Looking for Alaska

"Before I got here, I thought for a long time that the way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it did not exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in a back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home. But that only led to a lonely life accompanied only by the last words of the already-dead, so I came here looking for a Great Perhaps, for real friends and a more-than-minor life. And then I screwed up and the Colonel screwed up and Takumi screwed up and she slipped through our fingers. And there’s no sugar-coating it: she deserved better friends.

When she fucked up, all those years ago, just a little girl terrified into paralysis, she collapsed into the enigma of herself. And I could have done that, but I saw where it led for her. So I still believe in the Great Perhaps, and I can believe it in spite of having lost her.

Because I will forget her, yes. That which came together will fall apart imperceptibly slowly, and I will forget, but she will forgive my forgetting, just as I forgive her for forgetting me and the Colonel and everyone but herself and her mom in those last moments she spent as a person. I know now that she forgives me for being dumb and scared and doing the dumb and scared thing. I know she forgives me, just as her mother forgives her. And here’s how I know:

I thought at first that she was just dead. Just darkness. Just a body being eaten by bugs. I thought about her a lot like that, as something’s meal. What was her - green eyes, half a smirk, the soft curves of her legs - would soon be nothing, just the bones I never saw. I thought about the slow process of becoming bone and then fossil and then coal that will, in millions of years, be mined by humans of the future, and how they would heat their homes with her, and then she would be smoke billowing out of a smokestack, coating the atmosphere. I still think that, sometimes, think that maybe “the afterlife” is just something we made up to ease the pain of loss, to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. Maybe she was just matter, and matter gets recycled.

But ultimately I do not believe that she was only matter. The rest of her must be recycled, too. I believe now that we are greater than the sum of our parts. If you take Alaska’s genetic code and you add her life experiences and the relationships she had with people, and then you take the size and shape of hre body, you do not get her. There is something else entirely. There is a part of her greater than the sum of her knowable parts. And that part has to go somewhere, because it cannot be destroyed.

Although no one will ever accuse me of being much of a science student, one thing I learned from science classes is that energy is never created and never destroyed. And if Alaska took her own life, that is the hope I wish I could have given her. Forgetting her mother, failing her mother and her friends and herself - those are awful things, but she did not need to fold into herself and self-destruct. Those awful things are survivable, because we ARE as indestructible as we believe ourselves to be. When adults say, 'Teenagers think they are invincible' with that sly, stupid smile on their faces, they don't know how right they are. We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken. We think that we are invincible because we are. We cannot be born, we cannot die. Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations. They forget that when they get old. They get scared of losing and failing. But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, as so it cannot fail.

So, I know that she forgives me, just as I forgive her. Thomas Edison’s last words were: “It’s very beautiful over there.” I don’t know where there is, but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s beautiful." - -Miles Halter "Looking for Alaska" by John Green

I don't have the luxury to be obsessed

http://susanpolgar.blogspot.com/2013/01/gm-andre-diamant-wins-36th-cardinal-open.html

" This day's black fate on more days doth depend:

This but begins the woe others must end. "

Does it matter?

It doesn't, right?
If I'm a hero
If I'm Morrigan
I still....can't even defeat myself

Tell me.
Does it matter If I go, say
I'm superman??
NO
Why?
'Coz it doesn't make sense
How can I go, save the world
WHEN I CAN'T EVEN SAVE MYSELF!
DAMMIT...dammit...dam you

It feels good having no audience while you do a soliloquy

But it feels bad while you do the dying....

The Minotaur in Me

Leave me in my sweet solitude
Untouched by the rays of light
While I'm cleaning up after this crude,
Savage monster's alcohol fight

I'm enslaving myself
In this desolate highway
Where no one seems to stop by
And say 'hey by the way'

It's alright. I can live on my own
LIterally and metaphorically blown
By this minotaur I keep inside me
Alone and beaten. But let it be

You know what makes an invincible,
UNdefeatable enemy of all times?

Well, I do

I keep telling myself NOT to drink again...but here I am now..

cuddling hangover like an infant. I seem to be singing it to sleep but I'm murdering it stealthily. Before I trod infront of this pc set, I've readied it's banes: lemon-squeezed, honeyed tea (with a couple of ice cubes actually, I somewhat figured that I'm gonna puke it out , i'm not a tea-drinker though I try to be), a piece of banana freshly plucked from it's homestead, a saucer of vitamins from A to C. Of course with the complete numbered B's in between.LOL.

                  I know I'm never going to feel that way again. That distinct moment wherein I've felt more alive than as usual. It was like that third dimension I sliced my way through after I slit hangovers throat a week of two ago (It's getting hard recalling everything i did. If I daresay, I've been kinda drunk for the past three years). I'm an alcoholic. A JUVENILE (!!) alcoholic. I'm searching for that utterly beautiful state at which point, (though how much it feels like infinity, it was not. But alas! some infities are smaller than other infinities) in a few hours, I'm everything I want to be. For once in my life, I am enough. For the love of G-d, I am caught dead with a smile of a bon vivant's. Which is, terrifying and scary since I am a self-destroying creature. I'm not a dream come true or a masterpiece. I am a ship-wreck , so I'm thinking why the hell do I feel that sensation? I am slowly contemplating on how I don't deserve it. But everyone deserves to be happy, isn't that this beautiful lie they advertise everywhere? from embroidered pillowcases that says inspirational words to the internet?

                       Here are the reasons why I drink: I'm forced to, I need to(yes, it's NEED I'm talking of, pretty reckless huh?), I want to. The first two need not be explained any further. The third is what should be at stake. Though it's lame and crazy to say that I'm forced to and then say I want to. It's sorta criminal 'cuz I'm technically only placing 3 words to part them. It's like Im gonna get zero on parallelism. Anyway, It's because my health-conscious self is battling against my adventurer self. That self that I'm utilizing right now. This pirate in me. This rennaisance artist wannabe. I have no chance on this one. I'm practically AGES late. And I'm quite too low on dexterity. From the looks of it, I'm not Shakespeare. I'm not da Vinci. Not Michelangelo. I am just Aemillia Alastair Wingman. The dawn treader. The wanderlusting shrapnel. The sunset flier daring to chase the sun just 'cause it slows down time. It's true, time slows down when you're moving fast. I have this secret ambition to live forever. If one lives forever, there's no need to fear oblivion because you will always be a living legend. You will always be alive in the heads and hearts of many and you will always be alive literally also. But life as we know it, loses it's spark when it's open-ended. I guess what makes life valuable is 'cause it comes and then suddenly it goes. That's what makes it amazing. That's the sole reason why life is worthy to be lavished, why try we must to live happily. Anyway, I feel like I'm not capable of living happily without that third dimension I mentioned earlier. But then, It's just a feeling. No one knows yet. Here's someone already knows, I fear oblivion. The kind of oblivion fear that is not direct, not obvious but if you delve deeper, find logic in my shallow, everyday fears, you'll know that it is the fear of oblivion. The fear of being unremembered. I can live with this fear. I can live with faults as countless as stars in me. But what I cant live with is..... happiness