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Not Real
I miss it, too.
I miss it, too.


I keep
all your names
very close
to my heart.

I call them out in a whisper when I’m reminded each star
They’re like
the warm light
of memory
within my heart.

Those moments
weaved in older time
all with love
Ne’er far from me,

Like dreams
I remember
On a late whim’s reminder

I reverse that I forgot.

And I remember.

A fond memory I embrace within this full chest of mine.

Like this,
I will never forget wholly

so with the wonder
you all endowed
‘pon my breast
and my voice.

I call to you.

But only in whispers

When I hold
all your names
so very close
to my heart.
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Well, you see, the secret 'tween you n' me:
Neither of us reall' know how it is to be.
I don't know if I'm normal; you don't know if you're straight,
We both love our towns but are desperate to leave our same state!

In God We Trust! Ain't it true, ain't it just?
In the light of great darkness, our heart of it thrusts.
We walk hand and hand, though neither us have a finger,
(We'll pretend for now, 'n let this gross thought all linger.)

"Gosh, golly!" says Mary, she's in quite a shock,
For her husband's killed her sister (she lived down the block).
"Funny," we think, 'cause we know why he crimed:
"You're just like us, Mary, and he, like you and I!"

The shock can be (well) shocking; the thought may be brutal,
But deny the hit of truth? Bah! how quite so feudal.
'Cause the secret 'tween us, and good ol' poor Mary,
Is that we're all claimed adults, but still believe in the Fairy.
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That smell of her in Springtime's hue; what bother to forget -
That sweet rhyme's composition, flowers 'out that twinge of summer sweat,
With hair with light like glassy sheen, oh; what a bother to forget -

E'en in the autumn months of May, that smell so startling, too -
Such 'tention to the subtleties of major tones; astute!
Heavens by, this heart of mine, that flavour of her brew.

But surely Cros was pessimistic, 's not the women and the 'sinthe
That thereby ruin wills of men, but Woman and her rose-oil dazzling hint
Oh, swear by all my weakened might and mind, sh'was the humbugs peppermint.

Ah, but yes, love is nigh when all grass 's dry, but when the Rains, they come -
Oh, darling beau', those Springtime hues, they go! oh no! they run!
And when the gods decreed your debts and all the truths were done,
I learned the smell was bottle-brewed, my shrew, all good of you was cunn.

