My Thoughts Are Pollution

Coming-of-age ramblings that don't mean much in the long run

Month: April, 2015

It Can Always Get Worse

Apparently the Ambien I took last night triggered a bit of a flashback to when I was arrested several years ago. I wrote this through the haze of the medicine apparently, though I barely remember doing so.

Restrain my arms
and toss me down on the ground
and give me what I deserve
hit me again
restrain my breath
with your pathetic hands
and lock me in a cage
with plastic fucking walls
and other fucking people
out to get me
out to get me
out to fucking get me
point the gun in my face
and spit in my eye
and shove my body away
and shove my body upright
against a wall
I’m learning complacency
I’m learning to accept the things I can’t change
I can’t change your elbows burrowed deep into my spine
or the metal clenching my wrists tight
I can’t change anything tonight
I’m learning fucking complacency!
I learned to never sleep
Sleeping is wrong
if it’s so wrong, is it how I ended up in this place?
I feel dust falling from the ceilings and it’s crushing me
and I cannot breathe
and I get dragged away
not to save me, though, never to save me
it’s only because it can always get worse
it always gets worse here
The green walls contrast with the blinding blue and red outside
I can’t bear them, they’re too bright
so I look away and never look back
it’s easier this way


My Favorites Part VI

Normally I shy away from introducing these, but it’s been so long since I’ve done one that I guess I probably should just man up and do it. Basically, this post is going to contain lines from some of my favorite songs, with a little blurb talking about the line. And that’s it. Nothing super creative or crazy or unique or whatever. Just, you know, me talking about stuff I like.

I can be lonely if she’s happy,

after all.

-The Neighborhood Is Bleeding, Manchester Orchestra

I love hooks like this. Hooks that express the both the bitterness and the feeling of futility that comes from unrequited love. And while it’s wrong to expect someone to love you back, it doesn’t make it suck any less when they don’t. Because it does. And sometimes the only way to accept it is to get bitter. It can be fucking hard to move on if you don’t let some negativity creep into the view of your relationship. Otherwise, you’re just going to keep pining for this person forever. And this line addresses that possibility, too. It’s really great.

You’re not the one

who let me down

but thanks for offering.

-Web In Front, The Archers of Loaf

Another bitter hook. I told you, I just adore these things. It’s a put-down that addresses someone’s shitty behavior without empowering it. Like, I was going to feel awful weather or not you sucked. And you absolutely did suck, it just doesn’t matter as much as you think it did. Don’t give yourself that much credit. Ahhhhhh, the cruelty there actually makes me shudder with something akin to pleasure. It’s probably not healthy for me to like this line as much as I do.

He had a white face

he had black eyes

he had burns all over his body,

and he was right.

-White Face, Black Eyes; Andrew Jackson Jihad

Whether or not this song actually has anything to do with me, it’s hard to not feel a connection to this line as a burn victim. The entire song is actually incredibly beautiful and relate-able, and while I may not know exactly what it all means, it’s very moving and I feel like I understand it, in a more detached way than directly interpreting each and every line would lead to.

The end of paralysis

I was a statuette

Now I’m drunk as hell

On a piano bench

and when I press the keys

it all gets reversed

the sound of loneliness

makes me happier.

-Poison Oak, Bright Eyes

I don’t know if I have a lot to say about this line, only that it’s something that resonates with me quite intensely. It’s odd, because I feel like a lot of Bright Eyes’s songs are either trying to make some grandiose point about the universe and happiness, or when they’re personal, they take place from the perspective of someone who hasn’t lead a normal life. And while I think this totally applies here, it reminds me that I haven’t entirely lead the most normal of lives, either.

I get left out

I get left out of every plan they make

that is what I have to do

to be the only kid from high school

who is still in love with you.

Maybe college won’t work out

and I can come sleep on your couch

I’m supposed to be at class now

but my roommate just passed out.

Twelve Feet Deep, The Front Bottoms

If I had ever actually made a good, honest attempt at schooling, this song would reflect that period of my life perfectly. It’s still pretty close. I was supposed to go to classes, but I, you know… didn’t. And I was really fucking bumming around, just kind of desperate to stay with my girlfriend at the time, who I had met in high school. And the idea of being a complete loser and sleeping on my girlfriend’s couch wasn’t as far-fetched as it should have been at that time. I knew college wouldn’t work out. It was just a matter of how long I was going to be able to hold down a job. Thankfully I never slipped quite that far into loser territory, and by the time I become unemployed, she and I would be past the point where we would never, ever communicate again. And I am employed again. And I like my job. And I still don’t really think school is for me. I fucking hate it. And I know, I know, nobody likes school, but my hatred of it is almost otherworldly. It’s really not meant for me. If I’m intelligent, I need to figure out how to apply that without schooling, because fuck that shit, and if I’m not, well… yeah. I’ll just be a stupid loser piece-of-shit for my whole life, then.

