I love pinhole cameras.
Jackal and Hyde
Inspired by Shawn Lee’s Ping Pong Orchestra’s Kiss the Sky
“You tell me that I’m not raw enough.
Not enough dirt and grime under my finger nails for me to claim that pain is my companion.
Then tell me please, how much blood am I supposed to bleed then?
Until I can finally legitimize my tears. Until I can finally confess the realness of my fears. Until I can finally find a reason to get the hell out of here.
You tell me that I’m too young to know pain, that age has something to do with the degree of my tear and blood stains.
You think that I don’t know enough yet to suffer, a soul too new to get rougher.
But baby, I’ve been through tougher.
I may not exceed two decades, but I have a heart that has aged a millennium.
A thousand years have passed, but you still compare me the bud of a chrysanthemum.
You think that I’m infatuated with my life story, that it must be some kind of ill-proclaimed love that has give me a reason to complain.
But it runs deeper, deeper than any relationship or bond that has been made plain.
It’s the fact that I can’t seem to focus.
“Love is for the foolish, man that shit is bogus!”
In the midst of adolescent self-realization, I have done nothing but conspire and feign over a disastrous creation.
I have built myself to be weak and the pain I feel is the buckle of my knees.
The pain is the suffering I feel when I become blind to what I see.
I have lost sight of everything that is actually important. I have lost sight of me.
The mirror reflects the face of a girl caked up in lies and dishonesty, people keep trying to manipulate her with the phrase “you can trust me”.
A target for everyone’s blames and assumptions.
Her body feeds off the negativity and is the victim of its consumption.
You tell me to breathe easy because things will get better, but I’ll listen to you when we both see perfect weather.
But since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, we will never agree.
And because of that, you can never measure my level of tolerance in your degrees.
It’s like judging a fish by its ability to understand how to climb a tree.
I’m sure that I only sulk in the despair of my loneliness, but I feel like I always feel this.
This sense of self-deprivation, a heart ironically deprived by me.
Continuing to suffer when escape is so easy.
Just say the words, baby and you never have to again, see me.
My heart aches, not in the honor of your contentedness.
I am not trying to please you by surrendering without unrest.
I am just expressing the pain that you have probably never felt, a problem that you haven’t dealt with. Probably because you’re so selfish.”
I recite this mantra of hated to myself in the mirror everyday as I stare at the two people that appear.
Here is one girl trying to stay strong enough to survive. She is the better half keeping the two of them, alive.
The other, a monster, killing herself slowly. It’s a sick and sad form of suicide, homie.
Something that her better half can’t override, as the two of them continue to fight and have their two ideas of pain, collide.
It’s only when these two, yin and yang agree to coexist that I can come to peace with pain. But only until then is beast is tamed…
If I can’t continue to fight the war constantly raging on, inside of me.
My maniacal persona will take over the more clearly reasoned side of me.
I will lose sanity, my grip on humanity.
And then I’ll show you raw. Sharp teeth, dirty claws, and all.
-C.
When I agreed to be your girlfriend… I also agreed to the fact that your problems, your sorrows, your stresses… were going to be mine too. That “yes” meant I was going to be by your side through whatever happens, even through situations that are outside our relationship. As long as I’m your girlfriend, you never have to face anything alone. That’s a promise.