Sick medicine of flowers crushed, for heartfelt nasal rush -
That snatch of mint on horsehair brush, with painted face of blush,
so take her 2 the pool on the first d8 m8, that's all; i'll tell youse lot that much.
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I think I married you too early in the year. If we'd waited until spring, the wind might not have blown about the notes of Wonder of You, rattling smoothly from the cassette player, which my nephew had to keep rewinding so that the tape would stay on track 3. But I liked that your hair danced with the wind and got tousled, and the winged sleeves of your rented wedding dress looked so cool to me, 23 and without a clue of what marriage really meant, except that it took love, and that I knew we had it.
We couldn't afford a venue, so we had to borrow dining tables from all of our friends and transport them all the way to the park, but they all looked nice under the tablecloths your boss Maria gave you, a loving early wedding gift, and your face lit up so much when you saw that your mother and father had decided to come, your mother wearing a determined expression of reluctance on her face, sold out by the special gloves she wore and the smile she let out when we hugged and she thought nobody was looking. When I told you that some time afterwards, your eyes teared up quickly and you called her to tell her you loved her so much. The end of that month when we came to visit, me for the first time, you for the first time in years, your mother finally spoke to me, clasping my hands and telling me to take care of you, and your father pat me on the back and said I'd do well. I called him 'Dad' and his smile was something you can't feign, mine too.
It was hard to scrounge up money when I was always between jobs, undereducated and underqualified for everything I wish I could be for you. When you went to work I used to cry on the couch, opposite our wedding photos on the wall -- we couldn't even afford a photographer on the day, so the pictures were all taken on a disposable camera and Michael offered to print them for us. You had so lovingly pinned them onto the faded yellow wall when they came in a thin blue envelope, writing notes beside each photo in 2B pencil.
I would take the shoebox out from under the dresser every Wednesday night when you worked overtime, when I felt so useless, and I'd read through every letter we wrote to each each other when we were 15 and I'd had to move away, I'd read them all in order, from your first letter asking about the weather and whether or not I wore my socks inside out on my first day at the new school this time, to my last letter telling you the weather was crap but it was okay because my aunt and uncle had finally named me an adult, and that I was going to see you in the morning, and every morning you wanted me to.
Sometimes you still chuckle about how excited I was when I got my first full time job. You'd turn the plain silver ring around your finger, the one you wear instead of your wedding ring, tucked safely in cloth in the dresser, and you'd look at it with a fondness and gladness, and I'd know that you're thinking of how high I had jumped when I ran home to tell you the good news, lifting you off of the ground to kiss you and tell you that we could finally afford to have a baby, that we were going to be a fully commercial family with smiles and TV and Christmas dinner. I was so elated. I must've sounded like such an idiot, but with the way that you kissed me back, I couldn't tell at all.
I got you the silver ring with some of my first month's pay -- I couldn't help it, I was so proud of myself and happy and excited, I almost got caught at work dazing off about what we could name our baby, boy or girl, it didn't matter -- you put it on with excitement to level mine, an awe that made me so thankful I tried so hard, and I just wanted to hold you there forever, because you were just so wonderful, so beautiful and radiant, like the sun, like the colours of soft drink cans and icypoles, the ones we ate together on the back porch back when we were kids and they were still barely 30 cents a pop.
You had taken the ring off and rolled it in your hands in the doctor's office two months later, our faces were pink and the doctor had thick-rimmed brown glasses and a white doctor's coat that seemed unnecessary, and when he pressed us to say what the problem was you hesitated and whispered that it was painful to make love, and I held your hand and the ring left an imprint on my palm but I held it very tightly because I knew you were sad.
You cried almost every night on the couch opposite the wedding photos, I told Maria you needed time off, and eventually I had to call her to say you couldn't work anymore. I would let you hug me on the couch when you cried but at night, I'd become a coward and turn away from you in bed because I was scared that just being close to you would make it painful in your heart to be reminded that our dreams couldn't come true anymore. It was so hard for seven months afterwards, and I was always scared that you'd move back in with your parents, but I still couldn't bring myself to hold you too closely, until it was our anniversary and I couldn't take it anymore and pulled you into my heart, embracing you silently on the bed, neither of us saying anything until you fell asleep and I kissed your forehead and promised you to never let go of you ever again.
In autumn of that year, we put on our best clothes and went out, squeezing each other's hands and wishing each other luck like back in third grade exams. It took six months of paperwork and interviews, and you looked so frazzled all of the time, hair tied up and reading glasses slipping off the bridge of your nose, but everything was so worth it the first day we had Wyatt in our home, the first day when all the lights went out on our street and we ended up reading him bedtime stories by the light of an oil lamp until he calmed down and fell asleep between us. We felt like real parents, and everything seemed to make sense, our dreams were coming true.
