Outside of my english class

There is an ROTC student sitting on a bench in the hallway. He is in full uniform, combat camouflage. His face is blank, I have no idea what he is thinking. He's texting on his phone. I have no idea what those messages say.
There is a Muslim woman speaking Arabic on another bench in the hallway. She is covered almost fully, I only see her eyes and her hands. Her face is covered with a blank cloth, I have no idea what she is thinking. She is speaking to a friend. I have no idea what they are saying.

Poetry is action
Poetry is evanescent,
it is a moment and
it is beyond words.

It is movement.

I cannot help but revel in the beauty of this moment...

but our eyes didn't meet.
none of us.

<-----

There is never any going back, and I'm not sure I would want there to be. Knowing what I know now, experiencing what I have...
It would be catastrophic.


But so long as the smell of
the freshly cut grass
brings up ghosts from dirt in
my front lawn...
I'll be happy.

And I'll mourn nothing.

The moth

Are you cold outside,
my dear friend the moth?
Are you so afraid of shadows,
my dearest friend the moth?
Or do you seek them and that is why
you sit so close to my lantern,
my precious friend the moth?
Is your flight so truly listless,
my age-old friend the moth?

We all walk on shadows,
in those places between dreams
when I love you
I love you
I love you.

I'm a nerd.

This is some dialogue from the game Dragon Age: Origins. It happens after you (the warden, my character is named Aeothane) and Leliana begin your romance in the story.

[upon waking up]
Leliana: Hello
Aeothane: You're up early. Did you sleep well?
Leliana: I've been up for some time but yes, I slept well. Did you know your eyelids flutter when you dream? And you have such pretty eyelashes.
Aeothane: Er...my eyelashes?
Leliana: Mmhmm. They're like little butterflies... I want to catch them and keep them in a jar.
Aeothane: You're teasing.
Leliana: Maybe. I'm so Happy, blissful. I haven't slept so wellsince I was forced to flee from Orlais. Knowing you will be the first thing I see when I wake gives me no small amount of comfort. I feel safe in your arms, loved and accepted. This is where I belong. Thankyou.



AAAAaaawwwwww! what a sweetheart :)

Resolution, Inhalation, Peace

You've got some strength for an old man.

And how you see through the veil of hair in your eyes, I have no idea. Tripping over your long, unkempt beard I wonder...what makes you keep walking?

You are not the American dream. You are not the poster boy for perseverance.

Yet still.....you speak through the smokestack that is your throat,
whispering any words of pain that you can -

your metamorphosis..
your transition.

I planted you as a seed, and I watched you grow -
but soon you are to die.

Though I hate you,
and though it will be my hand
that slips the blade
so gently between your ribs

I will kiss your forehead as you release your last breath,
close your eyes,
and fold your hands across your chest
because I refuse to allow you to
weave nightmares into memories.

I choose to end this,
I am happy because
I wish it to be so.

Humans.

First, let me say that this entry isn't about be being upset or scorned. I haven't rushed home to write this after a girl turned me down, nor am I sad or upset. In fact, overall I have been really, really happy. This is written with the same emotion behind it as when you notice a strange bruise on your arm. You aren't made or upset at all....you're just slightly baffled. But anyways, lets get on with it.

I've come to realize that the way humans act when trying to attract the attention of another person for romantic reasons, sexual reasons, or both, is completely and utterly absurd.

Rarely do I say I think something is completely insane, but I think the way we interact with each other when it comes to initiating interest is just silly. I guess I should give an overview of how I see it.

Most efforts to initiate interest with someone I have witnessed or taken part in involved either a complete misrepresentation of oneself, or playing games that result in more frustration than anything else. When it come to misrepresentation, as a man I know that when around attractive women I feel the strange need to exude an air of competence, confidence, and a fun loving attitude. These are attributes I have, yes, but in trying to demonstrate them I would be in essence....lying. Puffing out feathers with stories that are embellished, sharpening my beak with laughable attempts to show physical strength, these things are all exaggerations of something that is maybe true. Thats why, mostly, I don't do them. I can't speak for women since I'm not one, but I'm sure similar things happen.
And as for playing games, this is the part that confuses me most. What I mean by this can be show best by a few examples of things I've heard or wondered.

