Nothing Can Remain

Every time I put my pen to page, the ink scatters in blotted swirls that torment me by muddling what I need to tell myself. The thoughts are brimming at the edge of my fingertips, but get lost in translation. The irony of calling myself a writer, when the words just won't come.

The thoughts will come, and they flash before my eyes in hauntingly beautiful images and memories. They do not seem to care how they torment me either, by showing me everything I've lost and all that I have yet to lose. They aim to drive me mad.

There is so much I've yet to say, if only I could pull apart the entangled webs of my emotions once separate, but now mingling and mocking my need to move on. Maybe I've long since held what was already gone, and that's what makes this so much easier.

"Is this really good for you?" I've been asked, and while I ponder, I realize I had been ready to move on for a year, but having turned away from so many for so many times before, it would not be out of turn to say I was afraid of ending up alone. It would be right to say I still am.

There is nothing quite like facing the cold nights without the warmth of another, nothing quite like getting excited and having no one to talk to, and nothing quite like realizing you will once again have to explain the horrors of your past so the next one might hope to understand.

And yet, there is nothing like seeing the horizon lighting up with hues of sunlight, reminding you there is always another to come, nothing like seeing the horizon shrink away to deep shades of sorrowing darkness to remind you there is always another to go.

This constant war we wage trying to find the light that will stay--the warmth with us on cold nights, the voices comforting us through our life, the understanding without needing a word--is lost as we walk through a life where nothing, good or bad, can stay,

A world where nothing can remain.

~E J Royson

Refractions

One day I looked in the mirror and was surprised,
I realized the face looking back was not mine.
She was similar of course, in looks and grimace,
with the same lips, turned down in penance.
But she was not me, though she was all I had
after the others had all gone and fled.
They left me to my misery, alone and cold,
and let me unravel down to my shattered bones.
Something caused me to smile at this girl in the glass
and she seemed friendly enough, for she smiled back.
With a little wave, I realized she was the one
who would get me through having come undone.
The only one beside me, the only one who cared
for she was only happy when my happiness flared.
This girl in the mirror needed me just as much
as I needed to use her as my crutch.
I pinned up her hair and gave her lips color
I painted her eyelashes and made her eyes fuller.
She shook her head sadly, said "It's not what you see,
It's what's on the inside, who you choose to be.
They may notice your acts and your appearance,
but it's how you make them feel that makes all the difference."
I realized she was right, she was much smarter you see--
To make others happy, I had to start with me.
The world will smile with me, I explained to the girl.
She nodded in agreement and smiles with me still.

~E J Royson

Should've Jumped

She was hungry, but she could not eat.

She was tired, but she could not sleep.

She thought of just how easy it would be,

to step out in front of the car and into peace.

No more words inside her head.

No more voices bringing her dread.

Just the sight of on coming lights

and the bright blissfulness of night.

How fickle life turns out to be

One minute you're there, the next free.

If she had just jumped when she thought

Trying so hard wouldn't have been for naught

~E J Royson

Ashen Goodbyes

Could the clock turn back,

what would remain?

Could we change our mistakes

without going insane?

If I could reach back through,

the years would shatter

Turning to ash in my palms, 

the lonely dust to scatter.

Too many wrongdoings,

I could roll the dice

Too many impossible outcomes,

I can't afford the price.

I want to be okay with the past

But I've nowhere to start.

Sitting here, the ash scattered

trying to mend my broken heart.

I shouldn't have loved him.

I knew better than it.

But I can't change the past,

Only to the future can I commit.

I'd turn back the clock

and swiftly erase just this one

but how could that possibly

save me from coming undone?

~E J Royson

Twenty Years Alone

“I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up all alone. It’s not. The worst thing in life is ending up with people who make you feel all alone.” -Robin Williams

Maybe I don't have depression-- maybe I just grew up surrounded by people who have made me feel alone. They hear, but don't listen to what I say; they don't think that I can be affected by what they say, or what they don't say; they don't bother to support my life choices to become a writer and have never read a word I've written; they leave me standing silent because my words have no value to their lives.

I've spend this entire summer fighting with my parents about what I need to be happy. They call me ungrateful. They tell me I'm a spoiled brat. And even my extended family has told me that I need to be more appreciative of all my parents do for me. I know I am fortunate to be in the financial situation they provide. I just didn't think asking my parents to show emotional affection, instead of just financial was too much to want.

By financial situation, I'll get one thing straight: I'm not rich. I can't buy friends, though damn have I tried. When my mom kicked me out of my house at fifteen years old and I had to change high schools and make new friends, I used to offer car rides home like it was nothing-- even if it was inconvenient. I wanted time with someone, even if they spent 15 minutes talking about themselves, because it was more than I had at home. Even at college, I lent people money knowing I'll probably never see it again. I give people rides when I've better things to be doing, or need to be saving money instead of spending it on gas. I picked someone up from another school 45 mins away just because he asked me to. I try to buy small things for my friends to show that I'm thinking about them. I wanted to be liked. And the more I think about it, the more I realize I picked up this "buying love" habit from my parents.