When Wyatt died not even two years later, you laid out all his clothes on his bed and cried and said we must be cursed and I lied and said we weren't. You still get quiet and lonely whenever November comes around and you're reminded. I think of his voice a lot, too, and how he used to pronounce "hope and consolation" wrong. I miss seeing you teach him how to do his math homework at the dining table, patient and understanding.
We're old now. Most old people say they only have their memories left to keep them going, so that Alzheimer's is worse than cancer. But I think it's not that bad. Yesterday when I forgot Mello Yello was discontinued almost twenty years ago, you reminded me, and when you asked me why I was thinking about it, I reminded you that it was Wyatt's favourite, and we both smiled a bit and talked about Mrs Bates from grade prep, which we somehow remembered better than year eight.
It's been forty-six years now, I think, and we still can't afford a reservation at that expensive restaurant downtown. You gently remind me from across the diner table that they closed down back in the early thousands, and we puzzle for a bit whether or not it had recently re-opened under new management. I still can't afford a ring with diamonds, but my shaking old hand gives you the little faux silk velvet box anyway, and you open it with equally shaky and old hands, taking out the golden band, now trembling, and you say, "what's this?" and I tell you "look at the engraving inside", which says 1952, and you tell me "our wedding was in 1972, you dolt", and I say "we met when we were four", and you say "oh, weren't we still babies when we met? I remember you were chubby..."
I help you put the ring on, on top of the silver one, and the small speaker in the corner begins to play our wedding song, rattling smoothly like a cassette, and you smile like the sun and popsicle sticks, and we clink dirty diner glasses of lemonade. The diner door opens and a young couple huddles in, two boys sharing a scarf and a look of mixed regret and comfort, and the draft from outside makes your silver hair dance, so I help you to move into my side of the booth and give you my wool cardigan, and you huddle up next to me and say "it's cold but you're warm", and all suddenly I'm glad that we had a rushed wedding in autumn, in 1972, in the park and in love, when jobs were hard and making love was painful, and the draft was cool like the winged sleeves of your wedding dress, and we were in love, when all our dreams were coming true, still coming true, and I guess to myself as you nap on my shoulder that I'll never really know the reason why you love me, but I smile, because it's the wonder of you for me, the wonderful wonder.
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Do you remember that Masterchef episode where they were going after the immunity pin and there was that chef guy who was just messing around the entire time and everybody was like "what the hell is this guy doing", and he finished his dish really early and even the guy up against him was confused as hell, and in the end he ended up getting ten out of ten from all of the three judges?
I remember we were laughing so hard I thought I'd die, and we ended up going to that guy's restaurant down in the city later that week and it was just okay, but I kept thinking about your smile and your laughter that night in the dark living room with only the blaring TV screen shining shades of warmth on the left side of your cheek while I was making breakfast this morning and burnt it all, and you got upset.
Do you remember that day in autumn when we went to the beach and it was so windy and cold that we had to go back home?
Or, do you remember the eleventh date we had, when we still kept us a secret because it was fun having a joke between ourselves, and we woke up super early to drive all the way up to the Dandenong Ranges, where we hiked three quarters of the way before we decided it was enough because the sun was beginning to set and the sky looked so pretty already from where we were, all deep blue tinted purple with oranges and pinks, but I told you I liked the blue part best, and you said you liked it, too?
Do you remember the first time you hit me?
I was nagging you about something stupid because I was secretly angry that you ignored me when I asked you a question earlier that night, and I wanted to make you angry, too, and I got you so frustrated and upset that you grabbed my head with both hands and slammed me into the cabinet. I fell and you towered over me, and you knelt down so you could keep hitting me, and then I started laughing a lot like an idiot, and I couldn't stop, and you tried to ignore it as you hit me more, and I kept laughing, until it felt like you understood why I was laughing so much and you started laughing, too, and we kept laughing together while you hit me until both of us passed out.
Do you remember last night in bed when you told me you loved me and I knew that you meant it, and I held your hand close to my nose and smiled against it, and I thought we were so happy I could die?
Do you remember this morning, when I pulled you back before you left for work and gave you a good-bye kiss and pushed the coffee thermos you almost left behind into your hand? I put poison in that coffee. I just wanted to see if the colour would turn into an icky purplish brown, but it didn't. It was a deep, pigmented blue, like the sky in the ranges on our eleventh date, and I thought it was really beautiful, and I knew you would say you liked it too if I told you I liked it. My coffee turned the same colour, too.
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“One day, whether you are 14, 28 or 65,
you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die.
However, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find––
is they are not always with whom we spend our lives”
― Beau Taplin, Hunting Season

