finally putting this all into words

let me preface this blog with an apology. I'm sorry if this seems inappropriate or too much information for social networking, but i would like to share.

I have recently come to a conclusion about my personality. I talked somewhat about it in my previous post; i people please. I always thought i just didn't have opinions or that i was uneducated in certain aspects when i would get into debates or discussions of certain opinion based arguments. However, it has becoming overwhelmingly clear that i was just too afraid to offend anyone; or too afraid they would no longer view me in the same respect that they did prior to my opinionated statement. That being said, i would like to share something my beautiful sister, Hannah, showed me this morning.

The attached video is a man's poem to all women. He speaks of their importance; their beauty despite physical features. He pleas for women to see themselves for what they are, not what so many men have made them believe.
from a secular world view, i can see how it seems cheesy and unnecessary; but its entirely necessary.

It is necessary for ALL women (i said ALL) to see what their value is; to see who they are once labels, insecurities, past experience, and fears are stripped away. My apology from earlier towards the possibly inappropriate nature of my blog should be applied here:

I am a virgin. I am proud of it. It is a choice.

I am open about it and don't mind discussing it. I'm not embarrassed and i get a little enjoyment out of the apology i receive when people find out this fact; as if i am only a virgin because no one will have me.

I do not, however, shout it from the rooftops, make posters, or use it in my introduction to a stranger (although, i guess i'm kind of over sharing right now.. its for a purpose i promise).

I keep this tidbit to myself for the reason i always stay quiet. i don't want to make others feel uncomfortable. It's been my experience that people literally don't know how to process this information.

I say all this to make it clear that i have a purpose. It's not because i haven't been in a long term relationship yet, or that no one will sleep with me; its because i know God made me for a purpose. I know that he made each and every one of us to be GREAT and to do GREAT THINGS.
I believe that He loves me, no matter what. I have a tattoo of a sparrow on my side. I got it when i hit a low stage of insecurities; wondering if i was of any worth. i had been hurt and used just like anyone else has ever experienced in this world of ours, but it stuck with me. i questioned my value, my ability, my intelligence. I began to believe that i would always be in that place of numbness. I don't even remember when, but it was that beautiful timing God seems to have in my life. Right at my lowest, i found an old sketchbook i had. in it i had written:

"What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows." Matthew 10:29

I had read that verse so many times, in so many other settings. but it then made sense. He takes care of all of His creations. He cares for every field rat and crow. He cares for the sparrow. HE CARES FOR ME.

I got the sparrow as a constant reminder. I am valued. I have worth. I am important. I am intelligent. I have potential.

It's been almost 2 years since i found that book and every day took more effort than i ever anticipated. I found achievement in the tiniest of things; getting out of bed before 3pm, paying a bill that was past due, emailing a professor about a missed assignment; the things go on and on. day to day, i felt like nothing changed, but two years later, i can see such a difference. I'm attaching the video to show all women and young girls, DON'T LET LIES DESTROY YOU. every false accusation that you believe is only to put you so far in darkness that you can no longer shine.

The man in this video is speaking TRUTH to you. it's almost hard to hear him speak because it is so easy to mock what he is saying. It is easier to mock than accept, easier to be numb than feel, easier to hide than stand tall.

I've run before. I have my hiding places. but i didn't want to hide this. If one girl could appreciate or take away anything i've said; I've served my purpose.

Remember to speak truth, believe truth, and face the lies with your greatness rather than accept them and falter.

KJC

A Man’s Promise from Christopher Beaudoin on Vimeo.

no one is making you read this

if you have had an opportunity to get to know me in the slightest, you would know that i am a people pleaser. for as long as i can remember i have never wanted to hurt anyone or have them feel uncomfortable or unintelligent. due to this tendency to accept and please, i have kept my voice silent (or kept my "news feed" clear). any time there is an election, a debate, a story of a dead celebrity, a "like my status and i'll tell you x and y!", or any other trend, i keep myself quiet. for the longest time i convinced myself that the reason i shouldn't debate political/religious issues, especially via facebook/internet, was because i was uninformed. i like to think of it as ignorance is bliss. but, honestly, i wasn't and am not currently ignorant on current events. but i don't find it necessary to always be the first to comment with my opinion. i'm not saying this to show how "humble" i am (wouldn't gloating be the antithesis of humility?) i'm saying this because i felt that my opinion, based on 19 years of learned behavior (morals, religion, culture, etc), may not apply to the person who posted theirs.

