Romantic Torture

Falling in love is exciting at first. The hyperactive emotions and passionate touches, it all starts beautifully. It can conquer any other feeling. It can wipe history clean. It can birth adventure. It can even turn moments into hours. Falling in love is precious, but whats overlooked is the fragility love embraces once the excitement ends. You realize love isn't a line connected by two dots, but the dots are multiplied and they spin a web. Each moment has led to where we are. Each moment brought you there - in front of the person you love - and left you wondering how. And why? Why me? Why pick me? Why love me? And these moments layer together, they are the triggers of all your questions. Our past determines our future, especially when it comes to relationships. But what determined our past? What caused our first love? Moments? Memories? Emotions? Falling in love is exhilarating at first. Even in the middle, the plot is electrifying. You share lightning, stars, sunsets, thunder. And you'll always share a hello and final goodbye. When your hands drift apart for the last time, you want those moments to be remembered. All the passion. I want to revisit the feeling of love, the conquering of emotions, the deletion of history, and the birth of adventure. I want to be remembered for my lightning, my stars, my sunsets, and my thunder; all the emotions conjoined. Love is exciting at first, but becomes beautifully tragic in the end. Despite all the webs that I've clung to, leaving was always the most romantic torture - you know you're in love, but you know there's better.

Outlines

We spend our whole lives planning and mapping how our future should be. I think organization holds importance in today's society. We tend to outline. But not just from an organizational standpoint - we outline everything. The floors are tiled, our pictures are squared, our houses are panelled. We confine things to elementary shapes; squares, circles, triangles. They float through life unnoticed, yet we have our lives to thank for their stability. Blind people rely on the touch of a figure for guidance, we trace the lines for stencils, and our very grip is determined by the outline of an object. But what if this changed? What if a side of the square was uplifted? We'd have three incomplete lines, awaiting closure. We'd be waiting. I think the reason we like to confine life into basic shapes is because the object's meaning can become obscure. A pillow, may appear as a soft support for your head during rest to some, but to others memories elaborate on this definition - making the rectangle a safer option. A bed can be welcoming to many individuals, however for myself, I dread getting in between the sheets, because I know what to expect. I know to expect about six relentless hours of staring at the ceiling and two hours waking up screaming with tears racing down my cheeks. With all these built up definitions, objects lose their meaning and even their purpose - they become imaginary. So what happens when physical existence isn't enough to provide an understanding? What happens when we just don't know? A name always helps, but a title doesn't offer an explanation. In a world of subjectivity, do we rely on shapes to confirm something's existence?

Floating Over Fences

You're always on one side of the fence. Whether its the brighter side or not, you're allied to a certain position. But what happens when that all changes? When suddenly, you're the one on the other side? You're looking over and its not all that nice. I've spent years dating guys who I've never been able to commit to. The reason always changed, but the feeling remained the same - I just didn't feel it. And I never saw it from their perspective - being with someone who wasn't fully into the relationship. Well now, as karma may have tempted, I'm currently the one laying on the other side of the bed, questioning his commitment. Will he ever be completely engulfed in me as I him? Will he ever be charmed by my smile as I am with his? Maybe I don't need to question this at all because I know exactly what the green grass looks like and I'm finally seeing things the way I should've before. I should have ended things before I tethered my past boyfriends to me. I should have ended things before I could break their hearts. But I didn't. And now I'm the one who's heart is aching. Have the zooming questions and hidden tears been laying right beside me all along? Have I lead astray so many? Am I the only one to blame for my current defeat? In a world of dividers, have I become a floater?

