Forgotten Love February 1995 Cry all you can, this soul from myself, for I am a shelter of love. Sleep all you want my innocent child, your worries have yet to begin Dream while you can, this mortal from God, For time shall never stand still. Play all you want my naïve little one, For the life you live I still own. Where have you gone this protection I knew, The tears that I cry are unknown. What do I do with a life so confused, Where is the shield that could put my mind at ease? How do I know what’s right and what’s wrong when the morals I know are now gone? Who will guide my soul through this life? Who will protect me when I sleep through the night? Where is the love that I felt each day? “Thou are not alone, my precious child, for the wind still blows through the trees.”
Questions Unanswered February 1995 “So where do we go from here my friend?” “Keep on searching until the end.” “How do we know what the end will be?” “At the beginning of life for eternity.” “Is fate our excuse for events that will come?” “I believe that destiny has more paths than one.” “Why do we suffer when God knows we’re here?” “We shall live in faith and conquer our fears.” “How can we live in a world full of hate?” “Love is the answer when souls reach the gate.” “Why are we here and where do we go?” “A question unanswered for I do not know.” “So where do we go when our souls are set free?” “The answer you search for does not lie with me.” “I burden you with questions and give thanks for your reply, but I ask just one more thing… why not a tear before you die?”
Last Hope March 1995 Say goodbye to me, I’ll leave behind a memory, There’s more beyond this life that I must see. Sometimes things are different than they appear, Will I find peace before the end is here? So I shall gaze at the rising sun, For another day has just begun, But my thoughts of yesterday are left undone. Find the truth in what’s been told, Listen as the lies begin to unfold, Speak to me the answer that you hold. Fay away there lies a place where I know my dreams are safe. Destiny is my last chance to destroy this self-disgrace. When the pain is put aside, I’ll find a world I can’t describe, And see the arms of love that gracefully open wide.
Untitled March 1995 Confusion leads to chaos. Population leads to pollution. Aggravation leads to anarchy. Weapons lead to war. Destruction leads to disaster. Ignorance leads to isolation. Money leads to misery. Disillusion leads to death.
The Pit
March 1995
Things are better left unsaid. I found that statement to be true a couple of hours ago. I’ve never actually been so frightened that I felt drained emotionally. Seeing the place where someone died a very painful death is a hard memory to handle, especially if you knew them. I guess death in itself is a hard thing to handle. Ask me if I can handle it? No. I myself, am not afraid of death, it’s living with death that I’m terrified of. I think enough has been said already.
March 24, 1995
Do I deserve the misery I feel? Maybe it’s all in my head. Discriminate me with harsh words and cruel manners for I will not seek my revenge. Ignore my problems for it’s not your life, but come to me when you seek advice. False emotions shall not fool me again, I see with my heart for my eyes have deceived. I am the one who walks with my shadow watching the earth as she cries. Shall I decline all my fortune and glory as my effort to demolish all your envy? No. For I will not stand accused. This time, my friend, you must plead guilty. My dream is my own, please understand this, your efforts to destroy have all failed. If in this lifetime, you ask for forgiveness, will I accept, probably so. This is true, I am not special, or by any means, I’m not better than the next, but may I say this, I am worthy of the respect that I deliver to you. So now wait…where was the point? Once again, I betray myself at your mercy. I shall overcome.
Mind Games
April 22, 1995
Reality seems so far away from me now. It’s like everything I say or feel isn’t even real, almost as if I’m living in one long, drawn out dream. It’s scary when everything that had any importance to you at all becomes a distant memory of the past. What do you do when you don’t even know yourself anymore? When you can’t recognize yourself in the mirror? I have this fear that haunts me every fucking second of my life. Never knowing who I am. I can never be myself. How can you be yourself when you don’t know who you are? For as long as I can remember I’ve always wanted to be someone else. I didn’t copy or imitate anybody else, I would make up my own character and be that person mentally. I think it might be an effort to escape reality, but it doesn’t work. It’s just an escape from my life. Reality still goes on. Imagine yourself being born without a soul and yet still alive. What would life mean to you then? Absolutely nothing.
Trapped in Time
April 25, 1995
Why do I always dwell on the past? It’s hard to look back and see the changes and the loss of innocence you used to have. We seem to live in our memories and focus on the future. I’ve never actually thought about the present time, you know, because I’m always depending on tomorrow. But death comes without warning, we’re all naïve to believe that there’s a promise to a new day. Life is taken for granted when it too becomes a memory.
April 1995 So maybe now my life shall begin, As you say farewell to me my friend, Love can never last when held within. A soul that was saved from loneliness, But a life that was robbed of innocence, Such sweet sorrow takes the place of happiness.
Confused
April 26, 1995
Someone once told me that to find yourself you have to lose yourself. I think I might have lost myself a long time ago. It’s hard trying to stay in touch with everything around you and still know where you are going with your life. When the unexpected happens, it just kind of throws you off track. I find myself getting lost with every second of the day. Sometimes it’s as if my mind is trying to filter out the difference between reality and fantasy. I think the appropriate word that could be used to describe myself would be…confused. Every aspect of my life contradicts with something else. The human mind can be so deceiving. Insanity comes from the mind not the soul. In order to have control of yourself, you would have to have control of your mind. When that control is lost, you become helpless, a slave at the mercy of yourself. To find your true self, you would have to literally die, and only then would your soul be free.
April 30, 1995
You find yourself coming to terms with the life given to you. Accept things for how they are. In the past week, I seemed to have made this transition that I didn’t understand. My life just made some kind of change, without me even knowing. It wasn’t like anything drastic happened, something within me changed. I just somehow turned myself inside out. It was like I had just seen myself for the first time. Suddenly, you realize how vulnerable life really is. It’s after death that we then become experienced.
A Prayer for Mother Nature May 1995 Lives are being taken As history’s being made, And things are left unspoken As we watch them fade away, And our dreams are being stolen Like the promise of a new day. But the wind will keep on blowing, And the birds will sing a new song, And the world will keep on turning As our lives will pass us by, And the sun will keep on rising Until time is nevermore, And then darkness takes us over For now and evermore. So I looked up to the darkened skies For now I know why Mother Nature cries. In the end I’ll shed a tear For I never wanted to live in fear, And though the earth has warned us all We seem to ignore her desperate call. Find myself in a sea of black With lost souls who never turn back. Listen to her whisper through the wind, We shall live in peace after the end. Feel her warm breeze as she passes by, See her beauty as she swiftly flies, Hear her sadness as she starts to cry. A shelter that I run to in the night, My spirit finds the courage to take flight, Feelings unfamiliar seize my soul, Happiness shall someday fill this hole. As I knelt down on my knees, I prayed my heart would be at ease, And when I saw the fallen leaves, I knew my sadness shall retrieve, For when her voice would fill my head, I knew my dreams where never dead. So I pray for peace on earth And watch the beauty of her birth. When the rain begins to pour, I feel her tears of pain once more, So I shall look up to the sky, For along with her I cry.
