Fugitives and Refugees

It’s amazing what the world turns into when you stop looking for anything, what you begin to see, and the changes that take place within. Never has it ever been easy to find happiness, but the issue there might just fall within the searching all the time. Always a firm believer in the mantra that “no one said life was supposed to be easy”, for the first time in my twenty-one years it’s starting to make sense. I’ve lived in the past with a shroud of negativity, no fear, just a pessimistic attitude about it all. Why? I wasn’t finding whatever it was that I was searching for. Nonetheless, nothing make sense, life kicks my ass daily, and yet I’m managed in all the rubble, to build some semblance of happiness. Abandoning the idea that happiness is achieved through looking, I’ve learned through all of this that the cards I’m dealt are those for which I need to play best. It’s all purely random, and there is no such thing as a mulligan on life. We’re given what we’ve been dealt and it’s an art to remain steadfast and solider onward.

Inside jokes, laughter, and hearing the voice of someone you truly care about are good indicators that life will be okay. Even seeing his or her face can be an indicator that you will make it through whatever is ailing you. Having one of your close friends look at you the same way they’ve looked at you for the past six years, and make sense without having to say a word can be the best feeling on earth. Better feelings include finding the gift you’ve been searching for, or laying up at night thinking about what you’re going to do for someone’s birthday you care about. Being at all selfless feels better, I feel better. And for the first time I have a reason to be selfless…even if it’s not always reciprocated or appreciated the way I want it to be, I still don’t want to stop.

I’m being challenged with something that is bigger than myself –that, if I work on all the little things that I’ve let slip through the cracks, I can hold on to. This past year has awakened me to a lot of the realities of how my heart stands after the wars I’ve found prior. Since forever I’ve believed that withstood whatever challenged me, and that I hadn’t suffered any consequences from any of it, and this year has proven me wrong. Nothing like a cool slap in the face the first moment you begin to panic and can immediately pin point why you feel the way you do. I may have been selfish as they came, keeping my life from everyone, never having been willing to let go and be open with just one person, and now I’ve been given a run for my money.

So maybe I’m not okay, but dammit, I’m trying.

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Dancing Domestic.

Let’s buy a house, and paint the walls fun colors, you’d let me decorate. The walls would mix and match with how we felt, the hot passion red of our bedroom would blend with the warm heat of the kitchen. Let’s let the colors mix and mingle, for yellow kisses in the hall way, and for green smiles in your office. Let’s play our music like we never thought we could, dancing naked in the living room, head walks and two-steps through the doorways. Let’s start believing in stainless steel and debate over kitchen tables. Let’s buy furniture that makes you happy, let’s develop an IKEA nesting habit and spend Sundays attempting to construct it.  “I’d kiss you there,” you’d say and the love seat would be ours. Let’s wonder which cleaning products work best, and share pained expressions when the air conditioner fails. “I can’t fix this,” I’ll mumble and you’ll laugh at my candor, and the moment will be ours. Let’s buy bed sheets that we will tangle between legs and knees. Let’s let me come home late and you come home late through our own door, and let’s never ask the questions that beg for dishonesty or reveal mistrust. Let’s replace beer stained carpets and wonder where our nights have gone in our liquor soaked haze. Let’s share a pillow mantra and worship in free furniture religions that we can repaint and rebuild to suit our fancies. And we can stop worrying about the future, and we can start washing all the dishes, and we can never take ourselves too seriously. And you can come home, and I can jump up to kiss you. And we can hold shows in our cellar, and you can laugh at how I say that, and we can invite your friends, and I’ll make some friends, and we can take pictures of the silly things we do. And we can start a four legged family and we can get up early, and we can never be afraid to not sit still. And we we can curl up on the sofa and watch TV, and we can never lose the butterflies. And we’d have a bed of our own, a home of our own…and we can pretend to be grown up.

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Notes on a Generation.

Have you ever felt that our generation ‘lacks’ something, some sort of unity/uniformity?

I honestly believe that our generation is benefiting from the lack of uniformity, but in the same vein the terms “unity” and “uniformity” should not be statements that could be replaced with one another. If there’s anything that our generation lacks it’s all the things that have held generations back prior. While our generation is soaked in the pure wetness of the media influence, it has not been an all together bad thing. While obesity and issues of social interaction do prove to be legitimate concerns, we are born from a generation that first challenged social constructs and we now are truly bringing down the metaphorical hammer. While I cannot speak for my entire generation, I can say among all those for whom I have had genuine experiences, as a whole we’re definitely a lot more leftist in our actions and our beliefs. I truly believe that we represent a generation that believes that social hierarchies need to be disbanded, the humanities need to be strengthened and that all people truly deserve equal treatment. We were put through school learning of Martin Luther King, Jr. and we’ve been unfortunate enough to witness the political downfalls from people who have held fast to outlandish right wing ideals to a point where it looks all together foolish and destroys the very country for which we live. (That is, if clarification is needed, America.) If we are as a culture and a generation united on anything, it is our ability to see through the immutable haze and reject uniformity.

