My oh so poetic poetry

It's been a little over three weeks since my little brother passed away. I was reading over my old posts and somehow I couldn't bring myself to read any of the ones concerning him. I've spent the last two weeks pretty much cooped up in my room, sleeping, reading, doing nothing and a little bit of everything. I miss Simon. I don't think it's really hit me yet, not the full blow of his physical manifestation being gone. The funny part is I was never really worried about him, through him being sick, and even before that. He was always surrounded by people who loved him, and he affected so very many people. But I was never worried about him, I've just always had a sense that everything concerning him was exactly the way it was meant to be. The fact that I had a premonition of the day he was diagnosed six months  before it happened, reassured me even more that this is just the way it was all meant to be. I don't expect everyone to believe me on the premonition thing... I know I didn't believe in " all that crap" untill I started having them... but they've always been accurate, you just need to open your eyes, your mind and your heart. We are here to learn, and we are here to teach, simon taught the people who knew him a multitude of things. I'm glad to have crossed pathes with him. I just hope I can fulfill my life's path as well as he has his. Somehow I know that I will, whatever it may be. I died my hair blonde, its a fake sort of wannabe golden blonde, I think I kinda like it... ask me again tomorrow....
toodles
Anna

I want to disappear. I don’t want to exist. I’m so tired of being me, this way. But being any different wouldn’t be me, and therefore not worth it. I’m exhausted, I’m in need of something to interest me, keep me going. I thought I had found that but no, it was just a mirage, not really for me. A lie in my face saying this could be yours if you tried. God damn did I ever try, I don’t think I ever wanted anything so bad. Still not mine, never was never will be, and not for lack of wanting, nor trying. It is hard. Living, this continuation of being, what a strain. Trying to find some happiness some meaning. I can’t. I can hardly breathe anymore. I wonder if I ever could. I can’t remember, it doesn’t matter. Not really. Self pity is a waste, and making an effort clearly didn’t pay off. Now anyone could guilt trip me into believing that I didn’t try hard enough, or it will come I just need to wait. I’m sick of it. I don’t even know if I want it anymore. Would it be different if I had it, would it change thing? Would I really be the better for it? Probably not. What would I do with my hearts desire except learn to despise it, revile it’s very existence... Like I said No matter. How dark I feel, the thoughts are authentic, the stereotype built from them is disgusting. And how they call me sunshine, I’d burn them all to ash, don’t want anyone near, back off I say and stay away, don’t want you here.

I hurt, stabbing pain to the heart again, feel like crying, for the thing I’ve become, or maybe for something sad, something bad, not tired anymore, awake so awake waiting, something is near but just out of reach.. I Wonder what. I ‘ll know soon... oh look sunrise, I hear the birds now so alive. Cold summer mornings, just before the light before the sunshine blares away the evening mist, before the harshness... summer is so fickle, changing extremist day and night. I get freckles in the summer so many freckles I like my freckles, I really do.. I should sleep or at least close my door so they assume I’m asleep. I think they’re starting to know I’m not well... not trying to hide it anymore and now with him gone they have time to pay attention.. It scares me to have to share what"s going on, I save me for me... but they want to know now. I don’t want them to know, I want to stay disconnected, or else it just gets harder it will all be harder in the end, when there is an end, no matter how it comes by my own hand or not... just more hurt, unnecessary. Sick of hurting. I can’t remember what it’s like not to hurt, my back hurts all the time now, its getting worse and worse. I haven’t eaten anything real in days, haven’t left my room in days. Been drawing, writing, painting. Don’t want to feel but can’t stop it.... sleep now, the sun will burn the world to ash, and if not, I’ll do it myself....

Stand there by the waters edge and let them drop drop drop down down into the blue green clarity. The lilies shiver every time a tear meets the depths of the well. The stems sway with the gentle ripple sent out from the moment of impact, contact. Dip your hands down into the vitality your pain has created. Douse yourself in the collection of moments you fear, wish to forget, long for. Every whisper in the depths of darkness left way to laughter in the sunlight. Every instant of uncertainty pushing forward to wisdom once unreachable. Let yourself drown in the memories thought to be meaningless. Nothing is meaningless. Remember what made you. And then breathe.

