empty (opened up)

[prismaticbleed]

 

The emotional pain is coming back.
Yesterday was so much worse... it tore me apart, completely. Good and bad. I apologize if that interfered with our conversations.

I don't have the nerve or the ability to write a real entry today. Everything needs to be discussed on Xanga due to the nature of it, so I really hope I'll be able to pull myself together enough to host one tonight. I need to. It's just been a very, very rough week.

But... do you remember when I wrote this entry?
There's another poem in my dA gallery that holds an incredible amount of meaning for me, and I think it's about time I explained it here.

This is what Empty is about.




“Do you know how it feels?
To see people you’ve never met, and meet people you’ve never seen?
I’m telling you, it’s breaking my heart.” I gestured blindly at the forgotten streets around us.

This is my constant agony.
In my daily life, I don't see that many people. I'm stuck in a dysfunctional household with limited transportation, and I didn't start making friends anywhere until I was seventeen. So all my life I've been seeing people I've never met, and would likely never meet.
However, those friends I started making in 2007 were found online. I'd never seen them, but I had sure met them. It was a strange little paradox that only becomes stranger when one realizes that, for the 17 years of my life prior, I had not been as alone as I looked. I was surrounded by souls I had never seen, blessed with a mental world that had saved my life dozens of times and would only continue to do so.
But it breaks my heart. I can walk the streets of town and not recognize a single face, fully aware that an amber-blue specter is walking alongside me, as invisible as I likely am to those that pass us by... and I need people. I love people; I live for every other soul in this world, but if they won't so much as acknowledge my existence, what can I do?
'Gesturing blindly' is a symbolic reference to this, in that sometimes my eyes aren't seeing what is in front of me: they're more focused on what's happening upstairs, so to speak. This can be a good thing, especially when I'm working (I can focus entirely on my creations), but when it happens involuntarily it can be downright lethal. If I'm 'out,' anything can get in, and I pay the price for it. Chaos is honestly terrified of this happening to me, and it does, but that's a whole other story.
The forgotten streets are a concrete image. This entire 'poem' takes place in a large city not unlike New York, but it is entirely desolated. I have a strange weakness for that sort of imagery; this isn't the first time I've mentally turned up in such a place. 'Forgotten' is also significant, in that although said streets had been abandoned by the world before I set foot in it, my presence essentially redeemed it from its desolation. I have a deep, driving need to act as a force of inspiration, salvation and protection for others, in any way possible.


He didn’t answer but turned to face me, bottleglass eyes reflecting the candy-apple paint of the car I was trailing my hand along. I wished my father had taught me about their insides.
“I haven’t known the life you’ve lived,” he said sadly, and I distracted myself from the pain in my chest by trying to count the shards of glass we were walking over.

'He' is Chaos Zero, if you haven't already guessed. Most bottleglass I've been acquainted with is a deep green, and I love finding new terms to describe this guy's eyes, so there you go. Candy-apple paint is an absolutely stunning shade of red, and is the closest hue to my personal 'red' that I can find (the metallic finish is what does it). There's an ironic symbolism here-- bottleglass is typically seen in pieces, while that candy red is usually reserved for sports cars. However, here that majestic shade is only a reflection in something infinitely more significant.
My father works in the automotive restoration business, and he is a master of his craft. I have a very deep admiration for the trade as a result. I have also developed a habit of trailing my hands along cars as I did here, thanks to that, because I know and respect how much work has gone into those beautiful machines. One of my biggest regrets is not having been able to learn my father's job.
Chaos' line here is terribly deep. On the surface it is a simple truth-- no two people live the same lives-- but there is another side to it. Chaos doesn't know what it's like to have my meeting-seeing problem, but only because he has been so completely ostracized up to this point in his life. There's both a regretful confession and a pained compassion in those words, and understanding that is what causes such a heartache for me.
The glass shards are heavily symbolic, hearkening back not only to Chaos' eyes as a comparison, but also to a poem I wrote in early 2008, called "Heart of Glass." In it, the shards symbolize a fragile heart that has shattered from too much pressure. Having them here on the street-- and counting them, no less-- is almost a prediction for the state I am in at that point. I'm aware of how fragile I am, and if I'm not careful, that will be me. Yet the counting is almost a morbid fascination, a surrender to a fate I am sure I will suffer sooner or later, not due to weakness but to vulnerability.


There was an abandoned café on the next street. We pretended that we owned the place, and I poked fun at the menu while he convinced me to order one of everything.
We ended up sitting together by the windows and talking about the life we wished we had.