- "Dude, she just texted me. I'm gonna wait a day, don't want her to think I'm desperate."

Call me crazy.....but I think if a girl initiates conversation with you, then she wants to talk to you. And why make it that complicated anyway? Talk to her or don't. Good lord.

-"Do I ask this girl/guy if she wants to go out? What if she/he doesn't want to?"

This makes a bit more sense to me. After all, it stems from insecurity..which I think we all have trouble with on some level. But when it turns into strange ploys to figure out what to do or not to do, it gets ridiculous. Honestly, just do it. It prevents unnecessary frustration, stress, and being lead on or leading someone on. In reality, if we just asked people what was going on, then being lead on wouldn't exist. For example, The way I asked out my last (and so far only) girlfriend went something like this. I was nervous for sure, but hell It was either ask or don't and that night was as good as any. Keep in mind this is a serious paraphrase

Me: "hey, so I think you're a really cool person. Your fun, attractive, and we like the same stuff. Want to make this thing official?"
Her: "I think you're cool too. Why not try it out and see what happens?"
/kiss.

See? So to the point. none of this bullshit where we lead each other on for a month or too only for one person to lose interest. Haha, although the second time I tried this approach it didn't work at all. People are truly different.

Maybe I'm a little callous, but I don't want to play games if it means I'm going to be wasting my time. I don't know why anybody else does.

Maybe it might seem like I have no capacity for romance. I do, I certainly do. But why spend that energy on something that is going nowhere when I could spend it on an actual relationship? With someone I don't know...sure I'll try to be charming, to be nice, to let her know I think she's special, but I'm not going to exhaust all of my energy on the issue.

So what then? What's my strategy? Well......I don't really have one. I suppose it is a 'strategy'. Anyways, its as follows.

I don't really think about it.

I mean, I could put my dick on the table and compare length with all the other monkey men around me in order to try and impress a woman...but why? What would that really accomplish? More than likely it would attract the type of girl I'm not interested in anyways. So I just kinda do my thing. I just try to be a nice guy, pursue my interests, and overall not care.

But a word to the wise for anybody who likes the sound of the way I do things. Don't expect much attention. However, when someone does come your way, or vice-versa, it'll be someone worthwhile. I'd rather date two or three great women in my lifetime than thirty or forty women that left me with regrets and sour memories.

I've lost my train of thought it seems....
but!

those are the ones I was able to keep track of, and hopefully I was able to make you chuckle a time or two :)

A stalker, a worn coat, and what else?

Bah, you rear you ugly head again.

Scars are best worn under your clothes,
even if they are sewn from each falsehood
you have spoken.

We are all hypocrites my dear,
and I am their king.

Happiness is a choice, you know. I've come to realize that. Of course when we were young our parents had the ability to supply us with endless amounts of happiness...but even then a two year old who is intent on throwing a temper tantrum will certainly do so. So many of us are two years old, fighting over our side of the car and where the borders lie.

I have come to a point where I am a bit less sympathetic to those who have hard lives and yet do nothing to change them. So many of us have hard lives. So many of us have gone through terrible things that we would rather not mention. But ultimately, its up to you whether or not you get past these things.

I am nobody's emotional babysitter. I am a good listener, a good friend, and I will always wish to help when possible. But if someone chooses to wallow in their self pity, I'm not going to throw any pearls their way.

Is this wrong?
perhaps.
Is this heartless?
no.

I still feel for these people, I do. It is simply that I can't make that choice for anybody.

Sometimes I wonder if this mentality, that life will hand us happiness, is destructive. So many of our books and movies portray a beautiful woman or a handsome man, saving the main character from their hardships and showing them the way to happiness. And while we all say that we can distinguish this from reality, can we?