Quicksand - Guest Writer

Today we have a guest writer, Oliver Gillcrest! Enjoy his work below:

Quicksand - I’ve been thinking a lot recently about my fears, and how much influence they have over me. It reminded me of a speech from a movie I recently watched titled “the replacements,” in which the main character spoke of being afraid of quicksand. When asked about the element he never spoke of it in the traditional sense, but instead he said “It’s when you think everything is going fine. Then one thing goes wrong. And then another. And another. You try to fight back, but the harder you fight, the deeper you sink. Until you can't move, you can't breathe... because you're in over your head. Like quicksand.” Granted he was talking about football, but it made me think; aren’t we all afraid of quicksand, and if we aren’t, shouldn’t we be? What makes fear unique to each individual, yet at the same time universal in that it affects all of us? I know we’re not all afraid of spiders, snakes, or heights. But we all experience fear and it can cripple us, yet at the same time it is necessary for our survival. I always thought of how great it would be to be fearless, but is that really wise? Does fearlessness really make me more capable or more unaware? Is caution the way to go? In some situations fearlessness can be beneficial, for example not being afraid to tell someone you love them, right? Or does that fear make you less likely to be hurt in case they don’t feel the same way? Or to be more wary of who you say it to? It’s always impossible to tell, but are my fears there to help protect myself or to limit my potential?

"What Do They Know?"

Humans are creatures of habit, yet we transform. We wake up every day changed. A new beginning, a new us. But what happens when we aren't changing ourselves and others are? When all the outside forces pull us into the tide and wash us away to sand, are we wearing away our souls? Self-change is powerful, but does alien transformation offer the same benefits? Or is external alteration just adaption? Perhaps this force moulds us and shapes us into creatures of societal well-being. Or maybe the truth follows something like this; we embrace habit when we are constantly forced into change from outside, but we embrace change when it comes from within ourselves. Think about it. When you push yourself to accomplish something you're empowered - but when you're pushed by others to achieve the same thing it becomes painful. And as thisalways think, "Is this really me?" Or, "I'll could try something else?" And the most tragic of all, "What do they know?" Because when it comes to change all we know is what we feel and the path we want to abide by. But in a world of daily transformations and branching paths, how do we decide which pebbled road to follow? Do we stick to our predestined path or do we wake up and create our own?
habitual routine continues to develop, humans become more distanced from this outside transformation, we even begin to question our self-growth. So how do we prevent this alliance between external development and negativity? I think the answer lies within all the questions. We doubt change due to our habits, so we begin to question it. Think about the last time you dressed in clothes someone else picked out for you - how did it feel? I know I

Romantic Numbers

Why is there a double standard with phone numbers? It's appropriate for a man to offer his number, but it's not okay for a woman. It's sexy and romantic when a man does it, but when a woman participates in the same act it's aggressive and far too direct. We set these boundaries so early on in relationships that we prevent any sort of spontaneous act. We all lust after a fairytale story as seen on TV, but how would we ever be able to achieve that if we immediately put up expectations? And since this double standard exists against females, males have begun to jerk away from these actions too. Are we actually ruining our opportunities of any kind of relationship by placing these restraints on others? Have we blocked ourselves off so much that we seem cold and aloof? And when someone does step out on a limb how is it rewarded? Rejection, laughter, ignorance? Maybe all our relationships are supposed to form from some sort of foundation, but we should give up the ridiculous fantasies. Not because they're impossible, but because we doubt their existence, we question our actions to the point of distance. There used to be a time when giving out a number wasn't a big deal - in fact it was rewarded with high-fives and excitement. Now, this rare occurrence is judged and questioned. Have we just out-grown romance as a whole? Do we even expect it anymore? And the most pressing question; should I ever hand out my phone number again?

To Fight or Vanish?

Relationships are about the fight. The burning flame of desire and the foundation you've created cannot be built without fight. I'm not talking about arguments or even words really. I'm talking about the passionate need you have to keep a relationship alive. I find that when everything comes crashing down, people tend to vanish. I always hear the line "if it was meant to be, this wouldn't have happened." But when are things ever easy in any relationship? Do things just come naturally or are we ought to fight for these connections? I used to believe that if a relationship came naturally it was supposed to work out, but how do you get through those hard times without any practise? The only relationship I've experienced that managed to stay alive for so long was one that I woke up every morning fighting for. He moved to another country, his culture was completely different, and his family never accepted me, but all I had to do was see his face and everything felt okay. Now, I'm not saying we should enter relationships expecting to wear chain-mail and wave swords, but does easy outweigh the distraught? In a society where everyone takes the laziest option, can a foundation even be built? How can trust be earned if you're not fighting to show how you feel? I think to have a deep longing for someone is the only way I can explain this fight. You're stomach sets flight and you're nerves rise with the butterflies. It's not a negative fight. It's giving someone what they want, despite the repercussions. It's compromising. It's honesty. The fight is the survival. In a world of distrust, when did we become so trusting of vanishing as an answer?

