muse:static hearts

muse:
the soft, piano and stringed music rolls out of my speakers. a beautiful female voice sings of how math cannot possibly compare with an infinite love, and i find myself agreeing. as her voice vaults higher and higher into the star-laden night sky, the speakers fizz, static is the accompaniment to my whispered singing for a moment. my heart races, the metallic ruby splash comes to life--but only for about a second, merely announcing The Great Coming of Nothing. my heart falls, my face darkens to match the velvet heavens. my downcast stare is met by the blank gaze of my white desk. i ponder a moment before trying to turn my attention back to my book. the words don't leap off the page like they used to. i keep trying to tell myself that i don't need you to top off my night cap, but maybe i do. the static buzz that makes my heart race echoes again, and i glance at my phone. it's...

ep:if you snark and muse:record

so, i was considering things to write about for abp#5 and was thinking "douche" and along the lines of that is "let your lab partner collect data all by himself while you go out to lunch and totally don't help him at all." said person that is being addressed doesn't seem to really mind what happened, although i and certain others feel very inflamed and up-in-arms about it. why do people suck, seriously? when people pull their weight, things work. but when they don't people get angry. also, another thing that pisses me off is when people complain, but do not have a solution slash are not planning the stupid thing. homecoming planning for dinner was extremely difficult, people, SO DO NOT SNARK AT ME IF YOU DON'T ENJOY THE RESTAURANT. YOU MAY GO EAT DINNER BY YOURSELF AND THEN COME TO THE DANCE WITH THAT FABULOUS SNARKY ATTITUDE AND THEN DANCE BY YOURSELF IN THE CORNER. 


anyway.
a muse. once again inspired by the ending of bones.
muse:
i'd told her that he likes records, especially a certain one by a certain band. the record itself turned different colors when the light hit it at different angles, making for a rather psychedelic effect. i knew he'd love it, but it wasn't my place to give it to him.

that night, we were all sitting around in their comfortably cramped apartment, waiting for him to come home. wine glasses were on the table, and all of us (me, her, and our two friends) were sipping our drinks. white dessert wine, the type that is sweet and then kicks you in the mouth as a reward. the black leather couches were warm and comfortable, and i thought that i could never bring myself to stand up. as the door clicks open, our two friends stand up. they manage to mumble something before pushing their way out the doorway. it's just me, him, and her left. he notices the iridescent record on a table next to the couch.

"what's this?"

"oh, avery told me that you love records. especially this band, and it has your favorite song on it."

she stands up, padding her way over to his side.

"look, it even changes color when you move it around!"

he smiles broadly, winningly. i beam.

"thanks!"

"you're welcome," she and i both answer. they don't seem to hear me, and they kiss simply, but lovingly. i can almost hear my heart shattering on the ground, but this is not my place. i cannot cry here, this is not my place.

"i... i should go. i'll see you tomorrow, glass."

i pick my things up, and i'm almost out the door. his voice grabs my ears, stopping me.

"no, wait, you should stay for dinner."

"yeah," she agrees. "we have enough space for you."

"i'll make that lamb dish i know you like," glass says, his eyes showing something. somehow, i think he's on to me. but that's purely speculation. after all, i just deal with the facts.

"no thanks. you see, normally the first time two people sharing a domicile have dinner together, the person who doesn't live there leaves. so... i'll see you tomorrow."

i turn to face the door, push it open, and brush out without much ceremony. i haven't noticed that devon has followed me until he calls my name.

"avery!"

i whirl around, careful to plaster on an indifferent face.

"yeah?"

he's silent for a moment before mumbling, "see you tomorrow."

i try to smile, i really do, as hard as i can.

"yeah. good night."

as i turn around, i swear he's on to me. he's on to me, but for some reason, the door clicks shut behind me.

abp#5: third wheel.