But as it turns you can't buy friends, and every friend to whom I've given money, or rides, or gifts in order to fight my loneliness, has left me. I have a few friends from when I was younger, but everyone else walked away. I can't even say I was used, because I bought their friendship. I guess I don't know how to make friends. So now, with my "friends" abandoning me, I thought this summer I could turn to my family and seek some solace there. But I was wrong.

I can't talk about anything at home-- my dad and step mom don't watch anything I do, movies, TV or otherwise. While I try to sit with them and watch what they are watching, they don't catch me up on what is happening in the show and get bothered when I ask. I'm not invited to do anything with my family except eat dinner every night. My dad and step mom have gone on more vacations than I can count while I was at college, but they can't find time for me when I'm home. They've had the book I've written downloaded on their computer for three years, and every time I ask if they've read it, the answer is still no. My step mom had surgery this summer-- while at home she could have read it.  My dad claims he is too busy, but watches TV every night for at least three hours. My siblings have wanted little to do with me for the past four and a half years. Even my mom, while our relationship is thin, has summers off because she is a teacher but not once has she asked to read anything I've written even when I remember how she spent every summer with a book in her lap.

My dad and step mom keep saying how I need to go to a therapist to work out my problems. As I see it, my problems are with them, not with a therapist. They threaten to have me go live with an aunt or cousin because they don't want to hear me say that I am unhappy. They don't want to deal with how they have left me alone. They don't want to have to modify how they behave in order to make me feel a little happier, a little less alone. And everyone says "But they're helping you with college, they pay for your phone, they pay for your car, you hardly have any rules to live by, how can you not be happy?" How can I not be happy? Because coins are cold, and dollars rip. I only have one life, and at this point in it, I can count on one hand the people I have in my life who don't make me feel alone when I'm with them. And I can tell you, my family is not on that hand.

My family, the people who I am supposed to rely on, have failed me emotionally. But yet I am ungrateful, I am spoiled, and how dare I say anything about the people who care for me financially. I don't care what you buy me and then throw back in my face because I'm feeling disappointed, upset, angry, and alone. You feel love, you don't buy it. I could pay for my own phone if they spent a little time with me. I could find a way to pay for my car if when I drove home to see them, I was driving to see them do something else than sit on the couch. I could even find a way to pay for my own college if they bothered to support my writing, because how am I supposed to believe in myself when my family thinks I am going to fail? Maybe I don't have depression-- maybe I've just been taught that I'm not a worthwhile investment, maybe the words I say have no meaning, and maybe I've just spent twenty years alone.

~E J Royson

"The Purge": Anything but Believable

So, I finally got around to watching The Purge. When trailers came out for the film, I knew straight away I would hate it. Of course, that means my view while watching it was biased, and I will fully admit to that. However, let's talk about facts.

The only really large problem I have with this movie is its portrayal of humanity. Honestly, it is as if the screenwriters knew nothing of being human when they sat down to write this. Or maybe, they are living in a very delusional world.

The premise of this movie is based on humanity being able to suppress the urge to commit crime except for twelve hours a year.What is so beautifully stupid about humanity is that we do not commit crime to commit crime-- we do it because in the moment we have deluded ourselves into thinking it is right. When you are doing 20mph over the speed limit, in your mind you've a justifiable cause. When someone robs a convenience store, they have convinced themselves that it is okay because they need the money. You can make an excuse for any crime that has been committed. There would be no way to eliminate, or even mostly eliminate crime because crime is not acted upon in order to be as such.

Essentially, the movie relies on the premise that people are repressed and need to take out their anger. In my world, most normal people manage their anger daily without the urge to murder, steal, rape, pillage, etc. A night for "purging", in the real world, would only be permission for mentally screwed up people to do as they please for their own reasons, while putting countless innocent people in danger. Tell me-- would you agree to this?

To live in absolute terror for twelve hours can induce incredible PTSD and can completely screw up children in the head, who then get the idea what crime can be okay. Within time, you would have generations of horrid people walking the Earth, devising ways in which to hurt and punish. You can see part of this in the movie where the people act as packs of wild animals, making plans, killing for pleasure, to "purge themselves" so to speak.

As a country, as a species, I doubt our government would ever agree to this, and I doubt the people would continue supporting representatives who did. When I first voiced my views about this film, I was told "well it's just a work of fiction. What makes this any different from, say Harry Potter?" I answer, portrayal of humanity. You can have seven-headed trolls spitting slime, but as long as those trolls exhibit actions and emotions characteristic of humanity, they become a very believable entity. The characters in The Purge are not believable. You don't just shoot someone because you don't like what they say, or try to murder a child just because the opportunity has presented itself.