May 1995
And all the wonderful sights capture my wondering eyes. Childhood dreams that were once forgotten could come true at last. I bathe in the crystal water and let the sun cleanse my burdened soul. I could become pure again and feel the innocence of life. Majestic mountains steal the land and captivate me with their pride. I feel at peace in the mercy of nature. The freedom longed for is found. Happiness is felt all around.
May 13, 1995
To live in loneliness is the hardest way to live. Despite everyone around you who loves you, there’s still that feeling, that undying knowledge of being alone. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. When you learn to depend on yourself, it wouldn’t really matter anymore. We’re all alone before birth, and again, after death. I’ve been accused of living in a fantasy world and not accepting life for what it really is. What’s so wrong about that? As long as I’m living my life the best way that I can, then I’m happy with my reality. Why should I change my world just to fit in with society? This is the life that God gave me, and although I have control of it, He’s in control of my soul, and after life on earth, my soul is all that matters. When all of mortal life is dead, loneliness will be too.
May 15, 1995
How much can someone take before they just go totally insane? You just keep on living day by day wondering how much longer you can take it. When you can’t see any other way out, there becomes only one alternative. Most of us don’t have enough guts to carry that through. I know I don’t. People always say that depression is nothing more than just feeling sorry for yourself. What the hell is wrong with that? It might even be somewhat healthy. At least it shows that I care about my life. I have this “death wish” that I seem to think about a lot. If something tragic were to all of the sudden happen, and I only had one more month to live, I could do anything. The future wouldn’t matter anymore. Nothing would. Not that I want it to happen, it’s just an interesting concept to think about. Why does bad always have to follow good? Happiness can never last that way.
Shattered May 1995 So close to some peace of mind, How could I have been so blind? Serenity was at my fingertips I could have tasted it on my lips, But once again I found pain in the end Though my thoughts still pretend How my life could have been. How could I have really gone on Depending on something that wouldn’t last long? A temporary smile on my face Laughing inside at my own disgrace. My denial has now led to a loss, I lived my whole life with an image that’s false, But the one thing that kept my mind sane Has been shattered Now nothing remains. Slowly the world closes in on me, But all of my dreams are finally set free, And now I’m searching for prosperity A little something to make myself at ease. I still hide behind my disguise For I know I’m living a lie Though I still hold the truth deep within I find myself shattered again.
The Dream
May 19, 1995
I felt so alive as well as my surroundings. Everything was such a lie but I believed it anyway. My spirit had the freedom to live, and so it did. A whole other world, purely fantasy, yet so real. I wish I could remember. The feelings and emotions were so real which is why I know it’s there. Something I can’t describe, not because of lack of words, but because of lack of knowledge. It all disappears when light interrupts darkness leaving just the slightest hint of remembrance. A cloudy vision unveils images never seen before by my eyes. Still, I can’t remember. Each night it continues, controlling me with some unseen power, I become so vulnerable. I would have to sleep forever in order to remember my dream. As soon as I gain control of it, I lose it. Another forgotten dream haunts me.
May 22, 1995
Faded pictures that were once memories become familiar strangers to me now. Everything seems so different, as if I were looking through different eyes. Distorted images blur my vision, there’s nothing worth understanding. The world will see what it wants to see and ignores what might be important. I lose touch with myself more each day, though I never wanted it to be like this. Something so deep that I don’t even comprehend, but only because I don’t want to. There’s just so much more out there. So much more to life. We’re held back by rules and expectations put on us by society. Life could be so beautiful. If given the chance, happiness could be more than just a dream. I wish I had the courage to totally open myself up to the world. To hold nothing back and be truly honest with myself. I just want to be free.
False Image
May 24, 1995
Something so personal I hold deep within myself. It’s mine and mine only, which is the way it should be. Though somehow I seemed to have lost it. The minute I questioned it, it was gone. I guess I might have taken it for granted. Everyone has their own “way” of life, mentally. Who’s to say what’s right and what’s wrong? If your happy doing what you’re doing, or believing in what you believe, so be it. I lost myself recently, without even trying to, without even wanting to. I felt I had died for nothing seemed real anymore, not even me. So many thoughts ran through my head but I didn’t understand them. I understood nothing. I felt so scared, unable to concentrate on anything, and nothing made sense. I couldn’t even find peace in sleep, and when I did, I didn’t want to wake up. “Am I going insane? Oh God, please help me.” And then the answer came, but it is mine and mine alone.
June 6, 1995
And suddenly, I felt as if I had died… For the first time, I realized I was alone. I became lost. Confused when my dreams were disturbed by reality. This must be the end. For when trust no longer exists, we become selfish. The lies then become visible. No one is safe. Experience takes the place of innocence, please, forgive us for our ignorance. Somewhere lies the hope I held so long ago.
Abandoned
June 7, 1995
If I had the chance I could appreciate the times shared. It was taken for granted and then taken away. How could I have known? I became tired and fell backwards into an endless journey I’ve travelled many times before. So once again, I try to explain, but as always, it remains impossible. Maybe the dream was an illusion. The sweet breath of life sometimes haunts me, filling my head with fantasies. I will not allow myself to be tricked again. If I am better off this way, how will I know, for I feel no change from within. Still, I can remember, which is why I hurt so much. Someday I shall feel again the love that I felt before.
June 8, 1995
It is now obvious to me I can no longer deny. I can no longer fight, therefore, I surrender. A massive light shot across the sky leaving me blind, but I could still feel the darkness. Suffice to say, I wasn’t prepared, how could I have been? So maybe I’m not strong enough to handle life, but I’m still alive. Perhaps I’m not intelligent enough to comprehend life, but still, I can survive. Proof that the impossible can be done. Where is the good fortune that I long to see? Patiently I wait. Yes, I’m happy for all of you, but inside, secretly, I cringe. My faith has abandoned me leaving me helpless. Many faces surround me placing guilt on my innocent soul. My effort to open up and reveal proves useless, nobody could see. I can’t appreciate my accomplishments if there is no one to share them with. What would be the point? If the world won’t allow me to express the feelings and opinions I possess, my soul might as well be dead for life would be worth nothing.
Sinful Soul June 19, 1995 Take these shattered fragments of a life that used to be. I’ll give the world my sympathy for no one here is free. Call to him our Savior when the hope is all but gone. The earth will shake with envy as we wonder what went wrong. Sinful souls will bow their heads in a prayer they don’t believe. Denial becomes the answer to a life they can’t conceive. Shelter me, for I too, cannot feel thee. It is I that cannot see. Please have mercy upon my sinful soul.