A Tangled Mess

As we grow up we continue to learn. We'd like to think that the most we take in would be sitting in a lecture hall, memorizing psychological disorders and symptoms. We absorb and purge information so easily as we mature, but what does it even mean? In all reality, the most information we actually absorb is within the first few years of life. We learn to speak and communicate, from there we are simply adding complexities to the foundation already built. But when did the added complexities become overwhelming? When did they begin to mandate our minds, mesmerize our memories, and manipulate our morale? Our feelings grow, but as opposed to straight parallel lines, they become spider webs - catching our thoughts and wrapping them into a tangled mess. I may know the definition of Tardive Dyskinesia; A neurological disorder marked by chronic tremors and involuntary spastic movements, but that doesn't make me smart. You're smart if you can identify your own emotions. When I clench my teeth, I'm sad. When my hands shake, I'm nervous. When my mind wanders endlessly, I'm usually falling in or out of love. We learn at an early age, but we remember the latter. So when we are able to differentiate each emotion and separate the webs, which is rare, maybe thats what makes us intelligent. Although, I must admit when the feelings intertwine and each strand falls into place, sometimes the mess isn't so bad. Are the right messes worth the lack of intelligence? Are emotions worth losing our minds over?

Soaring Embers

My father, sister, and I rest beside the crackling fire and gaze at soaring embers. The flames dance. I sip my hot chocolate, grasping it in my hands, hopeful for my shivers to disappear. The marshmallows twirl around one another. 

Glancing outside, the winter has taken back it’s reigns as it does every year. Snow piles up two feet against the house and I watch snowflakes skate around the trees.  

We sit on a worn, ripped green sofa with a beige stain, which we dragged by the fireplace to stay warm. We don’t have heating.  

The kitchen is behind us. Apple pie and cinnamon cloud the room, reminding me of my mother. She left my father a few months ago. The three of us don’t talk about it much. We hope one day she’ll come back. 

I Need You And You And You

What happens when you don't know? You don't know what he wants. You don't know what you want. But all you do know is that you want him. Any version of him will suffice, whether it's the friendship you've always had, the flirtation he used to force on you, or the sex you currently have. I want him. Is it crazy when you want to define a relationship to the extent of exclusivity but not define it with a label? Why is exclusivity such an important role in modern relationships? Should we trust that the other person wants us enough that they don't need anyone else? How could one person ever be enough? It got me thinking; we have girlfriends for shoe advice, teachers for education, boyfriends for intimacy, and gay friends for, well more shoe advice. Why would we ever imagine a world where one person could possibly be everything? Maybe thats why people can never fully agree on what they want in a relationship - because they will always need someone else for something else. Which is okay. But when the line between your friendship and sex blurs, what are you needed for? We question our position in our partnerships because we're always wondering what it means to them. Do you want me? Wheres this going? What part am I playing? And last, but not least, are we exclusive? Because in a world that values monogamy, we never really seem monogamous.

Crowded Greys

Girls tend to think a relationship consists of three things: love, sex, and friendship. Men on the other hand, can separate these and create individual relationships based on one or the other, creating a mixture. But all this does to the girl, is create a mixture of emotions. Men can think in shades of grey, while women mostly perceive black and white. So how does this spectrum work? How many shades of grey can men actually see? And do men settle when they are placed into the triangle of female thought? I've tried segregating the different entities but honestly, all I end up with is emotional instability. Love can be just love… until you begin to want more. Sex can be just sex… in the moment, but after it becomes an attachment. And friendship can be just friendship… unless it's with the opposite sex - because we always mistake kindness with flirting. The funny thing is, men can achieve a life of separate functions; love with her, sex with another, and friendship with whomever. So why does the male brain continue to mystify women? What can their mind conquer that ours can't? Will women ever be able to live the spectrum of greys? If so, will we ever be fully satisfied? Like a sun caught mid set, with the moon towering over - the sky becomes crowded. The shades overlap and two different worlds collide. Relationships may be black or white but what happens when a relationship becomes just grey?

