An Arrow for an Arrow

Sleep passes only a few hours at a time. The hazy glare of the midnight flair flies in thine eyes. The transition from dream to lucidity doesn't take too long - as its meaning grasps on the horror descends upon. Humiliation and emptiness are all that remain of a heart that's been broken for far too long. I do mental jumping jacks, imagine I'm flying away. She gets smaller and smaller as I jump, I don't delay. But the damage has been done, I'm back in panic's way. I can't escape the sins of the previous day.

It happened in a flash. All seemed fine with the one with which I pine. But terror strikes on April the 1st. Officer forewarns danger - I'm down the wrong way. That very week she breaks off, but continues the light of love's fight. April the 7th, Easter's eve, I make a new mistake, don't follow her, don't hold her.

Friday the 13th the pain returns. Dave insists on beer this day, that fuck head of a man. The missionaries, the mother, they compound on my pain. I scream at my mother, another report tarnished me with stain. Doom heralds as it goes on, more beer, more neighbors - all alcohol’s domain. We travel, we fly! To another party not dry. As wet as the ocean, the liquor smells sick. Later I feel the victim of the universe's sweet trick. The 14th I'm sick and tired, humiliated supreme. The 15th I accuse, I feel used, not thinking straight.

From the 13th to the 20th I'm sick of this world. Sick of myself, not in my right mind. I hate everything but her. Then 20th, things go well. Passions flair as we stare. Just as I think we've hit it, I'm out of this pit, she won't have it, I'm back in the ditch.

Sunday I try, on yes my, my! That night she makes it clear, I'm no longer her dear. Next day I leave for the north, my first mistake I fear. A whole week I had to hold my sweet dear. We could have gone out upon the lake. Now I'm stuck writing poetry and whiny letters, I reel like ten year old punk-pop (played at your local Jimmy Johns!). Chattered teeth as I fetter and leer.

Yes I shake, yes I yield. I love you, I love you, I should have screamed it to the world. But then Amber! But Amber creeps near! It becomes clear. I need answers, answers, as we walk through the field. As I'm with her it becomes quite clear, quite clear. My love isn't here, I fear. She's gone, that's it. Sick from that night. And it was there I lost my love on that fateful sick night. A rope I hung myself, it pains me to believe, noose hit me, flick me. Now I don't dare lay down to rest. I’m just another clever pest. 

Time passes as I walk among the masses, after what feels like two years I see her, she says she loves me - before even I do! Yet she's gone yonder, another dear she's found now. Someone different, someone better, someone she can share in sweet life's plunder, I fear. What happened? What happened? We wax and we wane. Just a friend? Oh my. You sound like Ashley, my dear. Too cruel, too cruel. She could have yelled at me earlier, "it's over I fear." But hope had lingered on, I wanted her next to me right there right then there. Now I’m stuck and I’m jealous, and sad, and glad that at least we talked things out, found out all about her sweet pains she felt when she was so near.

I wake from my dreams, it all seeps to and fro. My sweet kiss means piss, nothing but a peep echoes loudly as the beams all go out, my sweet sis. I feel guilty, I feel cheap. I feel stupid, feel dumb, for only a couple hasty mistakes, I’m stuck in a drought. I feel horrible, this wretchedness inside of me. Most times everything seemed to work fine, but one month later I feel reviled and sick to even think that my mind crosses such lines; yes I want to hold her, to kiss her, to never let her go. To serve her, to guide her, to be within her fold. I want to learn and to prosper, to love as she does what she does.

I go to her. The whole day turns out quite well. We had more laughs in store. But she looks at me with sadness with wit. She didn't want to hurt me, it seems a fair fit. No anger, no sadness, her radiance delights. But I secretly curse the day God saw fit to let me taste her sweet might. Now I can't sleep unless I write, so I write.

