The Human Life Struggling To Schlep Versus The Degage Life Of A Seed

The human life.

It's very complicated.

It does not have a path.

It has to create its own.

So no matter which way you turn,

every way seems right.

Scarlett was lost.

Not geologically, but phycologically and mentally.

Sure, she was in school.

Living by herself.

Living the dream she always thought she wanted.

So what's the problem then, Scarlett.

Why are you always sad ?

Why do you look like you are always crying ?

Why are you always alone ?

Why are you so scared ?

Of everything ?

She goes to school.

She is lifeless.

Wishing everything was different.

Waiting for a better life.

Why are you doing this to yourself ?

Silly girl, no one is going to help you

You are alone and unhappy.

This is your life.

It's the harsh reality, But sugar coated icing is only for birthday cakes.

After school, she visits her best friend.

Her best friend, her family, her pet, the only thing that will listen to her.

She is envious.

It's her haven, she never wants to leave.

This makes her feel. Nothing has ever touched her like this.

The warm embrace of true love wrapping around her and squeezing her tight.

Like the perfect bow. like a gift you never want to open, but just sit back and admire it's beauty

It's so wise.

It always knows the right direction.

It only knows one direction.

She whispers

"Tell me your secret"

"please"

"I'm in desperate need to know what to do, where to go"

"How will I know what I am doing is right !"

"Its not fair !" she screams out to no one.

There is just this empty land

After several hours of laying there it speaks

"It's just you and me, I love you"

She rests, nestled in her best friend.

The best friend takes its long branches and does not comfort the crying child.

The branches grow, higher and higher.

They degage because it knows.

The Tree.

The tree goes in one direction. 

Up.

It grows bigger, higher, fatter.

It has a predetermined mindset and it never stops growing.

It beeks all of the time.

The tree is the all time wise man.

It is never confused in its life span.

It doesn't take emotional abuse even though he loves you.

It doesn't have to figure out what it wants to do in life.

It never buckles to peer pressure, It has self control.

It's never sexually confused.

It doesn't have to go through the heart break of divorce while still wondering if it's good for the kids.

It does have to make ends meet each month.

It doesn't get stepped on.

It is completely independent on all of life's casualties.

The Human

Struggles to schlep in any direction.

Constantly in the maze of where do I go now.

All these problems, no solutions.

Drives the brain mad.

"Things that are supposed to be there aren't,

They aren't there.

Why ?

I did everything right.

I followed the formula."

Silly Scarlett.

Your actions have got you no where.

Your inability to develop yourself has left you in the exact same step you were standing in your entire life.

"Take your foot, and place in right infront of you.

I don't care where, just do it"

"Ok, now what"

"Keep it there, your growth will move it for you"

The tree was her teacher, her preacher, her parents, her lover, her soul.

The tree really did speak to her.

She really needed him.

At 9 P.m. The sun was going to bed, and the moon had the nightshift, so she headed on home.

Looking back at the tree, as to wave it goodbye.

She looks at her feet stepping forward, pounding the dirt, as if she has this new found respect and determination for herself that no amount of matter could replace.

She felt like she was given a second chance.
She smiles.

Eager to return to the tree after school, Scarlett skips last period.

Too excited to wait.

Dying to know what life tales it has for her now.

Talking until sunset.

She pounds the gravel.

She is making her feet move.

The soles of her feet grinding against the dirt, taking back all of the sorrow and anger she has felt towards it.

Almost there.

It looks different.

Nothing.

There is nothing there.

The grass, bushes, animals, life has been scraped off the earth and replaced with money.

Dirty money scattered all over the floor,

as big as a shopping mall.

She stops dead in her tracks and looks at the point where she died.

She imagined it.

It struggled.

They yanked at it from the roots up.

It screamed, but nothing was listening to it.

Flopping on the surface, bleeding to death alone.
Calling her name.
She felt eternal sadness.
Her body collapsed her to the floor.
Her mind could not hold herself up anymore.

She wasn't ready to be utterly alone yet.

and yet again.

Scared.

One piece of advice.

No Direction.

A white piece of mind was rolling on the dirt

It was a note.

Dear Scarlett,

Good luck on your journey,

Sorry I couldn't stay.

Tree.

