Monday, February 2, 2015

Lost in Thought-Gilbert and Zehar Darzi

G: I feel lost, like I’m in some sort of cave with no opening. I asked Zehar, but she didn’t know either. That is, where we are. We’ve lost our memories; that’s easy enough. We’re probably in some sort of dungeon or somethin’. We’ve been in here for what? 3 years?

Z: Little over two actually.

G: Yeah, we’ve been keeping track of all the days. We can’t see if it’s night or day, but Zehar found out somethin after a while.

Z: During night time, the atmosphere changes. It gets more… floofy kinda dreamy, you know? It feels like you’re in a dream, but well, not. That’s what it’s like at night. So we just count all the floofy moments.

G: Yeah! Though it may be inaccurate since we have no memory of anything before being in this dark dungeon cave. So who knows, could be longer, shorter. We have no idea! We have no way of telling. The reason we’ve been counting the days is because we have nothing better to do.

Z: Yeah… It’s really dark and boring.

G: Soooo boring. We can’t even sleep. Not that there’s a bed in here anyways. Sleep is boring too, so I don’t care too much.

Z: Hey Gil, who are we talking to anyways? It’s empty in here.

G: Don’t you feel it? Someone is listening to us. Might as well talk to them.

Z: Oh yeah, I feel it now too. I wonder who they are? Do they know us?

G: Let’s introduce ourselves just in case. My name is Gilbert Darzi. I’m twe--- fourteen now, I think. I have deep blue hair and light brown eyes. This is my Twin, Zehar Darzi.

Z: I have light blue hair and golden eyes. We’re from India. We like to… Gil, what do we like to do? It seems to be anything that entertains us at the time.

G: Yeah, we like things that are supposedly exciting, we find them fairly boring though.

Z: We tried cliff jumping once. It ended up being real boring.

G: Our favorite is rollercoasters, I think. At least for me, and we usually share the same interests

Z: Yeah, I really liked the rollercoasters too. Especially ones that go fast, throw you around, and go in loopdiloops. We also tried haunted houses; that was horrible!

G: Yeah! I’d much rather be the one scaring.

Z: Hey! Gil! We just remembered things before the cave.

G: Oh yeah! Hm, are these really our memories? Or were they fed to us. This is the first time someone listened to us in here, the first we remembered things.

Z: It does seem if-y. I feel they are real… but not real. Like we did those things, just not in real life. You understand?

G: Nnn… I understand, I think. Hey, what about me?

Z: Hm… actually, you have a similar feeling. Real, but not real. Me too.

G: Really?! Well okay then. What about the person listening?

Z: That person has the same feeling too. Are we dreaming or something? If we are, this is a really, really long dream.

G: Who knows, we’re stuck in here, that’s the problem. A really big problem. Hey! Zehar.

Z: What?

G: Can we die? I don’t think we can. Right?

Z: Yeah, I don’t think we can die either

G: When we get out, can we jump into a volcano? I want to see what it feels like to be consumed by all that burning hot magma, sounds exciting right?

Z: Sure, let’s do that.

Lost in Thought-Emil Harmaajavi

How useless, so very useless! I can’t get out… Why am I trapped in here? Locked in a cell of all things. I must be bad, so very bad. I’m a horrid monster to have been locked up so long. What did I do? Everything, my very existence causes pain to others. I only make others sad, I cause them trouble. No wonder I was locked in here. Why don’t they just kill me instead? No, that’d be too easy, they must punish me. Death would reward me, release me from my burden. I don’t want to be talking right now, but it’s quiet… so quiet, too quiet. The people who locked me in here they don’t feed me, are they starving me? Why am I not hungry then? It doesn’t matter… I just wish they’d let me die. It’s so dark in here, or at least I think so, my long bangs cover my eyes, basically cover my nose too. My hair is black right? Yeah I think so. It’s wavy and black. Were my bangs always this long? I don’t think my hair has grown any. So why did I grow my bangs so long? Did I not want to see, or was I hiding something? My eyes… what colour were they? Why can’t I remember…? My memory is faded… I’ve been in here for what… four… five years? I wouldn’t forget so much in that amount of time, especially something like eye colour. At least I remember my name, my horrid name. Everything about me is horrid. I don’t want to exist. Everyone hates me anyways, they should hate me, of course they hate me, I’m horrid. I remembered something. I used to get in trouble a lot, but I didn’t do anything… What am I saying, I must’ve done something bad, I’m bad. I’m glad I’m locked up, at least I’m not being hurt, or hurting others. I do nothing all day, wasting away my sorrowful existence… that’s how it should be. I wish they would’ve given me a pen and paper, something to draw or write on; mainly draw. I really enjoy drawing. I like writing poetry too though. They’re great ways to show emotion in other ways than your face or words, vocal words that is. I feel drained, numb. Like, the stages of depression: sad -> depression -> numb. It’s when you’re so depressed you just can’t feel anything anymore. That’s how I feel. I don’t know why. Is it because I’ve been locked up? Or was it before that…? I don’t know. It sorta feels like someone hooked a machine to me that drained all my energy and emotion. I wish someone would give it back. No. I probably feel like this for good reason. I should stay like this. If anyone can hear me, don’t feel sorry for me, I don’t deserve it. Forget about me, and if you already have, good. I’m not worth remembering anyways. Just continue living your happy lives without me, okay? Stay smiling, if you’re sad, please be happy. If you are happy, try to make others happy, since I only make people sad.

