The Child: Entry 2

STOP

Have you read the preceding chapters?

If not then read it from the beginning

or

Read the preceding chapter...

The Beginning:

Prologue

Previously on The Child:

Entry 1

     By the time I became old enough to make logical decisions towards my future, I took full advantage of it. While my other friends were complaining to their parents that they couldn't have an extra serving of cheesecake I was pestering my father to learn things that a preteen shouldn't want to know. I wanted to know how the judicial system worked. I wanted to know why we had to sleep every night and what I wanted to know the most, how to drive. My father had an antique Triumph Bonneville that he purchased from after the war, but it roared as if it did through the streets on the same day he purchased it. After a few months of pestering my father he finally caved in and taught me on a nice fine morning, what happened that morning is of least importance but you can only assume the obvious. It took a while to get used to but by the time my mother made lunch was made I was driving as if I was a professional.

     My mother had a sweet smile; she kissed my forehead as she sat the food in front of me on a table on our porch. She proceeded to sit in the chair in front of me then she looked at me straight into my eyes and I could have sworn I almost saw her cry, but she pushed herself out of her chair, turned around and looked out over our large yard and watched the neighborhood kids play in the glistening sun. Years after this moment I found out that I was an accident child. 

     Within the first few years of my parent’s lovemaking, the tragedy of making a living being started to occur and just after a few years my parents knew each other, I was born. You would think the second they found out about the beginning of my existence they would want to exterminate my potential life--they did--but they didn’t do it. On the same week my parents married I was born--and only with a couple day delay--and we being given the chance to be blessed with life was more than extraordinary. Of all the things that could have happened--viruses, malnourishment, and abortion--I lived and my parents did everything they could to keep me to live, it was Emery.

     My mother was crying that summers afternoon because she knew she was dying, though not known to my father or even me it would only be a few more years till she would be pushed away from my life and I would only wish I knew her more. On a fresh spring morning that marked the date of my mother’s death I was only eighteen but I was way more mature than my age. I opened up my father’s garage and looked at his most precious Bonneville. I ripped off the cover and under the cover laid the motorcycle and a note on a off white piece of paper, it read:

Emery,I only wanted you to know that even-though your existence was flawed; your mother’s love for you was flawless     

     In the confusion of all my tears I flipped the message on the other side and wrote upon the opposite side and posted the letter on my fathers counter in the kitchen. I proceeded to start the engine of the Triumph and I roared off down the road.

     It was as if this scene was right out of a movie. I drove down the countryside roads never looking behind only with the clothes on my back--which were presently a pristine dress shirt, khakis and my father’s motorcycle-wear which was a dirty brown oversized leather jacket--and a big brown bag that had food and money and a few personal effects. I was prepared to go on a journey of no other. An adventure to meet new characters and live a full life. To forgive my father.  

     
Next entry in The Child:


Entry 3

Remember me

Lullaby

Sleep The night away, I will stay awake, for you.
I'll sing my lullaby, to keep your fears from you,
when you start to get afraid, I'll tell you what to do,
to keep all the nightmares from you.
When you start to feel alone, I'll start to sing my song
I'll be right here by you and.

Sleep, just sleep,
I wont ever leave your side, I'll kiss you goodnight.
Just sleep, just sleep,
I'll be here if you wake tonight, I will be here all night,
just sleep. Sleep

Dream of days you wish can remember,
dream of lives that always are better,
dream I have no more insecurities,
dream that we will never sever.
Dream of the sweet frosty meadow,
when we never did let go,
dream of all our passion,
dream our love will always last and.
Dream of no longer sorrow,
dream I'll be here tomorrow,
dream that nothing is wrong,
dream when we slept by the stars.

Sleep, just sleep,
I wont ever leave your side, I'll kiss you goodnight.
Just sleep, just sleep,
I'll be here if you wake tonight, I will be here all night,
just sleep. Sleep

Sleep, just sleep,
I wont ever leave your side, I'll kiss you goodnight.
Just sleep, just sleep,
I'll be here if you wake tonight, I will be here all night.

Forget when I soaked your skin with your tears,
and sleep.














Remember me

A Poets Name

     As I sit here trying to figure out to write as a "whats on my mind" other than a story I can only close my eyes breathe in and listen to my collection of 50's blues I can only think that I have no inspiration, but I can assure you I have plenty of inspiration. I have always looked at something that anybody looks at and from time to time I can say that I have viewed it at a different perspective and I guess thats what makes me, me.


     I learned to play guitar not just so I could pick up chicks--mind you that is one of the last things on my mind--but I did so I could ignore the silence that I have in my life and to have such a appreciation towards music, its only appropriate to learn the very thing that you enjoy. I blog not to tell people about my life or to give an inspiration to anyone but I do it just so I can learn to start reaching out. I don't talk about myself and if you ever asked my parents about me....I would have no idea what they would say, because we hardly exchange thoughts between one another. I once had a councilor for a few months and I could tell you that of all the sessions we had, I maybe talked a little in a few of those sessions.


