Various Unfinished Writings

Spin me round and make me weak
Draw me in close so I can't speak
Destroy the man I used to be
It's overrated to be free
Spin me round and make me weak
Draw me in close so I can't speak
Destroy the man I used to be
It's overrated to be free, oh yeah

Slavery's a different game
when you're slaving to a person you would die for
Gives slavery a different name

---

It's seven o'clock on a Friday night. Footsteps march up the stairs with a silent determination. You want to run, but don't. You don't want to seem so bold. But you can't stop the beating in your heart, the quickening in your pulse, and the feeling that all things are possible.

This is magic.

"This is my room," you say, flipping on the light. You launch yourself onto your bed and sit facing her. She stands with her hands in her back pockets, like a potential tenant, ready to move into that space. Her eyes, like blue candles, scan your life's assortment, illuminating everything they touch. She walks over to you, eyes upwards, looking at a poster of the Milky Way that is tacked to the ceiling. Your eyes follow hers and she sits next to you. A wave of scent washes over you and half of your reasoning centers are gone, just like that.

---

I have nothing to apologize for, in sight of the fact that I was merely speaking openly for once.

And if that created an uncomfortable realm of conversation, I cannot be continually blamed for your refusal to enter that sphere.

And this does not mean that I am a lost cause. It only means that you won't talk to me any more. It does mean that you have things to say but won't say them, which means whatever it is you think might help me to understand myself is less important than maintaining your own comfort. And it means that via your perception, there is help needed. Maybe there is; it would be unfair of me to say there wasn't.

But if I need help and you refuse to give it, where does that leave me? Is it something you're hoping I'll figure out for myself? And if/when I do, how will you know? How will we ever reach beyond this barrier that has been built (I say again) by openness?

---

There are, I think, two remedies for this. Forget about what "this" is. Just close your eyes and read.

The first and most obvious is the relationship. Comfort. The quintessential coupling, the... the... whatever.

The other--and sometimes I swear to God more delicious--remedy, is the Badassery. You know, kicking down doors. Blowing up cars. Fighting evil. It's good for the soul, I swear. Just one hitch.

You can't go around doing that!

Well, you can, but you probably wouldn't cozy up to the consequences. I mean, the people that do go around doing this wind up in jail and stuff.

Those of us with greater self-control opt for the more reasonable (read: pansy) way. We watch movies or read books where "our" "heroes" do the things we always wish we could. While I hesitate to label that as pathetic, I most definitely want to resist this idea...