June 26, 1995
My soul felt shame because of this vision. I should just close my eyes and pretend. A steady distance I must keep, for I couldn’t live with myself otherwise. The pain was all too evident, and I could feel it from within myself, though it was not my pain. Still, I refuse to give my pity nor sympathy, neither of them are needed. Instead, I send my regrets. Nothing can be done. My hands alone could never hold the amount of hope lost. Truth is what saves me from my guilt, and yes, I consider it my fault, for I too, am part of society. A part of an ignorant society. Fulfill me with the wisdom you so helplessly possess so that I might become wise and understand the true meaning of survival. To experience life without the simple luxuries of food or shelter leads to courage, courage that can be more frightening than ever. It is our instinct to live and then die when the time comes. No one should be robbed of that right.
June 27, 1995
Went and saw PaPa today. Though we didn’t talk, it was still a good visit. I feel a certain connection now. Guess I missed him more than I thought I did. As weird as it may sound, I feel I know him better in death than I did in life. A hard relationship to have. Somehow, I feel it’s worth it. On this subject, religion comes to mind. I believe in heaven and hell, but I still have to question certain things. Not about God but about myself. I question my beliefs. What is my reason for believing in life after death? Maybe because I need something to believe in, something to live for. It’s so simple. Could I go on living with the knowledge that I possess no soul, that death really is the end? I would rather not believe than to believe for the wrong reasons. I pray that my heart is pure, for I am not. The vultures search for death so that they may live, just as we search for life so that we may die.
July 7, 1995
Tell me if I get too close for I don’t want to be out of place. I proved myself to be worthy of the trust even though you didn’t ask me to. Without my even knowing, I was able to open up, and faithfully, you accepted. Thank you. Now, I feel I’ve been selfish because I gave all I could but kept what I wanted. Not one word was spoken. When I analyzed my importance in relationships, I suddenly felt cold. Now that I have realized where I stand, I can say goodbye, my pain is the only pain. So everybody got what they wanted, me, I’ll just step out of the way. Guess you could say, I give up. When I said I didn’t care, I meant I cared too much, but who was listening anyway. My feelings have always been false, but I didn’t want to betray anyone. It was just a disguise. Since I was able to fool the world, maybe I’ll be able to fool myself.
July 10, 1995
I became a nameless face to myself. Trapped inside a stranger’s mind with memories from a past life. Could it be that I am the only one to possess this incredible power to transform myself? To create a whole other world and yet live it in reality. I travel this world alone. Busting through the dead-ends that stop me and running away from the voice that haunts me. Desperately I shield myself from the enemy lurking behind the shadows. What a shame it was to see the wonderful gift of life disappear without a trace. This sudden urge came over me to conquer the world and find peace in doing so. I no longer fear my passion. The eyes of deceit can shelter a lie and the truth becomes lost, and then forgotten. We no longer have boundaries, only fear. Sometimes a picture on the wall creates an image and invites the soul in leaving behind the mind. I live in this picture leaving the world behind.
The Farm
July 13, 1995
And then there was silence. Just myself among the creatures of night. A wise old owl heard faintly in the distance. I listen but fear to speak, the echoes of my own voice still haunting me. And then there was the bats. A spectacular show put on just for me. Such enjoyment I had to keep all to myself. How wonderful it all was though. Solitude can be the most frightening way to live. You have to face yourself. Guess it’s safe to say I’m not at peace with myself. Surrounded by acres of green meadows, I get lost in a gaze.
July 14, 1995
Was it I that caused your pain? The guilt is even worse than addiction. What a time it was when death was upon us and life was just nearing its prime. The dream so vivid in my head, still vulnerable to reality yet it arrived without warning. I remember the fog to be so thick it suffocated the earth, yes, that’s what it felt like. A heavy thick fog covering my body and seeping into my head, suddenly the world seemed so unclear. Life didn’t make sense and death proved that it didn’t matter. Maybe a lesson was learned. When the spirit gets too involved freedom is somehow lost, and love becomes too powerful. To part from the very soul that became one with a life still unknown, here, something was lost. The end was never as painful as the beginning I now face in fear.
A Start
July 18, 1995
I always knew I was different. Maybe because it has something to do with my birth. I came out all right, but the doctor insisted that there’s a good chance I might be retarded. My mom freaked, to say the least. She ended up crying and praying on the phone with her sister all night. Next morning, Doc comes in, says I’m fine, and he’s sorry about the scare. I think sub-consciously it ended up scarring me for the rest of my life. When I was seven years old I was told I could fly like Superman, so I tried it out. Took a running start, leaped forward into the air, and took a nosedive right into the wall. I think the disappointment was worse than the bloody nose. Am I just a little vulnerable? Afraid so, but I wouldn’t consider myself innocent. Not emotionally anyway. It’s like I was saying, I handle disappointment harder than it should be. Thing is, it goes further than just disappointment. Basically, I handle life harder than it should be.
So, I’m now at the age 18, still living with mom, never had a steady job, and just bought a car with $400 payments on it monthly for five years. All coming out of my lint-filled pockets. About three years ago, I was in the car with my stepdad and got hit by an 18-wheeler. Ended up getting $3000 for it, thus earning me my first car. What luck I had, getting hit by an oversized truck hauling iron pipes doing about 50mph and not even a trip to the hospital. What are the chances of me making easy money like that for the rest of my life? Unfortunately, I’ll probably be on a 9 to 5 schedule just like the rest of the world. Let this be said though: If ever I, Lindsay Niemann, end up working at McDonald’s or any other fast food place, hit me upside the head with a metal bat cuz the car ain’t worth that much.
Supporting my many habits I’ve seemed to develop without a steady supply of money gets tougher every day. Now that I think about it, how the hell have I been doing it as long as I have? Doesn’t matter, it caught up with me. I’ve seriously grown to hate money. We should do what the Indians did. Use our knowledge and skills to trade with each other. Both parties benefit. There I go again, dreaming of an easier life that history has clearly made impossible.
Strange Occurrences
July 24, 1995
The only thing that I really cherish about myself can’t even be seen. I rarely ever express it either, yet it seems to be the only thing going for me. One simple talent given to me and given to so many others. How can I be separated from millions of clones all surrounding me, hiding my identity from the rest of the world? It’s at times like this when I can feel the tension in the air and the stillness that grabs at you causing a rush of anxiety all through your body. But the stillness comes unexpected, the ears becoming deaf except for a dead ring. And you can see it happening. I did. No words were spoken, this lifeless body obviously too weak for movement. Just lazy twitches made by the eyes leaving an impression that a spirit still exists. And thankfully, it does.
A few hours ago, I had to take my good friend, Jena, to the emergency room. The reason why is somewhat unexplainable, except for, she just lost it. This wasn’t the first time though. She is a bit unhealthy but not anymore than myself, and I’ve never experienced anything like that, except for this one time at the doctor’s office. I had a vicious case of strep throat and bronchitis. My whole body felt so weak it’s a wonder how the doctor succeeded in giving me a shot where I was so helplessly sitting on. That’s when it happened. With my mom’s help, I was slowly anchoring myself down from the table I was seated on, and then everything just went mute. There wasn’t even a dream. Just total and complete darkness. My mind shut off as if there was a holiday and my brain decided to take the day off. In a matter of seconds, I find myself looking up at my mom, the doctor and nurse, wondering what in the hell had happened. If I remember correctly, the right term is neurogenic shock, basically, a shock to the nervous system. Quite a little shot the doctor gave me. Maybe I should sue him for that, help pay for my car. It was nice being away from reality though.