You cannot say humanity can act near perfectly for 364 days out of the year, because we can't. As a writer, my biggest asset is creating characters that readers can connect with. They need to be believable, relatable, and act in accordance to what we as a species have developed. Without properly built and relatable characters, any fictional setting and plot fall to pieces. '

What I don't understand, is how this move made enough money to have a sequel coming out. Not only have I begun losing fate in Hollywood but also in people. Maybe this movie was such a success because we are more like the characters of the film than we know. Maybe we are packs of animals who wish to hunt and kill each other for fun. And that is sad. Way to go humanity.

~E J Royson

Early Morning Caffeine

In the early morning, long awake I've been,

Resuming to tear the words from beneath my skin.

Nothing new emerges but the pain subsides,

The hope and despair begin to momentarily divide.

But it's never enough to wash him away,

Lingering confusion, unsure to go or to stay.

Once the words are free to the ink, the gap closes,

Despair and hope collide, but despair imposes.

If what he said was true, then which do I believe?

The words he used to hurt me, or those used to relieve?

No analogy to knives could be made to what he said,

A knife wound could heal, but he tore open my head.
He let in all the evil I'd worked so hard to suppress,

Abandonment, trust, betrayal, all my weak points, I confessed.

He unleashed my demons and still claimed innocence,

But why unleash such horrors, even out of ignorance?
I was exploited, in the end, it was all he desired.

Like a fool, I let him in and gave him all he required.
But he swears this isn't true, just I lie I created,

Still the nagging persists, insisting I was baited.

Yet to amend, he explained he knows his guilt,

After tearing my words apart, the story he rebuilt.
He knew it was wrong, but he proceeded anyway,
I was just mistaken solace, but he enjoyed the display.

He swears he did nothing to persuade the friends I lost,
He promised he said little, that he understood the cost.
Since he confessed his wrongs, he said we were both to blame,
I suppose, then, it's my fault that I fell victim to his game.
There was no way for me to escape it, less jump to my grave,

I took the lesser of two evils for at least myself to save.

If I'm guilty of being selfish, and wanting to save my skin,
Then by all means string me up, I'll right away confess my sin.

Alone, I tried to cling to what little he left to remain,
But in doing so, he claims I hurt him, that I left him in pain.
Well I just didn't let him win, I didn't leap to my demise,

I guess it's not what he wanted, a glimmer of hope despite his lies.

But he tied up loose ends, and ensured I was left alone,

Quite what I did to deserve all this, I suppose will remain unknown.

But he tore my soul apart, left nothing for me to bear,
So every night I lie awake, convulsing in this despair.

~E J Royson

Rescinded. I Will Not Apologize.

I opened my journal for the first time in months. It's filled with letters of repent to the people who've hurt me, and the only thing I thought was that these people will never see the letters and they will never hear the apologies. Why? Because them hurting me is not my fault. I will not apologize.

Every day, I wake up saddened because I have lost people that I cared deeply about. I loved them, I went out of my way for them, I fought to keep them safe and loved, even when they weren't looking, and I thought of them all the time and what I could do to help them. I can look in the mirror and honestly say that I was a good friend to them. They can tell the stories of the occasions where I wasn't my best self, they can fabricate the things that they want me to have said or done, they can tell me that "everyone would be better off if I fucked off", but I know who I am. And now I know who they are.

The one who begs: The one who will do anything to make himself the victim to achieve attention.
The one who preaches: The one who blindly follows one story without proof and spreads the word.
The one who ignores: The one who would rather stay out of it, saving himself instead of another.
The one who encourages: The one who carries the traitors into battle through their spirit and defense.

This is my beginning. I am walking alone now. Every one that I have ever loved has abandoned me, with no other cause than a liar who managed to convince them all my evil. Their ignorance tells me they are children, with little more to gain than a pack of wild ideas to chase because they have no other means to an end. I have lost everything, so I have everything to gain. Apologies are not my means to an end, and I take back any apology or pleading for forgiveness. I did nothing wrong.

I did not raise an army.

I did not raise a lie.

I did not force down doors.

I did not force open their eyes.

I offered them a choice.

They chose to fight against me.

They chose to live the lie.

They took down my defenses
They bled me until I cried.

And I will NOT apologize.

~E J Royson

Something to Do, Something to Love, and Something to Hope For

His hand brushed against the fabric of the drapery and he looked on at the rain coming down from the sky. "I've been trying for months now," he said quietly, his eyes in the distance.

"What?" she asked, looking up from gathering her books for class.