In hearing many people talk about relationships, I have begun to realize that people have their priorities in the strangest places. So what if she has a strange laugh? So what if he still plays video games? How about the person overall? Everybody will let you down. Everybody will hurt you. I'm sorry, that's the way it is. But knowing this, why not look past it? Especially since you can take this same truth and turn it the other way -

"I will let people down. I will hurt people."

After all, if everybody suffers from the curse of being human.....wouldn't everybody include you and I?

Heaven forbid we find fault within ourselves.

But seeing as we are all flawed, we are all on the same playing field. So....why not lighten up a bit? Why give people such a hard time about little mistakes or annoyances that really have no worth focusing on? After all, every time someone has been a bitch to me, I've probably been an asshole too. Probably without even knowing it.

We're all hypocrites.
We're all liars.
We all cheat,
We all are selfish....

haha...one could say we deserve each other?

Chill out everyone. Realize that since the bad is inevitable you might as well not focus on it, and instead focus on the good in people. Besides, hating others and making enemies is so time consuming.

Those are my thoughts for now.

Beech boughs

I've done you a disservice, old friend. Each of your branches are broken, your bark is peeled. Your leaves are browned, and crunch under my feet. I've allowed you to die, almost completely.

But I should set you up again, my dearest memory. I should repair your cracks, soothe your wounds, and grow you new hands.

And I will.

I'm so sorry. Its not that I forgot you, but I was wrong all the same. I threw my every negative emotion at the base of your beautiful trunk, and they soaked into and poisoned your roots. You were always beautiful, eternally under the stars. I just chose to see you all wrong.

Yes, I will restore you.

But, I will sit under you no longer. I will not be able to wait for someone under your beautiful canopy. It is a sad thing, yes, to no longer be able to view the night sky from your safety. But understand, your grassy knoll remains in the same place...and I can't sit still anymore.

I will remember you fondly, dear friend, dear beech tree. Perhaps someday, you will nurture a new beginning for someone else.

But not for me.

Goodbye.

Hyperactivity

each cell a drum
a drum beat
reverberation

and each though an action
while everything moves

its all a movement

propagation
steam of my joints

I feel everything
and the grass sprouts up from my pores
my skin
the dirt
the soil
I am the curve in every branch

ashes to ashes

So, I tossed out all of my pipe tobacco.

We'll see how that goes. Crisis averted, hopefully.

Smoking is something that seems to creep back into my life every few years, and so far I've been able to keep it at bay.

I certainly don't want my life to end with a tube shoved through a hole in my throat.

Robin

pure simplicity
the robin on my front porch;
my breath on her wings

moon phase sun phase

it is...difficult.

your eyes slide off my skin,
where they used to linger.

perhaps its the wind,
changing everything.

these words are empty, are pointless

a broken string
a cracked pot
a shoe full of holes

And I am up late again, as I used to be.
All progress comes with headaches,
tired muscles,
sore eyes....

and yet the stars are still as beautiful as they always were.

Your eyes slide off of my skin,
each time the drop is a day that I've lost

Silvery eye has closed five times,
golden eye has closed twenty one times,

the days that I've lost.

It is 10:50 pm
and I am without you.

And here I thought it would all be fine

It would be fine to not wake up after this,
I'm consigned to never speak again
that tonight could be my final rest;
a spinning car highway
and a plain brick wall
in a black and white photograph.
If all the thoughts that lead
up till now
were a premonition
I'd say forget the pen and ink,
just leave the paper blank
oh I'm so tired of my own company
and the last leg of this road
where there's no one to talk to,
your feet move too quickly
dear, to hold your hand again
I'd say Awake! Awake!
But from then to now
all I hold in these fingers
are your letters made soft
from crying eyes and clenching fists.
I'm consigned to never open eyelids again,
and from where the old ways are gone
it would still hurt to look down upon you.
Good god, I mean it when I say
I wish to never wake again.