Family Affairs
July 25, 1995
I hate that kind of anger. Silent anger. It eats at you from the inside and just builds up like a volcano with a cork stuck in its mouth. I’ve had to put up with this kind of anger all my life. Mostly because of my step family. One thing I’ve always appreciated about writing was the ability to bitch as long as desired. Tonight would be a good night to take advantage of this privilege. Shall I start off with The Bitch first? Her actual name is Judy Current, ex-wife to Jaren Current, my stepdad. Although he and my mom have now separated they still remain good friends. I have three step-sisters and one step-brother (who I shall bitch about later) from that marriage, not to mention an insane ex-wife. From the time Judy entered my life, I’ve been wishing her death to be sometime soon in the near future. I can happily say this though, I’ve only met her about four unlucky times in my life. Still, I don’t have to see her or even really know her to despise her as much as I do.
Example: ninth-grade school year, third period class, a note arrives for me sending me to the nurse’s office right away. From there I’m sent to the counselor’s office for a meeting with a cop who specializes in protecting a child’s welfare. I’m then flooded with questions like “Have you ever been sexually molested by your stepdad? Is there pornography going on in your household? Are you being abused in any way, by anyone in your family?” “Afraid not, sir,” I told him, and asked who the hell had given him this information. “One of your friends reported that you had talked to them about this situation and was asking for their help.” This was the answer he gave me. It kept nagging at me all day, “One of my friends?” I never said anything like that to anyone. Not long after, the truth was found out. Judy made this concerned call to my school, from Austin mind you, I live in Houston, that I’m being sexually molested by my stepdad. The reason why she did it? Money. Where she got the idea? Her son, Jaren Douglas, my step-brother. Her whole life is based on getting child-support money, even though none of her kids live with her, and yes, she succeeds.
Here’s another reason why she’s such a bitch. Her daughter, Jena, who at the time was around seven, was being molested by her two cousins, and Judy walks in on it happening and then proceeds to walk right back out. When I say this, I mean it, I think there’s probably a good chance she also molested her kids when they were younger. Yet, Jaren Douglas refuses to see how evil the woman really is. All of her other kids have, except for him. Tonight I made the realization of how much he favors his mother’s actions. They all do. Julie, Jaren D., Jayme, and even Jena. Judy made her way into all of her children’s heads. If I’ve learned one thing about that family, it’s that they can’t be trusted. I’ve never met anybody who is as self-centered as that family is. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be accepted into their little circle. They seemed like such a close family, but for some reason they never let me in. Now they all hate me. Once again, I am the one hurt in the end.
The history of this destructive relationship goes way back, and too much has been said and done to try and forget. Anyways, this whole thing with Jena is my fault. The blame has been put on me. I’m the reason she almost died last night. It’s my fault that she’s doing drugs, and I’m the one who supplies her with the drugs. Well, I have one thing to say in my defense: Bullshit. Jena’s brothers and sisters can point their finger at me all they want, but sooner or later they will see that it proves useless. As far as I’m concerned, they can all hate me as much as they like, nothing will come from it. It’s just another case of money, power and control taking over a human soul and contaminating it.
A Selfish Plea
July 29, 1995
And it happens every time. Like there’s some invisible force controlling my life, no matter how hard I fight. If I let myself hunger for attention the rest of the world yearns for, would I become the very thing I despise? A heart-warming “thanks” I’ll send out to everyone for giving me the inspiration to write. What would my life be without contradiction, misconception, and of course, deceit? It all used to seem so perfect. Maybe because I was so blind. We lost what was ours, not because we didn’t care, but because it just couldn’t last.
Once again, a change is upon us. A thunderstorm is nearby and you can smell the rain in the air before it arrives. Still, it can be so beautiful. Please, I ask, and even beg, not to take it away. You see, I cherish the very thing that could be taken for granted, and take for granted what should be cherished. I do admit this though, I failed myself in every aspect. It’s not really important how, I don’t think, the point is, I did. Give me the chance to love another human soul and I probably couldn’t accept. Give me the chance to trust another human soul and I probably would accept. Now, which is easier to come by, but which is most likely to cause the most pain? Sure, I’ll pass it on to you, but remember it belonged to me first, and in my eyes, I shall always be the owner.
Lost Touch
July 31, 1995
Another thunderstorm last night. It rains so much here in Houston it’s a wonder why we don’t have 100 percent humidity all the time. Instead, it’s usually 80 percent humidity, which basically means that I live in one big swamp. The storms here are far from refreshing though. All the pollution and radiation and toxic wastes that are sent into the air come right back down on us when it rains. Acid rain I think is what it’s called. The weather is just one of the many reasons why I want out of this place so bad. My brother is in Montana right now. What I would do to see all the beautiful sights and breathe the fresh clean air that Houston so obviously lacks. I must get out of here for no other reason than to save myself.
My life just seems like one continuous cycle, no matter how many changes I make, it proves useless. I feel that I shall die if I awake to another day in this city of hell. My desire to live and ambition to succeed at anything grows weaker with every second that passes by. A new beginning is what I need. Unfortunately, the ability to start all over again is one of the many things I lack. Truth is, I never use to fail at anything. Intelligence, popularity, and charisma were all in my possession. Somehow they were lost, or maybe even stole, anyhow they’re gone. Why is it that the things I love can never be held on to?
Unknown Love
August 1, 1995
No matter how much time passes, I still can’t forget about that little shit. I keep telling myself there’s no way it could have been love, but after six years, you’d think I’d be over it. Still, every time I see him the same feeling comes over me. My whole body gets shaky and then my mind suddenly goes blank. It happens every time. What’s even more messed up is, I hardly even know him. We’ve never really talked. But somehow, there’s this unspoken connection we seemed to have made. I don’t actually know how it happened, but it’s there, and I can truthfully say that he feels it too. I had to see him today didn’t I? Now I’ll be thinking about him for the next six months. You would figure it, me falling for a little cokehead who cares about his habit more than life itself. He looked so skinny and pale, I actually found myself caring for his welfare. Another reason I want to get out of this town, Eric lives here.
The Realization
August 3, 1995
My days seem to be going by so quickly. Sad thing is, I have nothing to show for them. I’m letting my life slip away from me more each day. What is it that I can do? I feel that wanting, that yearning for something in my life, and until it’s mine, I shall never be content. It seems there’s always that need for excitement, an adrenaline rush to keep life interesting. For the last year, I’ve been using chemicals to substitute this need, and I fear that my lifestyle is finally catching up. The time has come for me to take responsibility of my life and set a future. This is easier said than done. I’m not real sure what actions should be taken to fulfill this goal. I guess first, I’ll have to get a job. I’ve been saying that for the last month, but tomorrow will begin my search. Hopefully I’ll still be in this frame of mind by tomorrow, if not, I will have wasted yet another day of my life. Although now is not the time for regrets, I can’t help but think of what I should have done.