with that being said (here it comes; what you anticipated), the entire Kony 2012 campaign response has made me feel a different urge. instead of scrolling past that part of my news feed of a typical facebook trend, i read as many as were posted. and for the first time in my life, i want to use my voice...blog.. my words. they can be taken with a grain of salt. no one is forced to read anything on the internet. every time someone is opinionated and leaves a comment, they clearly read, watched, and spent time on what they're posting. they were never forced to participate. if you've read this far, i'd say you're either interested and willing to hear me out, or.. well.. i can't wait to hear your comments.

as many have made overwhelmingly clear, Kony has been an issue for well over 20 years. i don't need to go into detail, after today i don't know many that aren't sure what has been happening. however, up until today, i was one of those who didn't know. i had no idea who Kony was, what he was doing, the amounts that have suffered, etc. my heart hurt for those people; not like that emotion alone could benefit them. i can never imagine having to live in a constant state of fear; in a way that alters you for evil as means for survival. by the end of the video, i couldn't remember who the filmmaker was, where he was from, and honestly the name of the organization. i knew about a group of people who are hurting and suffering. and wasn't that the point? isn't the point of this campaign to raise awareness? no one should ever have to live in such a state of hell.

if you're still reading, here is why i began writing this in the first place.

whether or not the Invisible Children Organization is right, they did something to raise awareness. in 1 DAY they got to over 2,000,000. as someone who knew nothing of the issue 24 hours ago, i'd say they did a pretty damn good job getting your attention. the entire 11 year long organization began with a man making a documentary; a filmmaker. there is a huge issue on the military support and the finances and all things "KONY 2012". but now people know the reason this all started. all i can tell from any opposing party is that they still know that what is going on is awful and they want to see it end, but they may not agree with the campaign and its sparkle. THEN HELP. like i said, it started with a filmmaker. I am a photographer; don't expect me to know the first thing about an issue. but i can take pictures and i can get them seen. we are a visual people. we enjoy more graphics than text; and it gets our attention. This campaign is becoming viral in more ways than one; everyone is kicking and screaming their opinions on how wrong it is and where its flaws lie. step back, please? what do " The Invisible Children Non-Profit" and all its critics have in common? THEY ALL THINK KONY IS WRONG. so why are we making comeback videos against the IC on what they are doing wrong instead of coming together as a people and tweaking its flaws? easier said than done, i understand. but the video raised awareness, now lets find a way to solve a problem.

it's funny to me.. how being right is so important in human nature; how finishing on top matters, even if it's just a comment on facebook.

but the truth is, those children are suffering; they would rather die than live. and from the means of torture they have been forced to use upon those they love, i don't think a merciful death is even something to hope for. in the end, i don't think it matters to them if we have facebook fights, wore red bracelets, or even wrote a blog. they want to feel safe; something so many of us take for granted.

the awareness is there; now how can we use this to benefit those people? we all know how to find flaws but how do we encourage and change for the better?



i may be writing this specifically due to an issue raised, but i'm writing this with the heart of someone who is tired of division; exhausted from people arguing the details that keep us from the problem at hand.

take a stand to speak positively. criticize to be helpful, not to win.

love. accept. encourage. respect.

we will never grow as a group, a society, a country, or a world if we are divided by pride and honor.

united we stand and divided we fall. makes sense.


KJC

scars

cuts so deep it's like they're never going to heal. 

pain so real, it remains unexplainable. 

i've become this.. this cut, this wound. 

all i know is pain; sharp breath, empty eyes, shaky hands.

if the cut was so painful, why continue to return?

it's all you know. 

to risk infection to every bit of debris wafting through the air.

to risk the scar that will remain for a lifetime. 

to risk continuous pain... for what? 

nothing. 

nothing but the cut, the infection, the scar, the pain, the familiarity.

so deep.. so terrifying... so alluring. 

the cuts seem so light at first, they sting, they burn, but eventually they begin to heal.

the scab, the fragile, new-forming skin; the hardest part to resist. 

as much as you know you should let it be, walk away, let it heal. say goodbye forever and let the tiny scar be a lesson; you can't. 

you pick and scratch and dig deeper, trying to find the source. what makes it tick, what made it happen, how can you keep it going, how can you savor the feeling, since it's the only one you've ever seemed to know.

