Denial

No, I'm not in love with you.

I'm not even in love with being in love with you.

I just wanted to feel something.

And you were around.

Promise

Love is more than a feeling.
For to a feeling you cannot commit.
Love is more of a promise
To a person, to not let them quit.

The Mind-Wanderers

They criticize the quiet.
The ones exploring space.
The bashful few that let their minds wander.

They claim they are lazy.
Or stupid.
Or they waste time.

They think one must be acting
Or saying.
Or doing.

The wanderers are crushed.
Transformed.
And fixed.

Their memories are forgotten.
Trampled.
Deformed.

Their thoughts were unappreciated.
Lonely.
But content.

Now they cease to exist.
Blank, dark.
And cold.

So here is to the quiet.
The ones exploring space.
The bashful few that let their minds wander.

Let their dreams forever be nurtured.
Let their minds forever fun free.

Above all, let them know that different is not the same as bad.

Blake's Blade

A foreign force began pounding my head. Louder, stronger, faster. I grew tense as my eyes were stunned by the blinding light of morning. I thwarted my Batman alarm clock from when I was eight and fell out of bed. After throwing on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, I headed to the bathroom. One look in the mirror revealed that not much had changed.  My hair was still untamable and tangley; my nose too pointed and my chin was still covered in a patchy excuse for a beard. Clumsy from growth spurts and lanky by design, I supposed it would have been foolish to expect an improvement overnight.

            A neat stack of pancakes accompanied by a side of sausage awaited me at the table. I found a note from Liza wishing me luck on my first day back. She apologized that she had to be to work so early on such a big, big day! I dumped the grub in the trashcan and cleaned the dishes. I still didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t really have an appetite anymore. I downed some coffee and slung my pack over my shoulder. “Guess I better get going,” I thought.

            As I walked the halls of good old Talma High, I found it hard to disappear. Everywhere I went, silence followed. I felt the slimy fingers of people’s stares scratch my back. Some underclassmen tried to smile at me. Some guy with weird glasses told me that he was “praying really hard for me” even though we had never met. Most people just gaped and dropped what they were doing. Their whispers crept into my ears like silent bombs, crashing and booming along the way. They didn’t like that I was back. They wanted me to leave. I was tainting their image. It was bad enough that I- uh, left. But now I was back. What nerve I had for actually thinking I deserved to return. How could I let Liza talk me into this being a good idea?

Teachers hid their shock with half-hearted smiles and weak handshakes. I knew what they were thinking. I knew they weren’t expecting me to ever go back to school, especially not this school. Their fragile words and feeble attempts to make conversation weren’t fooling anybody. I knew they felt uncomfortable around me. As if they didn’t have issues with me before- before I left. I got through my first few classes without any major issues even though Mr. Clarkson wouldn’t stop looking at me and Mrs. Mack gave way more homework than I remember. All of them still seemed kind of blank. They didn’t know how to react to me. At least nobody had the stones to call on me to answer any questions.

The bell sent the animals flocking toward the cafeteria. I stepped out for a quick smoke before following myself. After obtaining a sloppy scoop of mashed potatoes resembling a washcloth and a hunk of green meat, neither of which I planned to eat, I scanned the room. Finally, one place where I wasn’t the sore thumb. I was lost in the chaos. The jocks were at their table, the druggies in theirs. Braniacs, musical-geeks, nerds:  they all had their spot. I turned to return to my old corner by myself, but even that was taken up by the apparently expanding Asian population.

Out of options, I started for the bathroom to eat in a stall when that dude with the funny glasses stopped me. “Hey! Blake!” he grinned.

“Uh, hi?” I responded.

“How’s it going?”

“Um. Fine?”

A silence.

“Yourself?”

“Oh! I am great!”

“Wonderful,” I mumbled.

“How are your classes going?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good.”

I waited for him to ask me another pointless question or move out of my way. He did neither. “Is there something you wanted?” I asked.

“Not specifically. Just wanted to see how your day was.”

Another one of those fantastic silences.

“Well, it was fine.”

            “Glad to hear it! So who are you sitting with?”

            “Yes,” I replied dryly.

He caught the drift.  As I began to walk away, he called out, “Blake, if you ever, you know, need a place to eat, we have an open spot.”

“Like Hell,” I spat as I dumped my lunch and went out for another smoke.

I pushed through the rest of my day, ignoring the gawks and murmuring voices of noisy classmates. I found twenty bucks on the kitchen counter with another note. Liza was working late again. She flooded me with apologies that I would have to wait to tell her about the big, big day! At least I could grab some pineapple pizza and play my music loud enough to blast out my eardrums! I headed up to my room and flopped on my bed.

I couldn’t get the snot-nosed faces from school out of my mind. Their fake smiles and empty words clouded my body. Nobody wanted me back there. It was idiotic to expect anything to return to normal, even if normality sucked in the first place. I sacrificed what chance I had at acceptance when l left.

The cool touch of the familiar metal teased my fingertips.  I found myself grasping it without remembering digging through my drawer to find it. A stain from countless indulgences looked up at me. Questioning me. Patronizing me.  Old temptations clouded my perception. The floodgates were open. My demons used to fight me. I used to care; I fought them. I ran. I hid. I cowered. Alone.

But now they called out to me sweetly, like an old friend. Begging I return. They missed me. They needed me. The wanted me.  Finally somebody wanted me. They lifted their delicate fingers, beckoning me to return home.  Reality desperately clang to me as I pushed her away.  I knew she wouldn’t have the strength to fight me much longer. Not with the aid of my forgotten friends. Motion began to slur until things were still. Sound faded from a desperate whisper to a hopeless murmur. My senses blurred until I was all that remained. I was invited once more to forget. To release. To feel. I griped my blade more tightly. My confidence was growing. My assurance was swelling. I deserve. I deserve. I deserve.

Ding-dong.

I’m torn from ecstasy by the doorbell. Disgruntled, I stash the blade and make my way downstairs. I find none other than my lunch buddy standing at my door. I stare, not sure what to think, waiting for him to explain why he showed up at my door in the middle of December.

He finally piped up with a measly, “Hey.”

Hey? He, a stranger, showed up at my house, unannounced, in the snow. And all he had to say was hey?

“Uh, Hi?” I replied.

“Hey.”

The conversation was riveting.

“Can I help you?”

“No… Wait! Yes! I mean, umm. Wait. Let me start over.”

Riveting.

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked.

My mind shot back to the blade in my room, waiting for me, calling to me. “Sorta,” I told him.

“Oh,” he sounded disappointed, “ok.”

I started to close the door, but something stopped me, “Why?”

“I just wanted to invite you to grab some coffee or something. No big. Have a good night!” He began walking away, so I closed the door and began up the stars. I turned to see him through the window. This guy, this random guy, wanted to grab coffee or something? I didn’t even know his name. Before I processed what I was doing, I was running after him.

“I… I thought you were busy?” he asked.

“Eh,” I smiled, “it can wait.” Our footprints in the snow left a trail of where we had been. The funny part was, no matter where we made them, nobody but us could decide where the next ones would be. “Oh!” I choked, “I wanted to ask you something!”

“Shoot!”

“This might sound really ignorant of me, but I never caught your name.”

He laughed, “I guess I never threw it! My name’s Micheal.”

We walked to The Java-Nut, where we had the worst coffee I have ever tasted. Somehow, I didn’t mind.