"To figure you out," he finished. "You're hard to read."

"I'm not really that hard to figure out," she said, resuming packing her bag. "Look in any young adult novel, and you'll find me... a troubled teenage girl looking for adventure, but instead finds romance that forces her to settle down into the hell she swore never to enter. Pretty cliche," she told him.

"You can still go on adventures," he said, turning back from the window at the girl with a sad and distant gaze.

"There are no adventures left in this world to be had," she told him, taking her raincoat off the hook and sliding it onto her shoulders. "Adventures of far off, magical lands, are just stories in history books. Wars fought for freedom and honor are things of the past. People of injustice, escaping to freedom, no longer have an isle to look to. There is little left to discover in this world. Wars are fought instead for blackened gold and subjective ideals of what ignorant people believe to be the only right. People are forced into fallacies of believing they are safe in their freedom, told that one tiny voice can change the world. That one voice can do nothing without and army ringing behind it..." she trailed off thinking for a moment. "And people," she continued, "trick themselves into thinking love is an adventure within itself. That's how they get forced into giving up their dreams of adventure, their dreams of accomplishing anything of actual importance."

"You're too cynical," he said. "It's really not so bad as you think," he tried to persuade her, taking a few steps towards. "People who fall in love and give up on their dreams must really not have valued their dreams much in the first place. Love shouldn't hold you down, shouldn't hold you back. It should give you the confidence to achieve, the freedom to go out and explore."

"And if there is nothing left to achieve? Nothing left to explore?"

"Then tell me, if there is nothing left to be tried that is different from what has come before, why do we still bring life into the world? There will always be more to discover and if our time runs short, we will have others to continue searching. There are more adventures in this life than love," he said taking her hand, "but it doesn't mean you should exclude experiencing love from your list. Not everyone will hold you down. When you love someone, you will stop at nothing to show them just how high they can soar."

"And what if you get tricked by someone who promises to give you wings but instead pins you to the ground? They run circles around you, pretending they are achieving something extraordinary by keeping you down, when really they just want to feel as if they can accomplish something in their miserable life." She pulled her hand from his and turned away. "It's far to easy to be fooled by someone you think you can trust," she said quietly, sadly reminiscent.

"You are a kite, darling. When someone takes the wind from your sails, know another will see just how beautiful your colors are and will want to see you reaching for that endless blue sky of possibility. Don't give up on flying because one person tries to hold you down. If you know how wrong it is for someone to keep you stuck on the ground, then know it will be so much more satisfactory when you get back up and keep flying. No one can help you fly if you let yourself remain wounded. What he did to you is only over when you decide it is, when you decide to fix your broken wing. And when you decide to wipe that smug look off his face, get up and show him what for, I'll keep the wind in your sails. I promise."

~E J Royson

Percussive Silence

Like your instrument of choice,
you beat me until I tore.
You used me for your entertainment,
now this drum will beat no more.

Promising I had made good music,
you took me to the curb.
Evidently not good enough to mend
so that my music could be heard.

The hole your beatings tore into me
could have been easily mended.
Instead, you let me sit on the curb alone,
warding off those who had intentions.

You let them take me away with the trash,
so I guess my sound just wasn't right.
But with minor tweaking around the edges,
I could have played through the night.

But like your instrument of choice,
you took your anger out on me,
never caring how I might feel,
or all of the potential I had to be.

Since now I am worthless to you
and you lied and chased off others
I sit in this wasteland of brokenness
ever without hope to recover.

E J Royson

My Dad Was Giving Me Advice on Boys...

And then,

It suddenly clicked.

That boy had sought after me so long,

 there was no way he was letting go so easily. 

Purposely going out of his way to befriend my friends,

 and even go so far as to date them, 

was his way of ensuring he still kept me hanging on. 

And now I'm laughing, 

because there is no way in hell I will ever let him in again. 

Neither friend nor lover, that ship has sailed.

He is welcome to act in desperation on the shore

 but turning around would only make me repeat my mistakes.

And that is something I just don't do.

I hope he is happy.

He made the decision to treat me like shit on the bottom of his shoe and step on me all the time.

He made the decision not to try to resolve our problems but rather ignore them and me.

He made the decision to walk away and not fight for neither relationship nor friendship.

He made the decision never to pick up the phone and try to communicate with me.

He made the decision to turn my good friends against me with lies.

He made all of the decisions when it came to us.

The fault belongs to him; it is not mine,

And I hope the guilt eats him alive.

~E J Royson

PS-- Do you like how I made it look kinda like a ship sailing away from the screen? Hehe

S is for Secret?

I saw him first as I walked across the room. It took a moment for him to register that I was walking in his direction. He was waiting in line for something; I didn't know what. He smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat. I banished the first thought that came to my head and replaced it with "No, it's wrong. He is in a relationship." But the way he smiled at me...