The Ignored Incunabulum's of Freedom.

Day Five.

Everyday I like to think it gets easier,

but I just can't stop worrying about you.

This is one of those things where you have to put yourself aside and 

think this is what's best.

I brought this on myself.

You were my prisoner, and I was your bodyguard,

Like a mother unwillingly to let go.

I thought the cage was your safe haven,

But it was a prison in hell.

I try to forget about you,

After eleven years...

Eleven Years.
Eleven, not the best, years.
Two-four of those years you spent in the basement.
In the dark.
But it wasn't my fault!
People still think I'm two and they can fool me with their lies.
"Your father is allergic to feathers".
"Fuck you".

We grew up together.

Even though, the time we brought you home was a bit fuzzy,

I loved you from the moment I saw you.

We would play for countless hours and you would fly around the house, and I would chase you.

Stop Crying.

We even made up this game where we would stare at each other and I would mimic when you would blink.

There was a point, where you would start winking and I knew you liked to play.

You always won.

I never won once.

I can hear you everywhere.

I'm starting to think I'm going a bit crazy.

I hear you in the kitchen, outside, even in the movie theatre.

I know your exact tone, I listen for it.

This morning I thought I heard you outside so I stuck my head out the window and I was positive it was you.

Then, after I left infatuation town, I realized it was just crickets.


I walked into the backyard yesterday,
I put up a bird feeder in hopes you would come back.
When I turned to go back inside, I saw your empty cage.
It seems so lifeless now that there is nothing to fill it.
It, also, seems sad.
It hasn't been empty in eleven years.
I just imagined how you got out and what you did.
You opened the door with your beak,
and you peaked your head out.
It took you five minutes to leave the security fortress because you were scared.
Then you took the plunge and jumped out.
You climbed to the top of the cage, 
Beak to metal, every pull is a celebration, flapping your wings as fast as your heart beat.
Molly follows your footsteps after another five minutes,
scared and confused, but she trusts and loves you.
After she is out, she joins you at the top.
Next to fly to the chair.
Molly doesn't follow.
You go back for her.
Then, you fly to the fence.
She follows.
After that, I'm guessing you fly as fast and as far away as you can from this house of fucking death dreams.

I miss you so much.

This is your destiny, to be free.

I am truly happy for you. 

Even though, I never got to say goodbye,

Even though, I didn't wish you good luck.

Send me a postcard.

Everyday, I think about you,

Where are you?

What are you doing?

Are you and Molly still together?

Do you need help?

Are you stuck?

Do you need bus money?

I even go so far as to check the weather, praying, Praying that it will be sunny and you will be okay.

It rained hard last night,

and it thunder stormed.

Are you okay?

Are you watching me?

Do you ever think about me?

Do you hate me?

My heart oozed out my toenails on Thursday.

When I saw that empty cage...

I'm Sorry.

I'm sorry I didn't take you out of the cage more.

I'm sorry I didn't pet you more.

I'm sorry I didn't love you more.

I'm sorry I ignored you.

I'm sorry I didn't let you fly.

I'm sorry I killed your first wife.

I'm sorry I took your only child away from you.

I'm sorry you have high cholesterol.

I'm sorry you have cancer.

I'm sorry I am a terrible person.

I'm sorry for everything I did to you.

I can't stop fucking thinking about you.

Fly free.

I will never see you again.

I hope you and Molly are very happy,

I wish to be like you one day.

One day, I will win that last game.

The dangers of philogyny

Every fibre of my being had regret and remorse for this time.

I cannot force myself to regret my decision,

but I can regret you feeling this way because of me.

I never meant to hurt you.

Even though deep down when it happened it was because of you.

I can't sit.

My muscles are tense at my knees and they're not allowing me to bend them.

You are sitting.

My hands are perspiring, but the funny thing is I'm not doing any physical activity.
You are leaned over like you are waiting for me to do a backflip.

My fingers have a mind of their own.

Forward. Back. Up. Down. Side to side.
Inter-twined with each other, like they are comforting their loved ones.

You are not alarmed about my strange behaviour because that is what you love about me.

I like to fidget.

You have that concerned look on your face.

You know, Where you do that cute face with the raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

Your eyes already know.

