Broken, but still good.

Everybody is broken in some sort of way, it's due to the trials and tribulations we face each day. And if you say you don't have a single bruise, you're life has been a cruise, well then congratulations on surviving a trial by fire or maybe more precisely congratulations on being a liar. Maybe it's just me but I refuse to believe anyways had it that easy all the while, you may be born with a silver spoon but you're broken and fragile. The truth is our emotions, our beings are broken and battered, but that's how they are meant to be, a person proud to show their scars means so much to me. I may not be the best at letting them show, but I make a point of making sure others know. Everybody feels like their pain is worse, how could anyone ever relate? That's just prideful thinking that leads to self-hate. It's a cyclical process, pain leads to hate and that hate leads to sorrow, and soon enough you begin to hate tomorrow. I know this all because I lived through it, the difference is I didn't live by it. While people mock you and bring your confidence to zero, just remember their pompous act is to protect a fragile ego. Instead of accepting our faults, we lock those emotions in some tight vaults. We refuse to accept we are anything less, so we make others feel like less and end up in another mess. Society teaches kids they have to be the best, but only one can claim that top spot...what about the rest? Those kids who weren't strong or pretty enough, is there enough room in popularity for us? We place our values in the wrong types of things, it seems that all we focus on is things. Those tangible things give us confirmation and validation that serve as our evaluation. People are put on pedestals because they are perfect and pristine like they are straight out of a movie scene. But the make up and puffed out chests is a desperate attempt to separate themselves from the rest. Sure it might work at first, but that inflated ego is like a balloon, it's going to burst. Don't ever be afraid of losing friends if show who you really are, because real friends will roll up their sleeves and compare scars.

Something Romantic

I loved a girl once, but that seems so long ago. Well really I still love her, why? I don't really know. Maybe she's the one, the woman I was destined for, or maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic always longing for something more. It's nice to have that feeling, when everything's seemingly all right and when it's gone you stay up dreaming all night. Dreaming of her and the words she said, caught up in melodramatics wishing you were dead. But that's just the foolishness of being hurt, just listen to me though her "smell" will eventually leave your shirt. Love comes and love goes, it's a tired old cliche that we've all come to know. I guess I shouldn't talk since I still love the same girl, but I've been through it all so I know the same shock. I know it hurts when they don't love you back, sometimes you just have to wait and that's all I'll say about that. Well, let's back up a bit and give some context to these thoughts and tell you about the girl who has my heart in knots. I was about 15 when I met her, I was so young and naive. The fact that a girl this beautiful was even talking to me was hard to believe. Young, blonde, beautiful, serene probably the most amazing person I'd ever seen. Sweet and creative the list is endless, but let's not get too wrapped up in this. We talked and then we dated, then affections of love were soon stated. It was something I'd never felt before, I'd loved others but never felt it like this, to the core.  It was great at first, always is in the beginning, and since I'm built out of cliches my whole world was spinning. But I wasn't prepared for the fallout and learning what broken hearts are really about. We all have baggage and some sort of damage and how life can be so seemingly savage. Long story short we broke up, but I guess that was obvious, but from there on out things were on and off for us. I know I'm leaving out some major details, but getting to into it all is a whole nother set of tales. The important part is I love and still do, even if for her the same isn't true. We're both better now, the broken fences mended and the future is fairly open-ended.

Thank You

I just wanted to thank you all for making me the man I am today, but there's so much more to this than my feeble words will ever say. You've all created and molded who I am, but I live with this fear that it's all a sham. I'm afraid one day I'll wake up and be exactly the same as I was back then and that's not the type of person I want to be again. I was manipulative, abrasive, and honestly surprised I had a friend, you'll never know how much I hate myself at a days end. Sometime's I'm afraid that's my true identity and that terrifies me. Has this progress been all for not? Should these changes just be forgot? I know I've become a better person, a better man, someone please tell me I'm better than, better than the old callous me please tell me that's not who I'm supposed to be. I know I still feel selfish, arrogant, and rude. I just wasn't built to be some closeted prude. Is that so bad or wrong? Or am I destined to be this mess all along? Why can't I just get some validation or some sort of confirmation? Whenever I'm told I'm doing something right, there's always that second part to confirm I'm still not all right. Like right steps but just not there yet, but you'll get there I bet. Sometimes I just don't get why I'm so insecure or why I hold in all these fears. I try to be the best man I know how to be, but...maybe that guy just isn't me. Maybe everything I think about me is just a result of an inflated ego, where I even got that I don't know. The fake self-confidence has built up a wall around my psyche it's eliminated any chance of someone seeing what might be. Like maybe there is a vulnerable person in there crying out for help, but that person is quiet and won't even yelp. Maybe some have seen him or heard a cry, but this vulnerable side is hidden behind locks and doors and we don't know why? I think it's because I'm scared of my real self, that's why I keep it on a shelf. Scared of the power he holds to show me the treasures untold. Treasures of life and and the world that could be mine, if only I didn't keep him in such a bind. But what if people don't like the man behind the mask, that's why I'm so afraid of this task. The task of showing my true colors, I just don't think I'm ready to show that to others. Will they be disgusted, turn and run? Or will they be delighted I've finally come? That story's yet to be finished, and won't be until this fake me is finally diminished. So let me get back to the main point, thank you for at least bringing me to this point.

