A meditation

A Meditation
A vignette

My heart beats slowly, my breath in, is shallow. A wave of calmness washes over my body and soul, allowing the past to seep into my brain like an infection. Faces of the past greet me anew, actions of old as fresh as the day the occurred. Feelings experienced return, as profound as before. Calmness

The memories fade, leaving nothing. Thoughts of the present now enter, feelings for friends, for enemies, for lovers. Feelings of current regrets, current inaction are like a cancer, feeding on my doubt, my inhibition of my dreams. My mind clouds, leaving only nothing but darkness, emptiness, blackness.

In this darkness, a light pierces. A light of a pureness unheard of. A light of serenity, and in this light, I accept my doubts, my weaknesses, I turn them into strengths. I realise my failed dreams lead to new dreams, better dreams. A new sense of hope touches, caresses my body. Gently colouring my positivity, feeding it. Belief.

My heart beats again, my breath out is deep. All is still, and I awake.

Unending Sorrow

Unending Sorrow
A Short Story

“Which of you is it going to be?” the masked gunman asked. “I’m not going to ask again!”

His gun moving slowly over each of the people’s heads they’d picked. Mine...Another person’s...My best friend’s...I wince at the thought of them shooting her, or any of us for that matter, but they had made a good offer...Kill one of us and they’ll leave, killing no one else, they claim to be men of their word...I hope they are...

“Move, move!” Men with guns running around, rounding the school children up like lambs to the slaughter, they had no hope, the first years crying...Most of us were crying, you don’t imagine that such a thing would happen in this country, the thought of the terrorists attacking the School in Russia was still fresh enough in people’s minds...But no, not here, surely not

Time passed...Slowly...

10 minutes moved into hours...6 hours in, the gunmen are getting antsy, they want out...But they want to show they’re serious...They talk amongst themselves...The leader decides something and everyone agrees. They begin shouting, asking for volunteers. No one volunteers. The begin moving down the section were the oldest students are...Where I belong. They pick people...My friends...God don’t let them pick me. The pick the person right in front of me, I let out an explosive sigh, what a mistake...”...and you.” He says. Fuck. Just my luck.

We’re marching down a corridor that I’ve been down many times, chatting to my friends, laughing, having fun. No I’m walking down it wondering if I’m going to get a bullet in the head, knowing that one of us is going to die, it’s not the thought of death that scares me, it’s the thought of someone dying for me, I can’t handle that...If given the opportunity to volunteer, I’ll volunteer. Well, I hope I will...

They untie us, a sign of their sincerity, such an odd display. One girl begins crying, screaming for God to save her...God isn’t in this room, God left us long ago...Another person begins to console her, all the men but their leader leave...He takes his pistol out, and crouches down to the girls level and whispers something in her ear...She calms down...Maybe we’ll get out of this alive, all of us...

“I would like a volunteer to save the school, you will die but you will save everyone else...You have my word.”

The option I said I’d volunteer for...I didn’t...I’m ashamed of myself...I said I’d do it...Why won’t I volunteer? I’m not scared of death...Or at least I thought I wasn’t...But now that the it’s staring me in the face I realise, I am scared. I’m a kid again; those nightmares of death and decay come flooding back...What if there isn’t anything after this? No, there isn’t anything...Maybe that’s why I’m scared...

“One of you better come forward, or I will simply kill all of you,” he says in a voice that betrays nothing, why does he find this so easy?

We started to get frantic, people looking at each other, eyes begging for someone to offer themselves up, a selfishness that requires no forgiveness, none of us want to die, but none of us wants all of us to die, we’re simply waiting for someone to offer themselves up, but if everyone waits, how can we all survive this. We can’t, it’s as simple as that...I look at my best friend, she’s the only one who’s really calm...Her eyes sooth me, their aqua-greenness gives off auras of calm...It’s...Helping...

“Which of you is it going to be?” the masked gunman asks. “I’m not going to ask again!”

I looked at my best friend, and nodded, her face turned into a grimace, she’s realised what I’m about to suggest.

“It’s going to be me,” she said beating me to it.