Ah, back then, back, back then,
We shared a magical moment, didn't we?
The moment was right, and the wind thrilled our hair just enough, and the weather was cold just enough, and we were close together just enough,
and I could have sworn that there was magic happening between our hearts as we leaned in, and kissed.

Ah, what a magical moment we had back then,
Back when
The moment was right. I am destined to this memory until the day that I die because
it was perfect
so perfect
too perfect
and it felt so beautiful, felt so perfect and indisrecable
and I know -
Oh, I know
I know I will never in a million years have a moment such as that magic we had, ever again.

Because magic is limited and gods are selfish as I am selfish
And perhaps all those living can only have one magical, perfect moment in living, if lucky
So I'd like to say that magic was wasted on you
But it felt so good on you
and I don't think I'd be willing to take it back
for anything else.

But ah, that magical moment we shared
the magical moment we shared
back then
back then
back then
I saw that violet violent stream of magic twist between us
and then
and then
and then
My heart, didn't it beat just once for someone other than myself?

I might live on for so many more years and
In my heart
the flame you left there, it will never go out
Even in parting
this grief is not the flame
and the flame is something else
And I know in all my years
in all my coming years
I will find many like you
but no moment like yours
with mine.

Back then, back then,
oh, back, back
back then.
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is it so wrong to be so very tired...?
is it terrible to not be useful for a day or two days or twenty-seven
i won't do a thing because i believe i'm not free enough just yet
but when i'm free i'd just be tired again, because freedom must be costly, do you know?
hey, but aren't i useless in this biosphere?
notes and words, aren't they all just feel-better things for split-moments we can repeat for the same effect but nothing new; nothing more -
o, aren't you tired, too...?
i'm so scared
if you don't know what's happening, and i don't either, then the rest of the world can't be much better
cross my fingers, maybe later someone'll figure it out, and be happy, be useful and beaming bright and worriless
spring - oh, it's spring now - it's 12.39am, which is spring now, says the calendar, says whoever made the calendar
i missed
missed spring and summer
it's like
this song
i feel happy to be induced with peaceful drowse and softness, like sleeping but awake and innocent
and it's like - like childhood
and i miss childhood like i will miss spring and miss summer except childhood doesn't come back except when i am falling enough to pretend
isn't the air just stale anyhow else
i don't want to be scared and say yes to scary things just to say i am maybe a little useful and achieved or esteemed
i'm happy now, i think, with notes and with words, though momentary
i can taste, almost
the spring and the summer that makes me feel like sleeping but awake and innocent
like the days when i didn't know anything, and that made me relieved without knowing the word at all
in spring, and in summer
is it quite so wrong, is it quite so bad to be a little tired, to be a little child again? just a little? just...a...little...little...?
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Note 0.4
One time my friend keilah had an asthma attack

3. If you do not start to feel better, take two puffs of your reliever inhaler (one puff at a time) every two minutes. You can take up to 10 puffs.

Set a timer for 5 minutes, so you can relax and not worry about staying in meditation for ‘too long’, missing appointments. (If you have an iPhone, the Healing Music application can be used as a timer.)

Close your eyes and relax. Take a few deep breaths from your diaphragm and release the tension in your body. (See this article on breathing exercises for more on how to do this quickly.)

Clear your mind of thoughts. Rather than focusing on ‘thinking of nothing’, focus on ‘being’, and when thoughts enter your mind, gently acknowledge them and let them go, returning your focus to the present moment again.

Continue this for 5 minutes, and return to your day feeling more relaxed and refreshed. Try this meditation regularly, and you should feel less stressed overall.
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Note .03
One time probably two years ago (?) my love reb (or bacca) asked me to tell her a bedtime story in messenger so i tried to make one up