To be quite honest

nobody else does, either.


I'm tired. I stayed up too late last night. I miss going to be at nine thirty. I think I might be the only person who does so.

probably not.


Stuck in recycling bins,
they've forgotten everything.

Its easier when you turn the world black and white,
but in the end, you're the liar.

Hammer and anvil

Don't look up,
don't look up,
the mason jars are
empty.
Don't look up,
don't look up,
answer shackled-
and the chamber
might not be.

The only reason I do this
is because my mother couldn't watch
another blow to the head.

Front porch

Whenever I walk up or down the stairs that lead to my third floor apartment, I see the same thing. An older man, on the stairwell across from me. He sits in his chair silently, usually working on something with his hands. I imagine he carves figurines. He has flower pots all along the railing, and a cross pinned up on the wall. Beside him sits his slightly ragged, albeit healthy, looking dog. Shaggy wheat colored fur and a somber face rest on paws, occasionally sniffing at some insect passerby. I admit, I strain my neck to see inside his apartment when he leaves the door opened. A flower vase, a coffee table, old pictures; everything looks at least fifty years old. Sometimes he smokes a cigarette and stares off into some place I can't quite catch a glimpse of. He is always there. He lives alone.

I don't ever want to be that man,
even though he might be happier than I ever will be.

Pagany

I haven't been feeling very pagan lately.

I'm not sure why. Perhaps its because of everything I have to do...school tends to suck out my personality. I thin k I'm the poster boy for crazy associations, I relate a lot to paganism. Not the typical earth, deities, magic (Don't get me started on this subject), and so forth. But a lot of people in my past are shadows of my beliefs.

In any case, the first meeting is tomorrow. It could decide everything, but it shouldn't decide anything at all.

Aeothane Wodensen

This is the backstory for my character in Dungeons and Dragons. I just wrote it, so....yeah.


