Untitled March 24 2011

Suddenly the world around me is made

up of bridges and distant city haze.

I thought the traffic would be a thing

to dread in the early morning Spring,

but for the most part it has been

tame and aimless; without fault.

I haven't been anything but early since.

The weather has been friendly enough

to grant us a season aware of the month.

Things have been warm and wet, until

we endured small flecks of white in the AM.

They'll pass in a week or so, and

everyone will live.

And I'll still be glad to have gone

from a walking chemical spill

into business casual.

I'll monitor my heart and the hand

that's managed to grip it yet again.

I'll be cautious and maybe optimistic,

if not at least of a sounder mind.

And in time I'll change for something like

the third of fourth time in my twenties.

Somebody will come along from somewhere,

and for whatever reason, they'll get it.

Another age will occur.

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Under a Dark Veil



All this pain

Kept locked inside

Bottled up inside

Beyond my heart

Beyond my brain

Out of reach


In my soul it sits


Waiting to be more

Wanting to be let lose

Into the great unknown

But unable to see the world


Its kept hidden

Under a dark veil

From the world

Few know of this pain

Only one

one can comprehend


it continues on

no matter how much it occurs

it always comes back

never stays gone long

the pain

will come back


dancing in the rain

a temporary fix

spilling ones heart out

a temporary fix

crying your eyes out

a temporary fix


one thing can stop the pain

one thing alone

not just anything

can stop this pain

the one thing causing

has ability to end


Will the pain end

Or will it linger on

Sticking to my soul


© March 23, 2011 by Samantha Danielle Stone

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was written when i was slightly confused about some things involving a very good friend. It is about the pain that life in general can cause and how only by overcoming the source of the pain can one be relieved from it.

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New Journal -03/22/2011-

Hey, I finally got myself a job.

Surprisingly enough, my time spent as Liz's go-to boy actually paid off and landed me a job at a national company stationed right along the river. Not smoking paid off, and I passed the drug test and am currently working a forty hour week once again. I'm just an intern for the time being, but if I do well during these potential fifteen weeks, it may mean benefits and a real, honest-to-God job.

Today I was at work and wasn't feeling too hot. I tried to rush to the restroom at one point, and ended up puking all over the stairwell that connects our temporary offices to the rest of the building. I'm embarrassed, but I don't know how I could've controlled the situation. I hope they don't let that affect their opinion of me at all. They sent me home and seemed understanding, but you never know.

Kathleen and I are still doing whatever it is that we're doing. I finally got her to talk to me at length about our possibilities and about becoming an official couple, but she wouldn't give. I considered ending the entire thing, mostly out of hurt I guess, but decided against it because hey - I'm going to get hurt no matter what, so I might as well get as much ass as possible on the way there.

I'm still lonely I suppose, but if a relationship is what I really want, I need to actually get out there and try to find someone compatible with me. I'm trying to build the motivation to be a better me lately, but it's been hard. I've started smoking again already, and while it's really helped me feel peaceful and content with everything, I can tell it's still a bit of an unhealthy part of my life. I've told myself that I'm going to limit my own supply, and that when I finally end up in a relationship again, that I'm going to quit. It doesn't help to be that way all the time when dealing with someone else's feelings, as well as your own, and it only makes things in a relationship more sterile and distant.

Last night, sitting in my living room; I had the windows open to let a breeze in, and I was quite intoxicated and playing a video game. I looked around and was absorbed in the room's dimness. The lighting is so familiar now that I don't even think about it, but the room has always been so dark and heavily-shadowed. It makes you sleepy. But something about the setting of the room and the smell and feel of the air made me think of Megan. When we had first moved in and were enjoying our time together so much, we would often sit drinking some sort of hot drink in the living room and play Folklore on the PS3 in shifts or watch a movie while laying down on the couch. Those were really the good times, and I suppose that I miss them more than I realize. I knew as soon as Megan walked out of my life that I didn't want to be alone; our relationship had been such a struggle that it barely felt like a relationship at all.

I want Kathleen all to myself, but that is the one thing I just can't have. Kathleen fought to keep me around much harder than I had ever thought she would when I had decided to just sever ties completely. Does that mean that she has serious feelings for me and just will not adhere to them? She told me that she had formed true, honest feelings for me and that it "startled" her. I know that I'm kind of a fuck-up, but until now, I never realized how much being a fuck-up could really ruin potentially good things for me. Either way, I'm locked-in at this point. Eventually I'll have to deal with getting my feelings hurt all over again, but I think that it will be worth it to stay so close to Kathleen for a while. I'm shocked by how taken with her I am. I've felt like I've become such a cold person. But I really feel something for her, and she definitely brings out the better side of me.