Take school for instance. Instead of skipping classes and finally not going, I should have toughed it out. Now, I’m still in homeschool struggling with algebra when I would already be graduated if I had just stayed in public school. Here’s another scenario: a couple of months ago there was this modeling agent who was interested in what I had to offer. She kept calling me and wanting to set an appointment, but every time I ended up declining her. Why, you ask? I keep asking myself the very same question. I’d probably have a good paying job right now if I just would have told her “yes.” The list of regrets goes on, but that’s not what needs to be focused on right now. What matters is that I realize my mistakes and move on. There’s one problem that still remains, I haven’t moved on yet. When I look into my future it looks pretty dim, and I guess that’s where my focus is aimed. I’ve crashed and hit rock bottom one too many times, but I have yet to burn into ashes.
August 8, 1995
It seems like it’s been forever now. Time just catches up with you and then passes you right by. Sometimes I just want to scream and go totally insane, but I doubt that I would succeed at coming back. I wouldn’t want to. If I could just forget about myself and focus the concentration on something else, it wouldn’t be so hard. I long for happiness and contentment, but fear that the loss of my sadness could be the loss of my depth. I guess I can’t handle the fact that I might have lost control. It’s only temporary though. Everything is. The only thing that’s long term is the fact that I have to live with myself. Peace of mind can’t be far away. This journey has become tiring and my destination isn’t even in sight yet. I’m pathetically homesick, not because I’m out of town but because I just don’t belong here. I’ve got to get out.
Natural Wonder
August 8, 1995
I had my first trip last night. Ate a bunch of shrooms. Joe told Jena and I not to think and to just go with the flow, or else we would end up having a bad trip. Well, what are you supposed to do when watching a movie while shrooming? I had to think, it was the only thing to do. There I was, lying on the couch, my eyes wide open, trying to focus on the T.V. I must have seen this movie about ten times now, but I just couldn’t follow it. My mind kept wondering and I couldn’t find the power to stop it. Something inside me just suddenly started judging every little morsel of myself. My body just continued to lie there while I was stuck fighting my own self in an unexpected battle. The sound of Jena’s laughter interrupted my private state of anguish and the movie slowly came back into focus. I was back in reality, somewhat. My trip was only half over.
We congregated outside for a smoke brake from the movie and talked about how we were feeling. “Well, I really don’t feel anything, what about you guys?” I look up at Jena, yawn, and then laugh hysterically causing a chain reaction. We chat for a few more minutes and then recruit inside for the ending of the movie. None of us were really into the movie but we had to be doing something other than shrooming when Jena’s dad got home. Again, I find myself lying on the couch, only this time it wasn’t too bad. A dream I had several months ago pops into my head and I relive it mentally until another one enters my brain. The trip seems to be coming to an end and I actually greet reality with a smile. It was a nice experience, and I’ll probably end up doing it again, but forget watching T.V. next time. To be truly honest, I can’t find the right words to describe how different I felt afterwards. I hardly even remember the whole incident. It all just came in fragments, like a light switch being turned off and on repeatedly. The mental trip did do some good though. I feel a little more in focus now.
Brotherly Bond
August 9, 1995
My brother will be home in about two weeks. Can you believe I’m actually excited about this? We fight constantly, violent fights. On one such fight, I found myself rolling down the stairs from an unseen push to the back. Despite unfortunate fits of rage put on by Kirk and myself, I’d consider our relationship to be tight. Rarely does this closeness show through, but there’s still that bond. When you forget about the age and gender difference, we could be considered twins.
The paper mill was quite an experience. It started out with a mild argument and resulted with a long-awaited talk. Kirk had too much to drink and smoke, which can sometimes bring out the violence in him. After I bitched him out for a number of things, he calmed down, eventually, so we decided to roll a joint and take a trip down to the swamp. The sign read, “Danger, alligators exist in swamp. Keep at a distance.” Freaked me out. Alligators. Somehow I got it in my head that these alligators would be visible, but not one was to be seen. Only Lili pads were present. We sat on top of the car, enjoyed the breeze of the nice cool night, and smoked our doobie. Next stop, the paper mill.
Roads that are dark and narrow have a certain wickedness that seems to invite you. They just keep on winding and winding, but lights could be seen in the distance. Still, the smell hit us before the factory was in sight. To be honest, the foul aroma could be compared to that of a fart. Pollution was thick in the air as we neared a trailer park at the end of the last curve. Finally, there it was, this giant monster of madness that possessed such an odor, sitting right in the backyards of these trailer park residents. Disturbed by the vibes we received from this place, Bubba (a former nickname I gave to Kirk years ago because of a speech problem, I couldn’t pronounce R or L), anyway, Kirk decided to explore. Of course, I tried to steer his decision the other way, but I was merely a passenger.
We ventured past the trailers and followed the road deep into seclusion with trees surrounding us on both sides. As it seems to always happen, we ended up getting lost. Searching for a somewhat familiar area, we came upon this dog in the road (it was alive) not once, but several times. See, this is where it got weird. It all started with this dog. He just kept on popping up at the side of the road staring at us, and I know for a fact we weren’t driving around in circles. Next unusual episode: every turn we took ended up a dead end. Last but not least, we turn down another road hoping it will be the way out, not exactly, a driveway is what it led to, and who else would be sitting there waiting for us? That’s right, the bloody dog. I curse that wretched canine. Keep in mind, brother and I were still stoned and wigging pretty hard. The whole atmosphere was eerie, from the darkness of the night to the plastic bags stuck in the trees. This was a result from the flood that occurred in October, which could lead to a whole other story, and I’m getting writer’s cramp. Anyhow, the correct road was discovered and the paper mill was far behind, although the stench kind of lingered in my nose.
We made it home at four in the morning with mom greeting us at the door. No words were spoken except for a “goodnight kids, glad you’re home.” Yes, this response surprised me being that curfew was set at eleven and not even a phone call was made. Not to mention we were in her car. Mom can be a very complex woman. Life to her is in black and white with nothing in between, but once again, I’m getting side-tracked. Sleep that night never felt better and the dreams were enjoyable as well. Life is always easier when a connection is made with someone you can relate to. I appreciate being understood and having acceptance as well. The blood running through our veins is deeper than we realize, and thicker than we care to acknowledge.