I cry, I mourn. My sweet chance to rekindle all that there is. Guilt overtakes, I hold myself back. Please kiss me, please feel me! Know that I'm learning, that it took me until that fateful Acen night - as soon as you moved on I was ready to take it all upon. To finally commit is omit. This goat’s heart stricken by her archer's fiery arrow. I’ve come full circle – past Amber, ready to commit – now in her position, the kind of love I long for, now knocks the wind out of me, as I did to the one before. You know the old saying, those who live by the sword, die by the sword. An arrow for an arrow.

The artist inside rekindled far and wide. This memo I do leave behind.

"Call my name through the cream, no one sings like you anymore."

Schizo

I'm starting to loose my mind. I'm feeling alien in a world that was once my own. Warped and twisted by the passages of time, I can see the tears in the fabric blowing in the wind. What kind of world am I building, what kind of world am I leaving behind? I never miss my home until I'm so far away from it. I'd like to be there now, safe and comfortable in my bed. What a world, what a world.

Everything is loosing focus and my eyes are starting to tear. Those holy moments are being left to the wind as my contacts burn and my stomach turns. Wendys does sound nice right about now. I almost can't wait to get out of here, because the fake laughs and phony smiles don't work anymore.

The holy moments are seem so close yet so far; like the mirage in the distance on a hot summer day on route 50. It feels like they are either below me or just don't care. I really wouldn't mind it if they had found all their answers, but I'm still searching and I wish they'd keep an open mind.

So many jokes, so many foibles. Life is a passing dream, so I can't complain about them enjoying it. Yet, I haven't found my hook and I'd rather not joke. I long for a community of my own. Sometimes I think I've found it, but it's falling apart. Other times it seems like a smoke and mirrors . . . it'll all be over before it began and nothing mattered in the first place.

I can't ask anything of myself then that I be myself, but this proposition seems a lot more difficult then one would first conceive. I'm all over the map with my emotions and my thoughts. I can't see the forest through the trees, so I'm walking between the leaves. I hope I find something that makes me feel whole. Maybe I'll just fall into a hole.

A terrible silence sleeps in me. I've been searching for help for two decades, and nothing serves to give me the answers I do seek. I'd take a peek at the cheat sheet like oh so many video games before, but this one's real and all I can do is try to feel, feel my way through this forest maze.

Masks

I've had a feeling for a long time that our identities are a lie. We've created them throughout our life and use them to justify our actions, but they inhabit any real ability to enjoy it. They are manifestations. We can just as easily become different people, if we really want. What limits do we truly have? Take a look at the great play writes, actors, and directors, minds who have transcended reality into the heart of human emotion and thinking. They connect to us on levels that often our own families can not achieve!

Others will say to you, "I can't do this, can't do that, because blah blah blah blah." This begs us to question which trait is universal to human beings: Fear or laziness. Is the man sitting on the couch and wasting his life away watching day time soaps and eating Cheeto's lazy, or afraid of the world outside? I've questioned this many times.

Many fear new ideas and change. Others are too lazy to change their world. Thus, so many are satisfied with the status quo; society is sleeping. Look at all the people as they wonder the earth like the living dead, always chasing the carrot on the stick. Part of this phenomena includes the characters we make up for ourselves. These are single minded characters, hiding away the fact we are very deep, rich beings. They protect our emotions and stability, but at the risk of limiting our creative potential.

I just want you to realize that there are things inside you that you don't even know about; a creative, intelligent, caring soul that is sometimes being hidden away. There is always hope. This life isn't about any single person, it's about everybody and everything around you.

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.

Perhaps this idea will bring some comfort to your world. You and I are one in the same; the only thing that truly separates us is that we perceive different parts of the same continuum. We are part of one big body, everything action creating a reaction. The mind likes the alcohol, and the kidneys are the ones paying the price. The rich like their mansions and their money, and their base is the working class poor; these workers allow the rich to enjoy their fancy lifestyle.

I find comfort in know that everything negative is countered by something positive. For every positive in my life there is somebody experiencing the opposite, and vice-versa. Every moment I'm lonely there is somebody out there satisfied, and every moment I'm with friends I keep my humility by remembering the plights of the suffering.