The random bits of dark and light can’t possibly make anyone want to be with me. I know I wouldn’t want to be with me. I want someone stable, for a stable relationship something that will last. I can’t expect anyone like that to want to be with someone as off the charts in every which way as me. I flip flop between extreme depression and stupid sunshine child moments. I can’t stay mad, and I can’t guarantee that I won’t get mad or fed up. Sometimes I see myself as a burning churning ball of energy ready to explode, and sometimes implode until there is nothing, no trace if it anywhere. I need something to hold me in place, then again I don’t know how I would be in one place, I feel I need to be everywhere always. Emotions I tried for far too long to cover up, pretending they aren’t there, making myself a mask that not even my closest friends would discover, and it worked, I was liked, but it wasn’t me and got rid of it, and now people like me even more... but still no one wants to be with me, I am not a stable substance and when it comes to relationships I have yet to come across someone willing to handle something as dangerously fickle as me.

Here is another bit of writing.... a little ok a lot out of wack but read it through and tell me what sense you get from this, what it relates to the state of mind of the speaker and anything the speaker refers to. I warn you it’s a little harsh a little complex but there is quite a lot put into this.

I am not crazy. You see I’ve rationalised this before. And I’m not. Crazy I mean. So I occasionally lock myself in a room. That means nothing.

Someone knocks on the door

I cant remember the thread I was going on damn it, why why why do they interrupt me, knock on the door, saying I should eat or sleep... I sleep during the day I don’t need to eat I’m not spending any energy. Damn them wanting to help STOP it STOP it! I don’t need help don’t need food. Need to write, need to draw, paint paint is good need more paint where is the paint... I can think straight, I choose not to, no use to it... thinking in lines when the world is a spiral. I don’t need to dress I’m not going anywhere, stay here in here not moving spinning. Weaving thoughts. There is something at the window, there the window can’t you see something at the window out the window jump jump down splat window. Oh it’s only me, myself, reflection of what isn’t there, mirrors of thought. What I want? What I wanted? Yeah wanted not anymore no more. Work too much work, so much work. Where is the thread, I lost it. Oh there it is. Not crazy, no just inspired, just thinking always thinking can’t stop thinking, yarn where? Knitting no, no needles needles hurt, pain, don’t like pain, need pain. Need to feel, hurt Need to hurt, hurt ME hurt ME why won’t you hurt me, stop STOP it NO laughing, cackle, like a witch you’re a witch, no I am a witch with my magic I make you blind, can’t see what’s there can’t feel life can’t touch it don’t know what is real do you? NOTHING REAL, CAN’T touch DON’T touch. BACK OFF! Take away your black heart with all the things you will never know never feel. I FEEL, I KNOW. Don’t ask to But I do. I feel all the things you try to hide from the world the pain you inflict hits me hard and harder when you lie. Forget you are part of life you are life I AM LIFE. I Live you ARE LIVING stop lying you know I know you feel that I FEEL but you don’t FEEL WHAT I feel. See, see me cry crying always tears flow from my eyes, disconnect my heart, why I stay alone, to feel TO flow with the tears of the world Fall window... NO window work! Someone needs to tell someone needs to feel BACK OFF DON’T TOUCH Can NOT feel the one who feels All I feel you but I Am not real to you you can’t feel me CANT TOUCH me I am not here, whisper in the light voices in your darkness the world is always grey. Grey sun grey moon, grey sounds mundane laughter of the children you lie to, tell they need to follow don’t follow PAIN STOP. BACK OFF CHILD let you parents hold you tight let them lie so you can hear and judge and tell and grow know more always know be more GROW. You are light you are yellow in grey, indigo in white and black. Believe you to be more and grow be what you are. Goodbye now said too much too late time to go work done but only beginning GROW child listen and grow indigo light, yellow dreams feel then rise and let fall tears to teach always show and tell and teach . BE