Judging Judgement

Somethings people don't admit because they don't always like the way it sounds. I'm lonely, but I'd never announce it. The funny this is, most of these things we are not ought to be ashamed of. 'I'm overweight,' 'I'm gay,' 'I'm lonely' - if you can be confident in your skin, who cares? Regardless of how others view us, we still feel vulnerable about certain qualities. And the worst part is, we are the ones who think it's okay to be rejected by these things. Just below the surface, we're all raw and exposed. We're all shaping ourselves to be who we should be, not who we are. These are not weakness, they define us. But is this definition that bad? When I see someone without a plus one, I don't judge, but are they judging themselves? Are they questioning their competence to date? Why does judgement play such a large role in our lives? Yes, it's not always the most flattering quality, but can judgement be positive? Why do we judge judgement? Am I just judging myself about judging myself? I think we should use these things that we don't admit and be proud of them - they make us us. We may never stop judging, but we can use it to our advantage. Will we, as a society, ever be comfortable in our own skin? And if so, how?

Stained Photographs

Why do we go all in when we know we'll lose? We invest so much time, which is priceless, into others. This isn't always bad, but when we know it's not in our best interest, why do we continue to offer this limited currency? Although time fades, our memories don't. They are stuck in photographs and our free-falling minds. Once an event is captured, it's there to stay. So why do we force ourselves to capture memories that aren't right for us? Why do we force ourselves to capture hearts that aren't right for us? It reminds me of a blind date; we put everything on the table and gamble. We hope that this is it. We hope that the people in our lives are worth it. Hope. But as time changes, so do we. Some things break apart, some come together. And we invest time because we're stuck in a ruthless age where change isn't wanted. Where everything seems good, but a shift lies upon the horizon. I think giving up all control and drifting with the current is the only way to become purely happy. Invest time, as much as it permits. Go on the blind dates. Be as hopeful as you are passionate. Because all we have at the end of the day are our memories; those photographs stained in our minds. And if we don't wake up in the morning, those stills will forever play.

The Cheaters And Cheat-ees

Some people cheat. Some people hurt. Some people isolate. And others surround themselves with lustrous individuals. Depending on what type of relationship we choose and how the course of the partnership developed, are we defined by our relationships? Once a cheater do you wear a scarlet letter? Once alone, will you always be 'the loner?' Are our past relationships a definitive piece of ourselves? And if they are, do they appear definitive from others looking in or us looking out? I strongly believe in karma, but will a cheater never change? Are second chances even an option? Do we make or break friendships because of someone's romantic history? We become the judges and the verdict is in; you are scorned forevermore. If the past continues to catch up, should be just display our mistakes for the world to see? Should we stay quiet until they're uncovered? Or do we hide our treacherous past? Now this doesn't just arise for the cheaters or the pain enforcers - this occurs for the cheat-ees, the people hurt from previous relationships. You're marked too. You're more vulnerable, less trusting, hardened. Should we all march around with signage, flaunting our flaws? Do we live in a society where we are only as dateable as our past relationships?

Silence: A Balanced Pattern

Silence must be well balanced. When everything aches, when our eyes tear, and when your throat swells, silence heals. In a society full of noise, I think we take this absence for granted. The whispers of a television, whimpers of neighbours, whisping of the wind - everything births sound. We try so hard, using words to figure things out. We're never happy with what we have until we understand it. Our feelings have taken the back seat to words, to noise. With the roars of life, why not leave things to the unspoken. Has our society given up on gestures? Do we question someone's intentions behind a smile? Can we even communicate without disrupting the silence? I find the times we do accept the silence are the most outlandish, adding to our lack of communication skills. We wander with our headphones glued to our skulls, missing the opportunities for 'hello.' We deeply gaze into someone's eyes - connecting - but walk away. We speak, but never listen. I believe silence must be balanced. There has to be a give and take. It reminds me of a shore. As the wave pushes onto the beach, it pulls sand back with it. There will always be sand or water, but the pattern exists. A pattern of swelling noise, or lulling silence.

