I'm so sick of everything. How people are people. How I suffer and others don't, how others suffer and I don't. I'm just sick of everything. It's like I've got a flu or something and I'm just sneezing out all this stuff; snot, disgusting things that I don't want to hear or see. And either I'm being too sensitive or I'm just a prick as a whole. What would be a good thing to do? If I just left today would it be any signifcance for anyone? If I just started walking. If I gathered up all my things in a small backpack and went through wooded trails, dirt roads, city streets, would anyone wonder where I was from or what I was doing? Would people think of me as a man or a lost boy? Am I capable of love or hate? Perhaps neither? Maybe I'm just nothing. And no one really cares about nothing. Nothing is a pretty strong word, because most things are made of something. But that's what I must be. A nothing, a nobody. I can't express myself normally, I can't fight my urges, or resist, or just think before I do something. It's all like a game that everyone plays, but I'm not a piece, or monopoly currency, or the board itself. I'm left out watching trying to figure out what I have to do. Well, I'm sick of everything and I just want to go away and sleep...wake up really early, and leave all of this behind me. To go and never see my friends or family, and I would go not to find others, but to be alone and be what I am: nothing. I'd just be some random person that we all see walking. We might wonder who they are, if they're capable of being human, of having traits like love; but at the end of the day we forget. We forget who those people are. We don't remember their faces, they don't have any impact on us, or anyone else. They just go with their backpack, down a sidewalk, up into a park, and through the woods, moving slowly, and with a will to find something of which we'll never know. That's who I'll be. And people might remember for a bit, but they will all forget. They will all live their lives with happy faces, full of life, the color of red from the wines they drink, and I will be nothing. Just a body going day to day, not thinking, not remembering, just a moving mass of muscle that only goes walking because it's the only function it knows. Advice, Advice, Advice. I give myself advice and I listen to no one. Perhaps I am a prick as a whole. And maybe I'm just tired and sad. Maybe, tired of being sad. I'll just sneeze all these thoughts into some nice soft tissue and I'll toss it away. And as it gently falls, I'll be relieved to have that unwanted stuff out of me.

-A

I am captive here on this island.

This brown land, with brown sand,

So many browns I find beautiful.

The land of your eyes, the sand

of your skin, and the breeze

of your hand that touches me.

Your voice of birds, your sun of a

smile, all wake me in the morning.

La mañana I go and en la noche I arrive:

to think again and again of those eyes.

I can see myself in those brown eyes.

It’s earth with me walking and to where I do not know.

So I continue in that gaze to see myself embark.

It's a journey, that only I see unfold.

So I walk and walk so far I am going.

Down further and further where the sun blazes.

The sweat drips from my nose, my nostrils flare;

new scents welcome me to new sights and new land.

I climb famous mountains the name of which I do not know.

I fall down, broken, alone, and cold.

The snow is about to consume me but I remember what to do.

The wind yells at my face; chunks of ice make homes in my hair,

I feel alone and am ready to give in to that man in the wilderness.

But, I remember what to do.

I look toward the night and see stars shining in the distance.

I locate where I am by my position compared to them.

Something I never new, but am taught somehow now.

I make my descent down to a small town.

It’s a pueblo they say, an unfamiliar language I begin to find.

I keep going looking like a poor man but within myself I am rich.

I find what it is I am looking for.

And I stop and stare at the most profound thing yet.

It is love in the form of a young girl who knows not what love is.

She recognizes me from somewhere and we stare.

My green eyes mixing with her deep browns.

An earth is created and in it I see,

myself traveling but to where it is not clear.

We are together though.

We are together there.

In those deep eyes,

mixed with brown and green;

an earth, a world is created.



-A

Hoy

There's not much new with me. I had an intense day of working; people & their lobsters, relationships that I'll never understand. I got some good news this evening, well not news, but something I can hope for. And I hope, I hope, I hope, and I hope again that it comes to be what I want, that it all works out. I've got an intense week of school I'm thinking, tests and what not. I'm quitting smoking tomorrow. It's going to be hard but I'm just going to stop putting it off and finally do it, before it becomes a bigger problem. That's all.

-A

ahh.

I don't really want to be here. As in on this dumb planet. I don't want to think about anything but I keep thinking and it's annoying. Maybe it's because I've been bored lately. Today wasn't any different I guess, had my classes, came home, got something to drink, and now I don't know what to do next haha. I think I'm just going to go take a nap. I'm tired.

-A

Ohh

Oh,
How I love you.
I say it with a sigh.
I say it with frustration,
yet with love at the same time.
When you don't speak,
I hear what you are saying.
When you don't write,
I know you've got something.
But you just can't put it down in words.
It's okay because I'm coming to get you.
I'll come with time I promise you.
We're so impatient and why I'm not sure.
It's like we're afraid that it could end, but this--
It is right here where it all happens. There's no place,
that could really get rid of thought.
It's in our mind, in our heart.
And with each breath I take I sigh more.
It seems as breathing has become hard for me.
It's a tight pinch in my chest.
And I know it's not from smoking.
I know that it's disgusting
but it's more,
more than even that.
That quick fix I get,
That nicotine & sweet tobacco buzz,
you're worse then that.
I get so high and so stoned,
fucked up and sometimes so alone.
When I think of memories passed,
when I think of anything that I want to last;
I think of you.
Oh now I'm having trouble breathing.
And I swear it's not this shit I put in my lungs,
it's you sweetness... fruit from this earth,
It's you. I want to plant the seed.
I want to go and leap.
I want the first flight out, so that I could be--
With you.
Let's take our hands and put them together.
Let's take this world and mold it to what we require.
I want to do so many things to you.
I want people to yell for us to get a room,
and I want to laugh as we go to find one.
I want to walk and talk with you,
looking at a sunset that's unfamiliar to me.
I want to watch pointless flicks with you,
tickle your ear and kiss you on your temples.
I want your hands in mine, I want so many things
that it should be a crime.
I want to write about you.
I want to scream your name on paper.
I want so many things and with time I'll get them.
There's no restrictions.
No war or threat could keep me from you
No downfalls of happiness make me truly hate you,
it's in what you were to me. How you cared
by not caring, how you made me jealous,
how you made me feel things I've never felt.
So carefree, so sweet, such a delight.
Oh how I wish I was there with you.
I hate this place but that you know.
Funny how a Gringo feels foreign in his home.
Speak to me in anyway but do it now, please?
Oh such a shame some would say.
Why they ask, does my life revolve around you everyday?
Fools!
Do we not all follow the sun?
Do we not all look for love?
What incompetence I am here with,
fools with their silly desires.
I know I am right.
And I know I'll get what I want.
So I'll give them a King's response:
laughter, laughter, laughter.
Oh, what a high I get...
From simply loving you.