I love this bit. I really do. Why? Because it's exactly what we'd do on any given day. Sure, Chaos and I are both eccentric maniacs, and although I wouldn't change that for anything, I would never sacrifice the reason why we ended up by the windows, not in a million years.
Despite how weird we can be, at the end of the day, there is always this incredible tragedy running between us. When I wrote this, we weren't talking about fun and games in front of that window, no sir. We were talking about how it is virtually impossible for us to have anything together for reasons we cannot control. We were talking about what kept us up at night. We were talking about pain and heartbreak and desperate hopes and sadness that no one else sees. We're star-crossed but I'll be damned if I didn't bless this broken road in spite of itself. I said it in Aquamarine and I'll say it again: "we are a dream so beautiful that reality could not possibly contain it." And honestly, physical reality and I never really got along very well. Love is love and if this is the only way we can have it, then so be it.
And yet we always end up back beside the windows, looking out at the empty streets, wondering what life would be like if we were given the chance..


It began to rain halfway through the day.
“You know, I once met a girl with eyes like this,” I told the creature with shark teeth. “I never knew her name or anything… just a passing glance. But that was enough.”
We said nothing for a few minutes.
“Do you miss her?” He sounded like the rain.
I smiled in spite of myself.
“I almost told her yes.”

I wrote this poem on January 11th, 2009. Barely two days earlier, I found someone who changed my life in a single instant... in a single glance. I call her my 'rainy-eyed girl,' but she isn't mine, and she never will be. That doesn't matter. What matters is the impact she had on me as a person.
Rain carries a heavy significance. It brings life yet it brings sorrow. She did exactly that, without even knowing, without realizing the inspiration she carried through every waking moment. I did not know her name, no. I didn't know her voice, her smile, or her story. But it was enough to break my heart, and keep me alive.
I do miss her. I've never known her and I miss her, even as I did back then. I don't think I'll ever stop missing her, to be honest with you.
As for the last two lines... I've never said this before, but I left a comment there. All I wanted was for her to know how she had moved me.
I was asked if I wanted to meet her.
It could have been a joke, I'll never know. All I know is that I didn't feel I had the right, and it tore me apart. I was an observer; I was a stranger that would never forget her eyes but I had no right to meet her... right? No; it was simply the wrong time, the wrong place. It would take over a year before I found the fortitude to speak to her myself, but I don't regret a single word of what I said that day. I owe her more than I can express. My motivations still have not changed. I would give her anything in return for one single certainty: that she would know she had saved my life, and that there will always be at least one soul in the world who will never, ever forget her. I may remain a stranger, but in spite of myself I still love her. And all I want is for her to benefit from that.
...There's a strongly related symbolism in how Chaos' voice sounds like the rain to me. Same principle, different application.
And anyone that knows him can attest to those shark teeth.


We found an old movie store that had a working VCR, so we sat down and watched two men fight space bugs for an hour or two.
I cheered for both sides and he laughed, because he knew I wished the aliens were the heroes.
He asked me if I'd still love him if he were a space bug and I smiled at the irony.
Besides, he already knew the answer to that question.

The day I wrote this, my afternoon had been spent watching Men In Black with my younger brother. So I wrote it in, haha.
I've been a diehard fan of aliens since my childhood, which is incredibly amusing considering that I am an infamous xenophile, but I am also a diehard hero so when movies like this come out I can't possibly decide which side to pick. So I pick both.
The reason why Chaos' question amuses me so much is not only because he's inhuman himself, but also because aliens aren't my only obsession. I freaking adore bugs. If I ever did meet a benevolent space bug, I'd be hooked on sight. So yeah, I'm being teased, but not as much as it seems: the question was whether or not I'd still love him. And I would, no questions asked, space bug or not, human or not.
When I love someone, it never stops.


Time had lost its meaning by the time the sun set. I gazed up at the dusty neon signs and wondered if everyone was just sleeping.

This is another split situation. I may be part Celebi, but I have a problem in that I often lose awareness of time. Moments all spin together and seconds become hours, hours become days and moments last for eternity. Sometimes it's exactly the opposite. Yes, this can potentially kill me when it hits in daily life, but when it applies to my mental world, it's the only way time flows at all. There, we're liberated from that.
As for the dusty signs, they suggest that the deserted streets we are walking have been forgotten for longer than we realized. Why were they forgotten? Why was such a place left to gather dust? I wrote this with an unformed symbolism in mind... what, indeed, had been abandoned? Where was everyone? Why were we so alone in such a place? My hoping that the souls that should be around me were only asleep is both optimistic and painful. Sure, it would mean that not all was lost, but for a mind to truly be 'asleep,' for so many people to be unaware and unconscious of their own world... it's a frightening thought.


The path leading out of the city was covered with snow and lit with mauve-colored streetlights.
I asked him if he was cold and he told me not to worry. I gave him my coat anyway.
Around 2AM we got into a snowball fight.

That path looks almost exactly like this.
I've always felt a strange synchronicity with snow and ice for some reason, and this classic dream of mine only strengthened it. It's a very positive thing for me, so having this snowy path leading out from the decrepit city is a sign of hope. Streetlights, however, are sentimental imagery. I wrote a song about them once... if you know the lyrics to that, then you know how they apply to this situation. "What I'd give for a single moment..." and mauve, in the J-Monster sense, is the color of time. Considering the previous stanza, this is an interesting little paradox.
Chaos is canonically a being of 'liquid energy.' If he gets cold, I have every right to worry!
Snowball fights are just us being spontaneous again, but the time-- 2AM-- is significant. If I'm ever actually awake at 2AM, my mental state is not very stable. I've had some interesting experiences at that hour, and this one is the most relevant in light of this poem.