New Orleans
August 12, 1995
Today’s the day. Kirk will be here at about eight tonight. He wants to go to New Orleans when he gets back. I wouldn’t mind doing that. New Orleans can be a pretty cool scene. I remember the last time I went was a blast. It was kind of an unexpected trip, you know, like a split decision thing. There we were, Jena, Joe, Tony, and myself, sitting around wondering what to do for the rest of the night. The same conversation kept haunting us, “Well, what do you want to do?” “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” Finally a suggestion was made. “Why don’t we go to New Orleans, we could stay at my old man’s place.” Tony was with Joe all the way on this idea, but Jena and I were hesitant. You see, it was ten o’clock at night, I was supposed to be home at twelve midnight, and there was no way I could be back from New Orleans by then, impossible. A plan had to be made, and so it was. Jena would tell her dad that she’s spending the night at my house, then we’ll tell my mom that we’re going to Astroworld tomorrow and won’t be in until one or two in the morning. This would cover our asses, we thought, and it did, somewhat. By twelve we were on the road in Joe’s van heading towards Louisiana.
The trip up there was quite a bonding experience as we had to keep each other company. Sipping on beer, laidback from Xanax, and stoned from pot, I was feeling pretty relaxed. Time just flew by, although we were still in Texas. Hours had gone by, but I had no concept of that, or anything for that matter. I kept nodding in and out but never actually fell asleep. My mind was dreaming and I was just kicked back, enjoying it. Then it hit me. My bladder was at the point of exploding and country roads were all that surrounded us.
“Hey Joe, can we pull over? I really gotta piss.”
“There’s a rest stop about 30 miles up yonder.”
I can make it until then. I don’t have to go that bad. This is what I kept telling myself as an effort to soothe the pain, but man, the need to piss was almost unbearable. We hit the rest stop and I hightailed it to the bathroom. This is the part of the story I wish to change. Every time I think about it I give myself a good slap across the face. As I made my mad dash from the van to the bathroom, my wallet had been dropped in the process. It wasn’t until 60 miles down the road that this unfortunate event was discovered. $100 was lost. Ya, that’s what I had in it. Gone forever. I had everyone searching for that wallet but I pretty much knew we wouldn’t find it in the van. The only thing left to do was pop open another beer and smoke a joint to relieve my suffering.
Everything goes black from that point up until 10 a.m. the next morning. Joe must have stopped at a rest stop because that’s where we were when I woke up. It must have gotten pretty hot in the van while we were sleeping, but I didn’t notice. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sleeping, I was passed out unconscious with a beer still in one hand. Now, here’s something unexplainable, the way we woke up. All of us were crashed out, dead to the world, yet at exactly the same time, our eyes opened. Ten on the dot, we woke up, looked at each other, and discussed breakfast. It was the weirdest thing though. At the time we hadn’t even realized what had happened.
With my mind in a daze, the journey towards New Orleans was again on its way. To give you an idea of how insanely huge Texas is, we weren’t even out of it yet. In fact, we didn’t hit New Orleans until four that afternoon, and we had to head back the very same day. Our mission was to purchase strawberry daiquiris on Bourbon St. Although we walked for about two hours just trying to locate Bourbon Street, it was found. The mission was completed and the time had come to head home. Yup, we spent all of five hours in New Orleans and now faced a 15 hour trip back home. Jena and I didn’t make it to my house until 4:00 a.m. Just a little late. Somehow, the consequences didn’t matter. We had tasted freedom and the only regret was that we had returned.
Past Lives
August 21, 1995
No one ever told me it would be like this. By watching everyone else, I figured it would be somewhat easy, there’s still a challenge, but I thought I could handle it. Life is hard to escape. Don’t take that the wrong way for death isn’t what I’m looking for. Escaping life is merely an action for survival. It’s the same way with problems. You run away from them any way possible, but isn’t it ironic how they always find you? Life does too.
I’ve been trying to focus on other people’s lives rather than my own for a number of reasons. For one, it’s a nice escape. Also, it helps me understand myself better and I feel not as alone. The number one reason is somewhat selfish. I need to feel a connection. My heart is finding it difficult to feel love. If I involve myself deeply into other lives, maybe the passion I once felt could return. Criticism is the one thing that stands in the way. I give it to myself as well as others. Guess I’m too hard on the world in general. This tends to run in the family though. Take Kirk for instance. He looks down on everyone and everything, including himself. When he was my age (he’s now 21), his reckless behavior almost landed him six feet under. This behavior was a result of confusion, which led to depression, which led to a very unhappy human soul. Hey Lindsay, sound familiar? I’m following the same footsteps my brother imprinted in the ground years before. Sadly, it’s too late to change my course and too early for the end.
An Entry
August 23, 1995
It freaks me out the way it just happens. Suddenly it’s over, not even a warning in advance. Like with a disease, you know it’s coming but all you can do is just wait. Aids is what frightens me the most, a slow and painful death that could last for years, or maybe just a month or two. By the year 2000, the statistics say that either you or someone you know will become HIV positive. There’s not even a cure, it just takes over your body and kills it. Mark my words, this deadly virus won’t be the one that takes me down. Instead, it will probably be cancer, the other disease that kills millions. I guess it’s safe to say that no one can escape death, except for Walt Disney (who’s being kept frozen, so in the future, he’ll still be alive), but other than him, it’s impossible to avoid. Death itself can be considered a disease, we all have it, but only time will tell when this “disease” will take its toll. Unfortunately, time has left behind a number of souls who were vulnerable to this “disease.” I don’t quite know why I’m writing about this, probably because of the wreck I saw.
There was this tow-truck driver who was in the process of hooking up a stalled car on the side of the freeway. A truck comes around the curve and proceeds to smash right into the stalled car. Of course, the tow-truck driver was killed instantly, smashed between his own truck and the stalled car. I think the driver of the other truck was also killed. Just like that. I couldn’t get this vision out of my head and a flashback of when I was seven came back to haunt me. A neighborhood friend of mine was killed on a motorcycle pulling into his own driveway. I witnessed the whole thing. He was just lying there in the middle of the street, crying in agony (yes, he was conscious) with blood covering his whole body. I found out the next day that he died. I could go on and on about freak accidents, suicides, and other incidents that have caused death upon friends and family, but that’s not what I set out to write about. If the truth be known, I have no idea where I’m going with any of this. I just woke up in a bad mood this morning.
Actually, my whole obsession with death today is due to its date, August 23, 1995. I guess it’s all kinda stupid. You see, I had this “thing” for River Phoenix when I was younger, and I still admire him a lot even though he died from a drug overdose two years back. Anyway, today was his birthday. Weird isn’t it? I didn’t even know the guy and yet I cried for months after he died. The whole situation with his death was so screwed up though. It’s like the media was just waiting for some big tragedy to happen so they could make some money off of it. I even saw a picture of him in his coffin on the cover of some tabloid magazine. Shit like that gets to me for some reason. I hold grudges against people that I’ll probably carry with me to my grave. I seem to be going nowhere with this entry so I’m just going to stop. Oh ya, one last thing, Happy Birthday, Riv.