Hashtag Really?

It's crazy to see how many people are getting into relationships, it's getting hard just to keep track of it. It seems like high school is less about education and more about communication, getting in on the latest gossip and rumors, listening in on every coital murmur. Because we make sex seem cool and kids use it as a tool. They boost their popularity into places it shouldn't be. Now, there's nothing with having friends, that's not what I'm saying, egos just seem to be over-inflated to me. Someone gets 1,00 Twitter followers or Facebook friends and suddenly their reality comes to an end. It's replaced with this self-centered attitude because they were retweeted once by some sort of famous dude. Which is cool and all, but using that to decide your friends is like deciding your future with a crystal ball. We've traded real friends and loves for digital dudes and people in a social media stratosphere so far above. We replace an ideal of a higher name just for the chance to get a little blue check next to our twitter name. I use twitter and facebook a lot so they aren't the problem, it's when we put way too much faith in all of them. It's no longer "hey call me at 501", now it's become "hey follow me @cutie1" #omg, could it really be? That cute person from homeroom followed me?" Stop it, are you serious? Hashtag this, hashtag that, can we please stop? All these things are making me delirious. We are bombarded by tweets and notifications from random people and associations. Half of them we will never know, but we all still accept them though. We just follow and friend, that's the new social trend.

Simple, True

Sometimes, I think I just don't understand what love really is. Or maybe I just don't get what others think it is, like it's some sort of big complicated mess or a pop quiz. People toss the word around so much I'm afraid it's lost all meaning, like it's no longer even a feeling. It's just some four letter word that people say, said so often and repeated over and over till it's become cliche. People still want to make something special out of it, but sometimes I find it hard to really give a shit. It's not that I'm bitter and don't love any one, it's just that this flood of "love" is something I can't outrun. I'm not one to build fake relationships for the sake of having relationships so call me old-fashioned but this is something that has me a bit impassioned. When you're two weeks into dating, it's a bit too soon to begin the love labeling. I've known and dated girls for months and never pulled out the love card, it's just something I hold in high regard. Trust me, I know what it's like to feel that way, I love a girl like that even if she doesn't feel the same way. Maybe it's because of this, know what real love is, that I feel like I need to explain myself. All I think is we might want to put love on a metaphorical shelf, not to be hidden and shied away, but something to be cherished and put on display so that maybe, maybe one day you can give it away to someone who deserves that gift. In my honest opinion there are two types of love, one for your friends that can be divided up and parceled out and a pure love that is only meant to take one single route. You see, you have to be careful with the latter because it's hard to get that pure love back and losing it feels like a heart attack. You really don't understand the meaning of love, until you've lost it while staring at the stars above. Love never lets you decide who to truly love, it's simply an instinct we never even think of. I never knew I'd fall so hard for someone until I did and it never made me feel more like a kid. It was something new and wonderful that seemed perfect, but in all things there was a defect. Love in and of itself is broken and shattered, but we all ignore the fact that it's so tattered. We all look for something clean and shining, but that's why so many are left pining. Looking for Prince Charming or Snow White, ignoring that love is really a fight. A fight past your struggles and your companion's struggles, people just try to avoid these troubles. Sometimes it's hard to keep fighting and we give in accepting it's a battle we'll never win. Then it's all compressed and condensed until love becomes something facile, trying to ignore the things that make it a hassle. Everybody to make love real and tangible so their expressions of love become nothing but physical. Emotional intellect is tossed aside for a narcissistic disconnect. I'm sorry but sex and love just don't go together because you can always have one without the other. It's a complicated mess of emotions and feelings that usually leaves people reeling, unprepared for the impact it brings, not knowing how to handle it when their "heart sings". So they let people pull on their heart strings playing them like puppet, unable to just tell someone to stop it. Their heart becomes damaged and broken and lover becomes something to never become spoken. We guard ourselves and build up a wall that should have never been put up at all. All because love is misused and misunderstood and it's hard sometimes to see why it's even good. My advice is guard your heart and be careful with love, but don't withhold yourself just because. Love is great, wonderful, and amazing, it's beyond anything I've been describing. I'm probably wrong with half the things I said, and it's pretty arrogant to think I understand love with the thoughts in my head. But what I do know is this, true love is truly bliss.