eventually that sting, that feeling, that pain that is so familiar, is gone. 

all that remains is the mangled and misshaped scar, screaming to tell it's tale, but forever encased in silence. 

broken

I'm broken. not that I ever was whole. not that I can remember; being whole, a time without you. so many, so faded, so distant. for a moment I had hope; call it faith, even. I believed you were real. or at least the you I wanted to be real. the you, that is, before I knew the truth. I almost wish it were still lies. it was easier than this. less painful. easier than the hole, the heartache, insomnia. I miss you.

fast

i didn't realize what an oxymoronic life i lead. i want things instantly. when i want to watch a movie, i hope it's on instant queue so i don't have to wait for it to get mailed to me. when i have to pay a bill, i do it online. when i need to ask someone a question and they don't answer a text or phone call, i see if they're on facebook. All instant communication; which i hate. i guess it's because the generation i've grown up in grew on technology. i don't know a world without internet, a place without cell service, a time without email (which is becoming outdated in itself). the world is becoming entirely too fast pace to even stop and enjoy anything in it. in high school we had to read Fahrenheit 451 (a book about the disuse of books and an electronic future.. bad description.. it was a while ago that i read it), and as much as i dreaded summer reading, this is one i actually took a liking to. there is a part in the book that i briefly remember where one of the characters stopped being so stuck in a fast paced, electronic world, and was merely staring at a tree and enjoying outside, and everyone questioned them. the book itself was written in the 50s i believe giving an ominous look at how we would become. it was a little farfetched and extreme, but in the back of my mind i can't help but think that's exactly where we're headed. anytime we go 4 seconds without cell reception we vow that our provider is "the absolute worst" and we must switch over to someone else asap. when was the last time we just stopped.... 


sometimes i just want to get a handwritten letter, or write one, whichever. knowing that i had the time, or someone else had the time, to get up from the table and stick it in the mailbox. even with electronic billing i rarely use the mail anymore. working in a fast food chain priding itself on fast, friendly service, where we must serve a customer in 2 minutes and 30 seconds or less and meeting these deadlines for school while paying bill after bill that never seem to catch up, really makes you want to stop, or wish you could stop, and sit; grab some coffee, read a book, and breathe. 


however, the coffee is most likely an instant brew while you read the latest books on your kindle while checking facebook in the other hand; but its close enough.


i say this as i write it on my blog which quickly posts to my facebook for me to monitor and edit on my phone... whatever. 


SLOW DOWN. BREATHE. DON'T WORRY. 


you'll still live... maybe. 

the potter's madness

madness. i've reached it; i've felt it; i feel it. i became an addict clinging to my narcotic, my gateway, my iron clad chains i didn't want unlocked, my religion. A potter can only attempt to sculpt his clay in a way so similar to the twisted and coiled disarrayed vessel i've become. the cracks have formed over time, linking themselves to one another and forcing their way through what used to be resilient. He can, however, glaze over the cracks, gently masking them for a time. your supplied vapor; a poisonous venom that often wafts and dances through the air, lifting me to a higher state of intoxication than i've ever felt before. Unable to defy gravity, i must come down. The crash; the crash, the potter cannot prevent. No matter the labor, the pain, the infinite amounts of time, the potter cannot repair the broken and distorted that now remain lifeless on the pavement. the glaze will never mask, and the hands will never heal the sharp edges that will slowly wither and fade to dust; back to it's origin, only to be reshaped, for another day.  

1.8.11

I don't know references. I don't have a favorite band, song, or cd. my movie knowledge is highly limited. no favorite author, artist, actor, quote, lyric, line. and I will nine times out of ten not know what you're referring to. I will forever be lost every single time you ask a popular culture question, look to me for a music choice decision, or wonder what movies I've seen in the past year. no. I don't live under a rock. and yes. I watch movies, listen to music, and read a good book every now and then. I merely receive them differently than most. you see, when I hear a song, I can't tell you what else they've recorded, the name of their lead singer, or even the title of the song. but I can tell you how it makes me think, feel and react. I like each song I choose based on the emotion it allows me to feel, which I can't feel without it. in turn, I'll write about it, letting a reader feel this way as well.

I can laugh at a movie but only get so much enjoyment from repetitive notions. my books have marks and tear stained pages, but they only inspire ideas and emotion rather than burn a quote into my memory.