Sexual Sabotage?

Orgasms. They have a pretty intricate way of inducing pleasure. I think most women don't discuss them, even with their partners, because of how weird it is to explain the 'just right' conditions. Demystifying how to achieve an orgasm is less than a turn on; 'move here, wait too far, try over there…' The commands never end. Sometimes I think to myself, orgasms are impossible to achieve during sex. Oral is a different story, but sex + orgasms = imaginary. Well, at least for the majority of my experience (not all, thankfully). So now, when we have sex, are we setting ourselves up for failure? Are we pressuring the guy into thinking we're a lost cause? Are we making the guy question his abilities just because we don't know our own? And if we are, does that mean we are sabotaging our own sexual experiences? When the lights flicker low and the groans grow are orgasm-hopeless women putting themselves into a flattened mind set? How do we get out of this rut? How do we even relax? How can we ever achieve pleasure when all we think about is the lack thereof?

Rescued: To Be Or Not To Be

White knights and princes. Whether we like it or not, girls just want to be rescued. Sometimes it's someone picking you up after a late night. But sometimes it's a simple 'hello' when all else fails. Forget the horses and chain-mail and substitute them for white houses and picket fences. I mean what would Sleeping Beauty do if Prince Charming never came for her? Maybe she would've awoken on her own or maybe she would be in a daze forever. Either way, her life was altered by his rescue. And all girls hope - to a certain extent - that their lives can be changed forever. Why do you think Officers and Firefighters are so highly publicized? Why do they make shirtless calendars to promote their services? Because they are the good guys - they are the modern day Prince Charmings - and we can't help but want to be saved. Maybe the drama of dragons and even house fires are not everyone's cup of tea, but a smile on a rainy day or "a your coffee's on me" could be the replacement. We may not need rescuing from dragons or even ourselves, we just want to be saved from life's hassles. And it's got me thinking; do they know we want to be saved? And if they do, can we even be saved in reality or is being rescued just a fairytale?

A Bedroom Education

We're graded on everything we do. And judgement is society's grading system. Our education, work, clothes, friends, family, and sex are all judged. When we have a special someone over and things end in the bedroom are we being graded? B-, A+, Fail, or worse - an incomplete? When we let down our most intimate barriers, are we being judged? And on the other side - are we the judges of them? Do we rank or sort our previous sexual relationships? I find myself imagining the better times, but have I ever demoted a partner because of their skills in bed? And how do we know if we're not the issue? I don't think I've ever ended something because their lack of, but I've probably compared. Actually, I know I've compared. I suppose we all rank because it's our nature to sought after a reliable and sexually promising mate. It's in our blood. But when did grading sex wind it's way into our blood. It still remains; What would be our own grade? Where do we sit on the scale? And how do we know if we're good in bed?

Growing Pains

Pain must co-exist with happiness. These emotions are tied to relationships, and some even say it isn't worth it without the pain. Maybe we think of this as a type of growing pain; necessary for development. But what happens when the line between 'growing pain' and real pain blurs? Will we know when enough is enough? Pain feels good, it draws excitement. The not-knowing of feelings and the craziness we exude when we're left in the dark is alluring. Although, eventually it becomes overwhelming and we end up consumed - either with rage or loneliness. In reality, we are all in S&M relationships, at least to a certain extent. And this line that blurs is what separates the rage from the excitement, it prevents the two from becoming intermingled. Crossing the line doesn't just lead to consummation, but it writes a path to self-harm. The late nights wondering what they're doing. Pulling your hair out at the lies. Worrying if you'll ever really be a part of their life. Now this doesn't just occur when a significant other defies your wishes once, this happens over years of distrust, years of pain. But when does this once grow-worthy pain become something truly painful? Is it the difference of six months to seven? Or was the pain never going to be out grown?

