....From The Eyes Of The Beheld....

When you adore something, you watch it.
You don't touch it.
You don't touch it for you fear that then it would be contaminated. No longer pure, no longer the beauty that you behold. You would be contaminating it with the essence of yourself. The essence that makes you thus unworthy, thus impure, thus a simple guardian.
You understand this, you accept this.
But then disaster strikes.
Now that which you adore so is in shambles. You watch as the pieces gather together. Holding on to each other to soothe the ache that they each share. The common ache that you all share, though yours is well masked, well hidden.
You watch the bond and once again, it's painfully clear. Your heart is hurt cause you watch that which you adore stand before you, its pieces holding on together to comfort itself. To become stronger.
Suddenly, it becomes even more painfully obvious, your position. You are merely an observer to them. A visitor, charming nonetheless, but still a visitor. One with a mere interest in what that which you adore are, but not one that can feel or understand like them. You are automatically tagged, along with the rest of the outsiders, as one with sympathy, but incapable of empathy.
Tragic loss.
Now you have two kinds of pain to deal with. The pain of watching your beloved hurt in a way you could never have wished upon your own daemons. The pain of being all but ostracized as an outsider by the same beloved: Kept so close but yet so far, stuck between being one and being none. An empath to your degree, it hurts more.
You close your eyes, and the eery all too familiar echo of silence engulfs you. Not the silence of peace, but that which echos with lonesomeness. That which is plagued by the every living fact that awake or in sleep, remains eternal.
It's sad. Playing the beholder to the beholder to the beheld. The beheld knows not what it does to the other. The beholder cannot help the one between. For as sad as it is to say, the beholder is but one.
So to soothe yourself, you dive into the fantasies. The loves, the hopes, the dreams once held, all fulfilled. For a time, the ache is pacified, the loneliness is sated. And like a drug, the effect soon wears out, leaving you aching till the next dose.

If you understand any of this, then congratulations. You have become a beholder; seeing what no other has been able to do before - see from the eyes of the one in between....

Reservoir Chronicles: Parallel Universe

Walking the same path,
Two lines they are.
Seeing the same things,
But at different times and different views.

Wanting the same things,
These lines I see,
Yet feeling so alone,
For the other just went by a second ahead.

You don't see the footprints in the sand, do you?
I ask one line.
Take a break from your run and pause, would you not?
I ask the second.
Yet to the finish they both run,
Only to get there alone and begin the journey back,
Alone once more.

Two lines they are,
Parallel yet of the same goal.
Both wishing to meet the other,
Both believing the other is fine alone.
Both being sadly wrong in their conclusions.

Two lines they are,
And like mi, lies are their favorite companions,
For they believe the other is happy,
And in the other's happiness, they would find theirs.
But in this triangle we know,
That is but an aged old maid's tale....

Would you slow down and watch the sun set with mi?
I ask one.
Would you slow down and watch the sun set with mi?
I ask the other.
And then I silently pray,
That they both heard 'sunset',
And they both make it to her slow descent,
So at some point in the sun's return,
The two universes would become one again.

Your Silence

Your silence is like a knife,
Slashing deeper and deeper as it extends.
Your voice is like a salty balm,
Painfully calming the wound the knife burned in,
Until the next season of ur 'silent' attack.
I wonder which she craves for more.

As painful as it sounds,
I understand that she cannot force upon you,
That which she still cannot accept herself.
Yet this realization hurts the more,
So she silently weeps.

Would you be so kind as to cut the link entirely,
So the wound may at least begin to heal?
Though I fear you are so oblivious
that you do not see the trail of destruction you leave in your wake.
I beg you, have pity.

Its not fair for mi to be mad at you.
Its not fair for her to be sad alone.
Thus I am for once grateful to fate.
For she has placed you and her oceans apart,
And soon she would no longer long for your voice.
For in her lonely sorrows,
She may become content in the knowledge that
Your silence is all that she can have.

Goodnight.