We are all searching for the same thing: true human connection. That is holiness. The feeling of satisfied fulfillment. When you see a friend's eyes light up during a surprise party . . . hug your father goodbye for college . . . being with someone who makes you forget time and space . . . staring peacefully and happily into a lovers eyes after making love . . . dancing it up at prom . . . head-banging to Metallica . . .

The moments that remind you that you are a living, breathing creature. The times that let you know you are alive!

Are you alive?

How does it feel to be alive!?

Summer '06 - I'm waking up but I cannot see

Life's been rough. During the summer I had been stuck out here in Bourbonnais. I really only had two friends, Amanda Bynes Girl and her best friend Fishman. I had met Amanda Bynes Girl, aka Kristen, back in March. It started one day when she yelled Harry Potter at me in the hallway; the most clever thing I could think to return was, "Yea, well at least I don't look like a talent-less Amanda Bynes!!" A couple days--maybe weeks (I really don't remember most of th time period) she returned. She yelled out "Harry Potter!" once again, calling me over to her little group o' buddies. They thought I was funny, so they kept calling me back over.

Anywho, we started hanging out on a daily basis. Of course, it's only far too easy to see where this tale is about to head. She being a girl, I being a boy (I wouldn't call myself a man, yet), I obviously began to fall for her. It wasn't right away, either. It is something that happened over a long period of time. Every time I saw her, she became cuter, prettier, smarter, and more interesting. She simply grew on me.

One night in late June, she was laid out on Fishman's basement rug half fall asleep, exhausted from the day's events. Fishman was busy playing Guitar Hero, and I just couldn't help but marvel at that girl with the shiny straight long brown hair. I wasn't staring dumbfounded or anything, but the feeling I got at just that moment was brillant. She looked amazing laying down right. I, also exhausted from my own activities, suddenly got the desire to just crawl up next to her and snuggle.

And I did. Fishman continued to play Smoke on the Water. Kristin and I laid there in complete harmony, her head next to mine, my gentle fingers wrapped around her waist while her gentle fingers rested beneath her head. It was quite a vivid picture I had drawn in my head, witnessing her beauty, all laid out across from me to appreciate. There were many reasons why I didn't, why I couldn't go up to her and do that. She had a boyfriend, and even if she wanted me to snuggle, it just would have felt like cheating. Yet, I knew the real reason I was sad was because even if Ryan wasn't in the picture, she wouldn't desire me anyway. I can't say that I blame her.

So I did what I've always done: Sat in one place without uttering a word. Fishman's turn was over, and to get my mind off of what I just experienced, I played Cowboys From Hell. Nothing like some good old Metal to scare away the demons, I'll always say.

To take a risk and to be shot down would mean more at this point than a simple rejection. Being shot down would create hostilities. We all know those weird feeling we get when we're pursued by someone we don't find attractive. If I were to fail to get a positive response from Kristen, it'd mean I'd be cut off from the only friend I had in the area. That was not something I would jeopardize.

So, I got split up into two people; an experience of duality one might say. Good old Forsuk, happy and adjusted. The other Forsuk, the melancholy Forsuk, couldn't tell if the sadness came from not being able to be with her, or if I was just channeling all my negative feelings upon myself, thinking all my other problems would go away if I could at least have someone to hold.

I was sad that everyone I'd known would be splitting up soon by going away to college. They were leaving me behind. It was the end of an era. I was afraid I'd be left all alone, worse then the year previous. Hence, I thought I had lost myself. My spirit had been dried up. I didn't know who I was, and I was probably just getting on everyone's nerves with my brooding nature.

When I had recently visited the Heights, everything was cool, everything was alright. But when I had gotten back, I'm pretty sure that Kristen and Fishman realized the change in me. Urhg. I was held back by own inhabitation's . . . .something that if I saw in another person, I'd kick them for it. But, I was powerless to kick myself.

Would somebody slap me? I need to wake up.