They knew before you knew, or else they wouldn't be as sad, or empty.

Black.

That's all I see now when I look into them.

I have a lot of courage to be able to look at them. I've hurt them so bad that I would be a bastard to look away. 
They are always crying, but there are no tears on your face.

The anxiety is ripping my limbs off my body.

I can't take it.

I can't handle the physical pain.

It's rushing up my back, creating a pool of heat at the back of my head.

A wave of frozen air overtakes my arms and my hairs are so cold they try to jump off my skin, screaming into the air where no one can hear them.
My heart is working over time. I try to talk to it, but it won't even listen.

I can't take it.

The words shoot out of my mouth like a dam that had just burst.

I couldn't stop them.

Not even physically.

The moment of anticipation has come,

and now I watch for the key point.

Mouth drop.

Check.

Eyes fall.

Check.

Hand flies to your left breast, like a last attempt to try to save your already shattered heart.

Check.

What have I done.

No.

This is what I wanted.

I didn't do it for the rush.

I didn't do it because I wanted dick.

I didn't do it because I wanted to experiment.

I did it because I couldn't feel.

I couldn't feel his hand grazing my thigh.

I couldn't feel his teeth tugging my lips.

I couldn't feel him penetrating me for hours.

I couldn't feel my feelings for you.

I'm sorry.

You bend over for a last chance to save your heart from exploding out of your chest. 

I can feel the heat from your skin, your entire body is getting angry.

Now this is the part where you're thinking about him making pure naked physical contact with my body.

You can't process that thought.

Like a PC that just got a virus, It can't process the command.

You we're my everything at one point,

but now I'm your nothing.

I am a strong woman for admitting that to you,

But you knew there was a gamble when you threw your heart on the table.

X O

How to subtilize the universe.

Like all philosophers, the universe is never a neophyte topic.

Except, that I am not a philosopher.

I saw a cartoon the other day.

I don't remember which one, I'm not even 100% sure what happened.

What I saw though, had me deep in thought and appreciation.

This particular cartoon boy wanted to orbit around the sun.

He is a cartoon, so or course he did it without a helmut or suit or spaceship.

He was circling the sun, like the moon circles the sun.

With one face.

Then, my mind drifted because that particular cartoon was boring.

First, I thought; What if people lived on the boy.

He is the same distance away from the sun, like the earth is.

Plus, he is orbiting.

But! he is not rotating.

That means if people where to live on him only half would see daylight and the other half would forever be in darkness.

The sunny side would be awesome because you can just get some overly industrial blinds to block out the sun.

Then I thought.

But what about the birds and the plants.

They would burn up and die.

Then I thought how much worse the dark side would be.

Constantly in fear.

It would be utter chaos and depression.

Non stop crime and partying.

To cross over from light side to dark.

That would be scary.

Fear of the dark unknown. Not knowing what reaps where you cannot see.

Then, after I got over that brain fart. I started to appreciate the earth.

"Damn, the earth is so smart.

because of the simple fact that it rotates, we have life."

No other planet (that we know) has life.

This planet just seemed to luck out.

It just happened to be the perfect distance from the sun, and rotate.

Coincidence?

Hmm....

Then I started to think about the other things that acted like the earth.

Like human bodies.

Our bodies are amazing creations but not enough people realize it.

People over look the human anatomy because everyone is born with it.

It's not special.

If you take care of your body it will take care of you!

I'm sure you have heard this from your doctor, but let me explain.

When you are sick, how do you get better?

Millions of little cells battle to make you better.

They always know exactly what is wrong.

When you are in pain. How does it stop.

Your nerves send signals to your brain that it hurts, then your brain releases it's natural pain killers.

How about this basic question.

You eat, How do you digest.

Your body always knows whats wrong and how to fix it.

Not all are perfect, but the one's that do have healthy bodies destroy them.

Drugs are a slow form of suicide.

They destroy all those cells and organisms that are helping you stay alive.

Why?

Just for that rush?

Just to get fucked up?

Your brain on drugs.

Haiti's earthquake.

It fucks everything up, millions are dead, and the next day your body has to rebuild everything that you have destroyed.

Even when I see really fat people, I get sad.

Why are you doing that to your body, when all it did for you was take care of you.