alright so I went to laronde with a couple friends on wednesday... took me a while to remerber which day my mind is really messed up at the moment... and on the way there i ran into one of if not my best and closest friends and her boyfriend on the bus,.... I had been feeling really upset the week before just really havent been myself for a good long long while and it had gotten to the point where I just stayed in my room and slept all day,... so I decided to make an effort and go out and then we ran into my friends ummm yeah so I was really happyto see her,,, the other people I was with didnt really grasp how upset I was... its my own fault ive been downplaying jsut how not well Ive been... and with my other friends there at least I had a little bit of a buffer... , the ones I had come with were really aggravating me so I went off on my own for about an hour.... just wandering around... after I met up with them again we went to get somehting to eat and I jsut started crying and crying.... no one outside my family has seen me cry in about 6 years.... so you can imagine their shock.... they just went on as if nothing happened... anyways... point is I shouldnt have gone... well on thursday I got yelled at by my mother because I left a  note to tell her I was HOME instead of waking her up at 2 am .... yeah.... ok and then my brother was being the biggest fucking asswhole ever I really dont know how he can think he's better than the rest of us... someone needs to shoot him down...anyways the shithead starting hitting me so I hit back .... of course my parents didnt see him hit me so they assumed I was jsut throwing a fit... WTF... phil is home till monday there is no way in hell I am going upstairs until that piece of shit is back in mtl... oh yeah and I killed my alarm clock by throwing it at the wall.... fuck.... this shit is retarded... he last year of my life could be made into a fucking movie ahhhhhh drama yeah.... go to hell... I just want to be numb... I dont care I dont want to care I dont want to feel ... I just want a way out... my reason to live died two weeks ago... what now?

Lying there, the blistering heat burning flesh ever so slightly. Roasting like pigs. By the water’s edge dressed in next to nothingness, small pieces of strategically placed cloth protect the decency of these otherwise exhibitionists. Ding goes the bell and the sows turn round to even their roasting. Ding it goes again and they lather themselves to slow and even the roasting, to keep their flesh tender. The effort they put into their appearance hoping to be noticed, waxing, shaving plucking, combing, dressing...undressing, subtle movements to attract. Pushed to the very limits to be desired. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To be wanted? And there in the water the pigs soaking away the early afternoon heat, preparing to approach their roasting counterparts, droolingly driven by their own wanting. On goes this game, whatever the season. Wanting and wanting to be wanted. What sorrow awaits those who follow only the dictated rules to satisfy themselves. Slaves to the onslaught of disappointment, where their hearts will be butchered for blind obedience to the masses. Serving the perpetual illusions of caring, longing for it to be real. I never could obey, rules were never mine to follow. Now I find myself wanting, but knowing, that will never be the way to get anywhere real, and my soul cannot feed itself with illusion. So I wait, and instead of roasting in the sun preparing to be devoured by something in my mind, I sit and watch hoping, still, to see something more than a mirage on the horizon. Clinging with some sort of rationalisation that I cannot be the only who refuses this fake reality. Or maybe I’m the who doesn’t see reality. Who knows? Does it matter? Somehow it does to me. I am no sow, and I want no pig.

Driving through the thick lost roads of the places left yet unchanged by the ever growing furor of lights and sounds that we’ve grown dependant upon, is the last free solace I can afford to give myself, and even then I need to pay the gas. Feeling forgotten and forgetting by the world and about it, windows rolled all the way down, arms thrown into the wind of a night lit only by stars and only momentarily by the fireflies and sometimes by the eyes of the animals who fleetingly call these fading places home. The wind feels like silk on my skin, or fine velvet, so soft to the touch, never ending streams of it, on and on, touching something that isn’t really there. You can’t hurt what isn’t there, you can’t hate it either. Wind can’t fight back, you aren’t even really fighting it. The wind whips my hair back, and then back into my face. Lashing me for the thoughts I have of hurting it, tearing it, shredding it, destroying it’s very existence. But never really, I need it far too much to ever mean it.

Cup of tea, bucket of paint, blank canvas, tons and tons of chocolate.... things I need today... I feel destructive, raging.... like I want to scream and shred everything to bits.... I feel isnpired... at peace with who I am, and the way the world is.... I feel sad, I feel angry at my older brother philipp, he is such a shithead sometimes doesnt know when to quit, doesnt undertand that I need space and time, doesnt feel, he isnt very emotive, he's too logical to understand, he refuses to believe in anything other than what he can touch, count, analyse... it must be sad to be like him... he is missing so very much a whole world... I have no more paint... mixed emotions with a blanket of intensity like im feeling now always makes for somehtin wonderfull, because just by looking at it you feel the emotion.. and my art is all emotion only emotion, it feeds and pulls and just drags you down into whatever you thought you burried and helps you to get through it... people can find rage is come of my calmer paintings... people like philipp can't understand or appreciate, because they cant grasp why it makes them feel, and they dont like that... I feel y painting is getting better, before it was really play, experimenting, splatters on emotion consequences of laws of nature.... now its more controlled, still brimming with emotion (I don't know how I do that) but more texture, shadow and light, perspective... still abstract oh very very abstract but more shapes more layers more blending.... I have the experience with the medium to be able to think about the way to apply it now, its great, I feel proud. im doing more sewing too, I made a dress a beautiful dress I amreally proud, blue corderoy with black bordering... lol I didnt use a patterns I grabbed the material a needle and just went at it... using myself as a model sewing it while wearing it, it only took me 16 hours... and then another hour to touch it up here and there.... noe im making another one... form an old tank  top a shirt and some other material I had been ising as a curtain... you can see how my creative side has very few borders.... paperclip jewelry, found art.... collections of things smashed into something beautiful, carvings, baskets made form bark I stripped from a tree when I took a walk... Antyhing and everything....  but now I need to get some paint and some canvas.. and make a mess..... toodles