R:Tell me a bedtime story
ok ok
once upon a time there was a town of rabbits
there was little jimmy rabbit
little emma rabbit
and mamma and pappa rabbit
they all lived happily in their little rabbit hole
until one day a family of cats moved in
there was little tiger cat
little aurora cat
and mamma cat
when the cat family moved into the rabbit field, mamma rabbit was worried that they wouldn't become good neighbours
she said to pappa rabbit, "what if our new neighbours don't like us?"
pappa rabbit laughed and said to mamma rabbit, "don't worry, honey, i'm sure we'll all be friends. maybe you should bake up one of your famous carrot cakes and come by their place to give it to them"
mamma rabbit thought this was a great idea, and immediately made one of her special carrot cakes, which was not like any other carrot cake you've ever tasted it before, because she used very special ingredients
jimmy rabbit and emma rabbit were also scared. they were scared that tiger cat and aurora cat would deprive them of their popularity among the animals as the cutest baby animals in the rabbit field
"what if no one loved us anymore?" said jimmy rabbit
emma rabbit, albeit the younger of the two, took control and hatched a cunning plan
"would you like to play tea party with us?" emma rabbit said to tiger cat and aurora cat
of course! the best way to make sure that the baby cats would not steal their popularity would be to become friends with them, so that they could all be cute together!

but aurora cat answered emma rabbit's request with a hiss. "we don't play with rabbits." she said scathingly, and slinked away
tiger cat growled at jimmy rabbit, and slinked away as well
emma rabbit turned to jimmy rabbit, giggling. "i guess they won't be stealing our popularity after all if they're like that"
jimmy rabbit considered this for a bit.
"still..." he said, thoughtfully, "i think we should still try"

R: Rape them until they likes us
C: how determined of jimmy rabbit! we should all be like jimmy rabbit!
sh, little bacca, we're getting to the good part and you'll like it a lot!
just then, mamma rabbit had finished baking her special carrot cake
pappa rabbit sniffed the freshly baked cake with a large grin, "this will surely make the cat family friendly"

R:Does it have magical potions in it
C:oh, it has quite a few, little reb
jimmy rabbit and emma rabbit return home, laughing together loudly.
when they enter the kitchen, they can smell the delicious cake, hot and ready to eat
"mamma! please, please, please, can we have some carrot cake?"
begged emma rabbit
mamma rabbit shook her head, "now, now, emma, this cake is for the cat family. besides, you're too young for my special cake - only your older brothers and sisters back in our hometown have ever tasted my special cake"
jimmy rabbit interjected, "but i thought all our brothers and sisters back in our hometown were disrespectful and misbehaving! how come THEY got carrot cake but we can't??"
see, this was a very reasonable question from jimmy rabbit, and mamma rabbit smiled at this
"now, now, jimmy, you'll have your cake in due time. for now, this cake is for the cat family.
and so mamma rabbit took the cake over to the cat family's residence, and knocked on the front door.
"hello! this is mamma rabbit. i brought some of my famous carrot cake to welcome you to the neighbourhood!' mamma rabbit said when mamma cat opened the door.
mamma cat smiled crookedly, and took the beautiful-smelling cake
"by the way," mamma cat purred, "have you seen my tiger cat and aurora cat? it's rather late and they haven't come home. they do have such a habit of causing trouble wherever they go...
mamma rabbit giggled and shook her head. "no, no, no, i have not seen your tiger cat and aurora cat. perhaps they are exploring the field. i am sure that they are respectful, well-behaved little baby cats."
mamma cat nodded slowly, "sure, mamma rabbit. thank you for your lovely cake. i will see you around."
mamma cat closed the door.
she decided to go into the garden some ways behind the house, just to check if tiger cat and aurora cat had been playing there all along.
there were pretty flowers in the garden, and in the distance, mamma cat could see a little tea table and a little tea set on the little tea table
she curiously walked over to the tea table, where she could see two furry black balls of fur. perhaps it was tiger cat and aurora cat!
and indeed it was!
set on little chairs on other sides of the little table, were tiger cat and aurora cat, except they were a little bit different from usual.

R: How diff mama?
C: their eyes were glassy, and their necks had bled out all of their little cats' blood. on the ground beside the little baby cats were shards of broken and bloody teacups and plates. mamma cat was horrified.
she ran back to her house and cried for a very long time.
suddenly, she heard, from the kitchen, a squeak, followed by a strangled sound. she quickly ran to the kitchen to see who it possibly could have been.
it was baby roger rat!