I'm a different soul. one that is rarely understood. but if you took the time, unlike the rest, I think you'd grow to enjoy picking my brain, as I do yours. time will only tell if you'll stay long enough to try.

love

from the very beginning, it seems, my care and unaltered love for others has been apparent. i always thought it was completely genuine, but as i grow, i see that it's not well received. clingy, emotional, attached; many hurtful adjectives misinterpreting my seemingly misplaced love.

do we all expect to only get hurt in life? is that why we can't accept true love when we find it?

i've found that no matter how pure and genuine a person is, they are not trusted 95% of the time from the very beginning.

i, however, am in that minute 5% that believes that they are truly there for you, not wanting anything in return, but genuinely good people wanting to love just as much as i do.

more than i want to be loved, i want to love. i want to show absolutely how much i can care about someone, but not out of arrogance, not out of selfishness and not with the intent to get something better in return, but because my heart has been entombed for so long. the beating walls have almost cracked the very foundation of the cavern it is trapped beneath. it holds so much "love".. a word that's lost so much of what it deserves.

finished.

drunken breath along my face, tastes so bittersweet. 

knowing you're hers, never really choosing me.  

however tonight I burn all of my mistakes, all of my addictions. 
I watch as the embers of memory blow in the stale air and remember the pain I've felt through everything. 

tonight I put an end to it all. I wash my hands of every insecurity and every sick twisted feeling I've caused myself. 

will it be hard? more than anything. is it worth it? more than anything. 

i regret waiting so long but can only look forward. 
my tear spotted glasses have in turn blinded me to flaws and failures to which I subdue myself. 

in every way am I worth more than I've gotten. so let me for just a moment become a conceited human being and inform you of what I deserve. 

I deserve to be happy. 
that is all I ask. and in every way that I have had in my power, I honestly can say I have sacrificed my happiness to allow you yours. and now I'm saying it's over.  

Its my turn. 

you don't owe me anything. for I am deserving of far more than you could ever spare. 

long time no talk.

i lay in bed for the millionth time, scanning over through the daily grind.

i cant help but wonder how long its been, since i've seen you hold that girl you're with

you make me feel like i'm brand new, like i'm special, love, and important too

everyday that passes by with care, i see your face, breathe your warm air.

what the hell am i doing, laying in my bed crying, knowing she's with you, in your warm arms. 

i'm just a footnote, while she gets a whole book, when i should be bolded, you edit me out.

what the hell am i doing, tricking teasing and lying, telling myself, i belong in your arms. she's yours forever, through any weather, she's your sweet baby, while i'm alone in the rain. 

drenched in my own anguish, pain sorrow and danger, i cause myself, thinking i deserved you. 

bliss.

sometimes the world takes you by surprise

you live everyday in fear of the unknown...

why does it have to be fear? 

i live everyday excited for the adventure i'm about embark on..

whether its merely trying a new food, meeting a new person, or putting your shoes on in the opposite order of your normality.. its new, its different, and it can open your eyes to a new adventure, one that you never thought you'd see or stumble upon. 

as i sit here for the second time, hopefully of many, i explore past the pale blue pigmentation of the afternoon's blissful and unflawed sky, and notice the behavior of those around me.. 

to them i am a nameless face with a lit cigarette and a purple hat thoughtlessly peering through my spotted glasses at their gossiping sun-kissed faces. 

to them i am a peer.. 

another face in the crowd and another student, waiting for class to begin. 

what they don't know is how i have dreams. i have aspirations, and as i sit here observing their lives, i ponder my future. 

he lays there in the sun, not a care in the world about what he must do next, or maybe those thoughts rush through his mind, but his grinning face leaves me believing that he has no worries. his hands neatly folded on his shallow chest, sleeping peacefully. he is happy. 

he dances like a buffoon, with the only goal to be making his friends laugh, trying to impress a girl ? or does he already have her? did he win her with his unrhythmic and patternless footwork? or perhaps she sees past his boyish figure and looks to his eyes, seeing the mere joy he gets from causing that smile that slowly grows across her windburned lips. he is happy.   

who will i be? 

who will know, or not care for me?

who will love me, who will i care for?

questions that will forever bounce through the disconnected and tangled wires of my mind. 

i do not envy the thoughtless mind. 

i do not wish to not have dreams. 

i do not want to forever be content with who i become.

i wish to continue with my dreams, whether they are reached or not.

