Christmas Eve

I've caught it. I feel it running through my veins and circulating in my brain. I've been sick for a while now, but it hasn't hit me until tonight. It happened to me overnight sometime. 

I grew up. 

It's Christmas Eve and I don't feel the giddy feeling of Christmas morning approaching. I should've know it had been happening, I wasn't even excited for my Birthday this year. 

Growing up has left holes in my soul that presents just won't fill anymore.

Tonight is just another night.

Tomorrow morning will be just another morning.

There's a Sink Hole in Me

There's a sink hole in me. It twists and turns, takes all that I feel. Sinks deeper and deeper before I can heal. The lights in my eyes have started to dim. The bright sun is setting and the nighttime is grim. My center is shaking and quaking ready to lapse, but it slows and it stops and it lifts and retracts. 

There's a sink hole in me

Darkening Lights and Pizza Pie Nights

I once lived a life of adventure where the wind was always at my side. It would sail my ship sail through dangerous waters and it was always at my back. Now it must go. The wind is leaving my hair to go blow through the leaves of a tree somewhere else and help the land grow. So for now I must learn to live a life without the wind being my guide. It will return one day to fill my sails again. But that is a different adventure for another season.

Goodbye

http://grooveshark.com/s/Goodbye/4Gsqp2

  Suicide seems to be in the air nowadays, not only in the air but in the water, and in our words.

  I would never take my life. Never. But that doesn't stop me from thinking about if I did sometimes.

  I imagine the tears shed. My tears? Others tears? The lack of tears? I spend my time in the company of actors, you never quite know who's genuine and who's not. Who's tears are genuine and who's aren't.

  I suppose you could say I'm a bad person for thinking about how bad everyone would feel if just turned my neck a little too far, or just took one too many pills. How everyone would regret neglecting me just because I wasn't handsome, or talented, or funny.

  I imagine how I'd leave this world without leaving the imprint of my lips on someone else's, or seeing a light in someone's eyes that I put there.

  I imagine all the people that didn't actually care about me posting on Facebook claiming the falsehoods of being my friend, and me bringing joy to their life, that I would be dearly missed. When in all actuality their life would go on just after they clicked post and got a few likes.

  I imagine the empty sound in my classes following my permenant unexcused absense. The counselors walking in and telling everyone that they could get help if they needed it. Secretly we all need help in one way or another.

I imagine my mom.

  What they don't tell you about suicide is that life goes on without you just like it did when you were there. The people who neglected you in life neglect you in death, music keeps playing, time keeps ticking, and people keep living.

  I can't tell you what it's like to want to harm yourself, I've never had that desire, and I never will. I can't tell you what it's like to hold your life in your own hands and I never will. I can however tell you what it's like to be alone, and numb, and I can tell you that no one deserves that. No one.

  If anyone ever needs someone to talk to, or rant to, or drop severe emotional baggage on, I will always be here. Please don't feel like you have to be alone, please don't feel like you have to say goodbye.

Just a Letter

This post is an open letter to every girl out there not currently in love with Ardon Smith.

Dear ladies,

  What are you doing? You constantly talk about how there aren't any good guys out there to date. Well  I'm here to tell you Ardon is the best guy I know and probably ever will know. He constantly worries about anyone and everyone and never expects anything in return, he just gives, and gives, and gives. He cares about everyone and it hurts him to see others hurting, he goes out of his way to try and brighten everyone's day just so they don't feel as down as he does. You'll never meet someone as genuine as him.

  Ardon also happens to be one of the most talented people I know. His acting will without a doubt move you every time, and his goal in acting is to just affect at least one person in the audience and make them feel something. He also has one of the best voices out there, he's come so far is so little time it's astounding, he works so hard and puts so much effort everything he does, with how much he cares about the drama department it's no coincidence that he's the Drama President.

  I became friends with Ardon when I joined the Drama Department halfway through last year, up until that point I had been struggling, I had very few friends and even fewer people who cared about me. Almost immediately Ardon and I became friends. I can't tell you how much he has changed my life and how much he truly means to me. Ardon has been there for me every time I've had a rough day. I thank God everyday for sending Ardon Smith into my life. I can't tell you how big of a blessing  his friendship is to me.

  Ardon deserves only the best life has to offer because he is one of the best, but because of various jerks he often gets down on himself. Most people in high school are superficial and only care about material things, not Ardon. Say whatever you want about his looks, but until you've sat in his car at 2 am crying because you're laughing so hard and until you've heard him giggle at his own jokes, and have seen his most genuine smile, don't you dare judge him.

Ardon Smith is one of the best people in the entire world and all I'm saying is, you should give him a chance.

Sincerely, Nic Thomas

It's Getting Cold

I can't remember what love feels like.
It's been so long.
It's left my heart, leaving it cold and desolate.
Leaving me cold and desolate.

Just Some Thoughts

Am I just a shell? If someone touched me would I break? If someone touched me... 

Why doesn't my love cut someone like a knife?

Why doesn't someone's love cut ME like a knife?

If I am a shell, why do I feel so empty?

Will I ever be more than mediocre?

Will I ever not have to invite myself to every occasion?

Will someone ever want to be my best friend?

Will someone ever want to hold me?

Will I ever actually find a woman that will love me?

Do people think about me?