Silent Hearts

In and out…in…and…out. His breathing began to slow down, muscles tensed up, and his pupils dilated. To anyone looking, that is assuming they can see him through the brush, would think a tiger was about to strike and they wouldn’t be far off from thinking that. Thomas, otherwise known as the Paper Tiger, lay in wait for his target the newly appointed Prime Minister of Russia. It’s not that he enjoyed killing or had some sadistic mentality, but after disbandment of Project Marvel there were certain governments and agencies in need of highly skilled people and Thomas fit that description.

“3…2…” Thomas counted silently in his head, trailing off.

At the one, Thomas burst forward from the brush. One arm went around the neck apply pressure at the elbow joint, the other hand covering the mouth and before anybody knew what had happened it was over. The strangest thing, and Thomas’ trademark, was that there was never any sound during the assassination and there was never a trace found of Thomas only the body. Only moments later, Thomas was on the roof of a nearby apartment. He was on the ledge crouching down watching another clean up in progress as he shimmied a cigarette out of his pack and lit it up. His dark green eyes scanned the scene bored with everything, every mission was the same and easy. Thomas could care less about political aspirations or the high reward for these missions, but civilian life wouldn’t fit either so he was stuck here.

“I see you’ve done your work dutifully again Paper Tiger,” a woman’s voice appeared behind Thomas, making no noise as she entered as if she simply popped up, “You know you could just as easily kill them from here.”

“That’s not the point,” he sighed, resulting in a cloud of smoke, “you don’t get the same closeness with them with long-range.”

“Oh?” she mocked him, “The Paper Tiger likes to get friendly with targets? Tell me do you have tea with them beforehand too?” she cackled, amusing herself.

“Shut up Dissonance.” He spoke curtly with her, finding everything about her annoying even her scent.

Thomas had a past with Dissonance, real name Yulia, which he had long tried to forget. She was his first wife, before Project Marvel, and had met her on assignment in Russia. Thomas’ job before was serving in the British military as an officer. As things deteriorated politically the world began to split and push towards the brink of war that’s when Project Marvel came in. It was an uncreatively named international project to create government-controlled super-human that could sweep in and end conflicts before they really begin. Thomas and Yulia were already married before the project, but were drafted together by their governments separately. All in all there were only five people drafted in and only three left living today: Thomas, Yulia, and a rogue American agent who went MIA shortly after being deployed in Southern Asia. Thomas was given his name because his ability to slip in between dimensions instantly. Enemies reported hearing and or seeing only a rustle like papers being be blown in the wind hence the name Paper Tiger, a silent entry, but a powerful strike. Yulia was granted a sort of mental manipulation, she could bring enemies down to such a mental break down they would be crippled and she could to entire crowds, cognitive dissonance which is what gave her her code name.

“People reveal their true self when they are moments from death,” Thomas finally rose and turned around to face Yulia, “In those last few moments as the heart goes quiet you get…a glimpse at their soul if you will. Something you care nothing about.”
                “Right, because I’m normal and I’d rather not get blood on this dress.” She dusted herself lightly looking at the ground disgustedly, “This country is dirty enough.”

“Will you just get to the point Yulia? I’m assuming you are here to assign my next mission?” he was visibly and audibly irritated by his ex-wife.

She had grown to actually enjoy the killing part of their job. They both shared a disinterest in the politics of this game, but where Thomas convinced himself it was for the “greater good”, Yulia turned it into a hobby, slowing down her methods to watch them squirm. Thomas saw himself as a Machiavellian person; the ends justify the means, whereas Yulia was an anarchist. She would’ve destroyed the governments already, but that wasn’t lady-like of her and all the blood would just stain her dress.

She huffed like she was insulted, “An old flame can’t just come to say hi?” she smiled before she jumped, a bit startled by Thomas’ quick glare, “Fine fine hmph…We’re being disbanded and targeted.”

Thomas was taken back and looked back at her silently. She continued, “The American is gone and it’s down to one of us. Only one of us can survive Thomas.” Her voice lowered as she approached Thomas, like a mother telling her child a pet is dead.

“So then this was your master plan huh?” he smiled tossing away the remains of his cigarette, “Toy with me first then kill me?”

Yulia looked hurt, she outstretched her arms embracing Thomas as she reached him, “No, of course not. I was hoping we could put our differences aside for the sake of survival.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” He remained motionless, refusing to reciprocate the hug.

“My my Thomas, must you always be the cynic? I loved you once why can’t I feel the same again?”

“Because this stopped being about anything but love a long time ago.”

“It did? And since when are you such a heartless man?”

“Would it be cliché to say when you left me?”

She smiled, “Well yes, it would but you’re just full of clichés anyways so it doesn’t matter.”