So I've decided that really, I should get out there and meet some other girls. It'll do me nothing but good to socialize and to really try to meet some new people. And maybe I'll get lucky and meet someone great that actually wants me completely for who I am. Megan never really understood me, and I never really understood her. I want to be with someone who truly gets me and wants to get me. Kathleen makes me feel that way, and other girls will too.

Part of me wants to apologize to Megan about the way things went between us. I'm not sure why all of the sudden, but I do. I want to tell her that I wish I could have quit smoking pot for her. She's so hard to deal with, but she's not a bad person. I never was the right guy to suit her, but I tried to be everything that she wanted. Eventually I stopped trying, and I want to say that I'm sorry for that as well. But it's better for us all not to talk in the end. I miss Megan, and I miss Christina. I miss seeing them and being able to have a good time with them. They made some of my better memories of the last couple of years together, and I wish we could go back to before Megan and I dated and just be okay with them both once again.

I still manage to be so sad despite life getting so much better. I'm going to look into getting anti-depressants, but it may be some time before I motivate myself enough to actually get up and get out there and try to be a better kind of me.

I wish I could be somebody significant. I could have been, I think.

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My strife filled life

Maybe someday I’ll find the person I’m meant to be

That there’s truly a purpose in life

But for now I’m just trying to live day by day

Through all of this nonsense and strife

I wish that my friends could all see

How the problems and issues and things that they do

Don’t affect only them, also me

Through boyfriends and girlfriends and stupid high school

I’m the one who must remain collected and cool

They tell me their problems

I give them advice

I’m the one with the answers solutions and nice

Things to say about everyone despite my true thoughts

Sometimes their problems tie my heart up in knots.

They need me to be

Strong, understanding me

But I need the same thing from somebody else

But no one is there

So I make my feelings disappear

I don’t share my problems with the friends who share theirs

I probably could but not one of them cares

I wish I could trust them the way they trust me

But I’ve been used and mistreated too often you see

So regardless of trust, love, and belief

I have all this sadness, depression, and grief

These feelings I do so well to hide

They are bottled up and growing inside

I wish I could find a way to get it all out

But I think if I start I think I’ll become like a spout

I’ll cry and cry and no words will be said

But I wish I had someone to hear with their heart not their head

I wish I could tell everyone the way that I feel

That I do have feelings and they are SO real

But instead I live with a faked happy smile

And pretend that I feel like my life is worthwhile

But I often wonder how it would be

If something terrible happened to me

Would anyone notice?

Would anyone care?

Would it only be cause there was an empty chair?

Would anyone feel like something was wrong?

Would anyone notice if I was just gone?

Would they go out looking for me?

Or would they just be upset that the house wasn’t clean?

Or they had no one to talk to when people were mean? 

There are days when I wish I could just go back home

To the people who call me one of their own

Ever since moving I’ve had no real connection

No new friends to share love and affection

But I know if I go back

Everyone would be so used to not having me there

That they would forget about me or just really not care

They have already replaced me

It’s easy to see

They hang out with new friends but I don’t have any

It makes me so sad cause I used to have many

My parents and siblings just don’t understand

There are only two people who do

But they are so busy I don’t see them much but when I do

They just have to say

Three little words

To make everything okay

When they say “I love you”

And hold me so tight

It’s the only thing in this crazy world that feels right

Hugs, kisses, love and understanding are the things that I need

They sink into my heart and they grow like a seed

They grow and they bloom till my heart overflows

With love, understanding, and caring that shows

But sometimes even those hugs, kisses, and love

Cannot lift the dark rain cloud that looms up above

Some days there is nothing that anyone can do

To lift my spirits when I’m feeling blue

I put on a good face and make people think that I’m great

But inside my heart is breaking like a porcelain plate 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my first poem. I wrote it because I recently moved from a place that I live for eleven years. I have become depressed and began questioning what the point of life is. I know it's not that great and it probably sounds like rambling. But it is what is on my heart and I had to find a way to get it out. And the way my heart found was poetry.

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The Creek

Standing tall as I lay by a babbling dry creek

I gaze endlessly with limited time into the still darkness of a dazzeling lighted pool

Thoughtlessy mindful of every sound of my silent surroundings

I drift away to places unknown, yet known, to  ponder the meaning of my life

Sudden bursts of dark light moisten the still air of the noisy, calm darkness

"Who's there'" I called out with silent voice to disembodied solidness

Suddenly I realize, a few hours later,  that life is just an illusion

As I lay standing by the babbling, silent, dry creek

My mind became crystal clear as muddy water...I found my answer

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We are all artists,
In one way or the other.

We all have different points of views,
In one life or the other.

Every single one of us goes through turbulence,
Which makes who we are.

Every single one of us goes through love,
Which makes who we want.

Life is beautiful.
Life is not bad at all.

Don’t need to understand it.
Just need to live it.

The world is where I stand.
My head makes me understand.