What would I see if I were on a planet 10 lightyears away and looked at you through my telescope?

With the way things have been going and what are probably our government’s needs to hide new advancements from the public eye, I’d say that there probably wouldn’t be a genuine change in the way things are headed now. As mentioned prior, it is my hope that at this point the 20-somethings that make up my generation have taken up more control and the hole that is our o-zone layer has not increased in size and scope. I could ramble on for pages about my hope that there are no longer American troops in occupation in a country that is fighting a war based on a lie, but I believe that is understood.

Do you believe every single thing we do, no matter how small, will have its effect on eternity?

Eternity is the continuation of time; therefore it’s a bit asinine to assume that everything that has been done thus far and that everything that will be done won’t have at least some effect on the outcomes of future generations. Nonetheless, to assume that the concept of “eternity” has an ability to be manipulated is also a bit ridiculous. Eternity is a unit to measure time, albeit a reaching one, and time is not something that can be manipulated in its most literal sense. I’m stretching that a bit, but the idea has been cast nonetheless. Case in point, let’s assumes that everyday at nine you eat an oat bran muffin. Clearly being regular is of great importance to you. Now, due to some unforeseen stomach problems, an oat bran muffin is out of the question at nine. This complete lack of “muffin-ry” will not change what 5 o’clock is -it will still be 5 o’clock regardless of whether or not you’ve eaten this muffin. Nonetheless, if something important happened at 5 o’clock as a consequence of this oat bran muffin (whatever the gory details be, I’m going to leave that up to your imagination) then at 5 o’clock you’re concept of time may be altered, but the general concept of 5 o’clock would remain the same. As it is, that does not mean that everything we do does not leave our footprint. Everything that has occurred and will occur will have an impact; nothing we do is futile although it may feel that way. Do not ever stop believing that your actions are not impactful.

Did you ever drown in summer or in one of the other 4 seasons?

It’s my assumption that this is a figurative statement, not a literal one. (To cover my bases, no I’ve never drowned literally, as a New Englander drowning in the winter would be a pretty awful experience.) Figuratively, I’d say that last summer did swallow me whole. Saying this, I was drenched in being in love and feeling everything that it was in my toes, I was genuinely happy and while I was not all-together free from responsibility, my life did seem to float around me -much like I assume it would if I was actually drowning (minus the whole flailing and gulping air aspect of it all). Nonetheless, I did not come up (or down) from my happiness cloud for much reality-air for the summer months. In fall is when I truly hit the bottom of the lake and reality crashed in around me. It is my silent hope that this next fall has more weightless experiences, but only time will tell.

(If you believe in free will…) Aside from a blessing, is freedom also a burden?

I’ve seen many a bumper sticker that forces the statement that “Freedom isn’t free” with an American flag. It’s safe to say that these stickers are talking about the war, but the statement is still true. Freedom has been built upon countless generations working hard to improve conditions and strive for equality but at the same time freedom, or the lack thereof, has come at the cost of something else. Freedom from financial burden is a consequence of money, money a consequence of society, society a consequence of humanity, humans a consequence evolution. I do not believe in anything other than free-will, so my judgments may seem slightly biased, although that is not the intention. We are free to make whatever decisions we would like to, while there are laws and social constructs that inhibit us from following through on many of our decisions without consequence sometimes, the decision still has the ability to be made. That being said, we must face the consequences of whatever decision we chose to make and that may be a burden in and of itself, but the fact of the matter is it is always a “blessing” to do the things that you want to, or at least have the ability to. Nothing is controlling us, there is no puppet master pulling the strings, and acceptance of this fact truely makes people reject the assumption that we can blame the consequences of our actions on anyone other than ourself. People need to start owning what they chose to do.

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The Birth of Mediocrity.

