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