Will I ever be good enough?

Anyone want to be more than friends?

If I died right now would I touch any hearts and break them?

Break them like my shell.

The Death of Nic Thomas

  As I lay dying, impaled by the blades of grass below me I pondered whether or not my soul was worth saving. The warm air that only summer nights could produce slowly made it's way into every ounce of my blood. I caught a glimpse at the stars through the tree I lay under. I could never see the great images others always talked about when referencing stars, just random sparks of light. But beauty in my eyes is randomness. And I witnessed the beauty of the universe.

  To tell you the truth the blades of grass didn't kill me. The desolation of my heart and soul did. The loneliness slowly bled me out until the only thing left in me was emptiness. Emptiness that could only be filled by someone else, and it seems everyone has a someone else but me. So I remain empty. And I remain cold, even though the warm summer breeze is blowing.

Lions, Lions, and Lions. Oh My.

How do you rhyme beats of the heart
With words from the mouth

Why is love like climbing a barbed wire fence? Is it really worth it to try and get to the other side? That's not even a good analogy, you can't just climb any fence you want, and what the hell happens if you get to the other side and you don't like where you are?

Maybe that's the perfect analogy

Is love really sunshine and roses? Yes. But it's also a long hike to get to those roses, and they still have thorns. But that's ok.

Because what's love without work







And what's beauty without pain

Empty

Off in mountains somewhere there was a cottage. The cottage’s exterior was built out of planks of wood that had aged to a peeling gray color. The land around the cottage was sparse with the occasional weed poking it’s head out of the dirt as if to say hello. There was a car out front, reminiscent of the past, it was rusted, yellow, and dented to oblivion. There was very thin ivy growing from the ground wrapping itself around the white rims holding them down, the tires were frowning as if to show you that they hadn’t gone anywhere and weren’t going anywhere for a very long time.

Up the front steps and through the cracked screen door there was a man placed at a table, a man that time had forgotten. That table was the only piece of furniture. The cottage was empty. The table was next to a window on the left side of the room, the window had been dirtied by the years transforming all light that entered through into a pale green aura that highlighted all the dust in the air and on the man’s face. The man clutched a piece of glass similar to the window. With every ruby that left his pruney fingers a whimper was released from his withered lips, and the rivers and valleys of his face cast deep shadows over his faintly beating heart.

In front of him torn pieces of memories littered the splintered wooden table. Under the sound of pain his broken barrel of whiskey voice whispered curses to himself “Damn me. All the good ya had left is cut to bits. All the good ya ever had is cut to bits”. Looking at the glass in his hand just cleansed by a lonely tear drop he whispered again “Damn me”.

Off in mountains somewhere there was a cottage. The cottage’s exterior was built out of planks of wood that had aged to a peeling gray color. The cottage was old and empty. And so was the man.

For Names Sake

The definition of my name is “people’s victory”.  It’s defined by endless joy, but also by loneliness. It’s similar to one too many raindrops, and too little sleep. It’s followed by a deadbeat who’s trailed by a doubting man. It’s the color of warm gusts of air, and has the smell of coffee it can’t drink. It’s the shouting of words that need to be heard but never understood.

It’s the name of a man that discovered everything yet claimed nothing, a real victor. I’d tell you a story of the amazing man I’m named after or the wondrous way of how it came to be me, but it’s simply mine because my parents thought it fit.

It’s the only one that doesn’t start with C and it’s seriously lacking in the H department, and it’s been retrenched to the point of near extinction. South of the border they hollow out the beginning and lighten the end, In Russia they dirty it and make it of the earth.

It’s a tiger that looks a lot like a bear, but sounds like a lion. It’s the sound of an only boy surrounded by women that can’t seem to get along, but can seem to agree to hate. At school it’s pronounced acquaintance, and at home it’s corrected to stranger.

If you say Nicolas six times fast you just may hear it sing, say it
fifteen times and it may just be your friend, look into his eyes, take his hand,
and he'll love you for a life time if not more.

Why is plastic as brittle as my thoughts?

Trumpets can blow and so can the wind but that doesn't make them the same thing. Balloons float and so does Root Beer but they're not the same. There, their, and they're all sound the same and yet they aren't. Thugs roll and so do bowling balls, but when were they ever the same? Fire burns and so does passion, so what makes them different? Milk shakes and so does the earth and yet they're not even related. We breathe the same air but that doesn't make us close

Falling Through the Mind

What's left after a flower has died? What's left after a fire burns? What's left once a building has fell? The memory lives on, maybe only by one person, maybe carried on by only the ground that once supported it. Even if all evidence of it ever existing vanishes the air will always remember, and so will the sky, and so will all the carbon atoms it was made out of. So what happens if that something never existed in the physical world? Who carries that on, after the mind decays it's forgotten, can anything truly be forgotten?

Ripped Buildings and Toppled Fabric

Just a ragged man with shoes of leather and a heart the same.

Bleeding Red

Have you ever had someone's name carved on your heart? As hard as you try there's nothing you can do to remove the scar, it will always be there and you just have to learn to forget, or maybe hope for another scar to take it's place. Having a heart is a dangerous thing, and it takes the greatest amount of courage to share it with others and let them carve you with pieces of glass. Be careful in who you trust, not everyone should be given glass.