October? It's Me, Again

Dear October,

I demand an explanation.

You weren't supposed to come around again, you dastardly bastard. Last year's confusion was enough, what with the rumors of your alleged disappearance and calendar-altering decisions. Did you really need to rub it in this time?

I don't need relationships with months like you, darn it. You're selfish and stupid and angry and sad, and I'm tired of you. November's much less obnoxious, and January and I had that little fling going on... See? I don't need you. I can find other months. Eleven other months, actually.

So go away. Please...?

Tell April she'd better behave next year, and make sure August knows he's supposed to arrive after July, not directly after June. There may have been a mix-up last time, and I don't think I can tolerate it again.

October, I loathe everything about you. You're a jerk of the very worst kind.

October... I think I hate you.

Yours annually,
Abby

Maybe There's Something in the Fall

Your smile... Well, it kills me, because it's the same one I used to wear. And I know it's not right, it's not pretty, and it's never fair, but it's true.

And the truth will set you free. Maybe.

I walk with you in strange places we've never been yet know to perfection, with winding roads that lead to vacant valleys and shallow hollows with sighing leaves. There's a crackle on the sidewalk, and a snap to the footsteps, and it makes my heart sink into my chest.

It's almost here.

Icicles close in, though I know it's far too warm. Your breath is hot and I'm shivering without a coat. Some days I smile, some days I laugh. Most days I sigh. My hands are trembling, but not from fear or joy--just from going through the motions.

That's what they said. Run through those damn motions.

It's almost here.

Plastic or paper matters little, because we'll all be trapped in ice sooner or later. Probably sooner. Your breath is frozen, steam turned to icicles, dripping from your lips. I'm entranced by the image of you, ghostly white, falling, falling, falling...

Falling faster, faster faster. Falling still. Colder than the deepest hell.

Somebody killed beauty while she slept up in that silly tower.

She's vanished.

It's here.

For Katy

My grandmother passed away on Friday, October 10, 2008. As a final tribute to the wonderful woman she was, all of the grandchildren put together a beautiful board covered in writing, pictures, memories, etc. I was asked to write a poem, and I found it fitting to share it here.

Goodbye, Grandma C. We love you and we're glad you made it home.

For Katy

Narrow way, my road two lanes
A sudden fork breaks my thought
Lined with houses, window panes
A third road I had never sought

The people, unlike many I’d met
A closely-knit-together bunch
At the center, two people set
Upon dissolving any crunch

One of the two, a fire fierce
Presiding over jocular din
Stubborn grin, eyes set to pierce
Any who dared cross her kin

Love, dependent not on blood
Nor on the quantity of days
Rather, on the enduring flood
Of care that fueled her blaze

Welcoming, with softened words
That took down ancient fences
Familial, sweet, something absurd
Evinced flaws in my defenses

Now time, he’s but a funny friend
A reminder of present and past
Whispering darkly, of an end
Of the fire that would pass

Narrow way, the road three lanes
A sudden fall breaks our run
The candles low in window panes
But her fire still burns on.

Me, Being Strange.

Oh, all the things I've seen and not seen. Sometimes I wonder what lies invisible to me, just out of reach, felt but not touched...

You know?

I can be in a room with just a few people and feel like there's a crowd behind me. I feel it. I can sense the emotions, like I've said a million times before. It's not clear, or precise, or sometimes even accurate. Inaccuracy is sort of rare in this gift of mine, but it does happen every now and then, when someone is especially good at faking.

But I feel the presence of people. People that aren't nearby...at all. I don't think it's weird, though, because it's probably just my own emotions going haywire. I don't know, maybe?

Strangeness. I live in such an odd world. And I really, truly, passionately love it.

Stutters and Wrongs

The walls are closing in.

Left, right
I hear the echos of the cries
I hear the tears of joy and pain
I hear the empty, hollow thoughts.

Above, below
I feel the conflict in the eyes
I feel the terror felt in vain
I feel the time so often sought.

Around, within
I see the truth one so denies
I see the loss in battle's gain
I see the lies that had been bought.

Left--right
Above--below
Around--within
The walls are closing in.

Ohhhctober.

I have approximately 2 minutes to "chill" so I figured I'd update this guy. Yes, I'm pretty sure my blog is male, because it acts moody and immature and refuses to cooperate all the time...

Anyway. Life's been a series of ridiculous roller coasters lately. Last week was long. Homecoming was very fun on Saturday. And today, I'm sick as a dog [again] and I left school early to mend. I also had to call into work, something I am very not happy about doing.

But whatever. Too late now, right? I've got a fever and I want to curl up into a ball and sleep for the next ten years. It's not enough that I already slept all day. However, there will be no ten-year nap.

Right now I'm doing an English project [waiting for one member's slides, so I have a few minutes] and then I'm working on my Yale application. I already finished the one for MSU and I'm almost done with Oakland [my "backup in case MSU gets blown up," as my mother says] so within the next week or so I should be golden in the application category. My absolutely wonderful teachers have agreed to do the evaluation forms for the Yale app, so that's all settled...

Sorry, I'm running through my mental list of things to do. There's way too many of them, you see, and I'm not sure how to accomplish it all.

Oh, and I got made fun of the other day for having a blog and not putting my real name on it. A teacher found that--to be frank--rather "stupid." I resisted the urge to laugh for these reasons:

1. He's a rather arrogant guy who never thinks he's wrong,
2. He really doesn't get computer-age topics,
3. I'd rather have a blog than ten empty friendships, and
4. I have better things to do than put my real name out there and get raped.

Ha. What a day. What a week. What a month.

Goodnight.

I Thought I Heard Your Thoughts

There's a dream and a reality
A practical state of MIA
A radical practicality
So stunning, so dreamlike

A quality I can't quite taste
Fingertips tracing pretty frost patterns
You're soaring high above me
Yet so far below my expectations

I'll be, you'll be
Don't wait up for me this time
Solidly invisible and loudly unheard
Somehow a miracle occurs

Tiptoe on murky glass
Your words echo in my own
Squared shoulders to frame the heart
Cast of stone to set it straight

I saw you there
Saw you standing in the shadows
I saw you, I felt your presence
I promised to honor this
And I will
Keep searching in the corners of my eyes.