It's so easy to do what they tell you to. To emulate the mannerisms you see projected on the screen. Fake your own feelings and live through their lives, their loves, their hypocrisy.

This was my life. I'm sure that I have not been the only one to attempt to grapple with a mangled fishhook for the emotions I'm supposed to be having and come up with nothing more than decaying seaweed. Because that's all you get...the anorexic actors and the heroin addicts. They told me what to feel. Instructed me in the ways of the world. Their shallow teachings ring so hollow now. It's so sad to see them wasted and wasting their life.

it's even sadder that I believed...

I was just one of their puppets, just one of the millions of screaming teeny-boppers hoping only for a glance or a touch (searching only, searching always for acknowledgement).
Ask yourself this: what did you feel? and was it real?

It disgusted me to look in the mirrrrrror and see this yawning chasm of lies and false emotions staring back with dead eyes.

. So I screamed until my throat grew hoarse . I screamed until I couldn't hear .
them . and their lies . I turned them off . and I turned myself off . with one click of
the remote they were dead . and so was I .

I wasn't prepared for that emptiness. Lies are so wicked, but in emptiness they lie fullfilling such a void I knew not yet existed. And when I flew away from that unholy gravitational vortex of horror and forced smiles I realized why they that resided there hung on so desparately to that shread of false emotion. At least it was it was something....

They had their something. And here I was--standing on the (outside)--I assume I was better than they were. I was.

so tell does better feel????????

Existing on a diet of vague hopes and unfueled desires, I sought for my outlet, one as such had been my life and my death all at once. God, how to describe the feeling of not being able to feel...I can't, for in that explanation the sheer despondency of it all becomes mitigated. Don't cheapen whatever you have, dears.

I lived, as best one can live without happiness, sadness, and all the marvelous things inbetween. Change was so hard. But I could... Slowly growing bolder I intiated the steps to regain my soul. Letting go of some parts of myself was difficult, but no less difficult then watching some old episode of Full House where D.J. got in trouble and she had to have a talking to...and you couldn't flinch and turn away...

This is the most important part: Listen UP!
You can't flinch or turn away.

When you want to run away from those horrible confrontations with yourself and your friends...

You can't flinch or turn away.

However much you desire to close your eyes and whisk your thoughts away to oblivion...

You can't flinch or turn away.

And starring into that mirrrrror....

You can't flinch or turn away.

Just wait for that sappy music to start to play. You can't deny that it will make you


It was snowing in unlikely places that day. He remembered that. He remembered how he saw her behind the wheel of her car, dressed in an old bathrobe and absently clicking away at numbers and letters on her cell phone. He stopped walking when he saw her and thought more than twice about what he would say if he dared to approach her. The cold and the snow gave him every reason to just give her a quick wave with his hand and hurry towards his car. Everyone knew it would start coming down hard soon.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, quite foolishly. "Haven't seen you in a while."

She used a stock phrase to falsely report that everything was just fine. She looked away from her phone for a moment but avoided meeting his eyes with hers. Whether intentionally or just a result of needing to brush the falling snow out of her hair she raised her left arm, placing her hand clearly in his view. The ring she had taken off months ago was back on her finger. Every picture tells a story, and the snapshot of this moment scrawled itself clearly in his mind. She wasn't going to explain. She didn't have to.

"I have to get going," she told him. "I'm just waiting for my brother. I need to drive him up to Salem."

"Supposed to be quite a storm," he said, figuring it was pretty much the only safe direction in which to take this conversation.

"Only supposed to be a few inches," she told him with a weak smile. "I'll be okay."

"I'm sure you will be. I have to run. I have some thing today I can't be late for." It was a terrible lie. It didn't even sound right, especially considering his plans today had until recently involved her. "You take care of yourself."

"You know, you don't have to worry so much about me," she said, looking tired and sad at the same time. "I appreciate it, but I'll be fine."

"Did I say or do something wrong? It is just that..."

"No. You are fine. You are, just, well, you're better off not wasting your time on me."

He watched her in the rear view mirror as he warmed up his car. She started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, very slowly and then sped up after hitting the road. Her brother never showed up, which wasn't surprising since he hadn't seen her brother in the plaza. He waited a few minutes, trying to find a song on the radio that matched his mood, but there wasn't one playing on any station that was even close. After sighing and punching the steering wheel a couple times he turned off the radio and put the car in reverse.

Ten minutes up the road he saw her car again. It was on the side of the road with a flat tire. He didn't see her, but the windows were covered with snow and the engine was still running. He had to stop. There wasn't a choice. He pulled up in front of her car and tapped on the driver's side window. She rolled it down.

"Need some help?"

"Thanks, but I've got someone coming."

"Just a flat," he said, looking over at the evidence. "I can throw the spare on for you."

"Yeah, I wish, but I'm kind of an idiot. I don't have a spare or even one of those donut things."

"You have auto club or something?"

"Not really. Look, Doc, I appreciate the help, I appreciate everything, but--"

Another car pulled up behind her and a tall man got out from behind the wheel. He looked more than slightly annoyed as he pushed past Doc.

"What the hell did you do with the spare?" he snapped at the woman behind the wheel.

"I took it out. I needed the space in the trunk for--"

"Don't you know I have better things to do than bail you out every time you fuck something up?" He pulled open her driver's side door and glared at her. "Get in my car."

Doc had stepped away, watching from minimum safe distance, not knowing what to say or even if he should say anything. The things he wanted to say didn't exactly work on any level.

"Thanks for stopping, pal," the man told him. "Appreciate it." He was dismissed with a quick wave.

Doc walked back to his car, opened the door and looked back to see the man push his wife into his car, slam the door and walk around to the other side. He looked far too angry, and Doc wanted to do something, but nothing he could do would make anything better.

He got back into his car and waited for it to be covered with snow.

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