long. This kind of pain is too hard. I cut. It starts off as a single mark, then grows into a wild jungle that poisons my skin. But this is a different poison. It’s pain that I can feel. It is real. I can’t hide from it, but it can’t sneak up on me.

These are my Battle Wounds

April 2nd 2004

These are my battle wounds
Bright crimson, like the juice
Of a crushed rose that has been
Pierced with its own thorns.
Faint lines – story lines
Blending in with my freckles.
Scars of sorrow that fade into
Joyous summer memories.
Contrasting stars on the surface
With the echoes of sadness
Emerging beneath them.
They try to fade back into the woodwork
But like tiny rips in the starry sky
They never go away.
These are my battle wounds.
***

IWD!

here's an important holiday that not all that many people are hugely informed about. tomorrow (monday, march 8th) is international women's day.

women are doing better these days than we ever have. lots of people (especially men) claim that women are treated equally to men; that women are doing fine in the world. if you're one of those people, ask youself:

- why don't women in many places have the legal right to control their bodies? (ie. abortion)
- why are women still the ones on trial in sexual assault cases?
- why is the average wage for women still only 65% of the average male wage?
- why do women do 80% of the unpaid work in today's society?
- why do women starve themselves to become a size 8? (or smaller?)
- why are 78 american women are raped every hour?
- why is the average literacy rate for women lower in most countries than the average literacy rate for men?
- why do women in so many countries not have the right to vote?
- why are so many women forced into arranged marriages, often with men who are significantly older than they are?
- why do so many women and their babies die in undevelopped countries because there is no safe place for them to give birth?

the list goes on and on...

there's no fair answer to these questions. there's no reason why women shouldn't be completely equal to men in every way. international women's day is for shedding light on these sorts of issues.

even if you do nothing else, you can show your support for international women's day by wearing a purple ribbon. it doesn't have to be a special purple ribbon, just an ordinary one that's looped and pinned to your clothes. the purple ribbon is a recognized symbol of international women's day, as well as of interpersonal violence (not only against women, but also such things as police violence, child abuse, etc.). you can be proud to wear a ribbon to support these causes. i'm planning to.

if you want to do more, you could try organizing a peaceful march or protest or presentation. (key word being peaceful!!!). you could also try to raise awareness, maybe by putting up posters or making announcements. this whole week is international women's week. there's plenty of time to do something.

international women's day is in support of women. it is NOT against men. it isn't about women gaining more power than men; it is simply about women striving for complete equality.

it's about women having an equal voice and equal rights to men. it's about women having the right to make the choice about having an abortion. it's about women being legally represented in rape and sexual assault trials. it's about women getting the wages that they deserve; the same wages as a man who does the same thing that they do. it's about women having the right to say no, and have people listen to them. it's about women and girls in developping countries having the right to an education. it's about women being allowed to wear what they want, and talk to whomever they please.

international women's day (and week!) is about so much. we've come so far, and there's no reason why we can't go the rest of the way, especially if we all go together.

personally, i am very much a feminist. i went to a feminist school, which helped me to realize just how big an issue this is. i'm promoting international women's day this year in any way i can. but you dn't need to be a full-blown feminist to raise awareness to women's rights, or to support international women's day. all that you need is an open mind and a vision of the world as a place where ALL people are equal.

i hope you'll join me in supporting international women's day.

Dustbowl

February 9th, 2004
Realms of reality are fading
Into a smothering silence.
Nothing dares to whisper;
Echoes are swallowed
By the dust.
There is no life here,
And no joy, or happiness.
The bitter, gritty dust
Stings my eyelids
And coats my skin
With a fine peppering
Of age.
I am in a lonely, barren dream
Than consumes my existence.
Everything I have ever loved
Is hidden beneath the dust.
***

Poems :)

The Fragmented
January 8th, 2004

I sometimes wonder if reality’s truly there
Or if my life and my memories
Are merely a phantasma
Conjured up by my own dizzy mind.

My thoughts emerge like
The lost shadow of a loved one,
Approaching silently through the mist
As a colourless silhouette.

I try to take a snapshot
Of the vibrant and unreal hues
But as I capture them, they vanish,
Into the distant haze of my buried memories.

Birth
January 9th, 2004

I cradle the image of innocence
Gently in the palm of my hand
As the galaxy is shattered and rebuilt
With the joy, love and change
This being brings.

So subtle, it might remain unnoticed
But still, so truly there
As the hope this baby brings
Radiates from its glassy eyes.
The truest angel is born.

Mistaken
January 31st, 2004

Another life once free from flaws.
Another heart in horror’s jaws.
Another frown that never thaws.
Another grief without a cause.

A smile dissolving into tears.
A crystal ball that’s shattered.
A person who knows only fears
Whose dreams are bruised and battered.

Another person crying out
With wrenching, anguished pleading.
But all the world ignores her shout
And what her face is reading.

An innocent angel now is dead.
Her sorrows stained the gutter red.
If only people hadn’t said
That all her pain was in her head.

I'm waiting for an answer, but all you do is stare.
I wish you would acknowledge me, just so I'd know you care.
I look into your eyes but there is no emotion there.
I might as well be screaming at the cold and bitter air.

I watched as all the love you had grew cold and turned to ice.
If I told you the world was ending, would you still say "that's nice"?
He tore a hole into my heart with one world-ending slice
But still you think that losing it was my own sacrifice.

It's so easy for you to say, but impossible to forget.
You'd remember this forever, if you'd been his helpless pet.
It's a different kind of tragedy; I'm no Juliet,
And finally I've told you; is silence all I get?