Final Heaven

Bright Hopes Come True

2005-05-09T06:01:49Z

* * *

Just moments ago I sat up in bed, fist clenched against my lips, feeling as if my heart was about to explode. As lukewarm tears pooled on my eyelashes I sighed three words, the sound becoming lost in the divine music that had inspired such a wave of emotion.

This song is charged with more sentiment than I can grasp - the warmth of touch, the cadence of heartbeats, the ecstasy of the soul.

How can it only be three months? We might just be a glimmer in the double-edged infinity of time like everyone else, but this feeling should be measured alongside the lifespan of the stars. I love you now and always!

* * *

(Aaaand reality strikes - time to rest for my Syncrude orientation tomorrow).

An Aversion To Light

2005-04-11T02:59:36Z

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I had the most random flashback today.

When I was eight years old, I was best friends with my neighbour across the street. Her name was Gwen, and we were inseparable. We spent every sunny day on our trampolines; when it rained, we played Zelda on the Super Nintendo.

In many ways, however, I think we were rivals. We were both slim and athletic, but she was blonde and feminine, and I was brunette and gangly. She modelled kids' clothing while I made the Honour Roll. Whenever our mothers cooed over her prettiness, it was a point for her, and whenever our fathers marvelled at my killer grades, it was a point for me.

I very rarely dressed up in those days (somehow the Coke-bottle glasses and thick carpet of bangs ruined the effect), but I had one pair of Mary Janes I was fiercely proud of. They were gleaming black and lined with silver silk. One evening I was trying them on, just for the fun of it, when my mom walked by and commented that I had outgrown them. Maybe they pinched my feet a little bit, but I said that I didn't care, because they were my pretty shoes and I was going to keep them anyway. Mom just laughed and took them from me. I asked where she was going with my shoes, and she said, "I'm sure these will fit Gwen perfectly, and look nice on her, too!"

The memory gets hazy here, but I remember being so completely choked that Gwen was going to be able to hold something I held so dear over me that I ran away. Of course, I was eight years old and it was a cold night, so after half an hour hiding in my snowfort I trudged back inside.

Maybe I'm posessive.

* * *

Yours Is The First Face That I Saw

2005-03-22T01:04:12Z

* * *

I think I was blind before I met you.
Now I don’t know where I am,
I don’t know where I’ve been,
But I know where I want to go.

* * *

Sweet Hope Is Glowing In Your Glorious Eyes

2005-01-30T09:06:58Z

* * *

I swear that boy is an angel.

He led me in from the cold and lay me down on his bed, draped in blankets. He held me close to his heart and listened as my whole wretched story came out in gasps and sobs. He played sweet music and kissed my forhead, whispering that everything was going to feel better in time. The oh-so-familiar curves of his body against mine could have easily sent me into dizzy spirals of poorly-forgotten desire, but instead I was filled with the most wonderful sense of peace and realization I can ever remember.

There must be something truly divine in each of my friends, otherwise I'd never be able to smile and laugh so soon after nearly succumbing to despair.

* * *

I Know Better, I Know Better

2005-01-27T04:08:31Z

* * *

Everyone has a past, and every past has its shining stars. I like to think of them as pivots for the rest of our lives. No matter how far or fast we run with our lives, the weight, the significance of these people warps the shape of our path, whether we want to embrace their influence or reject it utterly. As long as they choose to make their presence known in our lives, or as long as we choose to acknowledge them, we remain trapped in their orbit. True freedom is only guaranteed by a severance of the bond, but that rarely happens. We need to have someone in the past we can pinpoint for our present woes. Additionally, I suppose it's hard to tear yourself away from someone from your past if there's even the slightest chance you want them to become part of your present, or future. . . no matter how much it dismays the new people in your life.

* * *

She Will Sigh But She'll Never Deny

2004-12-28T09:30:20Z

* * *

Just because you assumed the worst could happen doesn't mean that you wanted it to happen!

* * *

This Can't Be What You're Waiting For

2004-12-06T23:42:40Z

* * *

One of the most enriching experiences in life is having platonic relationships with the opposite sex. Of course, there is always the danger of one friend developing feelings for the other, or for the lines of friendship to become blurred. . . very blurred. But, the spiritual advantages far outweigh the, uh, earthly pitfalls. I am never more relaxed or more outgoing than when I'm with my male friends, since I could care less about whether or not I appear attractive to them. I wish I'd had that sort of confidence in my non-platonic relationships, instead of smiling prettily and keeping my hand hovering above the big red panic button.

* * *

Nothing That You Say Will Release You

2004-11-20T06:00:55Z

* * *

I had a nightmare the other morning.

When I woke, the same steely light was reaching around the window shade. The same beads of sweat were turning to ice on my skin. The same awful lump in my throat was choking me.

My hands, still numb with the same fading pleasure, balled into fists as the same tears of remorse and disbelief spilled down my cheeks. . . I remembered that hateful summer dawn where love fell for lust, and lies entwined us both.

Four a.m. knows all my secrets.

* * *

Hand In Mine, Into Your Icy Blues

2004-11-13T10:37:41Z

* * *

There exists a hardness in my eyes, a distrustful tremor in my heart, and an eerie pallor to my skin that could not be found even six months ago. It's amazing how the hell of your own conscience can age you.

* * *

Take Me Up-Sky

2004-11-06T05:02:39Z

* * *

This journal's mandate has long since expired, and all its previous entries have been purged. Still, I always feel strangely compelled to resurrect it as a place to file all my most personal thoughts. It has always been a need of mine, to take the ethereal and immortalize it with words. And perhaps denying all but few access to my mind's innermost workings makes me feel empowered.

We'll see how this goes.

* * *

Private Journal

2003-10-09T05:34:05Z

* * *

Through this world I've stumbled
So many times betrayed
Trying to find an honest word
To find the truth enslaved

oh you speak to me in riddles
and you speak to me in rhymes
my body aches to breathe your breath
your words keep me alive

And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
And after, I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes, dear. . .

* * *