a/n: not sure where this is going to go, but here it goes. 
make friends with everyone; keep your feelings hidden 'cuz nobody wants to know; keep a smile perpetually on your face; walk ten feet behind couples; don't ever tell anyone what you're feeling; smile even when i'm not happy?; don't be a cock block; don't tell your best friend that you don't like her boyfriend; don't tell your friend that the real reason why you don't hang out anymore is because of her douche-y boyfriend; what's a cock block?; don't take anything seriously; actually take things seriously but look like you don't; smile at people you like; smile at people you don't like; smile at people you love so much you could cry; smile at people you hate so much you could die; make funny jokes at your own expense; try to never get involved in any drama; get sucked in anyway and find out you like people involved; go home and cry; do i really have to smile at people i hate?; don't ever say how you're feeling 'cuz nobody cares; walk slowly enough that the couples are always at least twenty feet ahead; walk quickly enough so that the one you like who is dating that person you don't like is always at least a hundred feet behind; cry quietly and only at night when no one's around; sing love songs like there's no tomorrow; sing heartbroken songs like there's no today; write sappy poetry about the one you love like there's no yesterday; and when you screw up, blame your sleep schedule.

k, i'd like some feedback, so if everyone who reads could please comment that would be All Sorts of Fabulous.

ep:convoluted phonecalls.

tonight. confusing me a lot. mainly just me confusing myself.

ep:
my phone vibrates. i have a small inkling of who is calling me, and the phone screen confirms my suspicion. my heart and mind both begin to race as i try to decide whether to pick up or not. on one hand, i want to pick up because i know we have to talk things out. we really do. or... at least you think we do. i just want you to take back what you said, because it sure does make it hard to talk to you ever ever ever. but then, on the other hand, i don't even know what to say. we need to talk? i guess. maybe. and then the topic would get deflected to something mundane (which wouldn't bother me, monday night was great) and things would still not get addressed. i spend about 20 minutes afterwards fretting to a friend, who says that it shouldn't be a big deal. it's just dependent on how much you need me, she says. so, i ask, how much do you need me? on second thought, don't answer that. i'm not sure i could stand the answer.

pss:start, i don't want to live. stop, i don't want to die. (limbo)

another one.

this one i think is very applicable to teenagers--sometimes we just fall into a rut but we're too scared to take any definite action. if any of y'all need someone to talk to, please know that i am here for you.

pss:alternate title:limbo
drake wasn't sure about anything, ever. he was one of the most indecisive of people. his hair was cut strangely because he decided halfway through his haircut that no, he didn't want his hair cut like that. people don't cut him any slack for it, especially since the "people" are just every day high school students. the shirts he wears are always draped over his shoulders haphazardly--a strong wind could shake them off. he walks slowly in his tight jeans, head down and not really taking in any information. his right shoe is black, the other is orange, simply because he can't decide which pair he wants to wear. but they're both the same size, so he just puts one of each on. people make fun of him for that too.

drake doesn't have any headphones to drown out all of the outside noise. he just shuffles around, eyes staring holes in the ground, and always by himself. he never lets anyone get too close, because drake has a secret (or so he thinks): he's going to commit suicide one of these days. he doesn't want to hurt anyone, so he doesn't talk to a single soul for fear of pressing the stop button on his plans.

but drake can't really ever fully go through with his plan--he always chickens out. each night, as he stands facing his lopsided reflection in his dirty mirror, he takes the pills out of his cabinet. he's pressed the start button, and it's just such a habit. he takes out double the dose recommended (they're painkillers) and the small milky orange-red pills spill into his hand. he's about to down them all when his hand involuntarily slaps the stop button repeatedly. it's almost as if he's just spelling out a message for himself: i don't want to die, i don't want to die, i DON'T WANT TO DIE. it's cryptic and it's scary, and the little bits of death fly out of his hand onto the floor. he collapses in a tearful heap on the tiled bathroom floor to be heard by nobody. his mother has long since left his family, and his father is never home.

i don't want to live, he always says to himself. but i don't want to die, either.

muse:breathe

wow, this is the first muse in a while. oops? inspired by breathe by taylor swift.

muse:
i really never intended to ever break up with him. ever. so naturally it shocked both of us when saturday found us standing in the rain saying our tearful goodbyes.

i don't even remember what i was thinking. i just remember what we did. that's about all i can remember. i recall stepping into his arms, and we just stood there for a while and we were both crying. we couldn't really tell though because there was just too much rain, but we were. in retrospect, it's kinda ironic that we ended this way--it's full circle. we had gotten together during a dance in the rain, now we break up in the rain.

