Cryptic.

Whenever someone says cryptic, I think about tombs.

The big stony ones with cobwebs and angels.

I walk through graveyards a lot, anyway. 

So I know what I'm talking about.

Do I?

But I'd cuddle for hours, too.

Hey, dear. I saw you today.
Man, I'm just saying.

I'd tap you.

I am nothing

I have nothing to say.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing, so why don't you go and ask someone else?

Because my words here, they're all boring and indefinite. My words here, they don't matter.
Everything about me is so indefinite, in fact, you shouldn't even look at me.
You should ignore everything I say, and everything I do.
And don't even think about me at all.
Don't even do it.

Just, pretend I'm not here, like I tend to do. Pretend I've never existed and find something else to talk about.

It still hasn't hit that I'm out of grade five yet.

How the hell did I make it to high school?

Graduating class of 2010

It's over.

It's all over, and I miss it.
I started crying, too.

I loved them all in their own way. They were all perfect. They were all so nice.

I love them all in their own way. They are all perfect. They are all so nice.

It's over, but these memories will stay with me forever.
Her hug, the tightness. That many hugs after that.

A few certain unexpected people who just wouldn't let go...

It's over, sure. But it's just starting and I want to see this side of everyone all the time.

It'll be perfect.

ZackgoesHEY

Burn. 

Crash.

Dark.

Fuck.

Good.

Highs.

Junkies,

Killers.

Loving, lost.

Not

On

Pounds.

Rightfully

Stuck.

Tin fulla bombs.

Violets in the

Wind. Not

Wanted.

Yours to keep,

Zack. It's all for you. 

Graduation, then what?

I changed my profile picture quickly, for a few minutes.
Now let's see if anyone notices, that something's not quite right.

But graduation is soon.
And only one person knows what that means? Maybe two.
Graduation, and I'm free.

From school. Because fuck school. And all it's quick-ass remarks it's led me to.
Fuck school, and it's easy-outs, easy-ins, POPPOPPOP head(explosions)aches.

I could.
I couldn't.
I would.
I wouldn't.
I will,
I might.
I won't.
Not tonight.

I could,
I couldn't
I will,
I won't.
I might,
I will,
I will,
I will,
Shouldn't,
though.
Shouldn't
shouldn't.
Wouldn't
Couldn't
Won't.

Will I?

Things like this make me happy

This morning he decided to come back with me to my house and sit on my porch with me.
Why?
I don't know.

We talked. A lot. God damn.
So many questions, and I didn't want to answer.

But what's funny was, when Mara came running down my street to save me from him, he walked with the both of us, and asked, "Have you ever cut?" to me.
I just held out my wrists, smiling like mad.

I don't cut on my wrists. 
Ha. Haha.
I'm a liar, and I didn't even have to lie.

I'm going out for a smoke, and fuck the world if they think otherwise.

And sometimes I like fucking things up, but everything I do has reason behind it

Everything becomes sucha chore when you have lists and lists of things to do.

But listing everything makes it easier to recognize just how much you have to do, and that's better for you, because then you know that you're going to be dead-tired and able to fall asleep that night.

I don't make lists. 

But everything is a chore, because I have to do it.

That's why I love optional things. I have a choice, I could walk away. 

If I wanted, if I cared for it, if I decided it was worth the bother. 

Now, the thing is, I only talk to the people that are worth my words. 

And that sounds conceded, but it's the truth. I only invest my time, my words, wisely. 

No wasting, because that's dumb.

I like to think of life as optional, too. It's a game, and I can play if I want to. 

Because that's how it works.

You see this? But you're not going to think about it later.
You're just going to read it, and move on.

Watching 'Halloween' together, and

My brother says to me, "Why would he kill his sister?"
"He's not going to," I tell him, watching blankly as the girl in the movie hides in the attic.
"He has a knife," he says. "And he's jabbing at the ceiling."
I stare at my brother.
"He's going to kill her," he declares.
I nod. "Whatever."

My brother stuffs his nose back into his book, reading intently.
"I'd never kill you," I hear him whisper.
So I smile.
"Ro? Let's go get something to eat. Come on, I'll make it for you."

Sometimes, my brother's a saint.
Bless his sad heart, and his undying spirit.

I swear to god, if the world tries to bite him at all, I'll tear it's entire being apart with my finger nails and tack the remains up against five hundred crocodiles' teeth.

Coexist? Please?

You'd think everyone could coexist peacefully, but no.

For example. I was walking down a path today, and. Rather than walk next to me, the other people walking up expected me to move. When I did not, because there was plenty of room for them to walk along the path next to me, they walked along the grass until they were passed me.
Another example: A bird was sitting on a bench eating bread. Once it finished, I don't know, I guess it wanted to just hang there for a while? Take a rest? And this other bird comes up and flies right into it. Out of nowhere.

But my best example yet?
School. I can't just go to school, learn, go home. 
I have to talk to all the god DAMNED people, make friends, and ENJOY THEIR COMPANY.

Fuck the world sometimes, yeah?
Jeeziz.

We can't just walk past each other in the halls. No, since we're in the same class, we have to sit and have meaningless conversations about how much we hate _____.
Silence would be much better, but everyone wants to talk.

Everyone, except me.

Safety in solidity, but we're going to go down

Within the freedom of anonymity, there is a safety there was not before.
Within the binds of titles and labels, there is knowing and judgement, and reasoning
and justifications.

Within everything, there is some contradictory, opposite thing, that has the most unwanted result for that existence.
I am happy, so I will be sad.
I am smiling, so I will frown.
I am flying, so I will fall.
I am short, but I will be tall.

We know, don't we, to expect the worst?
When we see happiness, we know. When we see smiling, we know. When we see flying, and shortness, and everything, we know.
We know it's going to change, going to be completely not the favourable result.
Completely not what we were going for, but we knew it was going to happen anyway.

Why bother trying to get around that fact?
It's inevitable.
Accept it, and everything will be so much easier.

Accept that when you are happy, soon you will feel like you're rotting inside and no one else can see it.
When you feel warm and delicious, you will soon feel cold and bitter and altogether
crushed.

Lightness turns heavy,
and the heavy turn light.

We all get exactly what we don't want, even if we're going for what we don't want, to get what we do want.
It always turns out the same. It always does, so fuck it, yeah?

Just fall, it's really not a big deal.
Just jump, because why bother flying in the first place anyway?
Stay low, and the fall won't hurt so much.
Stay low, and everything will be solid.
Solid, safety, and we're good.