C: baby roger rat was on the floor, squeaking loudly, over and over again.
"what is wrong, baby roger rat! what happened? what are you trying to say, baby roger rat?"
baby roger rat began to lift his shaking little baby rat claw to point at something.
but then he stopped. he stopped squeaking, too.
baby roger rat was dead.
mamma cat was horrified.

she looked around the kitchen to try to see what baby roger rat was pointing and, and then she saw it: the special carrot cake mamma rabbit had made - with a large bit missing, in the shape of a baby rat's teeth.

R: I knew it
C: mamma cat looked away from the special carrot cake, and her eyes went narrowed and angry.
mamma cat bolted to the rabbit family's rabbit hole, breaking down the front door. there were sounds coming from the kitchen, and so mamma cat, hot with anger, went there to find answers.
the whole rabbit family was there. "mamma! mamma, please! mamma, please, help him!" emma rabbit was screeching.
mamma rabbit and pappa rabbit shook their heads.
"no!" said mamma rabbit. "he was disrespectful and misbehaving! he is not a friendly good rabbit."
jimmy rabbit was at the dinner table. there was a large carrot cake set on it, with a big slice cut out. he was making strangled sounds.
emma rabbit kept screeching, and pappa rabbit's eyes went all narrow and scary.
"shut up!" he screamed. "shut up! shut up! shut up!"
he jumped up and grabbed emma rabbit, who was screeching even louder now.
"shut up you stupid bitch! shut up! he strangled her while his other paw grabbed a handful of cake and shoved it into emma rabbit's mouth.
"you are disrespectful and misbehaved! you are not a friendly good rabbit! shut up! shut up! shut up!"
mamma cat cried out, suddenly making her presence known.
"you!" said mamma rabbit. "why are you not dead yet!"
"you monsters! i am not dead yet because i have one last deed to do. i will kill you both!"
with amazing speed, mamma cat sped to mamma rabbit, and ripped her head from her body.
mamma rabbit was no more.

R: WAT about the rest of the rabbits family
C: then mamma cat ran to pappa rabbit, and clamped his neck with her teeth. she threw him across the kitchen, and he landed on the opposite wall with a sickening crunch.
pappa rabbit was no more.
mamma cat rushed to emma rabbit to see if she was okay.
"mamma! pappa!" emma rabbit was yelling with difficulty.
"are you okay? i will call for help!" mamma cat said reassuringly.
she began to run outside to find help, but before she even left the kitchen, she saw beside the stove, a little teacup and a little teapot, set neatly on the countertop.
she knew it was theirs.
mamma cat stopped running, and began to walk slowly, calmly, out of the rabbit hole, and into her own house without a word to anyone else.
she sat at her kitchen table and cried for a very long time.
there was a small plate on the kitchen table that she had forgotten to wash before.
she had been eating before going into the garden.
there were still little cake crumbs on the white plate.
little special carrot cake crumbs.
mamma cat cried until she stopped breathing.
the end.
did u like the story
thank u thank u
do u kno the moral of the story?

R: Don't trust cakes from rabbits
C: ahaha no!
it's be respectful or misbehaved
or you won't be a friendly good rabbit colonthree emoticon
and if you're not a friendly good rabbit, you have to go back to your hometown with your other disrespectful and misbehaved brothers and sisters.
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Note .02
One time I was being overly passive aggressive for something pretty irrelevant

you know
you know that feeling when
you go onto google and type in a name of someone you've lost contact with many many months ago?
and then you find an odd article
or a blog post
or whatever
and you look at their picture for a second, wondering if they were ever good looking
and then you're reading the paragraph they wrote
and then
they fucking used a fucking comma where a fucking semicolon should have been
and you tell their photo "fuck you" and exit the tab
and you think to yourself that it was probably a good idea - the best idea - to not still be in contact

learn to use fucking semicolons

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