Speeding These Numbers Up

He's been speaking with the clouds again, that dear sound boy. I feel that it is only a matter of time until he coaxes cancer boy up beside him. What will I do then when both of my boys of hearts are up on the roof with the clouds in their ears? This cloudspeak has taken them away.

- - -

Have I not introduced cancer boy yet? He's my dearest friend, even if he doesn't quite realize it. Don't think of his name negatively because he isn't a horrible person like everyone thinks. He laughs at broken glass and blood and scars, but he mourns broken hearts and lost friends and being alone.

- - -

He earned his name because once he gets a hold of you, he doesn't let go. He forces you to grow greater than you ever thought imaginable. He forces you to live life like every moment is your last. He forces you to love what you have and forget what you don't. His heart sends out those little red ribbons to tie around your wrists and throat that pulse happiness into you.

- - -

However, despite how little I want to admit this: cancer boy is the oxygen to a burning world. Without him, it would all turn to ash. With him, it will all turn to ash (just after more destruction). He was the one who taught me how to love the sound of shattering glass. He was the one who infected my hands with the need to spill blood. He was the one who made me cry little rotten apple hearts every night.

- - -

I love him, my perfect cancer boy.

Self-Timers Running Late

And there I was in the land of broken dreams and dismantled hopes. I ran my fingers along the volleyball net and stared at the basketball net longingly as if either could catch the scatter pieces of life in that ruined lot. The ash pit was growing like cancer, and the vacant cars at the end of this dead end road sat like corpses in cemeteries. And yet, amongst all of the sadness and pain, I found exactly what I was looking for: a window. - - - Today I discovered something extrodinary. No one in my family really understands me. They're not in that "don't understand" genre, but they just don't get anything I do. I feel so detached when I do things they've never done before, and they give me their looks. Another thing is that the people who do understand me are limited to less than half a dozen. My best friend, my worst enemy, sound boy, and the blonde. - - - I stole a window today. There is a place not far from my house where people used to tear apart mobile homes. I went up there today and there was a stack of windows sitting on the ground. No one had been up there all winter. The top one caught my eye. it was all dark, faded wood and perfect glass with a little, rusted handle at the top. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it. It's the first time in awhile that I've stolen something big. I felt accomplished. I won't lie. - - - Only those four will understand. I'm perfectly okay with that.

Positives v. Negatives

I thought I had come to find the cure to my sickness that lurks within my heart of flesh. I thought your arms of sidewalk chalk and eyes of magic were going to cure this gash in my chest, but now I see the truth: one love can never heal the utter annilation of another.

---

I have a story of woe and malice and love and betrayal and all of those chiche words that often describe the saddest and most beautiful of life stories. I have this story on my shoulders that I want to share with the world, scream to the world, only it's not entirely mine to share. It involves so many faces and fists and names that are not my own. However, the masses call for words of life, so here they come - tumbling from my lips.

- - -

My dear sound boy has grown into something crooked and broken. He's got nothing in his heart but saddness and lyrics to songs no one else has ever heard of. He's slipped into this perfect world of depression where only his frowns feel right. The rawness of his cheeks scream stories in my face, and the stiffness of his arms around my shoulders are whispering his pain in my ear. On some deep plane of subconscious, I know how detached he has made himself but (at the same second) I want nothing more than to be his savior because he needs one, and I'm ready to play God.

- - -

This wasn't supposed to be about me.

- - -

Sound boy has lost that happiness I loved. His smiles are as hollow as his eyes, and I'm losing my faith in him. When will he finally step over that line? When will his forearms beg to be freed and his chest tear open; it won't be that singsong voice of his that escapes - but screaming, endless screaming. I'm watching him lose faith in himself, but all I can do is stand on that line and try to push him away.

- - -

Sound boy, darling, learn the words to your self-faith and sing them every morning and every night because you need them more than anyone I know, and we'd all miss you terribly if you ever stepped over that line.

Skipping Numbers Along The Way

Darling, you deserve so much more than smiles. You deserve for the entire world to smile at you forever, for it to sing you praises for simply living, and for it to mend your broken heart - because you're the one who always gets hurt. Worry for yourself first. I should come second, always and forever. You are already farther than I will ever be able to go.

- - -

This started as something pathetic and cliche and naive. It started as a child's rant, but it's grown somehow. I must have seen the little hearts in the I's and that innocent smile on my face. I should apologize a thousand times over for being so cruel to you.

- - -

I am allowed to keep secrets from you, right? Afterall, you keep secrets from me, right? I'm not a horrible best friend for thinking this way, right? You don't hate me, right? You still love me, right?

- - -

I'm so confused. I'm seeing things that aren't there, and I'm losing myself in this world I've built. You have my map somewhere, and you won't give it back. Did you burn it? Did you throw it out? Darling, why, oh why!, would you?

Losing Track Of The Numbers

There was a boy soaring higher than the airplanes with their metal wings. He could out fly any bird that graced the sky, and he never wasted a chance to race the shooting stars of space. His glorious wings were crafted of barbed wire and twisted metal, dead bolts and gold paint. He put the painted spaceships to shame. Stolen comet tails trailed behind the boy who raced stars and chased the sun back over the horizon every night. - - - 12.34AM --- Make A Wish Today I changed my entire view on life in the backseat of a car with The Beatles blaring and everyone screaming for someone to hit the brakes. You learn to love your life when you are a second from losing it - four times in the same night. - - - Simply put, I've gained a few realizations tonight. I learned a lot of things. I learned that destruction feels amazing. I realized that I am 100% myself at a show; I also realized that I can't control myself well in that kind of environment. I learned that screaming is the best noise to fall asleep to. I realized that the end result would be too painful to handle. I realized who I want to spend my free time with.

- - -

I want to crash asleep and kick in more windows so badly, at the same time. I've lost track of what number I was on, but I'm sure I'll figure it out somewhere between Jeanette and Monongahela.

Starting the Countdown

Spin off of the original. We should all be counting sheep? More like counting years - years until Claustrophobia doesn't mean anything and everyone gets dirty. I hope, for your sake, God doesn't see right through you. The transparent being. What a laugh. What a cry.

Why I would try this on a Sunday, I haven't a clue. Perhaps it's my subconscious trying to get me to confess, only I haven't anything to confess. Chris is telling me that everyone has something to confess, and I wonder if maybe my confession is living too freely. Could my pride really be my great sin, my great condemner? Is it wrong of me to be so proud?

Chris is telling me that sacraficing my happiness for eternal life is a coward's move. Am I prepared for this, this great opening of the skies and splitting of the ground? Would they : the angels and demons : fight for my ownership? I doubt it.

And so begins the countdown to the day of reckoning. I apologize for something so ridiculous.