Japan 2010 Slide

Okay I know I have been really bad with communication and uploading pictures, and I truly am sorry for all that (lol) please forgive mi. Now that that is cleared, in the hope that this would atone for some of my sins, I have put together a short slide show of my stay in Japan so far. You know I do not do this....ever....so pls think about all the time and effort I put into this and do forgive okay? (Yes the last line was to someone in particular....><)

As much fun as I had putting this together, I figured you would know that mi writing the names of the people in the slides was as good as mi showing up at your door step right now, not gonna happen, sorry! But still, here is a little bit of what I have been doing in Japan so far. As for the others from this half, you would have to wait till I return :)

Enjoy the video and feel free to leave comments at the end, always welcome....

Dark Passenger

Last night he spoke,
the dark one. The single Passenger.
She tried not to listen to his words, but as the night drew on,
it got harder and harder.

Last night he called,
And she found it harder to resist.
The end looked even more gorgeous and she wanted to go.
Beauty seemed to reside there alone.

Last night her heart, if it doth still exist, bled.
She bled for that which she wanted.
Did not know she wanted till it was gone,
Did not know she wanted till she lost it.

Last night he yelled,
and she partly complied.
She wanted to do as he said, because it seemed like it would be better.
She wanted to do as he said because it seemed freer.

He was taken from her even before reality set in,
He was taken from her even before her heart could return,
And that which took him from her is sadly one of her own.
Lost in this maze, she is.

Let her out.
She does not want to want him if she cannot have him.
Let her out.
She does not want to hate if there is no need for it.
Let her out.

So now she shall sit, in disgust with herself.
Now she sits, wondering when the next breakdown shall hold.
Now she shall sit, knowing he, she cannot and probably will never have,
Now she shall sit knowing he was kinda into her.
As a voice she would be perfect,
As a sign, she would be perfect.
So is her dilemma, so is her sight, so is her fate.

But tonight once more she worn.
Tonight once more, the dark passenger has receded.
Tonight once more, her chains are freer, her cage wider.
Tonight once more, she lives.

Them and I

Its almost 3am here in Japan and once again, I can't sleep. No news here.
I just started the series Dexter this week and finished Season 1 today, and I think it might be best for mi to take a break from the show. But we all know that's not going to happen.
I live for this. lol.
But then it occurred to mi why I cannot always immediately identify with the victims when I read of a murder, especially serial killer case, and why I did not do so well on my Victimology class.

I sympathize with the killers.
No, before you ask, I do not agree that murder in any form is good. But I find myself drawn to their story. I want to know why they kill, what pushed them to it, what could have been stopped in the beginning to prevent them from having what we 'regular' people have dubbed a 'normal life', and have perfected the act of faking.
When Dexter killed the last victim in season 1, I felt the loss. It is so strange how I felt my emotions change even as I knew that the death was approaching. For those who watch Dexter, you would understand why this doesn't entirely fall under victimology. At least in my logic.

If only Harry had made a better decision, who knew what difference that would have made. But then without Harry's personal input, I would not have a show.
I guess its safe to fall back on the all too popular saying, 'everything happens for a reason'. But you have to wonder, what sort of divinity is this Fate people blame for all, if it allows a child to be abandoned after watching murders, knowing fully well that that would bring about a serial killer in the future? Yes there is the claim that there is a need to balance the universe, a need for a balance of life and death, and that serial killers, as well as other killers, in their own bizarre and sometimes gruesome way, help fulfill this cause. But is there really no other way for the cause to be fulfilled than this? To doom one to die and the other to take the life, thereby dooming them both?

They say when you take a life, you give up a piece of your soul. Its the law of equivalence. But when you take a life, you release a soul. How is that a balance? A soul is out, and a piece of yours leaves. Everything that has a beginning has an end. One has to wonder, what happens when the last piece of your soul leaves? Does the balance not now shift, now that your soul, which giveth and taketh from the universe, has now given all of itself, but taken nothing in exchange?

I sit here and wonder about all these things. Criminology and Victimology all have the same foundation according to people: To help the victims. But I think people forget a fundamental difference between the two. While the victims in Victimology are in fact those who are hurt or those who loose the hurt, the victims in criminology are truly those who do the hurting. They are victims either to society, to law, to their health or to something Fate has whipped out of her own hat for the sake of balance.
This is why I do not hold fate responsible for the balance in my life. For if that's the case, then when do I know she needs mi as the next exchange for balance?