Drugs, Alcohol, Junk Food.

Do you really think these will make you happy?

This temporary happiness is nothing but an illusion.

You aren't happy.

You will never be happy until your body is happy.

Happiness' Tantivy Performance

I am getting addicted to writing.

It gives me a bodily rush letting all my emotions out so I don't have to keep them anymore.

Letting others in.

Happiness should be considered a drug.
It is an amazing feeling and it is addicting.


I can also be considered emotional money.
It makes people greedy for more, and they try to get it no matter the stakes.


Happiness 


Hmm...


They should bottle happiness,
sell them at the convenience stores.
That way everyone would be happy all the time.


What would it be like to be happy all the time ?
Would people get bored of being happy ?
Would the world be a better place ?


Happiness is a treat for me.


It doesn't come often by itself,
and when it comes it leaves without saying goodbye.


How do you keep happiness ?


I am trying to be a happier person day by day, but it is so god damn hard it feels like the more I search the more I stray from my goal.


If I had one wish,
just one,
I would wish that happiness could be prescribed to me by my local physician.
Hmm, Then their would be a 19% tax on it.


There was a time when happiness didn't have a price.
Now for as low as $1.25 you can get temporary happiness from even a coffee.


I want to meet someone who is always happy and ask them their secret.


"Excuse me, sir, madame, what is your secret to staying happy ?"


In my dreams they might say


"Believe in yourself."


:)

The journey of the sibylline wing.

While waiting on the curb for my mother to pick me up at work, I was alone and bored.

I was restless in the midday sun. I was not tired, but the sun threw a blanket of heat over my head that I could not take off.

Arms on knees, face in hand. I closed my eyes. 

When I opened them I was looking at the floor.

 What I saw was way more than I thought I had bargained for.

I saw a tiny insect wing.

It looked like the picture above, and was no bigger than my thumb nail.

I wasn't too sure which bug it belonged too.

Maybe a fly.

Then my girl instincts kicked in and I felt every single feeling while looking at this lone wing, swirling in the hot wind.

Sadness, for it was lost.

Happiness, because it danced in circles for me.

Anger, because it made me feel.

Nothing.

This wing belonged to Mr. Fly. He needed this wing to fly.

It was a twin to another wing and without one, the other cannot work.

The owner of this wing, Mr. Fly, probably did not care if it was missing.

I'm not too sure if he can turn around and see if both wings were there so I don't think he would notice if it was gone. 

Foolish fly.

He will never be the same again.

He will never fly gracefully threw the air, missing every smack of the fly swatter.

He will never sneak onto an unsuspecting customer's food, only to grab a quick bite before he is caught.

He will never fly twenty feet into the air or soar over the morning dew grass.

He will never see another country sunset.

He is missing his first instinct, and meaning of his life; to fly.

The wing was lost and abandoned and Mr. Fly will never see it again.

Mr. Fly was probably dead.

Then, with a extensive gust of wind, the wing was gone.

Forever.

How easily that wing disappeared from existence.

Like it never was to begin with.

The best part is the wing was the soul reason how Mr. Fly received his name.

If not for this wing, how could Mr. Fly live ?

How would he escape danger ?

How would he travel the world ?

How would he find love ?

How would he function ?

What would get him out of bed in the morning?

Something so insignificant,

made this creature exist.

How can you not notice ?

How can you forget the wing ?

It's gone.

It's Gone.

How to squelch the bijou of self confidence

It was love at first sight.

I love my glasses.

I am not a label type of person.

Even through high school, I had a specific group of friends, but I still talked to everyone.

If I liked something, I did it or I got it.

I did not follow the label of a rebel, goth, rocker, punk, prep.

I was just labeled.

I like being different.

Not having the same things as everyone else is who I am.

I never followed trends, but if I liked a pair of shorts from Aritzia I would get them, but my closet isn't dedicated to that store.

Everything is easier with a label.

Fruit, clothes, boys, cars, fashion

The good, the bad.

I used to be a very confident person when I was in Grade 3 and below.

I wasn't afraid of anything.

Now my self confidence is so weak I am awake before it fell asleep, so it doesn't accompany me for most of the day.

Now-a-days, it feels harder to talk to people.

even living in Niagara it feels like I have a new label.