Mischief bounced through the blue in his eyes as he looked up from under his hair. It was a secret smile, meant for only me to see. It was as if we were hiding something, but was there something to hide? I could never tell with him. Sometimes it seemed like nothing, but the sometimes it seemed like something. Maybe I just wanted it to be something, but I would never do anything to jeopardize the awkwardly lovely could-be relationship we have now.

I smiled back, and turned to walk up the stairs to the dining hall, following my friends. I wanted to look back, but I didn't. I should have, but it perhaps would have told him too much, and after everything that had happened, a large part of me wanted to keep everyone an arm's length away. Only a small part of me wished to have someone to care for again. It was the one very small part not left broken or bruised by the one who came before. Sure, he spared my body physical pain, but the war he waged against my mind, my heart, and my soul was so greatly destructive to me as a moral being.

Cynicism riddles my tongue and spite my mind in a never ending spiral of hopelessness and despair. But his smile... It was the one thing that could silence it all. He didn't know the extent of the damage hidden behind a powdery coating of smiles and facades. I knew he wouldn't think twice if he knew the full extent of my bitterness. So I try to bite my tongue and wear the smile I know he would want me to wear. I will see him tomorrow, and I will smile. Maybe I will look back at him... maybe.

~E J Royson

National Sibling Day

I don't know who decided to make today a holiday. Why do we need a day to show our siblings we appreciate them? Oh, right, because every other day out the year we treat them like crap. Today is just a day where siblings post family pictures on Facebook and pretend that they like each other. Tomorrow they will return to screaming, bickering and bad mouthing each other behind backs.

I can't count high enough the amount of times I have heard someone say they hate their siblings. I have been living without mine for five years because they won't have me. I would be grateful for one hour with my brother and sister. I would give anything to see them again. We shouldn't need a damn holiday to appreciate our family, but it seems in our culture, we need excuses to appreciate what we have.

Someone once asked me what I think our civilization will stand for. I think we stand for nothing. We don't even stand for our families except on holidays, which we use as an excuse. We are a civilization of excuses. And that sickens me. We only appreciate what we have when it's gone. We only appreciate things we covet and once we have them, they mean nothing.

What kind of world are we bringing our children into by teaching them not to appreciate what they have? Especially when it comes to family. I will hate to see what will become of family and the value of family in the future. If we need a holiday in order to value our siblings, I pity the future generations who won't know what it means to have a family, or to be loyal, or to be appreciative. I pity the historians who will look upon our civilization with disdain. I pity the siblings who need a holiday to feel as if they have a bond with their kin. Above all, I pity myself for once falling victim to not appreciating my siblings, but when the day comes that they will have me back, I will never under appreciate them again.

With Friends Like These, Who Needs Enemies?

She stood for the weaker ones when they cried out.
She took them in her arms and removed their doubt.

Her back to the storm would save those she knew,
taking their beatings until she was beaten black and blue.
With lesions and scars embellishing her skin,
she is constantly reminded of where she has been.

Those she has protected are now doing fine,
but now she is hurting and they leave her behind.
It's never enough that she was always there,
and would go miles out of her way to show how she cared.

One said he was going insane and she took to the road
Six hours later, she was there lightening his load.
Now he sides against her, forgets her existence,
and won't come to her aid upon her asking for assistance.

Another friend, broken-hearted, needed to laugh
but once she healed his pain, he broke her in half.
He chased after those she loved and convinced them her evil
Now with no one to turn to, her life is in upheaval.

One couldn't take the pressure of school and love,
so she held her friend's hand and was neglected of.
When a fight came and then a side had to be picked,
It ended in hate and from her apartment she was kicked.

One friend, being sexually harassed, couldn't be rid of a guy
so she stood up for her friend but was turned a blind eye
Being shrieked at and hated for things out of her control,
her friend abandoned her and shattered her soul.

Over and over she protected those she cared for,
and over and over it all ended at a closed door.
Now bleeding and shattered, no self respect or worth,
no one stands to protect her, she's no one to call forth.

Still holding the weak ones so they are not pain's prisoner
She is hesitant to care for everyone else betrayed her.
Tired of standing for the weaker ones when they cry out
for when they regain strength, it is always her they discount.

She says over again to herself to just hold on one more day
but with everyone else's pain added to her own, she is fading away.

~E J Royson

Be Like Water

Thomas Sayers Ellis (a fantastic poet) visited campus the other day and while a lot of what he said was trippy awesome shit, the one thing that stuck with me was when he quoted Bruce Lee and said, "Be like water". Of course water has always been the element I identify with most, despite how all astrology crap says I should identify with fire. I always associate fire as heart strong, earth as stubborn, air as pensive and water as a balance. And yeah, I've made a lot of impulsive heart strong decisions in my time, like choosing to be in a relationship I knew would be bad for me, and I've made a lot of head strong decisions, like choosing to forgo part of my family for the sake of my mental health. (Well I was kicked out, but when asked to come back I said no.)

