A Farewell Of Sorts

Crossposted from YWP.

I’m not leaving. I’m just saying goodbye.

It’s always been true that
I’ve wanted more than I have.
You tell me of successes of my own
And I’ll just think of how much better
Someone else’s are.

I’ll stuff my ears with jumbled notes
Too loud; projected from earbuds
That aren’t quite as white
As they used to be.

I’ll fill my empty stomach
With the words, “Thanks, I’m fine,”
Hoping that someone, somewhere,
Will follow my example.

I’ll cry over the phone.

I’ll whisper your name,
Once upon a time,
When I still thought there was something to be gained
From commiserating with hope and wonder.

I’ll have a style – copy/paste,
Because reading has always been my thing,
And I’ve mastered synthesis.

I’ll always have an air of mystery,
Because some secrets
Are just not meant to be told;
As much as either you or me or both of us
Want them to mean that.

I’ll punch a wall or two,
Over the span of seventeen years.
[Seventeen years. Life is too long.]
My fist will bleed,
And there will be noticeable scars.
Frustratingly,
Every single one of the walls will stay intact,
Because

I’ll be intelligent enough to realize
That breaking other things
Only reflects what’s inside.

I’ll surround myself in
Untouchables, then

I’ll throw myself headfirst
Into someone else’s world of pain and suffering,
Because I’m not entirely sure
What it is that I should be feeling.

I’ll fix people
Because that’s the only thing,
In the interim,
That makes me feel
Like I’m worth something.

I’ll forget a lot of things.
All of them will be or have been important.

I’ll watch the seasons pass,
And I’ll remember how strong I once was.
I’ll admire him,
But only from there;
Recalling that beauty comes in many forms.

I’ll feel fake.
All the time.

I’ll miss you; all of you,
From my deepest hatred
To my strongest affection.

But I will never give up
Trying to find
Whatever’s out there.

And whatever’s out there, likewise,
Will always evade my grasp.

There Is Not

A new theme anymore.

It cut off my pictures.

I don’t like it now.

Correct

I do need to post.

Placeholder time.

The Whole Alcoholic Pie

Boy, am I glad I think alcohol tastes like shit.

Next week [assuming you're all back in August, that is], when President C.D. “Dan” Mote welcomes freshmen to the University of Maryland, he will inform them that the college police will enforce underage drinking laws “with terrific ferocity.” And then he will turn around and, recognizing that most students do drink, tell the teenagers “to take care of each other when they see someone who’s passed out, to take advantage of all of our services for students who abuse alcohol.”

The whole article here: On campus, Legal Drinking Age Is Flunking the Reality Test

This is actually from a draft I’ve had saved since then – August 21st, 2008. Regardless, the information is still relevant. Before I post it, though, I’d like to make note of something: as of now, I have never been offered any form of alcohol by anyone other than my parents – my dad makes wine and I’m Italian, so I’ve obviously had the odd sip here and there (… and hated it every single time. I cannot stand that taste!). Not a single one of the people I know, none of my older friends, nobody, has ever had any involvement further than mine.

You might say I’ve lead a sheltered life, but I’m glad. Let’s hope it stays that way.

Because you really don’t want to get me drunk.