Lively Bombs

Exes are ticking time bombs. They scatter around the city and without warning you've stepped on an explosion. One second your world is inching by, until suddenly he appears. Time stops. Sound shatters. Sense fades. All your left with are memories. His warm touch and gentle eyes. His light lips and soft laugh; it swarms around you. Your lungs fill with smoke - smoke of a burned past. The funny thing is, you can never prepare for these attacks. These mines are sprinkled all over and the second you forget about their faces, the bomb diffuses. It's terrifying, but exhilarating. Maybe thats why we always wander back to our exes - the longing and terror mix - for a mystery we will never solve. Because we will never know where and when these collisions happen. We mostly hope to avoid them, but somewhere inside ourselves, in a place we won't admit, we hope to see them. Because an unexpected encounter that draws upon discord is a ticking time bomb. And although ticking time bombs are deadly, they revive memories. In a way, bombs are lively.

Annabelle

The wind wisps around my long, golden hair as I take a step out onto the frozen lake. It’s been awhile since I last visited this place, the place where my best friend, my sister passed away. Four years, two months, and six days since the call that changed everything.

 I take a step further onto the thick ice sheet, if only it was this thick four years ago. 

Her name was Annabelle. I always called her Annie, even though she resented the nickname, and in return I was titled Prune. When we were younger she couldn't pronounce June and I became Prune. 

As I stop myself from venturing out any farther, I take in the beautiful night sky. The moon is almost full, hanging amidst the stars and the bridge curving over the lake glows from it’s bright lights. I bend down and place my younger sister’s favorite flowers down on the freezing ice. Lilies always made her smile. I remember, as kids when we would go canoeing on our own, we would reach for the water lilies, almost tipping over the boat. After, we'd bring them home to our parents. Back then everything seemed so innocent and we never gave any second thought. Now, everything has changed, everything is different, and everything feels so lonely.

Fluctuating Wings

Love exists. I've felt it, we all have. Even if it's a little love for ourselves. The thing with love is that eventually it fluctuates; it grows and fades and possibly the cycle begins again - if you're lucky. It reminds me of a butterfly soaring through the wind, their wings flutter from side to side as they swoop up and down, but a flight can't last forever. I think the fight that butterflies put up with during their journey is real love. The love that pushes through into a new beginning. I think what prevents us from experiencing this flight is denial. We deny our love. We deny our need for affection. We deny that we can finally settle down because of doubts. We doubt, I doubt, that the person I'm with is it. Because who knows? Regardless of all the confusion, love can exist, as long as we stop denying or at least accept our denial. Doubts are natural, they show us how good things are. Even if it's from a quick look in the mirror that sets off a small flutter in our stomachs - even if we try to love ourselves, we will doubt it. Because everything fluctuates.

A Soul of Coal

Death happens. People are lost. Souls vanish. One second we take a breath, the next, we don't. Our memories slip from our minds, as the air slips from our lips. The hope that death conceives in our minds is a beautiful aspect of the dark mystery. The possibilities of afterworlds is such a wondrous faith. And what amazes me is how committed people are to this hope. There is no proof or evidence, yet millions of people believe that there is something bigger than this. Something magical. Yet as that final breath draws from our lungs we are pushed back from a world of optimism to one of distrust. Do we really think there is a better place? Or is this faith just a solid concept we grab onto when we don't know? When we're afraid we won't be remembered? Eventually our eyes will cloud and glaze over as we become cold and distant in the thoughts of others. But as for now, as for the living, the hope we carry is one of the most beautiful things about death. Or perhaps, its the ignorance of evidence that is beautiful. Regardless, life is given to us as a piece of coal that we forge into a diamond. Some people envision the diamond as death, an exquisite paradise. Others strive to fashion a bright future, but in the end all we have is coal.

Sing and Dance

Storms command attention. We'll never know the message they're trying to convey, we don't speak in flashes and booms. None the less, a message lingers. People are afraid of storms for some reason. They run and take cover, envelope themselves in the comfortable nest we've created. To be honest, I think to a certain extent we should be terrified, the power that swarms the skies isn't weak. In a second we have floods, without warning. Despite nature's shrill storm, the grace it brings is wondrous; the rebirth, new beginnings, and simply the rain. People may hide, but this is an offer to bask in the realness of the world. Take in the hardships and reward yourself with this cleanse. Sing - challenge the thunder's voice. Dance - twirl with the lightening's ballet. Immerse youself in the beauty, because there's nothing more captivating than two worlds becoming one.