Freak.

It's hard to talk to anti social people. It's hard to talk to people who don't care for your existence.

Do I have piercings all over my face?

Are my eye lids tattooed?

Am I dressed in all black and have a sour face?

What compels you to stare?

What compels you to ignore me?

Everyone?

Do I accept my label?

I have no labels.

My name is Carmelina Autumn.

That is my label.

This is who I am and it is a neat little package that explains everything that I've done and accomplished.

Unlike a label I can never change this.

It's taken me twenty years not to want to.

Self Confidence Downloading.

25% 

Take a light jog threw my mind

Man, there is so many things running threw my mind right now.

Not posting for a few days makes Lemmy go crazy.

For a little run threw, I'm talking about Gay Pride Parade, and my dad.

So, 2 opposite sides of the visible spectrum.

I went to the Pride Parade on Sunday, with my Diggy.

It was mine and Diggy's first experience.

Low and behold we did get there too late, but we did see some quite unusual things.

A parade where if your not dressed slutty or weird or not normal. Then, you are looked at as a freak :)

A place where being straight is not welcome.

It was still pretty cool.

Before the parade I have never really seen two people of the same sex holding hands or being affectionate. 

When I saw this at the parade I became really happy. 

For the week, the streets became a place where being different was wanted and no one would dare judge.

I was so happy about this affection being spread that I dare not to be disgusted or repulsed by manly men kissing or manly woman holding hands.

How can you judge love?

How can you think "those two men are giving the world have a little more happiness, but that's wrong. Replace it with hate"

Hate is accepted as long as it looks good.

To leave it on that lovely note.

The generator of hate reaps around the corners.

He expires happiness and the selfish creator of emotional greed

My father.

Some say I should be grateful because he gave me life.

Charles Manson also gave a child life.

Should he be let out of jail?

Did I mention the mother was raped? And she still kept the baby.

Now that is a hero.

Can someone still be called a father when they are not there to bring you up?
Are they still a father when they decide to be there at their convenience?
These are just pointless labels, but treated as the law.
Why so many questions that will never get answered.
Like a lonely man just looking for his soul mate.
Drifting in space, wondering what could be.


It hurts.
Emotionally.
Sometimes, Physically.
Something that should be there, Isn't.
But, it could be! It's just not.
Anyway, It's too late now.
Just a fading memory.


So, many thoughts are running threw my mind.


I need a storage place for them.
Put them in boxes but dare never to open them.


Just Forget.


Learn.

Mid life crisis in the vespertine

This hasn't been a good month for me.

My P.M.S. started pretty early and I'm trying to make it go away but it doesn't seem to want to leave.

I really hate being emotional.

It makes me miserable.

Today, I went for a walk with my sister. She's 13 going on 19.

She's all worried because she will be going to high school in September and she is going to a totally different school than her friends.

She's telling me of her social life and how she goes to parties and the movies and what she does during the day.

It made me think.

What did I do then.

Where did I go, what did I accomplish, what helped me.

Nothing.

I was the epitome of a loser, and I have never admitted it until now.

Then again I have a mid life crisis once every other month, and they never seem to get old.

I just haven't had one in awhile so I've forgotten how it feels like.

So now what?

What do I do now?

How about forget about the fucking past.

But you see I'm a history junkie so I love the past. 

Even though it's not too kind to me.

Why is letting go so hard?

Letting go of anything!

Pets, Friends, Past, Boys, Books, Anything Valuable.

because at one point, it meant a lot to you.

I have to stop focusing on the past and just look ahead.

Cut it out completely.

The past never happened.

Mistakes won't happen twice if you think differently,

but putting your head in the same mindset when you made the mistake is the worst thing you can do.

This brings me to my previous point.

What do I do?

How do I do it?

How do I be strong when I am in a state of weakness.

How do you pick yourself up when you are glued to the ground.

Strength.

I need to learn strength.

I need to stop skipping over the seconds of my life so I can slow down and think things through.

To have the strength to move.

Pick yourself up from the sticky floor, Lem.

Stand up.

Good, now move forward one toe at a time.

Good.

Don't look down.

Look ahead.

Good girl.

Keep going.

I'm here for you.