Anyway, I always seem to find myself balanced between head and heart. But that wasn't what Ellis meant when he said "Be like water". He explained to us that water takes the shape of whatever form or container it is put in. Water adapts and takes the path of least resistance. This was all in context of asking how Ellis feels about free verse poetry, but it made a lot of sense to me, not only in just writing popular forms of poetry. To be successful, you have to adapt, move on, and take the path of least resistance. Sure there will be times where you may have to trek uphill, but remember, water is not always peaceful and calm. When enraged and provoked, water can be just deadly as fire, and if it wants to overcome an obstacle, it will.

I've adapted to a lot and I don't push uphill unless the reward is truly worth it. Put me in any situation, and I can make it work. So far, I've always come out on top, and that is why water is such a beautiful element. Unlike fire, it doesn't have to be controlled to be successful. I would just advise to not provoke it. I've been recently stuck in a little tiny container, told to adapt and I am trying, but I've been provoked again and again since then by the same person who put me there. I've been holding back the floodgates but there is a storm brewing. Unless he stops trying to destroy my relationships out of self pity and spite, it is likely the wave from hell is going to brought down on his ass. I think he underestimates the respect my friends have for me, my intelligence and ability to see through his facade to his ugly inside. So his inability to see me as an equal instead of as his inferior may just be his downfall. But we shall see.

~E J Royson

Fight or Flight

This ignoring thing I could do but when I stepped on the shuttle and smelled some stranger was wearing his cologne, it was all I could do not to burst into tears. It's stupid things that remind me of the good times and then I am forced to remember the awful reasons as to why we are where we are today. I loathe who he has become but I can't deny how I felt for who he was. I want who he was back but I know there is no way to undo everything that has happened and how it has changed us.

I know I pretend I haven't changed. I try to pretend that I'm still stubborn but strong. But I know I'm breaking and far more fragile than I was before any of this. He tried to get me to change. He tried to get me to stop running from my problems. I have run my entire life and it has left me exceedingly lonely. So I tried to listen to him and I fought for what I thought we had, but instead he proved to me his hypocrisy by how willing he was to run at the first sign of trouble. I understand now that running doesn't save you, it masks the problems and it hurts whomever you're running from.  Sometimes the damage is irreversible. Sometimes that damage cuts more deeply than you could imagine. And sometimes the dust cloud you leave in your wake, chokes those you leave behind but you won't turn around to see them fall helplessly to the ground. And you'll never know if someone ever comes and helps them back up. But if you run from your problems, you don't deserve that piece of mind. You don't deserve to know whether the ones that you love are either being cared for or left for dead. You didn't fight for them.

I understand now that running is selfish because in "saving" yourself, you're hurting others behind you. So maybe I have changed. Maybe he did get through to me even though his hypocrisy says he won't learn the same lesson. I can't run anymore. Not in good conscience anyway. But I'm done fighting for him. He has done nothing to deserve this effort. I hope he enjoys his guilt and the false pretense he has set before him. I hope he enjoys the "easy" way out. The road to hell is short and straight. The road to heaven is arduous, but the spoils are worth the fight.

~E J Royson

Not All Metals Are As Strong As Iron

Everyone thinks I'm strong or tough, and to a degree, they're right. I do a very good job of pretending that nothing can hurt me because sometimes I pretend that if others believe that I'm strong, maybe somehow it will become true. I hate being as fragile as I am and it seems every time I can muster the littlest bit of resilience, something comes along to shatter it.

The drawback to pretending to be strong when I'm not, is that people think I can take more. I don't know how to dispel this notion because it seems obvious. If you pretend nothing can hurt you, people are going to take their frustrations out on you instead of someone who is weaker. (This is the real world. We can't pretend that no one takes their issues out on other people.) So I get stuck with everyone lashing out at me and can't say anything about it.

Another drawback is when I try to speak out that I'm struggling--no one believes me. They think I'm exaggerating my situation or trying to guilt them into doing something. I'm just asking for help. I don't admit that I need it often because I hate feeling weak but even when I do, people deny or dismiss it. "Don't exaggerate, you don't have it that bad," they say, "Or you're just trying to guilt me again." So I put up the walls again and pretend to be strong because no one wants to support me. No one cares that their actions affect me and no one offers me a hand when I'm sinking.