He remained silent for a bit as he closed his eyes. It helped his concentration to shut off the world, listening granted a lot more information than sight. He could hear both of their heartbeats the rhythmic beating almost seemed to match up, thump…thump…thump. He softened a bit, remembering just how beautiful their life really was before everything happened and how beautiful it could be now. It wasn’t crazy to think they could make it, it was a very distinct possibility.
                “Oh Thomas I know we had our differences but,” She finally broke the silence but her words were cut off sharply.

Thomas had finally moved again and in doing so he had removed his knife and thrust it into her heart. When he opened his eyes they locked in with Yulia’s and in that moment nothing else existed. He gently lay her down sitting with her and set her head in his lap, making his best attempt to have her last moments at least be comfortable he placed a hand on her side with the wound. He did his best to slow the bleeding, only enough to allow one last conversation, and felt her heartbeat.

“Why?” she pleaded, a helpless cry but the only one that made sense in an unexpected moment of tragedy.

“In all honesty,” Thomas let out a long sigh, “I don’t know. Maybe I still don’t trust you and don’t want to risk being betrayed, maybe I’m trying to protect you from the hardships of living as a fugitive. I honestly just don’t know.”

She laughed, unintentionally causing herself to cough flecks of blood, “Only you Thomas would try and protect a woman you hate.”

He hung his head smiling, “Yulia,” he brushed hair out of her eyes getting one last look into them, “I never hated you…I never even left your side.”

She weakly moved her arm up removing Thomas’ hand from the wound, “you could’ve at least…tried not to stain the dress.” She smiled mildly as she slipped away.

Thomas sat there listening to her heart fall silent. He slumped down a bit, knowing that she was finally gone and felt nothing. He thought having peace from her would have some sort of cathartic release, but in the end this kill like all the others was boring and easy. Thomas stood up and tried cleaning his hands of her blood. He smiled and laughed at himself, the thought that her last words were about a dress, a dying woman worried about a stained dress. People truly are themselves before they die.

Dreamed Dreams

There’s a lot of fish in the sea, it’s always darkest before the dawn, and various other clichés are always handed out to desolate people after terrible break-ups. Empty, hollow words are tossed about in a meaningless attempt to make sense of everything. That’s getting ahead of the story though; to appreciate these sentiments we have to go back to the beginning. Well, actually we pick up towards the end of Edward Alonzo’s marriage so we are starting at the beginning of the end so to speak.

Edward was an average man of 30 at this point with thin blond hair and a worn-down demeanor. The color faded from his face years ago and wasn’t even a shadow of what he used to be when he married Kathy. She had retained much of her features throughout the years, mostly due to draining money from Edward for expensive make-up and fashion fads. Together in public they looked like an old man who had found his trophy wife despite the fact that Kathy was actually two years older than Ed. He worked as an accountant in New York City and she quit work as a waitress once she latched onto her piggy bank. In the 8 years of their marriage they had no children together and remained in a small uptown apartment, which was another unassuming facet of the Alonzo’s life. Simple white walls containing simple people and their simple lives no matter how they tried to “spice things up”. The only real way they tried to bring something more into the relationship was a desperate attempt by Kathy to keep around what she called her money, but what most people referred to as her husband. There were lingerie nights and “sexy” outfits, roleplaying, any sort of sexual play that Kathy could think of, but Ed grew tired of them easily and the spark never lasted for more than a few days. After a year or two of trying and failing the relationship fell dead, but the corpse of their marriage lingered as both were too stupid or stubborn, whatever you think, to leave. Ed because he simply had no inclination that nothing was wrong and Kathy because she couldn’t risk living on her own again.

While they were both content to live a life vacant of emotion and move around each other like ghosts if we fast forward a few months, divorce papers are being filed just like that. In the months between Kathy had been having an affair on the side and when she found out her lover had money and no wife, Edward became dispensable and that’s how we reached this point. The split was simple and clean and they both moved on as best they could, one obviously faring better than the other. A few weeks later, Edward was still in shock over the divorce as he somehow never saw it coming. His life continued in much the same way as when he was married however except now there wasn't a baleful stare across the table from a woman who was reconsidering the benefits of being a trophy wife to a man who had no need for a trophy. Someone on the outside might call it a sad existence, but after a few weeks Edward barely remembered that he had a wife as his life moved on. He became set in his ways after the divorce, so much so that the path he walked in the morning was worn down like an old field trail and that was perfectly fine with him. As far as he was concerned Kathy never existed and this wasn't due to any hateful scorn or resentment, but simply the result of an inept man who never should've been married in the first place. For Edward the past years of his life were like a dream, not a particularly fantastical one but it was pleasant and nice which was a fair description of Edward’s life as well. It wasn't a star-studded life, but it was normal and plain and Edward braved it heroically.