I think that’s enough for today. See you later.

I Wasn’t Broken In The First Place

You tried to light the shadow
on my face
You fought to make the bad things
go away
You placed your hands upon my
sunken cheeks
and sat beside my bed for
three long weeks

The light you shone just cast a
longer shadow
The fight you fought, it only
left me rattled
Your hands stayed pressed until
my face sunk deeper
You held me close until
I caught your fever

You tried to fix me til the
day you left
I guess I wasn’t good enough yet.


There are vague feelings there, I suppose. There’s definitely no fire lit in my soul, and no real pressing need to make any progress in that direction. But the feelings are there. Whatever that means.

I don’t know. If I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I would love to be head-over-heels for her. It would give me something relatively positive to obsess over as opposed to this nothingness I obsess over now. But I’m not. I have this small, fleeting attraction towards her that goes away the second she’s out of sight. That’s not love. That’s not even close. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt actual love before, but whatever I’ve felt before is a whole hell of a lot closer than this is.

There’s another girl, too. But no. She’s not an option, and that’s okay. I don’t really want to get into why. But she’s really just an incredible person, and if we hung out outside of the one occasion where we see each other on a somewhat consistent basis, we’d get along exceptionally well. I think she understands this absolutely biting need that I have to spend time doing absolutely nothing of value more than anyone else I’ve ever encountered. But again, not an option, as far as romance is concerned. And that’s totally okay. Because that’s entirely off the table, the feelings that would normally be there are not. I find that odd, considering how passionate and desperate I used to be, but the idea of remaining friends with this person actually sounds absolutely ideal to me.

And there was another person, too, but I’ve long since dropped communications with her. Not because of a fight or disagreement or anything, we just sorta… lost touch, you know? And that happens. And that’s okay. She was a friend when I needed her to be, and now she isn’t, and that’s fine. I guess. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it sucks. But it’s far too late to do anything about that. After failing to communicate with her for about six months, I deleted her phone number. I’m not on social media, either, so that tenuous thread was all there was connecting us, before I finally cut it.

But that’s okay. It’s okay. We weren’t compatible in a romantic sense, anyway. We were barely compatible as friends. I think we just happened to be of a similar age and were kind of stuck in the same place for a while, so we talked to each other, like, you know, people do. I think that complete incompatibility did make her seem pretty attractive to me, for some reason. She wasn’t mysterious in the least, but the fact that she was so different from me in spite of having certain things in common drew me in, I think. We both had totally fucked-up childhoods, we both struggled with self-injury at some point, we were both… well, we were both attending the thing that we were attending that I don’t want to get too specific about, and we both were wrapped up in social circles that some people might describe as “fuck-ups.” And I guess we were kind of “fuck-ups” too, though think that applies to me more than it did her. I think there’s a good chance that those similarities I found between us were only really visible to me, because I was probably looking for them.

But in spite of all that, she was the last person I met who ever gave me “butterflies”, even if they didn’t last long and were barely recognizable as such. The person who I am attracted to at the moment doesn’t do that. I don’t even think I’m really attracted to her. I think I just tell myself that I am so that I can feel like there’s something, anything romantic happening in my life. If she ever expressed interest in me, I probably would respond to those feelings, though that’s not ever going to happen. And I’d be in the wrong for doing it, I think. I’ve tricked myself into having feelings again, and they aren’t real. They’re there so that I can tell myself I still have them. So I can pretend I’m still human, and not just some entity consisting entirely of apathy, fear, and bitterness. I think that’s what I am.

(P.S. This post is titled as such because I am considering a previous post [which I will keep to myself] to be “One” and I consider this to be a vague continuation of that theme where I jump immediately into a topic as though I were halfway through a thought about it. And I don’t feel like titling a bunch of related posts in an entirely separate manner.)


There’s a little man inside my head, and he’s falling off a cliff.

Sometimes he’s screaming. Sometimes he’s not.

But he’s always falling. And even at his calmest, the dread of his inevitable and sudden demise looms over him. And the sensation of falling isn’t in and of itself very pleasing, either.