“W-what? No!” I tried to say, but nothing came out but a muffled cough.

Everyone else sighs, they can’t help it; and I don’t hold it against them. They’re going to live...But part of me is going to die if I let her take this bullet...

“No, shoot me instead.” I said, with defiance coursing through my voice.

She merely looked over at me, disappointment in her eyes. That caused me to feel unbearable pain, but I couldn’t simply watch her die, I had to be the one to do it, she doesn’t deserve this...She’s got so much to live for. I know she’s doing this simply because she doesn’t want anyone to die in her stead, but I’m the same...I can’t let her do this...

The gunman sighed, obviously getting worried about wasting time, the police were close to making a move.

“Right, which of you two is it going to be?” He asked, agitated.

“Me.” I said, adamantly. I looked at her, she was too shocked by my decision to do anything else.

“Right.”

He lowered the gun to my head...Time slowed...All images of my youth began to come streaming towards me...My fifth birthday, the excitement I felt as I opened the gifts...Christmas aged sixteen, as I finally got my laptop that I’d be waiting for. School...Days gone by came flooding in, exams...friends...teachers...her...Images of times her and I shared came back, and I was glad that they were my last thoughts...I hoped she’d live a good life...A life I’d spared for her, though I didn’t think she owed me a damn thing, this was my debt to her paid.

The gunman’s finger slowly closed around the trigger, I was prepared to die...It was going to be over soon, all this worrying about dying had been wasted, it wasn’t going to be so bad. I began counting down...

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

”No!” I heard her scream as she pushed me with all her might. I opened my eyes as I fell sideways; she was in line to be shot...No! No, damn you! I’m meant to die, not you!

The gunman didn’t notice, and didn’t attempt to turn the gun on me; he simply continued pulling the trigger. He fired...And I screamed...I felt the phantom bullet go into my chest, and cried, with such anguish...I cried, and jumped forward. I cradled her body, please be alive...Don’t be dead, don’t be dead. Don’t die...Please...

I titled her face upwards, shutting out the sounds from both inside and outside the room, it seemed the police had finally decided to put an end to this...Bastards...Didn’t save her...Didn’t save everyone...They’ll call her an “acceptable loss”, her death isn’t acceptable, nothing about this is acceptable.

I looked down at her face...its pale now...So much of what made her, her, is gone...Her happy eyes, her smile...it’s gone, forever.

The tears began streaming down my face...

“Why...? Why did you do it?” I cried. “I was meant to die here, not you!”

The tears flew off my cheeks, and fell onto her bloodstained neck. I, for some reason, expected this to have some sort of effect on her...The desperation had set in, and holding her in my arms, I knew I could do nothing...I longed for her comments...Just some idea that this was a dream.

“Please don’t be dead...” I sobbed silently into her ear, “you can’t be dead...We’ve so much more left to do together...”

I knew nothing I could say would bring her back. I...I have no idea why I kept asking her to not be dead, I knew it wouldn’t work, but total emotional loss is something that cannot be explained...I was a babbling fool, but at that moment in time, that’s all I could be.

I gently set her body down, and wiped the tears from my eyes, the gunshots had stopped, and I wanted to know what was happening. Had they killed the terrorists? Or was this nightmare only going to get worse.

A soldier walked in, rifle in hand, he quickly looked around the room, before resting his eyes on her body. His body dropped, and his eyes softened. He knew he’d been too late, but he had no words to even try to console me; the only other person in the room. So instead, he took off his helmet and gently placed it on the table next to me. He slowly sat beside me, and put his arm around my shoulder.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, with me crying almost unbearably. Finally he turned his head towards me and asked:

“Tell me about her...”

Of Bricks and Keys

"Friend" is an odd word, a word which can take the form of several meanings. From an acquantince, to a good friend, to a trust worthy friend, to a best friend. And while I've stated that you can have a "trust worthy friend", all friendships are based on trust. They shape and take form; they are malleable. But they are always fragile. One bad word, one sarcastic comment taken wrongly, saying something in the heat of the moment, all these can send a once gleaming, a shining example of a good friendship crashing down.