A Poem August 1995 When I lie awake and feel darkness upon My mind still continues. Does it not hear this silent plea? Can it ignore this master who feeds? Beneath the surface, there’s a fantasy for me. As light drifted in, My curse soon to begin, Another dream wasted, Hear the echo from within? Sorrow is my companion, Just like it’s always been. It’s at times like these When I wish I could leave. It’s at times like this, When I wish I could drift.
Alive
August 27, 1995
I was more alive than ever. Life was my natural high. Invincible to the cruel manners of society, I refused to become the very thing I despise. Fairytale dreams with warped fantasies predicting the future. Just a child of the earth but an outcast among peers. What divides you from a vagrant like me? The will to understand and accept. I shall live as a free-spirit for my worries do not include opinions. There’s a shallow nature that corrupts us all, which is why I stand alone. Something so simple to me, yet mankind seems to lack in its possession. Fall victim to the serpent lurking inside, we are the prey of instinct. Words find no meaning in this sanctuary full of mirrors proudly on display confusing images with imagination. This gold that rules the world has more power than deserved. I see beyond this theory where only wisdom is needed. Believe that I am all there is for self-worth is considered false. Once again, I may feel alive for life cannot be denied.
My Own Private Struggle
August 1995
I alone could drive myself to insanity. This great mass of confusion falls upon thee suffocating any connection leading to reality. Become a victim and surrender for this is a battle already lost. A sly grin appears on every face. Is it possible that this mental default could be visible? Has my own mind deceived me in such a way that I wouldn’t even know? Where is the control I once possessed? If my eyes are the windows to my soul, I shall regret to see darkness again.
The Wrath of Big Springs
August 28, 1995
More than a million dead fish found on the shore of Matagorda today. Probably a result of all the power plants polluting the ocean. To think I actually swam in that water a couple of weeks ago. The brownish tint of the water did kind of give off that unclean image, but I figured it was mostly just mud. Truth is, I’ve been going to that beach ever since I was a child. My aunt and grandfather live in Bay City, just twenty miles away from Matagorda Beach. Once, when I was about ten or so, I discovered a beached whale (already dead of course). It was right after one of the many oil spills that have occurred over the years. This baby whale was covered with oil, as was the rest of the beach. Now, it’s covered with dead fish. Not much has changed. I’d like to be able to say that my last visit there was pleasant, but the company took care of that.
Big Springs, Texas where the wrath of its residents still haunts me. My stepdad’s family lives there, and I’ve promised myself never to return to this town of lost hope. I’ve managed to keep this promise to myself, unfortunately, Big Springs found me. Aaron and Lance just kind of showed up one day, not even a warning. I get a phone call from Jena one morning, and the next thing I know, the three of them are knocking at my door. Now, I will say this, Aaron isn’t half as bad as Lance is, but the hatred for him still exists. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like they did anything to piss me off, it’s just who they are. Does the word “mooch” mean anything to you? Here’s a definition to explain. Mooch: The act of living off of others. It’s as simple as that. I was the moochie, supporting three people, plus myself. As the story continues, you’ll understand why my annoyance with Lance and Aaron turned to hatred. Thursday night at around nine, our trip to Matagorda was on its way. First, we have to stop by David’s house to pick up a bag from my friend James.
“So, you guys are going to the beach tonight? How long are you staying?”
“We’re coming back Saturday,” I reply, somewhat curious of his question.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“Yeah, my aunt’s house in Bay City, but we’re planning on going to the beach tonight.”
“Who’s all going?”
“Me, Jena, Aaron and Lance, they’re in the car waiting for me.”
It took me a while to get the hint, but after James asked me how much room we had in the car, I gave him an invite. I gladly let James sit up front with Lance and excused myself to the backseat. Keeping in mind that Lance is from Big Springs where heavy traffic consists of ten cars, and freeways just don’t exist, Houston freaks him out. The boy keeps at a steady pace of 50mph the whole way there. Usually it only takes about an hour and a half to Bay City from Houston. With Lance driving, it took us two hours and thirty minutes just to get to Bay City, let alone, another hour to Matagorda.
First came the bumming of cigarettes. Both Lance and Aaron were out, and they had no money to speak of. I paid the gas bill the entire trip with the help of mom’s credit card. It never failed. Every time I lit up a cigarette, that same annoying question came back to haunt me. “Hey Lindsay, can I have one?” It wasn’t really that bad at first, but towards the end of the trip, I was the only one left with cigarettes. The ride up there was pretty lame except the episode with Aaron and his bleeding lungs. I look over at him and he’s spitting something onto the floorboard. Jena asks him what’s wrong, and he announces that his lungs are bleeding again and that he keeps spitting up blood. I mention the hospital but he totally ignores my suggestion. Five minutes later, he says he’s fine and bums another cigarette off me. I would consider Aaron to be one of the biggest attention-getters I’ve ever met. At least every hour he throws a temper-tantrum about something or another. I mean, like his lungs were really bleeding.
The lights of Bay City (which isn’t much) were visible and Judy’s house was only ten minutes away. Finally, we arrived. A big greeting from my Aunt Judy, and my cousin, Evan, was on his way home to take us to Haven. I guess it’s been a while since I’ve seen him because he looks quite good. Evan could be what most people consider a dork, but his heart is bigger than most. My last visit here, I remember him to be overweight with no social life and the only thing he lived for was video games. Evan walked through the door and I gasped. He looked skinnier than ever and had more confidence than I’ve ever seen him have. Anyway, we end up hanging at Haven for the night, a warehouse consisting of pool tables, couches, and a stage. Our plans to go to the beach have been put off until tomorrow.
Next morning, we hit Sonic and then head for the beach. The drive actually wasn’t too bad, probably because we smoked a joint on the way there. The beach really wasn’t too crowded, but we kept driving until total seclusion was found. Just as you would expect, the waves were dead. I couldn’t even see the crests of the damn things. I did see an unusual sight in the ocean. Well, it was unusual at this beach anyway. Five dolphins in a row were swimming across the sea at a close distant to where I was in the water. They were probably lost, wondering where the hell all the clean water went. The whooping cranes also caught my eye. One flew right by me and then dove into the water to make its kill. We spent a good five hours there but decided to leave because of hunger pains. That’s when it happened. I’m finishing up my sand castle and hear Jena scream my name.
“Lindsay, come here! Shit! Hurry, get over here!”
I go over, look down at the bottom of her foot, and stare in disbelief. There’s a dead catfish stuck in her foot.
“I’m gonna pull it out now, Jena, grab onto my arm, it’s probably going to hurt.”
I yank but the damn thing is really stuck in there. By now, Jena’s almost in tears so I scream to James for help. He tries but the fish just ain’t comin’ out. A patrol officer drives by so I flag him down for help.
“Hey, my friend’s got a thing stuck in her foot!”
“A thing?”
“Yeah, she’s right over here.”
He follows me over there to see what I’m talking about. I flagged him down thinking he could help by having a first aid kit or something, but the guy was useless.
“Well, I guess you’re gonna have to pull it out, but I ain’t gonna do it.”