why should they be reached? once they are reached i admit completion, and i don't want my life to have  a completion, if we all stopped thinking, dreaming, and contemplating, who would then create? who would then invent the world of our future, and the art works for others to question?

my balding and bearded professor made me think today.. as should all, but not all do. 

at first i thought that these professors, causing us to look at painting after painting discussing what the artist was thinking as he used geometric shape to map out their plans, were just bullshitting us to believe that there was a point beyond paint on a canvas.. but as my overly worded professor made me realize today, we create the meaning. we create the point. we INTERPRET. the artist did not sit down with a pattern or a meaning in his head. he saw an awkward woman and asked her to sit still, but still presently fidgeting, and decided it was a moment worth capturing. 

it was then, as we discussed her misshapen hands that it hit me, art, be it music, painting, drawing, lyrics of poetry, is meant to provide an idea for its viewers/listeners. the artist did have an idea in mind, but just one, maybe two. however, any observer will create their own. and that my friends, is what art is about. PERSONAL INTERPRETATION. 

whoever reads this, depending on their choice of study, or their brains habitual reasoning and ways of interpretation. they will see and read what they choose. 

an english major may see my grammatical errors; a misused comma, how i would be lost without spell check, a misspelled word, or even how there is in no way a sentence structure, rhyme or reason..

an art major may look at the lines and see how the spaces between and breaks in the page can create a seen or a portrait of its own.

a music major may see notes and sustained beats. 

they made read in a rhythmic pattern.

one may even see a song or lyrical capability. 

others may see just a story. a page written by a girl in a green sweatshirt on a break in between classes writing her thoughts for her day.

i only meant it for me. 

my interpretation is so i can look back and see how i've changed. my outlooks, my dreams, my thoughts on class, my inspirations. 

this is me. coffee in one hand, phone in another.

not conscious of those around me, just my music, caffein and nicotine. the ladder of which my mother does not approve. she's still on the fence about the caffein.  

...

It’s so hard to cry, to surrender. But eventually it’s all you can do. When every muscle quivers in fear of the pain, rejection and anger coming. When each gateway to your heart is blocked from layers of torment and hurt. Happiness mocking your pain. When the dam can't hold up against the salt licked streams of sorrow and your body can do nothing but fall. This is when you really learn feel.

KJC

i sleep. i cry. i hold.

I sleep not because my dreams are better than my reality, because in all truth, they mock and expose the life I ask to run away from. my heart no longer wishes to continue this way, it wants to change. but I cannot escape now, so I sleep. to chase the dreams I feel I will never reach, to escape the numbing reality in which I choose to ignore the pain. my hope, my joy, my laughter, they all shadow what I feel inside the depths of my soul. they blanket the fear and anxiety. until I face and conquer this feeling, I sleep. a numbing sleep hopeful to wake and be changed. but never am. because instead of pursuing, I am unconsious. the only things accomplished in the unconcious are the ideas which must be thrust onto actions. once these actions occur, it is then that the unconcious can be credited. I, however, only sleep. sleep to escape, to dream, to waste. I sleep.

I cry not because of sadness or happiness or fright. I cry for myself. for the feeling of release. nothing will cause this river to break the dam built before my eyes. only the thought that I have not acommplished a goal or that I never will. the tears fit my face like they belong there. they tell a story, each holding a word, phrase or sentence. however they cannot be read. the words are there but will never be pieced together until the last tear is cried. the last drop of thought and feeling. until the dream is reached that the tears are searching for, they will not stop nor be understood. it is for this, I cry.

I hold onto you, not because I know you but I hope to find you. you have to be out there somewhere, or am I destined to search this world without encouragement and fall short and empty handed? I want you to love me with the love I know I have to give, but I don't want to lose you or chase you away for I'm scared I won't know how to show you this love I hold onto so dearly. because, darling, it was once taken from me and never returned. I have kept it behind an iron lock and seem to have forgotten the combination. if i can find you, maybe I'll remember. maybe I'll learn to open my heart again and let you in. I burn with a fire of hope that I will find you but I am iced by the 'reality' that you are only in my head and the hope is fully extinguished. for this, I hold.

KJC

numb.

numb feeling

how oxymoronic

how fitting

can you actually feel numb? or is it the essence of a lack of feeling ? are we so used to feeling that it becomes numb and numb in actuality becomes our feeling? when there is nothing left to feel, feel numb.