What are we if we’re not projects? A constant compounding of our parents best attempts at success? Say your parents are rocket scientists, some truely brilliant minds of this century who have contributed to science in such big ways that even they are humbled by it…That’s mum and dad. They’ve come together in some harmonious matrimony, assuming all things equal and ignoring the divorce rates this country are so proud to boost. After a few years when they’ve come to the realization that the spawning of a new offspring, namely you, is in order…they get to work. Nine months later you emerge into a world where you are nothing more than a blank slate, a compounding of two brilliant minds who have designed such aeronautical feats that they defy this planet’s boundries. What are you if not a project for them? Our parents are nothing more than narcisists disguised as paternal adults hell bent or rearing a child into a successful brilliant future that they can boast about at the next cookout. Assuming of course that rocket scientists are big into grilling. They follow the manual and never skip a step…Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy…the whole ordeal of attempting to trick their offspring into believing things that they now know are one giant farce. The books are read, the experiences and life lessons taught, and quietly they vest in some silent hope that you’ll be the next big thing. You will be their miracle, their genius, their Nobel prize winning superhero for the modern day, their masterpeice. Nonetheless, we’re just a mess. We’re a malfunctioning disaster of what they’d once hoped would be their greatest accomplishment. We’re the living proof that they’ve faced limitations and defeat in more facets than they’d originally planned for. We’re born human but it takes a lifetime to be a person. It’s a pretty honest guarantee that there’s a better chance of us being less than what they had hoped we’d be -their Vietnam War. That’s not to say we’re complete failures, we’re not the earth’s biological waste…doomed to spend the rest of our lives being sub-par, we’re just not what they’d expected. The large majority of people are truely brilliant, amazing and fantastic, but we’re probably not the savants our parents expected us to be that first day in the birthing room, when we’re still blue and inhaling the first breath’s of a new life. Nonetheless, it’s nothing to get upset about, the opportunity will come when we can prove this wrong, when we can raise a child so amazing and brilliant that they have to come up with a new prize to give this little cherub in honor of all of it’s worldly accomplishments.

That’s the whole point, isn’t it?

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Hunger, American style.

Humans are considered higher species because of our innate ability to decipher right from wrong, therefore some consider that enough of a plausible argument for the consumption of animals. Nonetheless, if the possession of an adequate conscience [assuming that conscience is, in its simplest sense, the ability to determine right from wrong] makes you human, what accounts for sociopaths? If these people, however human they may seem, lack a conscience, then do they become merely animals? Is their humanity stripped of them and instead they are simply wolves in sheep’s clothing? An animal with smooth skin and more advanced skills, but an animal nonetheless. Point being that if one is consuming animals, with no concrete concern for their suffrage because of the animal’s lack of moral reasoning, where does the cannibalism fall? When will the day come when we’re chopping up the Jeffrey Dahmers for our stew, Ted Bundy becomes a midnight snack, and people start downing a few una-bombers for desert?

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It is what’s for dinner, tonight.