Life as we know,
Is only beginning.

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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Man Made of Muddle

Embodiment of purposeless, meandering retort

Misanthropic, microscopic, demanding kind of sort

Stoic in a fractured sense that does no good for none

Emboldened still on window sills before a darkened sun

Rhetoric of a clouded mind that bends to wade in gloom

Identified by none despite the drawings in his room

A wielder of the pen and pad and digital decree

Dance upon intoxicants or dance to breaking knees

Able to feel, enjoy and laugh at your behest

Quietly, behind his frames, contemplating death

A possessor of the factor sole, the haunt of his beneath

The acts of yore that left him dying, settled out of reach

But he has hope for languages composed of lucid vibes

A hand of time and space to place a bridge to the divine

And grasping firm his social set with value and resolve

He'll speak in tongues of sight and song and learn to get along.

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An endless trip.


the dream you keep inside your mind
is one which bothers you tonight
'cause it is what will make you BIG
that will allow the things you did... ...not ever do...
...then notion will materialize
where there you meet your mirror eyes
that staring back to you
and all the things will pop in mind
that bring those abstract needs you back...
and bed thou sit on here tonight
will meet you one and many days
before the last ring'd rung
because the dream that bothered you that night
had bet you will
but you did not -
you thought that there is
plenty time to take
it up in future life
today when You rock in
a chair and see
young boy with cloud in thought
you say that 30 years back you'd
rather taken it by that*
and say inspire word to him
that may be he will carry
through entire his life:
"young boy, be gutsy in
your life and follow dream that'd
bother you one night..."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

*taken it by that - to take the bull by the horns.

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On Life and its Potential for Absence

Over the past few months, I find myself thinking about death.

I wonder about what passing away would be like.

I contemplate doing it myself, and then my mind drifts, and I pretend like nature or fate will be the one responsible.

My life has hit a point of stagnant limbo. Anyone familiar with my writing knows that I've never been particularly happy, but I'm starting to feel it all bottom out. Purpose has eluded me for pretty much the entirety of my adult life. I'm still quite young, but I'm so impatient, and I'm feeling desperate for something to keep my head above the drowning pool. I've tried to go back to school almost half a dozen times, and yet every time I know that it's pointless, because I return without a sense of direction, and I inevitably get lost in the corridors and then frantically search for the exit. The exit is always the easiest doorway to find. It's almost like it follows you everywhere, while all possible destinations scurry like cockroaches at your approach.

I try to bridge the gap between myself and my happiness with love and with girls. The harder I try, the less effective it becomes. Even as a simple illusion or distraction, it constantly backfires, as every girl I come across tends to remind me over and over of all of my personal failures. My stability is often dependent on the lady in my life, which is as unhealthy as it is necessary at times. When I'm completely alone and without any sort of pursuit, I stay locked inside of my head, without anyone to remind me that I am worthwhile as a person and as a man. I need someone to tell me that I am good and that they want me to stay by their side. It's sad, and by all means, it alone makes me that much less of a man. But there isn't any sense in lying to myself about it. I've been single for long stretches and I have had many dry spells, but never really intentionally. I don't possess much in the way of confidence and I am not especially social; I'm also terrified of being labeled as a "creep". But it's just as well, really - there's no sense in dragging another girl down with me while I'm stifled by my own issues and crises.

Despite depression being the only consistent theme that my life has ever had, I have never truly considered suicide. I've spoken of it before - many times in fact - because I wanted attention and aid. I often felt like the world around me was collapsing, and I always needed someone else to verify that it wasn't, and that everything was perfectly all right. But I'm not like I was when I was younger.

Recently, the moment things don't go my way, my mood plummets. These mood swings are so severe some times that it makes me worry for my mental health. And often, when things sway and I suddenly feel so angry and sullen, thoughts of death run rampant through my head. I imagine myself dying, and worse yet, I imagine myself dying at my own hand. I don't know when or why this started occurring, but it happens more and more often, and I generally have to find some way to talk myself out of the storm.

Even still, I have only just started to actually think about how I would go about it, and that's the first step to doing something crazy and foolish. I still like to think that I would never even dare attempt it, because my family and friends matter to me far too much and I don't want to burden them with doing something so careless and horrible. I would be at peace, but they would be in turmoil. I don't believe in Hell, nor do I particularly believe in Heaven and I'm starting to question the presence of a God at all, but I do think that some part of us remains after expiring, and that part of me would know, or at the very least, feel what I have done and the pain that I have caused.

Regardless of my intentions or my ability to stop giving a damn about the people that love me the most, the simple fact that I'm contemplating suicide at all warrants concern and action.

