"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Inward Thoughts.

I cried harder for you
the I have for even myself.
Streetlights filtering
through a closed window.
I can never change
any of this--
can only look outside in
and wish that
compassion actually

- - -

These last two poems I wrote about the discourse that's been flying around the memorial page of Amanda Todd, and another less known case, Felicia Garcia. People just have some crazy rude things to say about these suicides (But I won't get into that here), and I feel like it's really unnecessary.

To me it doesn't matter if all the rumors about Amanda Todd are true or not. I find it imensely sad regardless of what mistakes she made that she felt there was no other way out. That she felt like death was the only option. People who are saying she doesn't deserve the attention or she had no right to end her life make me angry. It makes me angry because if it was someone they were close to, they would want others to respect their loss.  It makes me angry because people don't have respect for each other. We're all cold, unfeeling, dead things.

When I was just a kid, like 12 or 13 (seventh grade), my parents played in a band. It was a hard time for eveyone, but I think the entire family (not just my parents) looked forward to band practises because it mean't our house would be filled with happy people. One of the members of the band was a young man named Steve. He was very shy but extremely kind. When I first thought about playing guitar he taught me to read tablature (to be honest I didn't really have an interest until the 10th grade, but regardless). He was a good friend of the family and I remember enjoying his presence. I remember one day my mom woke me up and told me he'd wasn't with us anymore. We found out he had been really sick and was always in pain. I think it hit us all really hard, and since then my parents have felt the loss of a few close friends.

So maybe it's just because I've experienced what it's like to lose someone to suicide. But I don't think it's a debateable matter by any means and I'm so tired of the disrespect people all over the internet are showing.

Anyways, rant over.


  1. compassion is too often buried all too deep

    Oh and I have compassion for your Edmonton winters. I only lived through one.

  2. so glad to see you! sounds like a sad and reflective time. keep on writing :) keep on.


"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."