A common predator of the antelope is the lion. Lions, in a search for food, seek out the meaty flesh of the antelope as a means of nutrition and in due course, survival. Throughout the evolution of the lion, the adaptive trait of killing antelopes for food has evolved through natural selection. That is to say that throughout time, lions that were successfully able to hunt and kill antelopes were more likely to reproduce because they were better fed, whereas the lions who failed at hunting and killing antelopes would eventually perish and therefore be unable to reproduce, all because of the food they retain from the antelope. This food allows the lion to gain strength to fuel them, which aids in their ability to prey upon more antelopes and, in the long run, reproduce. Lions do not kill antelope to strengthen their species, and they most certainly do not do it for the pure sport of it. Killing for sport would be detrimental to their survival because it would be wasted energy that they would essentially need to reproduce and fight off predators. Instead, they seek out antelopes for purely nutritional purposes –antelope meat being their main goal. Antelope meat, like all meat, is rich in proteins, nutrients and vitamins that the lion needs for his lifestyle. These nutrients and proteins keep the lion alive for a day longer, and therefore it is a day longer in which the lion is able to copulate with their female counterparts. In his novel The Selfish Gene, Richard Dawkins proposes the question of why lions seek out the meat of other animals specifically. He questions why lions do not just eat the meat of other lions, because other members of the lions own species are made of meat too. If lions were to hunt and kill members of his own species, this would be considered cannibalism. While antelope may be slightly harder to find and may involve an element of hunting, why don’t lions just kill their own species that are also rich in the nutrients that they need and they are available to them?
Humans are the same way. Grocery stores, restaurants, fast food places and convenience stores litter the streets of the world. They are places that humans go to every day to get food. While the lion is expected to go out and hunt for their food, the human is able to drive through the drive-thru, open the refrigerator or pick something of the menu and gain almost instant nutrition. While it can be argued that not everything that humans eat is for their own survival, in the general scheme of things, we eat to live. Without food we cannot survive, and if we cannot survive, we are unable to reproduce. So, even though we do not have to go out into our backyard and find a suitable antelope to hunt down and kill for dinner, the mere process of getting in the car and heading to the local grocery store to pick from the steaks and chicken breasts is also a survival technique. Nonetheless, much like the lion risks losing energy hunting for antelopes, humans also must sacrifice a bit of their hard earned cash, which for arguments purpose may be equivalent to the energy of the lion. Therefore, the question that Richard Dawkins purposed about why there is not cannibalism among lions still reigns true. How come Jeffrey Dahmer was placed in prison for hunting, killing and eventually eating members of his own species, rape and sodomy aside? In our society, cannibalism is unnatural and deviant. Nonetheless, if in ancient times our ancestors had eaten the flesh of their own species and it lead in their own survival, then it is likely that the gene would have been passed on, and therefore we would still continue this behavior today. Yet, we do not kill our parents because we’re hungry or our classmates because we know that if we eat their meat, rich in proteins, it will allow us to survive and reproduce for another day.
The lack of cannibalism in humans and in lions is an adaptive trait; Richard Dawkins argued that cannibalism was not an evolutionary stable strategy. An evolutionary stable strategy is a strategy adapted by a species that aids in their survival and reproduction, and “if most members of a population adopt [this strategy] it cannot be bettered by an alternative strategy.” (Dawkins 69) Therefore, there is a reason that cannibalism does not work. If one were able to put aside the pure fact that eating your brother seems almost inhuman and can look at it as purely survival strategy, instead of cannibalism, in ancient times seems to make a bit of sense. Our ancestors put their necks on the line to hunt animals that they could eat for food. They ran the risk of getting mauled or killed in order to eat the meat from a bear or deer. Nonetheless, they continued to hunt animals outside the human species. In theory, wouldn’t it have been easier to simply kill another member of the human species whilst sitting around the fire instead of battling the elements and other predators in order to get food? Somewhere along the evolutionary pathway humans, like lions, were able to learn that cannibalism was a bad idea.
First, it is important to dismiss the idea that cannibalism would go against the greater good, because that is not the purpose of natural selection. Natural selection and the genes that survive through natural selection are essentially selfish. Their main focus and goal is to for their body to be able to successfully reproduce and therefore pass on the genes to the next generation. They are unconcerned with the greater good of the species. In fact, they are completely unconcerned with what the animal next to them of the same species is doing with their lives, as long as they can produce a viable amount of offspring. If one can dismiss this idea, they are able to discharge the possible answer that cannibalism would mean that you run the risk of killing a potential mate, or if one were to eat members of their species than the species would not survive. Genes are not necessarily altruistic. They do not worry about the better of other members of their species, instead they are purely concerned with their own ability to reproduce and be passed on, therefore eating another human, if it meant that that gene could still be passed on, would pass the natural selection test. Nonetheless, it has not, so there must be another reason.
The best explanation as to why humans do not eat other humans and lions do not eat other lions is best explained with the lion example. Lions are ferocious, they are natural born fighters. They are able to successfully take down an animal that may be a foot taller than them and eat that animal. Their teeth are made for destruction and their claws and speed match that. If an antelope were ever to fight back at a lion it would still be killed, in fact it’s not likely that antelopes stand at chance against the lion. Accordingly, if the lion has such a strong ability to fight back against a potential antelope attack, which is not likely to happen, one can only imagine what would happen if that lion attempted to kill another lion who was stronger and bigger. Because the adaptive traits of lions say to fight back, then this lion, lion A, would lash back at the lion, lion B, that was attacking him in order to eat him. Since lion A is much stronger and more evenly matched against lion B, as opposed to the antelope who is at distinct disadvantage against a lion, the likelihood that lion B would get hurt, or maybe even killed is much higher. Consequently, it would not make much sense for lions to hunt and kill other lions because of the “danger of retaliation.” (Dawkins 83) When a lion hunts an antelope, he is more likely to be able to kill that antelope, and less likely to get killed by the antelope, but when a lion fights another lion who is essentially evenly matched against him in strength, he runs a greater risk of getting killed when that lion retaliates. If the lion he is attacking retaliates and he dies then his genes die with him, as well as his ability to reproduce and pass on said genes. Thus it does not make much sense for a lion to run the risk of getting killed by another lion in his attempts to eat him, instead its much safer to kill an animal of a difference species, one whom is less matched in strength. The same can be said for humans. Since humans in ancient times knew how to fight, they were likely to know how to fight each other and thus ran the risk of getting killed by each other in a bitter fight for survival, whereas if a human was to go out and kill a fish, it was not likely the fish would retaliate and kill the human. So, as more humans survived and reproduced by killing animals that were of lesser matched species, the gene for this behavior survived and the gene for cannibalism was essentially erased.