Annna

Simon's funeral went really well. The family had prepared a collage of important events in is life, a photo album of him growing up and a slide show off  the many many other pictures that couldn't be fit into the other two. All six remaining Family member's stood in a row by the casket and greated and received condolences and sympathies. Just before people began to arrive my older sister turned to my mom and asked "Are we supposed to stop giggling now?"  And later she  turned to me and asked "Are we supposed to look sad now? because I don't feel sad now." The family has had time to cope with the idea of losing him, and seeing him as sick as he was in the last few days it was a blessing to have him go, and so we were perhaps not as tearful as was expected of us. So many people came to say they're last farewells, it was good to see how appreciated he was by others, good to know that they also knew how great this little kid was. My mother had planned to say a few words about Simon but hadn't had the time to get out jsut what she wanted to say, and she was delivered from this by an e-mail she received from a friend of the family. In the e-mail he said how only after learning of simon's passing did he realise that he was an embodiement of the little prince, for those who know the story this gives you an idea of the kind of curious, searching and teaching soul simon was, I found it to be a wonderfull  description for an almost undescribable person. Simon was here to make us learn, to show us the things we need to see, and most importantly and personnally  to teach us to love and appreciate those around us for who they are and what they bring to the world.
If you have not read the story of the little prince I urge you to do so, and if you ahve I urge you to read it again, it is a book for all ages filled with so many meanings and meaningful things,
After the funeral home we invited everyone to join us at our home for a buffet, the atmosphere there was far more that of a celebration than that of mourning, which is exactly what we intended. alhtough there were tears there was far more laughter, induced either by the memories of simon, the fact that everyone came dressed in BRIGHT colors to truly honor him, and also the fact that I was wearing a skirt, oh the comments I got on that one, I haven't worn a skirt in six years.... it was a shocker!..., All is well
toodles take care,
Anna

Since simon passed away on thurday i've just been.. I dunno... I do the same things I would normally do, Ipaint I write, I go swimming... you know for the past year and half he's been in and out of the hospital, moslty in though... so I guess the fact that he's that permanently gone hasn't quite completly hit home yet. consciously and logicaly I know he's gone, and I was emotionnaly ready to let him go, but somehow I forget. I just forget that he's gone, and every once in a while I have to remind myself of it. and everytime I do I feel sad again, and then I think of him and remember who he was and I come to the same conclusion everytime, he's one heck of a good kid who had one heck of a good life and we all loved him and he knew it. And then I feel so much happier than I did before. I dont feel like he missed out on anything, even the things I assumed I would, like growing up and learning how to drive. I guess he just didn't need to experience them... I dont feel like he is missing out. And that is one of the greatest things I fear for myself to miss out on something. I want to feel and experience everything this world has to offer and I am affraid that I wont be able to... and yet even though simon hasn't I dont think he MISSED them... and it makes me think that I wont MISS them... it just makes everything a little more right... I dont know if that makes any sense or not... oh well... doesn't matter much either way...
toodles,
 Anna 