Aeothane Wodensen

Aeothane was born on a small farm only a few miles out from talon gorge. He lived there with his father, Thane, and his mother, Aeolynn. Upon his birth the names of his parents were combined to create the name Aeothane would carry.
Thane was a retired Soldier, and so he also taught Aeothane about combat, and battle strategy. Thane was a tall man with chorded muscles and a broad chest. Although his hair as crimson as heated steel, his face was always clean shaven. He taught him how to tend soil, to grow crops, and how to raise and slaughter animals. He also taught Aeothane how to hunt. Aeolynn was of normal height, and had beautiful braided hair, which shown like wheat fields and swayed in the wind just the same. She taught Aeothane the arts of poetry, mending cloth, and creating things out of wood. Aeloyn was no average housewife. When Aeothane was very young, his father had been away from home when a man came in the night to rob them. In seeing Aeolynn’s beauty as she slept, the midnight theif moved to assault her. Aeolynn leapt from her bed, and sent the man off clutching the bloodied stump of flesh where his left hand used to be.
Aeothane’s family was also a very religious one. Aeolynn would tell Aeothane stories of Kord, and Ehlona, the two deities their family revered the most. She Also led out family rituals and prayers. Thane would often take Aeothane out into the woods and say to him,
“Aeothane, many people view Kord as a god of battle, and battle alone. He has certainly seen me through many wars that I should not have lived through. But what most do not realize is that he is also a god of agriculture, even if indirectly. Just as a general or captain makes sure his soldiers are well fed, Kord speaks to the gods of the harvest and of the hunt on our behalf so that we may be strong, and fight hard. Kord does not want weak, unfed warriors showing up to his great hall after they die.”
Up until the age of twelve, Aeothane lived on the beautiful farm with his parents. His father called the place ‘Skjonnhalla’, the Beautiful Hall. Thane used to say “A place Kord himself woulf marvel at”, and indeed it was magnificent. It did not have golden pillars made by gnomes, nor silver entryways crafted by elves. It did not have platinum filigree over the windows, as the dwarves or Halflings might have had. It had beauty in that Thane and Aeolyn had built it with their own hands, in their own time, with the vision of raising a family there.
This beauty could not last, however. The day after Aeothane’s birthday, His father sent him out to hunt a doe that had been seen around Skjonnhalla. It was Aeothane’s first hunt alone, and it took him the better part of the day. Upon returning home, the doe slung over his back, Aeothane saw his beautiful home destroyed. It was the only time that He had aver felt fear this deep. He rushed towards the smoldering embers of what once was his home, and cursed himself for not returning earlier when he had thought he smelled smoke. It was a stupid mistake. He found his father, as grey as the ash around him, and with limbs torn from his body. His mother had been decapitated, stripped, and hung from a beam that had been thrust into the ground. A bestial, primal roar bellowed from the darkest depths of Aeothane’s being. He cursed the sky, the ground, the trees and the wind. He cursed the gods for not protecting his family, and he cursed those that murdered them. But most of all, he cursed himself.
Aeothane had nothing but the clothes on his back, a hunting knife, and his bow and arrows. Foolishly he ran into the woods, following deep footprints left in the soil. He ran for days, until his body ached and screamed at him for food, water, and rest. He finally collapsed upon a large plateau, from which he could view the glittering empire sea. His mind went black, his eyes shut, and he fell into the deepest sleep he had ever known.
He awoke to the earth shaking terribly, and to the cacophony of thunder. A hand gripped his chin and tilted his head back. A hot, salty stew ppoured down his throat and burned his stomach. Only then did he realize that the shaking of the earth was actually a wagon, and the thunder was the clip clopping of a donkey’s hooves. Aeothane’s eyes opened to the face of an old, dwarven women. Her hair was blond; in a neat braid that hung over her shoulder. She wore a simple brown dress that matched her eyes and held in her hand a large ball of spun wool yarn. She spoke, but her language was unfamiliar to Aeothane. Upon noticing his lack of comprehension, the women said in a thick dwarvish accent,
“My husband was hunting when he found you, curled up like a dead weasel on the rocks. Where are you from?” Aeothane told her about skjonhalla, his home, and his family. He also spoke of how his family had been murdered, and of how he was looking for those who had killed them. After much talk, Aeothane learned that he had been unconsciouss for nearly five days. The dwarf woman said, “We are just outside of Ringsdale, perhaps someone there knows you and can help you.” Realizing he did not know their names, Aeothane asked the dwarf woman who she and her husband, who was guiding the donkey, were. She replied, “I am Griffa, and my husband is Nido.”
Aeothane didn’t formally meet Nido until they arrived at Ringsdale. He appeared older than Griffa, although how old he was Aeothane had no idea. He had heard that dwarves could live to be four hundred, so the amount of years seen by Griffa and Nido was a mystery to him. Nido wore a tall, grey hat that came to a point and had a large brim that ran all the way around the base. His beared was neatly combed and tucked into his belt, which was of the same leather that made the patch which covered his left eye. Nido was a dwarf of very few words.
As the dwarf couple bartered their goods, Aeothane worried for his future. He sat in the wagon, crying softly as he realized that he had no home. As the sun began to set Nido returned to the wagon. He sat down beside Aeothane, lit up a long wooden pipe and said in a deep bubbling voice, “Boy, what in all of evanoch do you have to cry about?” Enraged, Aeothane explained his family’s murder to the old dwarf. He slung each word at Nido, hoping it stung like a dagger. After a long puff from his pipe, Nido spoke.
“Aeothane, you say your name is. From what you have said, your family was a strong one. Why then do you cry? Yes, a terrible thing has happened, but now you have a purpose. Now you have a job. Certainly you cannot get that done sniveling in here like a frightened lamb. I offer this to you; come live with griffa and I. We could use the help around our farm, and you will have a roof over your head. Nearby our home is Underhar, our capital. There you can train in any way you see fit, although I cannot guarantee that every dwarf will welcome you.”
Aeothane accepted Nido’s offer, and lived with he and Griffa for many years. He learned the dwarven language, and devoted all of his time to Training in combat, so that he may one day enact revenge on those who destroyed his family. However, in doing so he forgot many of the skills that were taught to him. Hunting, crafting, and mending clothes were pushed aside as Aeothane learned how to be deadly with an axe.
At the age of twenty, Aeothane moved away from his new dwarven family. Although it tore him apart inside to do so, he felt that he was ready to begin his search for those that had slaughtered his parents. He returned to Talon Gorge, where he has lived for five years. He makes his living as a ‘blade for hire’, although he keeps his job quiet. He also strides towards getting his birthright from those that hold it within the vaults of Talon Gorge. Because everything of his childhood was burned, he has no way of proving that he is the son of Thane and Aeolynn. So, his birthright sits untouched.