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Giving in, not giving up.

This is one moment in your life. One moment in a indefinite series of moments that will eventually consume you. This moment sucks. It sucks in that big way that you wish you didn’t have more sucky moments coming to you. But the reality is, there will be worse moments. There will be harder times, and you’ll look back and laugh that this hurt so much. Sounds pessimistic, but on the other side of things, there will be all those moments that far outweigh the shit moments. Those moments when you’re glad you stuck around and didn’t give up when you wanted to. That’s all you can ever hope from life. We’re given a heart and a brain and a means to cognitively get through all those moments when you felt like there wasn’t a reason to keep thinking about anything. There is no right answer to life. There is not set guidelines as to how you’re supposed to live, no ultimate happiness, no paramount tragedy. There is just these series of moments that write your book for you, that answer your questions, and that motivate you to keep on living. Suicide victims never get the chance to truely see that. If you spend your whole life within the expectation that your life isn’t as good as it could be, you’ll never truely be satisfied. In this one moment, this is as good as it’s going to get for this moment. I sit here on a couch in a home that scares me in ways I couldn’t begin to describe, and in this moment, this is all I have. This moment is my life, and there are plenty of moments to come that will be better, and plenty that are going to make me wish I was back here right now. There needs to be a time when you’re own happiness no longer hides the truth from you. There needs to be a time when you understand that there is no cookie-cutter response for how our lives are supposed to turn out and there is in no way a set definition surrounding how you’re bound to live yours. Stop envying the people with the better relationships, the better cars, the better jobs. Stop feeling like you’re not adequate to help people who have been through worse than you. Stop thinking that you’re reality isn’t as real as their’s just because you haven’t experienced the things you have, because this is your reality. This love, as challenging as it may be, is your life in this moment and there are going be a million and one things that want to take that away from you. So what if that happens? Then it’s another sucky moment. It’s another time when you can’t help but wonder what the point of it all is. Then that moment will come when you can breathe again, that split second when you smile through all the tears you may have grown so accustomed to shedding. It’s in that small and somewhat fleeting moment that you need to understand that you do have the capacity to smile again, just as much as you have the ability to love again. So take it for face value, embrace the pain, no strength was ever built on weakness. In the end, everything will be okay. If you can’t believe that, redefine your definition of “okay.”

Dedicated to: MC

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Vigilant resolves.


When I’m standing outside, the smooth hint of rain slipping down my jacket, hands exposed, feet cocked inward in a way that only I stand…I think of what it will be like. That moment when our eyes connect again. In my head I’m cavalier -I’m slick and brilliant with an edge of morose attitude only you’d comprehend. In my head I’m smirking. A slight and coy smile that produces itself on the right side of my face, my eye crunching up and my chipmunk cheeks you toyed with so freely appearing from a once sullen face. My lips would barely move, my fingers coming up to shoulder height in my ever present and characteristic peace sign, and I say ‘hi’. Just ‘hi’, ‘hello’ is too long, ‘what’s up’ too impersonal, ‘hey’ is someone else- not me, and a long drawn out ‘hiiii’ is serial-killer-hiding-in-the-closet, and that’s not who I’d like to be to you…today. I’m hard to picture, simply because I know my future self is more likely to be nervous, fumbling all over who I am and all the things I fear. In reality, you’ll be all the things I hope to be. Cavalier and cunning, smart and fearless, quick witted and handsome. You’ll walk up, hands in front pockets and crack a smile at me with a ‘hey’ that only you can pull off as you draw out your words in a style much your own -not me. In those moments, I’ll be nothing, I’ll be awestruck and freakish. My spine will tingle and my heart won’t beat properly. Maybe then I’ll say ‘hi’ and laugh like I do, when I just push air from my lungs, beyond my malfunctioning heart, and up through my nostrils. Not so much a laugh, more or less a quick breath outward, before I explode. Beyond that, I know I’ll walk behind you and watch your shoulders or feet, I know I’ll sit with my legs crossed next to you, and I know I’ll look at you from the corner of my eyes and smirk at you. It’s those things I’m thinking about when I’m standing outside alone, placing myself there, preparing myself for a better place, whilst standing out on the wet pavement 100 miles away. Miles away, and I can’t face you now.

