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