but here we are.
i'm standing in my jeans, getting totally soaking wet and i'm trying not to look him entirely in the eyes. he's doing the same. instinctively i reach for his hand, and because we've just been together so long he doesn't pull away. i want things to stay like this forever. when we finally separate, i find that i can't breathe. the air is caught in my throat. the rain is coursing down my face in rivers, but i can't really tell if it's rain or tears. as i walk back into his arms, i rest my forehead on his shoulder. i can breathe again. he murmurs my name, and i whisper his, and we step apart again. and my breath is gone again. i can tell it's almost the same for him. his face is contorted into a tortured mask. but we have to leave. we have to walk away from each other. i mouth a goodbye and start to walk away.

each step gets harder and harder. my black canvas shoes are getting my socks just soaking. stepping in puddles isn't really helping the situation either. there's no inviting glow off the pavement tonight, just dull throbbing darkness. i turn around, and see him walking slowly towards his car. i nearly say his name, but catch myself.

i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.

my hair is really wet. it feels like i'm in the coldest shower ever, but i'm getting nowhere near clean. the rhythm of the rain splashing on the pavement is almost muttering, turn around, go back, you're right for each other.

but we aren't, i almost answer. almost. 'cuz i still can't breathe without him. facing my car is now the hardest thing i've ever done. with each step i take, living gets gradually harder. but once i swing the door of my car open and sit down on the comfortable chair, breathing gets slightly easier. maybe i'll get through this. i slam the door shut, start the car, and turn on the windshield wipers. and then i get a glimpse of him, and air is just all gone. i close my eyes, rubbing them.

i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.

i open my eyes, grasp the firm steering wheel, and pull onto the street. he's in his car and driving away too. as we pass each other, we both drive extremely slowly, not wanting to move forward and away from this moment. but surprisingly, it's me that accelerates away first.

i've gotta learn how to breathe on my own.

two kinds (of cheese?)

so. amy tan. the instant i saw that, i was like this is guaranteed to be good. which it was. i've read this story by her before (in 7th grade) and i remember the general gist of the story. but it was fun to read it again.

the narrator's yearnings change throughout the story. she starts off wanting the same thing as her mother: prodigy-dom. (that's so not a word.) she tries with her whole heart only to find that she cannot succeed in the shirley temple fashion. as her mother continues to pull this prodigy out of her, her yearnings change. she wants her mother to accept her as she is. this leads to a bitter argument, although things are slightly reconciled before the narrator's mother dies.

as for my personal connection to the story, i found it resonating a lot with me.
there are many times that i just want to scream at my parents "i'm this way because of you!" when they rag on me for something. i also want to yell "sorry that you can't have that perfect child you were expecting" because... quite frankly, i feel like i'm always striving to do what is "best" in their eyes. when things don't go according to their plan, they fuss. it's annoying. i'm not good enough for my mom, because apparently i don't "talk about the right things" with my friends. the "right things" being "where are you going to college?" or "what did you get on the sat/act?" or "what are you doing over the summer?" those things, while some are okay to ask, i feel are off limits. some people just don't like others finding out what they're doing as it is some sort of invasion of privacy. which would explain why i don't really know anybody very well, i just know lots of people at a superficial level. and to my dad, i never do anything right. driving, it's "you parked horribly!" or "that turn was way too sharp!" schoolwork, it's slightly less but more "why didn't you get an a? do we have to go in to talk to your teacher?" or "why don't you get this? i could do this in like 10 minutes!" (and then he goes and takes forever on it.) i think i'm slightly able to be more myself at school. i let loose my craziness (although it's slightly less now) and people see me for who i (kinda) really am. whew. that was a rant. definitely.

guilt and motivations.

so, this falls into a rather miscellaneous pile of posts. don't even know.

today, my dad guilted me into doing something, namely clean the car because i accidentally dented it while driving it out of the garage (oops). i already felt horrible about doing that, and he guilted me into doing it again. come to think of it, lots of what my parents want me to do comes from guilting me into it. guilt is a great feeling for helping to expedite the apology process and whatnot, but using it to manipulate people into doing what you want them to? that's just outright horrible. maybe that's why i'm constantly doing things that get me and my parents into shouting matches. maybe that's why i'm so eager to go out of state--to get away from all of that.

some things that they've guilted me into  i don't regret--coming to interlake for instance. i've met some truly amazing people, made so many memories... i don't want to leave this time. but as we move forward, i find myself wanting to run away more--to be free.