-A

Who do you think you are? Don’t try to drop hints toward me, drop a line here, or whisper in my ear. I know what you’re up to and it has nothing to do with me. Is it my fault? Is it me that writes prose that of which is sometimes hurtful, but the truth to what I feel? What am I to do? Who am I to question? I know and I do not know; these things that make this world run. You were one once but I’ve moved away and I can’t take thinking of it for another day. If I could change this world I would. If I could say “if” so many times, that I would die from the lack of oxygen being supplied to my pathetic brain, I would. But, only if I could. I can only say what I would do “if” it were the word that described “it” of which would be done— oh so many times. Yet, you do not understand how I feel. It is only anger you hold. It is only how you are mad because I cannot just be glad. I am not glad and I will not be glad for long. You think “sad” complements me? Perhaps it does. Perhaps I’ll wear dark clothes to go with my gloomy personality that grows. Perhaps I’ll distrust until I have nothing but myself. But even then that wouldn’t be much then what is here now. Alone is what you would like of me yes? To hurt so much because you are not with me, but tell me, oh lover afar, what is it you feel? No answer to my question, 'nothing' being the noun the doctor prescribed. And I, I can ask many. Now tell me, think hard this time. Who do you think you are? How are you able to tell me such things? I am pathetic I know. I am a hurtful, unthoughtful, foul beast. But this is what I am. What you are I do not know. Love is so hard to define yet hate is so easy. You hate me? I anger you? Surly it’s logical that maybe by chance, you anger me and I hate you. But then again, who knows for there are no clues. Let’s go you and me. Let’s duke it out through words and thoughts unsaid. We’ll hear this and that through the grapevine and our blood will boil. You are happy afar and I am happy here, or perhaps we are neither and we still cry for no damn reason. What is it you want? What is it you crave? I’d give in if only you’d tell me quickly. But all this I doubt. Because by the time you figure out, what you want to say, I will be buried six feet under earth. Let’s just get it over with now. Bury me with your unsaid words. Dig and dig with your feelings kept in. Relinquish my love with your unloving sword. Cut deep into me and let me bleed upon this earth. When I am dead, kick my body into that foul trench where beasts desire their sleep. Softly say, “I love you” and watch me turn over in my grave. Oh who am I to question such things? Who am I to say what is and what isn’t? I have no energy left and these pills I pop only keep me going for so long. I crash into dreams where there are views of you and me. I crash into subconscious thinking when I deliberately try to go on living unthinking. Who am I to question you? How strange it is that I start out questioning you, but now all I have is questions for myself. But I can’t help but question myself because its all there is in this world right now. These words and feelings will seem like yesterday’s news when I am long gone. But they seem so important now. Perhaps others may feel them and through some way you and I are connected. But I don’t know what to write, what to say, or what to feel. I’m as numb as ice as cold as steel. I’m like so many things that don’t seem real. I drift away in a current of thought—I drift away into far out space where suffocation by the sea or lack of oxygen await me. I am too young to die some would say, but this creature I’ve become is not me. It lingers at night, searching for the origin of a far off sound. It’s like the sobbing of five thousand desperate people reaching out to their God. And when this beast wakes in the morning, it feels the tears on its pillowcase. It remembers the sounds of those far off cries, and this vile beast of a man realizes it was he being nothing more than salt & water. Bring me to the sea! I want to be apart of what is naturally my place of origin. I want the salty air with it’s cold-darkness on a winter coastal day. Bring it to my porch steps and allow me to wade in. Bring me a wave of no remorse and drag me out to where tears of pain are made. Numb me and drag me under as the sand fills my nostrils and mouth. Oh foul beast I have become. Who am I to question anything? Drag me out to the sea where tears of pain are made: Let me free!

-A

Fish

I smell so bad right now. I just got back from work and I smell terrible. I took an awesome shower though, with soap and everything. I've got school tomorrow. Huge French I test...probably the most important thing I'll ever take haha. I like french though, maybe I'll try to become fluent in French & Spanish. Hmm, nothing really new going on. Friday night was probably one of the most random/weird nights I've had so far. I'm planning on going to Borders; getting some crazy books, a coffee, and chilling out each friday for now on. And if there's music playing, that's a plus. I don't even care if I'm by myself, it's better then being bored out of my mind going to Football games every weekend...I don't even like football. Well, if anyone wants to come and be a weirdo let me know. There's plenty of weirdness to go around lately haha.. Take care.

-A

Hey

Hey,

I've started this blog thing as a way to write more often. I'm not sure if it will work, but typing seems easier than writing sometimes. I don't know what I'll be writing. And perhaps no one will read this except for me. But then again, I could care less. Yet, at the same time I care. I have to go now though. It's time to be the Designated Driver for my Dad and Brother. This will be a fun 20 minutes home. Take care.

Anders