And then what happens? We grovel, we beg, we say we'd do anything to gain that friendship back. And we hope that the person who we have offended, is not blinded by pride and will accept our pleas. And if they do, we are glad to have their friendship back. But it's never the same. The trust on which it was based has been destroyed; wiped out, smashed. We are stuck at the bottom, re-building the friendship, one brick at a time, sometimes half a brick at a time. It's like the labourers of Ancient Egypt, having been whipped, beaten and abused, just finished a pyramid, and then said pyramid falls; causing them to rebuild it, brick by brick. And a Pyramid is made up of over 1.5 Million bricks.

But, a friendship is made up of much more bricks than a Pyramid. It's filled with more complex patterns and shapes. A place with more locked doors, and to open them doors we need a key, or to reach a higher door, more bricks. And these bricks and keys represent trust. Without trust a friendship is as worthless as a wet towel. It's a vain a shallow friendship, barely allowed the name of a friendship. These acquaintances are the kind of people who view people as nothing, and friendships as nothing more than trivialities. But, fortunately these people are few and far between and I have yet to have the pleasure of meeting one.

And while so far, all I've done is rant about how friendships can fail, I will now move onto friendships which have stood the tests of time. I am still in contact with 3 people from my primary school, I have known them altogether for over 30 years, and while we don't talk as much, we still do and that's the best thing. But since moving to St.Louis, I have made some new brilliant friends, and despite knowing the best of them for only 4 years, and I can honestly say, they know me best. They know almost everything about me. And for me to allow someone to get that close, says alot about this person, and I'm grateful for them. Without them, I can honestly say I'd be in an even darker place.

Another person who gets a shout, is someone I met online, yes yes, here come the trumpets for that fact, and to be honest, she is easily one of my greatest, if not the greatest of my friends. I love her dearly, and the fact that I can't actually talk to her face-to-face kills me. And to think that friendship started because of a friend request over Facebook. It still amazes me how life manages to bring the right people together.

And with that, I finish this blog.

Peace and Anarchy, folks.

I see now...

This is a short story, about a man in a chair looking back on his life.

---

As I sit here, and look out at this barren landscape, I realise how much I’ve missed out on. My sheer naiveté of other people, of feelings, of myself…Of love… has left me dejected and lonesome, but while I was growing up, I considered intimacy a bad thing; a foolish move, I believed that being close to someone was weakness.

I see now how stupid I was, as the days went on, then weeks, then months, then years. I saw one by one, my friends, of whom I was never more than an occasional “drinking buddy”, fall in love, and be happy…I never believed in love…I only saw it as mere lust and jealously, and the fear of being alone.

I see now how stupid I was, how selfish I was. As people who I thought only cared about me, because they thought it was the “right thing to do”, or out of boredom, turned against me, and started avoiding me, that was when that whole in this thing I never understood began. And the pain was just unbearable, whenever that hole opened, it would stay open, and never close.

I see now, they genuinely cared for me, maybe even loved me…My own fear pushed them away, pushed me away…I thought this was best for them, maybe it was…Maybe I’ll never know, but I know now it certainly wasn’t best for me…When I realised they cared for me, sincerely, the hole in that place tore even more, and once again I felt that unbearable pain.

I see now that my family did want what was best for me, and my arrogance, my sheer unbearable arrogance pushed them away, and caused them to despise me, to openly say I wasn’t a family member, I thought once again, that this was good for them, good for me. And I see now that for a while it was good for me, and whenever my mother tried to tell me how much she loved me before she died, and my selfishness refused to believe it, to believe her, it made me feel good, but when she died, knowing I didn’t love her, it once again tore that place I can’t describe, and this time the pain was worse than both times before, this once was sheer agony, a crescendo of pain.

I see now, that this was the point in my life, were I secretly knew I was doomed to be lonely, and I tried to move on in my life. I moved onto the streets of the city, I drunk, I snorted, I injected, I did everything, I slept with a different hooker every night, but it never made me happy, it made me feel even more empty, it ripped that place almost in two, with nothing but a thread hanging on, a voice was begging me to stop; I wouldn’t listen. No, this was my path. I was forced to walk this path, at the time I blamed my upbringing…Now I blame myself.