Yeah, thanks a lot, sir.
“Maybe you should take her to the hospital.”
“I’m not going to the hospital! Here, pull it out!”
She sticks the fish in James’ face and he tries again. With some maneuvering, it finally comes out. A little blood but it wasn’t actually that bad. We head back for Bay City and discuss what to do about food. See, here’s the problem. I’m the only one with money, besides James, and five dollars isn’t going too far. My aunt has absolutely no food at her house. There’s only one thing to do. I eat, James eats, we share with Jena, and Lance and Aaron starve. It is cruel but they should have thought about money before they ever left Big Springs.
We hang out over at Haven for a little while but decide to go back to the beach later that night. A bad decision to make. We waited on the draw bridge for a good thirty minutes. A long-ass boat was taking its precious time. Things get worse when we hit the beach. I’m strolling along the shore then head back to the car to retrieve my cigarettes. The attack began. Millions of mosquitos buzzing around me. The damn things were everywhere. About twenty more minutes of this and Lance finally decides to leave. Since we kept the windows down, mosquitos were in the car too. Like a dumbass, Lance rolls up the windows! The rest of the night pretty much went downhill. In fact, the whole trip was a huge mistake. Everyone was fighting on the way home. We all hated each other. Sometimes certain personalities just don’t click. Other times, certain people just don’t click. In this case, Aaron and Lance just don’t click.
The Evil Thing
August 29, 1995
And the bitch strikes again. Jena’s mom, Judy, showed up at her house today. She came all the way to Houston just to take Jena “out to lunch.” As soon as Jena gets in the car, Judy (the bitch) comes clean with the truth. Seems that Jena is going back to Austin with her mom. So, of course, when Jena found this out, she freaked. Basically, Judy kidnapped her. The whole way to Austin, Jena was screaming, “I hate you, you Bitch! I swear I’ll kill you if you do this!” She also hit her mom a couple of times. Now, she’s stuck at the farm in Austin threatening to kill herself. Judy’s actually going to put her in a mental hospital tonight. I can’t tell you how much I hate this woman. She’s the one who needs to be in a mental ward, she’s insane. Jena’s dad did try calling the cops, but Judy’s mom is the mayor and that’s whose house Jena is at. The police department can’t do anything cuz they work for the mayor. I think her dad is going down there to get her, but he might end up getting arrested. Judy put a warrant out on him, and if he picks up Jena, she can get him for kidnapping. She still has custody. Judy’s just this evil thing that won’t go away. I mean, it’s like she breeds off misery.
Ghosts from the Past
August 30, 1995
So people will come in and out of your life. That’s how the saying goes. Thing is, people that come into my life never seem to stay. I saw one of my old friends from school tonight, she just dropped by my house. We used to be like best friends, but I guess time changed that. In school, I was part of this group and we all could relate to each other one way or another. I miss that, you know? Life wasn’t as hard when there were five other people sharing the same problems you had. But, of course, we all grew apart. In my opinion, I would consider me to be the lucky one. All of my friends are either in jail now, married, pregnant, or dead. Julie and I still keep in touch from time to time. My visit with her tonight actually went pretty well. She’s 6 months pregnant and engaged to this guy named Bubba.
Then there’s Rachel, who tried to keep in touch but I wouldn’t have anything to do with her. She’s somewhat schizophrenic and has been in and out of mental hospitals. Still, she was a good friend, but now she’s marrying Scott and having his baby. The guy was involved in a murder. I used to be good friends with him too, but he’s always had this madman side to him. How do you forgive someone for killing a fourteen-year-old girl and showing no remorse for it? I can’t. Scott and Jim should both be in jail. They went to court for it but ended up being let off with a few years of probation. Their plea was that the event was drug-related. Wow. Truth, justice, and the American way. Christy’s dead, but Scott and Jim are both alive and free.
It happened at a New Year’s Eve party over at Jim’s house. Apparently, old Jim was playing with his shotgun, pointing it at everyone’s head, and it suddenly went off when he got to Christy. The bullet isn’t what killed her though. When Jim realized what had happened, he and Scott decided to hide the body. They carried her into some woods and dumped her body into a pit. I went back there a couple of months ago to see what this pit looked like. It’s round with concrete walls, kinda like a well, except it’s higher up and has more width. When you look down into it, all you see is mossy water, cottonmouths, and snapping turtles. There’s no way anyone could escape the depths of this pit. She was found by a couple of squirrel hunters after missing for three days. The vibes back in those woods are very much disturbing even to someone who doesn’t know the story behind them.
Anyway, Rachel’s marrying this dude. I saw him like a month ago but refused to talk to the bastard. Why is it that the ones who deserve to die never do? I’m so sick of this place. Every face I see, and everywhere I go brings back memories I’d rather forget. I can’t even get away from my past. People will always see me as what I once was, but they shall never see me as who I really am. I hate false judgement. Maybe my brother has the right idea by keeping silent. Last night, he confided in me about his vow of silence. He refuses to talk until December 25. He said he just hated words and had no use for them anymore. Now I’ve become his phone messenger. I’ll be surprised if he actually carries this out. At least we won’t be fighting anymore. So far, it’s lasted one day and the only word he’s spoken is “fuck.” Whatever. At least it proves I’m not the only one who’s tired of being ignored.
Indian War Cry August 1995 Long ago there was a man who lived on this old land. He would tell his stories of yesterday as he watched the sun’s light fade. He spoke of wisdom and the courage he had But his face looked tired and sad. He used to sit alone outside With his old gun by his side And he would cry out loud with no one around But everyone could hear this sorrowful sound. Years passed by and the old man finally died. He was buried on this land with his old gun by his side. When the nightfall hits the sky People say they have gone outside And as they listen very carefully They heard the old man’s cry. I listened to the story being told, It was an Indian legend from many years ago. When the man was finished I looked over to his side And there sat an old gun right before my eyes. And I swear that night I went outside, And heard an Old Indian War Cry.
The Dreamer
August 31, 1995
I’ve always wanted to be someone famous for doing something great. Having people look up to me and have admiration in their eyes, it would help my self-confidence. Since I’m not very outgoing, it probably won’t happen to me. When I was twelve or so, I used to want to be the lead singer of a band. I’m not sure what happened to that dream. It just vanished. Kirk, on the other hand, could have that dream if he wanted it. He’s a wonderful musician and has a talent for singing, playing guitar, and he’s mastered the drums. I guess I’m a little jealous about that, but shit, I can’t play anything. I used to could sing, but my lungs aren’t what they used to be. Nope, all I do is write, and sometimes I have to force myself to do that. I hope my career has something to do with writing because truthfully, it’s the only thing I’m good at. Oh yeah, Kirk’s also an excellent writer. Figures. I think about the future often, it’s the only way to get myself through the present. Hopefully destiny has a lot in store for me, cuz life feels as if it’s come to a dead stop right now.
The Apple and the birdcage 