I used to see a therapist. As I was paying for it out of my own pocket, I could only afford to see him once every month. But he felt like a friend to me and was always someone that I admired. He knew that I was unhappy and unsatisfied with life, but he always seemed particularly confident that I would overcome my problems and find whatever it was that I was looking for. Recently, my parents were kind enough to pay for another visit to him. I hadn't seen him in over a year-and-a-half, and I told him quite literally everything that had happened to me since we last spoke. My failure to make a life for myself in Columbus, my parents' divorce and reconciliation, my relationship with Megan, my eventual and complete dependency on marijuana, my confession to and fallout with Christina, the jobs that I've had and lost, the time that I've wasted; all of it came out in a stream that wasn't quite a vomit of words but wasn't far from it. He listened mostly in silence, making the occasion quip or  comment here or there. By the end I feel that he understood that I had been through quite a lot in a relatively short period of time. We joke with each other a lot and in the midst of our sessions tend to share amusing stories or anecdotes, but this time, he was very serious. By the end, after I fought to admit to him that my thoughts did some times revolve around suicide, for the first time in all the time I've been seeing him, he strongly recommended that I return to talk about these issues. He seemed genuinely worried and concerned, which, while somewhat alarming, was also very comforting and kind of touching.

So much of my life has been spent in misery. I've whined to so many of my friends and family that for the most part, I don't really think anyone takes me seriously anymore. For the past several years I've become quite good at keeping my hurt and my pain to myself, so when it does spill out, it tends to be in the form of a meltdown. Sadly, that is usually the only time anybody pays much attention. But I understand their perspective. Fortunately, my therapist is paid to listen, and therefore has no choice but to really understand what I'm telling him. I don't think I'm deluding myself into thinking that he cares. It's hard for me to really talk about things as serious as this to anyone but him, because people will automatically go from uncaring to frantic the moment I mention that I've been thinking a lot about dying. That doesn't help me. But at the same time, no longer do I wish to weigh upon anyone else's thoughts due to my own trivial sobs and sorrows. My life is not difficult or traumatic, and yet I seem hard-wired for gloom and despair. How could anyone understand or comprehend that? I don't even understand it.

The other night my sister took me to a local concert where a band that we both really enjoy was playing. I'm always happy to get out and do something active these days, and I was excited to see what kind of crowd would be attending this show. We sat for quite a long time before the band we came to see appeared on stage, and I amused myself by watching the different groups of people interacting with each other. Some of them sat and talked, smoking their cigarettes and drinking. Some of them revolved from the dance floor to the bar and back again, while others simply never stopped dancing as long as there was music to dance to. When the Ragbirds finally took the stage and blew everyone away with their eclectic and all-encompassing performance, I was treated to many displays of joy and indulgence that were so lacking in self-consciousness and doubt that it was really sort hard not to be inspired by them. There were many couples: some danced very closely while others danced haphazardly and with reckless abandon. Groups of friends would drag each other to the dance floor and coerce each other into grooving this way and that. Even people completely on their own would find their own space and move to the music in their own unique manner. No matter who I saw or observed, all I could sense from their expressions, the way that they spoke and the way that they flowed was happiness. Despite everything else happening in their life at any given time: tonight, they were free to dance to the beautiful music of a talented band that they all loved so dearly.

And I admired them for their apparent lust for life. Some of them were probably just like me: without much of a direction, maybe without any aspirations at all. Maybe some of them were having a hard time with money or making rent. Maybe some of them were having problems with a relationship, or had recently had an argument with a friend or family member. None of it mattered while they danced and laughed and spoke across the room. And I found myself wishing that I was like them. I carry my burdens upon my back everywhere I go, and though I am still able to let loose and have a great time on occasion, the moment the excitement stops and the stillness settles back in, I hit the rocky floor below all over again.

I'm so tired of being the way that I am. I don't want to die, and I don't want to consider the idea anymore. If I could unlock myself, things would get better. They would get infinitely better. The drive to try and succeed is completely lost on me. I may be done with school for the rest of my life, but why does that mean I have to give up on being somebody? I'm so damn talented, and my depression makes it hard to even indulge myself in my talents. My art is constantly suffering because I am so rarely in the mood to pick up the pencil or the charcoal or the tablet. My poetry comes and goes and while my abilities stay strong, they would be miles above where I am now if I could dedicate myself to them. And though I will always be in love with my drum kit, I am so desperate to become a true musician and songwriter that it hurts. The dedication... It's what I need. It's what I need for everything. The passion, the dedication and the drive. All of these things that are necessary for me to finally move on and to realize my true and limitless potential, but I am constantly at a loss for them.

I feel as though I will muse on this subject for the rest of my life without ever being able to change it.

I want my lust for life to match my lust for the female form.

I want to live.

And I need to find a way to live, or else I don't think I'll last much longer.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Apologies for writing this. It's depressing and dramatic. But it's true, and I needed to let it out somewhere that it could be read, but where someone in my life wouldn't stumble upon it.

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