I see now that with this revelation of my past mistakes, that this tore that place, and left it barren and utterly irreversible. I see now that this barren landscape that I am staring into…Is…Or perhaps more applicable…was…my heart…

Erm...

As the title says, I have not blogged in over a month and I'm not sure whether or not this is a good or a bad thing, as no one has complained about it. Ha. Ha. Ha, yes, I see we are all smiling nervously now and looking away. Well, fine. Maybe you haven't missed me. But, I sure have missed typing out my blogs. It's such fun.

But, since I haven't blogged here, some things have happened. Here is a short list:

• Lost my iPod.
• Found my iPod.
• Played at the school concert with Rock Band.
• Played at the school concert with Folkestra.
• Recorded with Folkestra twice.
• Put a piece of recorded material on my iPod.
• Refallen in love with Faunts.
• Found out I like re-reading Harry Potter books.
• Bought a new game.
• Converted to Zen Buddhism.
• Barely handed in my Chemistry Coursework on time

This is just the jist of it and I can't be arsed to type everything out. And Ryan, my grammar wasn't abhorrant! WAS IT?! WAS IT?!

Peace and anarchy, folks. ;D

Ho Hum - Why bother? 'cause it's worth it. Hopefully.

As I float from day to day, with an ever more present feeling of surreality, it makes me wonder, is this all real? Or is it a dream? 'cause, when I am in one of my surreal trances, everything makes less sense, it seems to me that this just can't be real. It's hard to explain, but if anyone has had the same feeling, knows what I mean. It's odd, and wonderful at the same time, it's indescrible, but, terrifying all at the same time.

'cause, I mean, what if it is just some dream, we are all just figments of each other's imagination, or just mine, in this case. Solipsism. It's a word, that's...Odd. It's what all of what I said means, yet, I've never once looked to it for peace, or solace. It's a selfish person's way out. But, that's just me generalising, for I've meet someone who was a solipsist, and she was one of the lovliest people, I ever knew.

But still, I do find solipsism, awfully stupid. But, I can understand how'd people go for it. I just can't seem to find it appealing. All that, about everything being the work of your imagination, it's just preposterous. 'cause I sure know, I'd never dream of this hell hole of a world. This world is unbearable, and certainly not something you would ever imagine. Unless you were a complete freak. But, that being said. I am that freak. I would imagine something like this, 'cept humanity had space travel.

But, I wouldn't like to believe my life, is just my imagination, as that's scary, and frightening, I like the idea, of being unique among many different unique imaginations. It's wonderful, sharing one's ideas, with other people. It's really something. And, I do hope that life has a point, and that, there is something at the end of this. In which we return, to God's embrace. I do hope that, and it was only until recently, I didn't believe that. And, I'm glad I do know. It's a great feeling.

So, as you can see, this blog post wasn't too bad. It was enjoyable to write, and I hope it's enjoyable to read.

Peace and Anarchy, folks.

Music, and the like

Well, music. It's in all of us. Or, so I was told. And, it isn't, of course, as I have little musical writing ability, and I can play it, fairly averagely. But, that's OK, isn't it? I know how to appreciate music, and that's the most important thing, if you can appreciate, something above all else, then, you are able to criticise it.

I hate when people say, "You have to be good at something to criticise it," that's utter bull, I have little in the way, of musical creative abilty, as I've stated, and I can criticise music, which I believe is utter shite.

But still, I love music, it is one of the few things that I look forward to. Be it playing and creating music, or listening to it. It's the best, and it always picks me up, should I need a pick me up. Which is often, surprisingly. I guess, it's's not, but, whatever.

So, right now, I'm digging really slow, melodic music, which is very relaxing I guess; nothing, is better than a nice sub-dued song after a stressful day to chill you out. Which, is awesome. I guess, you could say I have a rather ecclectic music taste. Which is half-right, I s'pose.

As I'm really into indie acts, shout out to Clara for that, and they make my day.

And with that, I sign off.

Peace and Anarchy folks, Joshua.