I was crazy once. They locked me in a room. I died. Then the worms came . . . Worms?? Worms make me crazy. I was crazy once . . .

How would one know when one has lost his or her mind? Admission of the fact of a crazy mind kind of seems like the person knows what's going on. If you're truly crazy, you shouldn't know it, right?

Perhaps I'm just special like that.

All you need is love? If by love you mean Tacos, then yes, all you need is love.

Love and water. Great by themselves and when put together.

For a limited time only, you can have your very own Forsuk, complete with I like cake talking action! Only $12.99!

Speed. Speed is important. Efficiency. Time is running out. Run, little hedgehog, run. I think I missed the starting gun on life. I like Pink Floyd. Time is a good song. The song of time is pretty sweet too. I wish I was Link. Then I could get the Master Sword (the sword of evil's bane, no doubt.)

I smell nice. I'm not sure if it's vitamins or not, but I do smell nice.

Just thought you should know that I have a fetish for domination.

I should put on pants.

Breakfast Blend

tung burns, throat swells,
Hot and frothy, delicious.
Caffeine kills my brain.

Sweet nectar of life,
you breath new life into me.
2 hours of sleep.

Introduction - An Analysis of Madness

How did I get here? How the hell . . .

Five years ago everything was so much more simple. The days were filled with video games, the bestest of buddies a guy could have, Cheetoes, and no true responsibilities. The world was my oyster, my bike the fork I'd stick in it as I ate it all up.

Four years ago everything was so much more simple. Weight lifting after school, honor classes, free lunch, and boyish, ignorant crushes. So much to look forward too, so much to love, so much enthusiasm.

Three years ago everything was so much more simple. High school, no job, no girlfriends, no worries. Metal music and head banging. Comedy Central and Friday-night Stand-up. Get the good grade, and you can do whatever you want.

Two years ago everything was so much more simple. I had lost everything dear to me, and survived. I got some psychological calluses from the big mess and learned a lot about who I am.

One year ago everything was so much more simple. I had my new girl, I had my new buddies. I proved I could make it on my own.

And it all started to crumble.
The house I was renting was showing signs of disrepair.
Maybe the building materials were the problem. Were they bad to begin with?
Perhaps the designers screwed up the blue prints.
The former occupants didn't keep up the maintenance.
I could have done a better job in my repairs.
Perhaps I picked the wrong lot to build on,
or perhaps I should have just bought a new house.
Maybe another house would suit me better, or perhaps no house at all.

I love you . . . yet, it isn't the same. It could never be the same, never equal. I'm not jealous, nor protective . . . not in the ways you wished. You didn't light my fire like I'd hoped you would. I felt no flame. Sure, we laughed and cried together, cuddled and made love; yet these things didn't constitute the x-factor I'm looking for. I have never shaken the belief there is somebody better out there for me. Perhaps I'm just being selfish. However, I know I can't let live my life out of fear anymore. My decisions must be my own. That's why I wanted it to end . . . and thats why I ended it.

I need to feel the wind beneath my wings. I'd rather crash and burn than to have never tried. All of our problems were the symptoms of my unease, the feeling you get when you know its going to be a bad day. Before I met you, I had been so lonely for so long. I wanted to help you, and I wanted to help me. I love making you happy. I love making people happy. Yet, it wasn't what I was looking for . . . you never felt like, excuse the phrase, "the one".

So much to do, so much to say, and so little time.

I know how to tie my shoes, take a shower, read, do work, make a joke, etc. Yet, I don't know anything of any true importance.

I'm thoroughly dazed & confused, and this time it has nothing to do with drugs or alcohol.


Maybe, with a little help from my friends, I can get by. That's the only thing that gets me to sleep at night is that my dreams are wonderful and vivid! They give me some far off hope to strive for. May love come showering down from the heavens on us all.

I love connecting to other people. I want to experience what I did with you with other girls. I love that feeling. I wish the world had different customs and views on relationships . . . but it doesn't matter anyway. Its just getting way to difficult to shake the feeling I'm useless and ugly.