Grass bent, she watches
underneath the willow tree
she sees what I miss

black earth like snake skin
wires grow from blossomed grass:
songs from their branches

~~

I am the images I look at,
I am the intention behind what I say,
each word,
each thought.

so easily shaped
such a weak species

Haiku is the snapshot of poetry

Haiku, and the similar Tanka, are two of my favorite forms of poetry. They are snapshots, photographs, ghostly images of a moment that many of us might normally miss. One example;


A Barley Wagon
Lags – then leaps
behind the horse
-Shiba Fukio (1903 – 1930)


If only I saw beauty in these, the most subtle of moments, as Shiba Fukio did. I feel like so much of what our society is made of sets us up for expectations that are completely unrealistic. Everything is a glorious cocophony of emotion in the moviesm set up by car chases, prince charming, plastic women, and impossible powers. But, cannot that same beauty – perhaps even a purer form – be found in a moment that lasts only for a brief second? The way the grass shines as it ripples in the wind, the first drop of rain to hit your skin, the moment of hesitation before a first kiss, the first taste of a perfect meal.

Most of the haiku and Tanka I have are from a book called “Japanese Death Poems”, a collection compiled by Yoel Hoffman. While they all (except the one about the Barley wagon and the burnt storehouse) are written in the last moments of people lives, note that many of them are not sad. In fact, quite a few are beautiful, and convey an air of contentedness. Death is just an event, really. It’s a multitude of other variables that makes it sad. In any case, here are some of my favorites. First, the Tanka. Then, the haiku. All of the following words were taken from Hoffman’s book, and aren’t my own.



Winds Passing
Through the shaded grove
Weigh down
My robes
With the scent of blossoms.

~~

My storehouse burned down –
Now nothing stands between me
And the moon above

~~

Not knowing
That my body lies
Upon Mount Kamo’s rocks,
My love
Awaits me

~~

Overtaken by darkness
I will lodge under
The boughs of a tree.
Flowers alone
Host me tonight.

~~

Both the victor
And the vanquished are
But drops of dew,
But bolts of lightning-
Thus should we view the world

~~

The following are specifically Death Haiku, and were written just before the time of death of the author.



Asei – Died 1752

Flowers of the grass
Scarcely shown, and withered
Name and all

~~

Baiko – Died in February 1903, at the age of sixty.

Plum petals falling
I look up – the sky;
A clear crisp moon.

~~

Bairyu – Died June 11th, 1863, at the age of fifty nine

O hydrangea-
You change and change
Back to your primal color

~~




Bokukei – Died May 16th, 1869

Cuckoo, I too
Sing, spitting blood
My welling thoughts…

~~

Chine – Died on may 15th, 1688, at about the age of 28.

It lights up
As lightly as it fades:
A firefly

Chine was the sister of Mukai Kyorai, a disciple and friend of Basho’s. After Chine’s death, Kyorai wrote

Sadly I see
The light fade on my palm:
A firefly

After Chine’s death, Kyorai was airing out Chine’s summer robe. At the moment he was doing so, he received a poem written in his sister’s memory by basho.