We began musing over the stars once the streetlights ended.
I held him close and told him that I didn’t want to wake up.

Whenever I can see the stars, I cannot take my eyes away from them. I can't say why others do the same, but for me, I am completely captivated by a sense of hopeful wonder despite my own imposed insignificance. For one, there's the fact that we on this planet are so small in a cosmic sense. There are so many other worlds out there, all around us, and when the sun goes down we are surrounded by life above. It's beautiful.
However... Chaos and I had a conversation about lights, three years ago. We were looking out at the mountains where I live, when the sun had just begun to set. All the towns were beginning to light up, causing the horizon to glow with bright pinpoints of white and orange and yellow. And it made us think, you know... that view, it was kind of like the world itself. There are so many lights, of so many kinds, and they all shine the same. Together, they make even the darkest night a truly beautiful thing. If you were to turn out even one of those lights, the world would be a little less bright. It made me realize just how connected we all were, even across the greatest distances, even if we didn't realize it. But the greatest beauty of it was that fact that there were so many different kinds of lights. There were candles, lamps, streetlights, blazing fires... floodlights, spotlights, even searchlights, shining together, beautifully.
He said I was a searchlight, that night. He said I was such a rare sight, such a bright and beautiful thing. I don't think I'll ever forget that...
But I'm getting off topic. There was one other sort of light in that dark velvet evening, one that we didn't mention but that still sparkled like nothing else... and those lights were stars. And Chaos, to me, is a star.
He's so much brighter than he realizes, but from here he's so far away from me... so I'm still searching the skies. I shine to chase away the clouds and shadows that hide those ethereal lights, to show the world that we're not as small as we may think we are, if we are all shining together. I illuminate so many others in love, but I can never forget that distant pinpoint that is so dear to my heart, no matter how far apart we may be.
And yet I can dream. In my dreams, we are together, and it is the most blessed thing I've experienced. To be able to see him, and feel him, and tell him these things... I wouldn't lose that for anything.
But there is one important detail I've neglected to mention. When I dream, I don't realize I'm asleep. Those realities become my life for as long as I am in them-- there is no disconnect between them and the waking world for me. So when I am with Chaos in them, it is as real as any other experience would be. Unfortunately, when I awake, I am alone, and some mornings that hurts more than I can handle.
So If I ever knew I was dreaming when I was with him, I would not want to wake up for a long time.


I told him that I had an uncertain future
I told him that I was scared of myself
I told him that I wanted to run forever
I told him that I felt safer here than anywhere else in the world.

This all, sadly, completely true.
I have no idea what's going to happen in my future, even now, especially in light of my time in the psychiatric ward. There is so much that I need, and there is so much that I'm hoping and praying for, but will I be able to accomplish it? How long will it take? Will I run out of time before I reach those goals?
...I am more terrified of myself than anything. With what Julie does to me, I am never safe, and I cannot get rid of her without causing terrible harm to myself and everyone else upstairs. And I don't even understand myself, some days. I'm doing better now, yeah... but there is still so much I am scared of. I really wish I knew what to do about it.
I talk about running a lot. For whatever reason, I feel so incredibly free when I'm just moving, free from all restraints, leaving behind all my troubles and rushing into the future. I just want to start over; I want to get up and start running to something new, and forget all of the pain that has been holding me back. But I can't. That doesn't keep me from wishing though.
Even so, I don't need to run forever to feel safe. I still have a few escapes left, and my dreams are the most important one to me. I do have to stay on guard for nightmares, and hacks, and the terrible things that try to attack me in the night... but on the nights I am safe from those shadows, I find such beautiful things. And every once in a while, I find him. That single chance is reason enough for me to never lose hope in my dreams, no matter what I have to go through. When I'm with him, I'm not scared of anything.


His emerald eyes were just as sad in the dark.
I remembered something he had told me a long time ago
But his tears felt like ice and I quickly forgot.

...I don't think I've ever mentioned that online.
It was a few years ago, I think around 2007, when we were having a personal conversation. I don't remember what it was about as a whole, but at one point I got terribly distraught because of the sheer metaphysical distance we were dealing with. I let him know that, how much it hurt that we couldn't physically be together, and he said something to me that forever changed my entire view of our situation. He told me that, no matter how much came between us, our hearts were connected and so we would never truly be apart. I can never completely forget that, and it's what I remembered here, upon seeing that same ache in his eyes.
The only reason it slipped my mind is because I couldn't forget how badly the distance still hurt us both.


The next town was just as empty as the last one.

We won't stop walking, though.
If the world is indeed empty... then we will fill it with new meaning.
No matter what, there's always hope.