I'm tired of taking low blows from friends and family. I'm tired of having friends and family turn their back. I'm tired of not knowing who I can trust not to take advantage of me when I'm weak. I'm tired of feeling like I need to just run and start over somewhere because it's as if everyone in my life is only piling on more pain that I need to get over. Just when I think I'm over one thing, two more pop up. And then someone reminds me why I had such trouble getting over the first thing to begin with and I'm back struggling with that. I'm exhausted (and don't even get me started on barely having slept in a month).

They say to never let a relationship be the only thing that defines you. But that's what I need right now. Romantic or not, I need someone I can trust, someone who will support me, someone that won't push me back down, someone who will help me get ahead of this ever downward spiral. And no, going to therapy is not the same thing. And while long distances relationships can be okay, again, it's not working. I'd turn to my family, if it weren't just as shattered and broken as I am. I've been on my own at this for nearly eight years now, it's getting old and I can't do it alone.

I Didn't Want to Love You

I knew this was inevitable but it doesn't make it hurt any less. I just wished I would have had more time with him before he realized I wasn't worth his time, his effort or his heart. I'll never get that time with him, I'll never see that effort and I'll never have a part of his heart. And I have to be okay with that no matter how much I don't want to be.

He promised that even though he can't follow through that he still felt something. I don't know how much I believe that even though the evidence is in his favor. He would tell me how he was going to take me out, buy me dinner, go to the movies... things we never did. And never will. He would know when I needed a hug and would push past my stubbornness to embrace me the way I loved. I could calm him down in anger and he would comfort me in my insecurity. Those little things made the difference. I didn't want to love him and I knew if I got too close I would. But how was I to resist that sweet spot between his chest and shoulder where I could rest my head? How was I to resist the way he would lightly trail his fingers across my shoulder blades, the way I like best? How was I to resist his safe arms and warm touch? How was I to keep my distance enough so that I wouldn't fall in love with him? I tried. But quite obviously I failed.

Now he is walking away and I know that I should keep him at a distance but I know if he somehow mustered a change of heart and walked into my apartment, embraced me and asked for another shot, I would take him back no matter how much I know I shouldn't. I shouldn't go back to someone who didn't appreciate what they had. I shouldn't go back to someone who has said and done such cruel things in our parting. I shouldn't, but I got too close and I now know about all those little things that he did that made me love him in the first place. All those precious things are still fresh in my mind yet at the same time all those cruel things are still fresh in my mind. I lay in bed and can almost imagine how he would be holding me, how his fingers would trail up and down my side and then I remember I will never have that again. Then there is nothing to keep me from crying. When I'm lonely, he is still the one I think about and he is still the one I want by my side cheering me up.

I'm trying to forget it ever happened but I don't handle rejection very well. And he didn't handle rejecting me very well and made it hurt so much more than it needed to. Now he thinks everything I do or say is an act of malicious intent or venomous attack and doesn't see my bite as a reaction from how much I sting from his words. He doesn't see how me talking or being around him is me trying to treat him like I would if we were friends. I'm still hurting like hell so it's not going to be okay overnight. I'm trying but having everything I do being turned into a fight and leaving me more hurt isn't helping. I still love him but I'm losing faith that we can try to remain friends as he has requested because it sure doesn't feel like he is trying and he keeps hurting me every time he says he wants the fighting to be over.

I'll never understand why he left me to begin with. I feel like a piece of trash on the side of the road-- used and tossed out a car window. And because he can't articulate why he left, I'm left to continue feeling that way. I'm starting to think it's better just to cut him out of my life for good. If only he weren't trying to date my friend.

E J Royson

What Makes You So Saintly?

What makes you so saintly as to judge me by my sins,

Whereas I should have forgiven, instead gave up and caved in?

I'd like to see you do differently while suppressing a fit of rage,

And don't bother patronizing me by saying it comes with age.

I know you think you're above me and in some ways that may be true,

But hating me for my repented sin shows who's better than who.

~ E J Royson

If You Only Knew the Damage...

They tell me that I have self worth
but boy how little they know
It's been chipped and stripped away from me
since about middle school or so.

They would batter me with words
or teach me my worth with actions
and each time I'd fight to be strong again
just to watch their shocked reactions.

"How are you so strong?" they'd ask,
and I'd just shrug and smile
but over time it's become much harder
and overcoming takes quite a while.

Now after being friends so long
and falling in love for a month or two
he's shattered my self worth like all others
and I think I have run out of glue.

I can't put the pieces together alone
and he no longer wants me in his life again
he neither wants me friend nor lover
and told me that I was his biggest sin.

I guess that's all I am to everyone-
a stain on an otherwise perfect record
and to him I must be no different,
an immoral demon he apparently can't afford.

His friends all said I was using him-
oh how ironic that turned out to be.
He let me fall in love with him
before telling me he can't afford me.