Airing out the robe
Pf one who is no more:
Autumn cleaning

Hey, you. Yes YOU!

For anyone who is feeling down today...

Remember that you are amazing. You are full of potential, all you have to do is use it. You are beautiful, don't doubt it. It's alright to be a little selfish now and then, smile for yourself - the world is a more colorful place when you do. If you're 'alone', don't worry. There is so much you that you can discover. And in most cases, there are more people that care about you than you may realize.

Like me, of course :)

Focus

I've realized something.

My thoughts are almost entirely inward. This place, behind the vines, where I write things has become bitter negative in this past month. Most every journal I've had has become something angry and dark, which is why I don't generally stick with them.
I think maybe this focus on all the things that bug me, bring me down, and just don't seem fair is what is making everything seem so gray, so lifeless.I think one way to change that is to change the trend of what I write here. I think when we focus on our problems too much the thoughts can become so selfish.

So how do I turn my thoughts outward?

By helping people? Say, at a food bank or some other volunteer work? Perhaps, but that is like trying to jump across a river instead of using the stepping stones.

I think the best way for me to start being less selfish is to be thankful for things. I see it this way, if I am thankful for something then my perspective is outward. Here is an example

"I am so upset. I wish things were different."

Versus -

"I'm really thankful for my friends. They're all really great people, and they make any situation so much more fun."

See the difference?


I think I'll start doing this with flagstaff. Because...moment of honesty here....

I really dislike Flag. Yes, some of the worst experiences of my life have happened in Flag, but that's where the negativity stops. Acknowledgment, fine. An unhealthy lingering, not so good.

But I can be thankful for having a place to stay
for my education
for the people around me
that there is a place where the forest isn't stamped down and destroyed.


I've lost my train of thought.
Time to go grocery shopping.

Maybe

5 months, just less than half of a year. It wasn’t enough for me. I haven’t really gone anywhere. The world is moving, but I am standing still. The wheel turns but I only age inwardly, too quickly.

Sometimes I feel like a bitter old man, filled with regret.
I am only 22 years old.

Its just that, everything in my life is wrong. I’m trying to hold a freight train together with shoestrings and paperclips.

Maybe, while I sleep, you will come and knock on my door. I won’t know who it is, but as I swing it open to see you standing there I will be so happy. And maybe, we will sit on the couch, and I will cook you dinner, and we will watch our favorite shows like we used too. You’ll lean your head on my chest and I’ll kiss the top of your head, closing my eyes as I smell your beautiful hair like I used too. Then we’ll lay and talk about the future, our garden, our dog, our place. And I will hold you close as you say that you love me. I will kiss both of your eyelids as you fall softly to sleep, and just maybe you will be happy. And I won’t be filled with regret, with anger towards myself for it all being my fault, for ruinining everything. And you won’t have forgotten me. And I’ll stay awake, for fear of waking up to a world where I’ve lost you all over again. In this dream I will tell you I love you, forever, because it is true. And I will promise you that I will never leave you, because I could not.

This will be my last entry about her, about you. I know that you’ve found someone else. Someone who is everything I am not, who is better than I am. And I know that he will slowly push me out of your heart, and you will forget me. Perhaps you already have. Whats worst is that, I know I have to forget you, too. I have to forget four years of loving you. I have to forget the beech tree, camp, the joy of your visits over breaks, surprising you at the airport and how you would jump into my arms, the happiness when I was finally with you in Angwin, the excitement of transferring to NAU, our discovery of Paganism together, our walks and playing in the snow, the tunnel we built, the way you would smile, The one time I was able to give you a good gift when I took you to cavalia, everything. I have to get rid of our journal, I have to throw away everything you gave me. I have to forget you, love. I have to forget you. But could Enoch be cast from heaven and be expected to find joy in this place?

I will try to forget you. But I know that somewhere, deep in my heart, there will always be a beech leaf…there will always be you.

I love you so much.
Be happy,
forget me.