“It’s so good to see you now, the times been good to you. It’s just so amazing, your smile is shining through. Amazing how life can turn, one day to the next, you know…I’ll figure out where I am and figure which way to go. “

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Trigger happy personality.


I’m sitting in Theories of Personality and, in my attempts to stay awake, I have two fingers propping my ever drooping head up. In recognition of the fact that this class could be used in Guantanamo Bay to aid in prisoner torture, my fingers formed a smooth flesh colored gun aimed directly at my left temple. As my pointer finger fiddles lightly with the imaginary trigger, by body screams “pull!” Pull the cognitively constructed trigger and splatter my hypothetical brains all over the girl sitting next to me. I tilt my head and look at her from the corner of my eye. She’d cry. I convince myself, that on the off chance she was sprayed with my emotional brain juice, she’d bawl her eyes out. Nonetheless, it’d certainly send a clear and concise message to the professor. Analyze this professor, I’d say my personality screams boredom induced proclivities towards suicide. Alas, I digress. In my playful manner of bringing a gun to my head, I begin to wonder about the sheer profoundness of blowing your brains out, in the literal sense. I’ve never been one to toy with suicidal tendencies, but I question if that would be the way I’d want to go. Number one, you run the risk of just fucking yourself up enough to put you in a lovely, almost functional vegetable state. Flash to guardians fighting about pulling the plug, press coverage, and well…tubes. Then, I begin wondering where your best off putting the gun. You can’t easily put it the back of your head, and there’s always your temple, where my imaginary gun currently lay, or the more menacing of the options is to go barrel to mouth. So there it is, you put the gun half way down your throat, tongue the cold steel and try not to choke, all the while hopping that your aimed at the back of your brain so that you die instantly. To bring you back, I’m sitting in a classroom filled with students much like myself, me a potentially healthy and non-suicidal human being, drawing up the best ways in which to put a bullet through the back of my head whilst the teacher explains arbitrary and potentially useless ways to test monkeys. Nonetheless, all I can sit and wonder is, if in my final moments, I would want to taste a cool blend of steel and gun powder mixed with an intense fear of messing up and ending up as your favorite Lifetime special. In that moment, I envied suicide victims, at least they could accomplish something.

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This modern heart attack.


Murder, love, heartbreak, war…they all coincide at some point. We hit this metaphorical wall where our entire lives are wrapped up in other people. Love and destruction drive us, and we fall for our enemies in a constant battle with our own hearts. In the end, it’s all murder. Love, heartbreak, war…everything is just murder. We all die a little faster, and give up a little sooner every time we experience these things. I’m convinced that emotionally, love and heartbreak are on the same wavelengths. Just as much as your whole body feels love, in the same capacity it feels heartbreak. Frankly, they feel the same. It’s a hard, dark moment that takes over everything you are, regardless of whether or not it’s the promise of love or the bitter spoils of broken hearts. These emotions, whether your value them in the highest, or place them as the least of your concerns, are both diseases people spend their entire lives running from. There is no cure, there is no anecdote, there’s just the searing pain that comes with loving someone with everything you have in you, and the same searing pain we battle the minute our heart understands the capacity it has to break. You know those moments when you can feel your heart right inside your chest? Like its right there, an organ you can manipulate and change. As if you have some sort of control over your heart. Not so much the steady beats that pump life into the rest of your extremities, but more or less the heartache or joy that everyone feels. Much like your legs are not simply modes of transportation, but feet and knees that bruise and scar, you could really feel this too. There it was, pumping absentmindedly inside your chest, and you could really feel the hurt that was left there from all the times you got it wrong. Almost as though you could rip open your ribcage and pull out a vessel built purely on emotion, biological function aside. Attempts at self preservation through personal consolation was never a healing remedy, instead its a round-about way of affirming the fact something really is wrong. Thinking of someone else’s heart worsens the thumping hurt, its just a reminder that they feel nothing. So there you are, battling this pumping organ spreading life past your once numb soul and working as a catalyst for this new hurt. A hurt that you try so hard to mask in the triumph of a new hope. Nonetheless, this new hope, albeit a warming placebo, may be the next hit that spirals into further lifetimes of addiction. This addiction is our love and heartbreak, this pain is our lives…this empty room, a kamikaze solider prepared for battle, is our heart.

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