Right now, he’s screaming. Soon he’ll just be scared.

But he’ll always be there.

Another “Her”

She was the kind of pretty that looked like she wasn’t even trying to look good. Like she just woke up beautiful. It made my heart ache.

I watched her wander around the store for a moment before averting my gaze. I didn’t want to be a creep. Though it was honestly hard to look at her for very long, anyway. She was like the sun; a ghostly image of her burned into my retinas after only a few moments of looking directly at her.

I beat myself up for a bit, like I always do. She would never look in my direction, and if she did, her gaze would be directed at some object behind me. I could imagine her seeing right through me, as if I wasn’t there at all. That, I understand. That’s something I’m used to.

There was no reason for me to expect us to interact, and we didn’t. Eventually she left, and once the afterimage faded, it was like she was never there at all.

More Than I Do

I saw your wings
I saw them clipped
I saw your feathers falling
I saw your lips
curl into a smile
I felt like a child
melting into bile
at your feet
it’s only seretonin
or something else
it’s a chemical reaction
inside myself
but I want to
want to
want to
want you
more than
more than
more than
I do
and I’d love to
love to
love to
love you
but I need you
to love me
more than
more than I do.

I felt your touch
for only a second
an accidental brush
of our muscle tendons
I lit your cigarette
before lighting mine
a million and one regrets
all fading with time
it’s only nicotine
and the cold air
such a simple thing
if only you weren’t there
but I want to
want to
want to
want you
more than
more than
more than
I do
and I’d love to
love to
love to
love you
but I need you
to love me
more than
more than I do.

I saw your wings
cover your scars
when you pulled them in
and over your heart

but I want to
be in love
or at least be loved
by you.

Nostalgically Sick

it doesn’t fucking matter what I look like
when I’m just as ugly on the inside
it doesn’t matter what I feel like
when my thoughts are so disgustingly displayed
on my arms
there’s red marks
so imperfectly aligned
in my life
there’s highlights
that always seem to slip my mind
but I remember
what went wrong
and I remember
a little song
I wrote when I was fifteen
a little sad, a little bit mean
a little pop, a little punk rock
a little lame, a little bit not
it said that I was feeling sick
it said you made me feel like shit
it said you didn’t give a damn
and now I wonder if I am
still writing that same song

and it makes me sick
and it makes me feel like shit
and I know that
you won’t even try to give a damn

and I don’t mean to bring up the past
but some nights when I’m laying alone I feel like it’s all I have
and I don’t mean to get so angry now
but even after two long years I haven’t figured it out
and I feel so rotten now
and I feel so hollowed out
and I’ve gained, like, eighty pounds
and I’ll never live you down
but it doesn’t matter what I look like
when I’m just as ugly on the inside
it doesn’t matter what I feel like
when my thoughts are so disgustingly displayed
on my arms
there’s red marks
so imperfectly aligned
like my feet
from old heat
that never leaves my mind
and never left my body
I guess that’s why it’s so damn hard
to cope with all these broken hearts
I’ve got these problems in the daylight
that disappear in the dark of night
but when I still see
something wrong with me
I feel like giving up.

Fear Death

What a waste
I know it is
this time is all spent
searching for something
that may or may not exist
and if it did

but no, it doesn’t
why am I
humoring these ideas
there’s nothing
at all
that holds any meaning
and I think that
we are all aware
and we are all scared
of that

but I do know
a few things
of value, I guess
there’s no life
there’s no nothing
after our deaths
and even if there was
right here
right now
will still be over
so you should still be afraid
of dying
like I am
because even if
there is
some being full of empathy
waiting for you to die
and come back to him
when you die

Like Your Mother

You are a voice
speaking up for no one
it’s just who you are
you are an actress
but I am not impressed
by human stars
they lack the glow
and natural beauty
that hangs in the night sky
you exist for show
and have this enmity
and you tell lies

like its who you are

But my brother and I
we are family
and you
are just around
you’re laughing
at who I used to be
and all the kids
who are like that right now
you’re incompetent
at empathy
but too aware
to truly be called a sociopath
you don’t deserve
that much credit from me
and I’m not scared
and I’m not even mad

You are a voice
without a captive audience
and it shows
In your actions
when you are acting out
you’ll end up alone
To me,
I think it’s obvious
I’m not pinning this on youth
You see,
your captive audience
is you, and only you

you are an actress
you tell lies

like it’s who you are.