Lost in Thought-Daniel Terje

I’ve lived in a locked room for now… I don’t even know how long it’s been. I’ve given up on counting the days. I’m sure it’s been at least a few years. I don’t remember why I was put in here. I know it must’ve been for a good reason if I’ve been locked up for so long. It’s so dark. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. I’ve forgotten what I look like. How tall am I? How long is my hair now? I haven’t eaten all this time, I wonder why I’m not hungry. I’m not tired either, how strange. I’m in this cell but I’m not chained or anything, but there is nothing to do in here, they many as well have chained me. All I do is sit around doing nothing. This really is no fun, I just want to enjoy myself, which is impossible in here. I tried to get out for the first few days or so, maybe weeks. There’s no way out. I wonder what I did wrong. I wonder where I am! Who put me in here in the first place? Feeling over my entire body, I learn, or remember, that I’m very thin, I have tall boots, cargo shorts, a long coat, but my shoulders are exposed. My hair on one side foes to about my shoulder and there’s a long braid. The other side is longer, my under arm or chest I’d say. My bangs are pretty long, I wonder if I could see even if it was light in here. I’m wearing glasses too. My skin is really soft. From what I remember, my eyes are green and my hair is white. Why is my hair white again? Am I an old man?! No, no I couldn’t be. I was 20 last I remember… so there’s no way I could be an old man. Maybe I’m just albino; yeah I’ll go with that. I want to get out of here. I want to actually see myself. I want to see other people. These words, they are my thoughts; I’m saying them out loud, really loud. I feel better when I talk aloud. I wonder if anyone can hear me. Can you hear me? …no? Yeah I didn’t think so. I’m all alone. I’m often talking, hearing my voice, hearing a voice in general, is the only thing that keeps me tied to reality. Is this reality? Or is this some painful dream? If this is a dream, I want to wake up I want to wake up now! I wish someone would listen to me right now. Maybe… it’s strange but, what if someone was listening but had no way to respond back. If that’s the case, hello. I wonder if they know who I am… probably not. I bet the person who locked me in here forgot about me as well. I’ve forgotten a lot. I vet someone wiped my memory or something. For some reason that doesn’t sound unreasonable. I don’t remember anything other than the fact my name is Daniel Rune Terje and I’m from Norway. I remember that I was 20 when I was locked away, and someone put me here. I don’t know anything else. If someone else remembered me and helped remind me who I am, then maybe I’d remember why I was locked in here and why I can’t get out. Will someone please tell me who I am?

Friday, December 20, 2013

The Recipe for a Broken Heart

1 perfectly good heart
3 cups of pain
2 cups of sorrow
1 gallon of tears

2 pounds of false promises
1 cup of broken trust
1 quart of lies
3 pints of missed opportunities

Place Heart in large bucket filled with tears. Soak for 2 hours then poor in the 2 cups of sorrow. Chop of the missed opportunities and false promises and throw them into the mix. Add in the quart of lies and bring mixture to a boil. Slowly stir in the pain. Pull out the heart and cover it in the broken trust. Serve with a frown, your dish is complete.

The 4th Wall

The lights shine brightly, the curtains open, the stage is set. A table is in the center, covered with a variety of food. A series of bells ring and a large mass of people flood to the table. The favorite of the food seems to be the smoked ham, the smell flying off the stage past the 4th wall. The people at the table feast, the audience wanting to jump on stage and take part of the joy. Chatter breaks out at the table, talking about friends and family. Minutes later, another set of bells ring and all but one leaves. That one was a small girl with a blue bow in her long blonde hair. She walks up to the 4th wall and places her hands on it. "Why can't I see you? Why can't I hear you?" she askes as she runs her hand along the unseen wall. The trail that her hand made slowly turned to ice. To the audience, it appears as a floating stream of ice, they murmur to one another. "It's too cold in here. don't you see?" She shivers and wraps her arms around herself. "Let me out, I'm so cold. Let me out!" She thrusts her hands forward and an icy wall shatters.

Monday, December 16, 2013

A poem by Kyo Konoyashi

My heart is empty
Alone and broken
Nothing fill my need for love
My tears fall into a stream of lies
I am the wrong in this world
A burden to all that is right
Nothing brings back the truth
I'm torn inside and dead at heart
No one can save me
I'm a lost soul
Don't come near me
I'll only bring you pain
Just like everyone else
Please forgive me
I have everything to be sorry for
Put away your doubts
Don't let me get you down
Everyone is better without me
Without this mistake
I need to leave this world
I don't belong
Now I only cry
Nothing cares for my existence


Life is usually described as a roller coaster, but I like comparing it to a tree. It sways back and forth according to the wind. The wind is unpredictable but it always effects the tree. It bends toward the light reaching for it with all its strength. But it still has its dark days, it still gets rained on and sometimes it loses its leaves, looks dead and empty. But it always comes back to life and continues its journey toward the light.