Simon passed away last night at 10:20pm. He had just come home from the hospital. He got out of the car, refused to take the wheelchair and walked into the house by himself. He sat down on the couch in the sunroom and asked for a glass of water. Because of the leukemia and his weekened immune system he'd been drinking bottled water for the past year and a half, He specifically asked for a glass of tap water (our water here in franklin is exceptionnaly good and has a clean taste like no other, something we greatly appreciate since we moved here). Then he asked my sister to take off his socks (he never liked socks, he refused to wear them for the longest time). HIs breathing was getting harsher and more difficult and his face was pale. I said goodnight to him, kissed him on the head and went to my room to work on some sewing... a little while later I felt as though someone had just stabbed me through the heart and began to cry, a few minutes after that my older sister came downstairs and asked me to come join the family in the sunroom because simon had just passed away. The whole family sat together in the sunroom as my mother sat on the couch holding him. We all sat there and talked about simon, joked about his quirks, of which there were many, and of the time we had with him... we sat there for about two hours until the doctor came and filled out his death certificate. After the doctor left, my mom washed simon's body, and called the funeral home, they arranged for the body to be picked up this morning so that we would all have time to say goodbye. I had aready said goodbye to simon the day before when he had stayed in the hospital because I felt that the end would be soon and I wanted him to be able to agnowledge my presence. We are all sad to have lost him, but I feel his purpose was fulfilled He lived the life he was meant to lead and went out on his own terms at home, with a glass of cool fresh well water and his socks off. The world is better to have known him and we are all very proud. My family isn't the kind to sit around crying, although we cer tainly have our moment, we talk about him, and joke about him, and focus on the good we gained. His funeral is going to be on monday, and while im sure there will be a lot of crying I am just as sure there will be a lot of laughter and celebration for our little monkey boy.

We love you Simon, we miss you, take care wherever you are.

Anna   

my little brother is dying, he is 11 years old... he has leukemia and is going to leave this world in the days, or moments to come. He taught me to care, and I thank him. He taught me to share, and I thank him. He taught me to be me and told me to knock it off when I wasn't, and I thank him. He taught me that Me is a great person worth sharing, and I thank him. He showed me I was needed, and I thank him. He gave me reasons when no one else could, and helped me reason when I didnt I could, and I thank him. I gave him a year, I donated my bone marrow to him in june 2005 and that gave him a year to be appreciated by our family and our friends. A year of chances we might have missed a year of moments we won't ever let go of, and I thank him. Simon was meant to teach us all and he did, and will continue to do so. My little brother is my hero and always will be... I only hope I can become someones hero one day.  

Violently I rage through the house screaming at any living thing in my way. Bang, bang bang go the doors from the outside to my room. I almost imagine them as gunshots shredding through the flesh of the loved ones I victimize. It’s not that I want to inflict pain I just want them to understand it. To finally get what it’s like. Sure put me down, judge judge, judge. Verdict? Teenage angst. Solution? She’ll grow out of it, they all do. Eventually. They’re probably right. I’ll get sick of this treatment, their reactions. I’ll get fed up with trying to explain the things I so dearly need someone to know. The harsh sound of my voice after yelling and crying out of sheer exasperation at being "misunderstood" and "ignored" leaves me wondering if I’ll even be able to speak tomorrow. It’s not it matters. Silence is golden right? At least it is to some, I imagine my family falls into those some. Once I’ve created enough chaos and self-loathing I retreat to my room before they have a chance to fight back. Even if they had the chance often I leave them gasping to comprehend the hurricane that ravaged their emotions. Speechless, I guess. They don’t dare approach the door when I’m like this. But they know that by tomorrow it will be forgotten. I’ll be the adorable happy sunshine the world knows of and expects me to be. I don’t hate them, If I hated them I wouldn’t bother trying so god damn hard. I’m having trouble breathing. I’m getting tired, so sick and so very tired. I know things will eventually get better, I know these things pass. But I just need it all to stop. I need time to understand why no one understands. Am I not speaking? Am not looking into the eyes of someone capable of hearing and processing the words I say, the words they taught me to communicate with? Then why is this so hard? Sure, they all figure they’ve been through this " I understand, I do". No you don’t, if you understood you wouldn’t say those words, not like that. You wouldn’t look at me with that expression. Your hands wouldn’t feel the way they feel. Your heart wouldn’t bleed so easily. If you understood you would stand back and let me scream. Let me cry. Let me abuse myself to the point were I never want to do that ever again. Let me hurt so bad, hurt me so hard that all I ever want is to feel the good and the right. Make it so bad that even the lack of negativity feels like a gift from above, an untold grace to support me. I need something, I NEED someone. It’s not that anything is that bad, it’s just that nothing is that good, and mediocrity is nothing to live for