KJC

i am stubborn. i am unchangeable. i am rebellious. i am unique. i am fragile.

i am stubborn; the essence of being stubborn- being difficult to handle, to manage. am i supposed to be manageable? to manage something is to control it, to have it under one's power, completely regulated and restricted. you do not want to manage me, for i am stubborn. you cannot handle me; not because i am too much for you, and not because i have gone mad, but because i stand for something and i will not betray my beliefs. i stand for something very few respect presently. i stand for an idea, that once was an actual practice, but in fact remains solely an idea. i am stubborn. 

i am unchangeable; plain. simple. exactly as it seems. i am not unchangeable due to my stubbornness. i am unchangeable due to my familiarity of myself. i am who i created myself to be, i have been this self forever. no matter how much you try to shape and mold me, i shall return to who i know myself to be, it is if fact all that i know. 

i am rebellious; i will tell you now that my rebellion is different from the acts that you are most likely used to witnessing. i do not rebel against war, 'the man', unequal rights, etc. i rebel against what is becoming of those around me. i do not wish to be a clone of what i see. though i love each and every one of my peers dearly and deeply, i do not wish to be one in the same. i am me and i will forever be all that i know. rebellious? well that's how it seems. 

i am unique; just like everyone else. i believe i can make a difference, just like everyone else. i believe i am different, i believe i am stubborn, i believe i am special, i am new, i am change yet unchangeable, i am a light to someone's darkness, an open arm to someone's weeping heart, and an answer to someone's confusion; just like everyone else. i do not wish to please you, nor prove to you that i am unique, because you as well as others have a standard. i am not entirely sure that i will ever meet this standard of yours, and i am content. i am content in knowing that i am unique, no matter how you feel.

i am fragile; please do not let my concrete visage fool you. i am only as strong as my weakest link. and my friend, you must know, my heart is as weak as ever, however the wall around it has never been stronger. although i am fragile, there's one thing you must know, you cannot break me. for i am stubborn, unchangeable, rebellious and unique; and not for one second will you fool me into believing different. 

KJC

.blind love.

when i was young i was taught that love is undefined; that love is unexplainable; that love is blind. as i've grown i've come to realize that it is undefined because there is no answer to what it truly is. no one wants to say that love is heartache, love is sleepless nights and stressful days. why do we want it? love is unexplained, not because it is indescribable but because no one will admit that there are hardships, there are tasks that not many want to take on, but mostly, its unexplainable because very few will ever know absolute love. they do not want to go through the pain to find it. Now, love is blind? is it no wonder? love is not blind because it can see past flaws, and love is not blind because it seeks only inner beauty. no, love has become blind so that we may settle. love became blind because we could not see ourselves deserving of what is rightfully ours. is that love? no. love is pain, love is agony, love is conscious and wide-eyed to all details. because to love, to feel pain, and to see clearly sounds almost too good to be true compared to an unscathed heart, habitual days and blinded, glazed eyes. 

KJC

.:my fault:.

my heart never healed from when you left. you let me get close to you. you let me feel secure. its your fault i can't feel. its your fault i can't trust. its your fault my tears have dried. its your fault my pain has turned numb. its your fault my heart will never

race. its your fault i walk this world blinded. but its all my fault; i let you in. 
KJC

.:painful beauty.beautiful pain:.

it has been said that beauty is only skin deep.. how about pain? pain burrows through my veins. it has also been said that pain is beauty. could it be that we cause pain in the search of beauty when in reality our beauty is how we push through our pain? or is our beauty the journey and knowledge we gain is search of fictitious and materialized beauty?

ticktock.

waiting is the hardest part of life. living in constant anticipation of how things will line up. but once we actually finish waiting, it feels like it was gone in the blink of an eye. make sure what you're waiting on is worth it, because who knows how long you'll wait for nothing. 

.

sitting in a world where no one knows but you. your story is not yet shared. when your world is crumbling all around, their wind still cools, their laughter is still heard, their hearts still beat; yet all you feel, hear and see is numb. all senses shut off for mere seconds. will they ever feel you? will they ever know? they won't. they will still return the empty smile you loan out. but maybe, just maybe, their world is similar to the remains in the rubble as yours is. maybe, just maybe, they understand too. but you will never know, for you left them with a generic greeting indicating nothing other than you acknowledge their presence.