So this is why my self worth is gone-
it's been told to me far too often
that all I do is ruin people's lives
so I guess I must really be that rotten.

E J Royson

Chasing Time (Prologue)

            Kala waited silently next to her mother, young enough to be terrified, but too old to take her mother’s hand. Instead, the thirteen year old girl sat in the wooden chair, bouncing her legs nervously, awaiting the unjust fate her father had always warned about. But he was gone now for the war spared no one. All that remained of her once great country was this city where all had come for refuge but none were willing to give it.

            There were two doors. Most of the refugees went through the door on the left when their name was called. It had to be where they were given some sort of restitution for their support for their country and were assigned a place to live, then were ushered out the back of the building so as to keep the line moving. At least, that’s what Kala and her mother believed. They had been waiting in this line for three days and were finally inside where the wait had continued for hours.

            Outside, Kala met a girl, perhaps a few years older, with the most beautiful amber curls and bright green eyes. Kala tried to befriend her, to have a friend in this foreign city, but the girl wanted little to do with Kala, even after Kala’s mother invited the lonely girl to be her impromptu child so as not to suffer alone in the city. But the girl proclaimed her family name and wealth prohibited her from speaking to dirty refugees, which Kala found odd for they stood waiting in the same line. But the girl stood without family and refused to show emotion.

            Once the girl with the amber curls was called, Kala knew she and her mother were next. The girl was asked to step through the door on the right—only the second Kala had seen. The other had been a young man, a war veteran.

            When Kala and her mother were called, they rose from the uncomfortable chairs and walked over to the door on the left. Stepping through, their few belongings were searched and put on a conveyor belt with a promise that they would be returned. They stepped through another door into a room where others were waiting, most sitting on the floor. A door on the opposite side of the room was closed and it seemed as if they others were avoiding sitting near it. Only in that place was there a little floor space left so Kala and her mother could sit through this waiting process for a few more minutes until a shout was heard.

            “Last one!” the voice yelled and two large men barged into the room carrying a struggling boy who couldn’t have been too much older than Kala, perhaps age seventeen.

            “Let me down!” the boy yelled and was consequently thrown to the floor. He scrambled over to the other door next to where Kala was sitting and began to pull on the handle. “I have to get out. I have to get out,” he kept mumbling. The others in the room were becoming unsettled and begged him to calm down or they would all get thrown out. The boy sat down next to Kala and pulled off his shoe.

            Watching intently, Kala saw the boy pull a thin metal instrument from the sole of his shoe. “What’s that,” Kala whispered.

            “Lockpick. They’re going to flood the room with a neurotoxin and I will not be here when they do.”

            Kala’s mother reached over her daughter and grabbed the boy. “What’s your name boy? Are you serious?”

            “Sam. My father engineered the toxin before they murdered him. Yes I’m serious.” The boy stood back up and began to play with the lock.

            Kala wondered if this boy was just crazy or if he was telling the truth. Either way, she had never felt quite so helpless.

“How much time do we have?” Kala’s mother asked.

            “I was the last one. Maybe seconds. It will come up from that grate in the middle of the floor. Someone in the room gave a cough and Kala grabbed her mom’s arm. Her mother kissed her head and held Kala tightly. Suddenly, just as Sam got the lock to click open, gas began to shoot upward from the floor. Sam grabbed Kala’s hand and pulled her through the door.

            “Mom!” Kala yelled, yanking from Sam’s grip. She helped her mother up and they both began to cough. There were large men, like the ones who dragged Sam into the room, waiting outside. However with the door to the room wide open, they too began to cough. They managed to grab Sam and throw him against the wall.

            “Go!” he choked.

            Kala and her mother raced out the back of the building and took off towards the blockade around the city. The gates were so thickly flooded with refugees that no one took notice to the two escaping the city.

            “That boy saved our lives,” Kala’s mother said breathlessly after they were safe in what remained of the woods.

            “At least we know his name,” Kala suggested.

            The two sat, catching their breath for a moment. “Looks like it’s just you and me, baby girl,” Kala’s mother said and kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

#ROFLMAO at You and Your Twitter

I find it funny, those who won't move on,
Who post ridiculous things on Twitter
about who they hate and who they date
and how people should just be quitters.

They talk shit about everyone in their life
because they're bored with their own
even those who've left, tired of the bullshit,
Are still told they don't belong.

They hate yet still cling to their ex's
Because they need someone to despise.
Even ex-friends face social media's wrath
As if hurtful words could bring their demise.

So here's what I have to say to you,
All you pretentious bored little bitches:
Hop off of those you've kicked from your life,
Grow up and put on your big girl britches.

There's no room in this world for whiners,
We have enough politicians for that.
But if you can't bear to tear away from it
At least you give us someone to laugh at.

~E J Royson