     I guess Im not a people person and I struggle with contact with other people maybe because of anxiety or just a indifference of what they thought themselves. I wouldn't call me selfish because when a situation arrises when one wants to talk to me about their lives I always listen and I always understand but I would just call me peculiar. I honestly wouldn't know what word would be the best but at the moment this word seems appropriate so lets stick with this. I don't crave to talk to someone, I don't crave to listen to someone or even to see that someone. If I had to live my life all alone for the rest of my life. It would have its highs and lows, I can certainly say that I would miss people from time to time but I am who I am and I could almost tell you I would live that almost no differently then I do now.


     I cant say that Im happy like this because I would be lying if I did but I am not happy, can I change that? Maybe. But the point still stands I don't like to reach out, I stick to the same pain that Im used to and you would be stupid to say you don't do that yourself. I like what Im familiar with and that is loneliness and maybe it will be like that for the rest of my life or maybe it would change when a girl finally steps into my life that doesn't want to destroy my will to live. I don't know. Im not god or some worshipped idol and I would rather it to be the exact opposite, I wouldn't care if I was the most famous person on Earth so then why be that? I let the attention whores and all the scum of the Earth to earn those titles but then I can only wonder is this why the planet is like it is?


     Its like when most intelligent people desire little to no children while the stereotypical "trailer trash" has twelve kids and one on the way. Is it the same for everything else that "trailer trash" can accomplish? How is it that more and more each day the famous and the popular are cut-throat, close minded git's while those who are nice and try to do good are shunned and exiled and I hate to say crucified? Its those who have a heart and care and do all they can are the same ones who are trampled on and they are never able to reach the finish line other than a select few? What happened to chivalry or even kindness to a fellow man? Then again I can only ponder this and it almost feels like it was only a myth, a tall tale as you will like King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.


     Humans don't change, I don't change and as people focus on themselves and their addictions and everything that gets them through life I guess I sit here thinking about MY loneliness and MY problems and all I can do to fix it. Im not different then the scum of the Earth, so then I can only wonder if there is any point in talking about trying to change it? You answer that yourself but before you complain that I talk about myself to much and Im just some whiney three year old I can only tell you that you are reading my blog, which is still just a way for me to find more about myself by talking about myself and I just happen to let people join me for the ride and maybe just maybe through following me through my life you may just find more about yourself....but Im not making any promises. As always...




























Remember me

Rose

Red rose, the corner of my eye.
Light is seeing what you want to.
You had, greatest what you asked for,
im running out the front door.
You have it all,
so kiss me for its gone away.
gone away, away, gone away.

Well I cant stand this anymore,
Ill scream I love you, I swear Ill love you more,
eyes are pulling harder than the sun.
Right now, we are far away.
Well I cant stand this anymore,
Ill scream I love you, I swear Ill love you more,
eyes are pulling harder than the sun.
Right now, we are far away.

My dear, my sweet, my love, my cure.
Take these letters, hold to ear.
For I leave all my friends.
So I cant do what we all do,
and I wont stay another depressing day.
"Good to know now, thats just super".
Waiting for the blue, waiting for the day.
"Waiting for my friends so we can scream HEY HEY!
Getting ready to walk away, we start singing"

So pack your bags it is time to go
those hypocrites they just dont seem to know
so stand up stand up,
and smile.
So pack your bags it is time to go
those hypocrites they just dont seem to know
so stand up stand up,
and smile.

Well I cant stand this anymore,
Ill scream I love you, I swear Ill love you more,
eyes are pulling harder than the sun.
Right now, we are far away.
Well I cant stand this anymore,
Ill scream I love you, I swear Ill love you more,
eyes are pulling harder than the sun.
Right now, we are far away.

And I see you, sitting over there
come sit by me, sweet?

Red rose, Red rose.
Your seeing what you want to










Remember me

Three Cheers

Three cheers for the mourning, were already fal'n apart.
You pick up the pieces, take me back to the start.
So I tangled and I twain, Remembered who I am.
There are three reasons why I am.

What you been doing lately? Ive been dieing lately, im fine, im fine.
You been feeling lately? Ive been choking lately. All night, im fine.

Now with all of this I wish I could say.
I have my life back, but it fell away.
Now it falls down it through and through.
Im slowly turning into you.
With this flashback, I want to chose
my life and what I want to do.
I dream of angels of black and gray,
Who's among them? I cannot say.

I was born this way.
Im a tick bomb waiting, Im destined to fail.
This is why im in my grave!
You were my hope, you were my sanity.
You gave me these ideas, now leave me.

Now with all of this I wish I could say.
I have my life back, but it fell away.
Now it falls down it through and through.
Im slowly turning into you.
With this flashback, I want to chose
my life and what I want to do.
I dream of angels of black and gray,
Who's among them? I cannot say.

Do you even think about me at all? Do you even think about me at all?
















Remember me

The Child: Entry 1

STOP

Have you read the preceding chapters?

If not then read it from the beginning

or

Read the preceding chapter...

The Beginning:

Prologue

Previously on The Child:
Prologue




     My name is Emery Delacroix and though I want to tell you a story of extraordinary events giving me a potential to earn a Nobel Peace Prize, that is something that I probably wont have the capability to achieve due to my lack of self-acknowledgement. You see, I have lived a life of loneliness--mostly by choice--that almost feels like I am running away from something. I can only express that I am not afraid of anything that will force me to run, not even death. 

     I was born as an only child and if I did have any siblings that would almost force me to turn these collections of entries to "The Child's"--or "The Children" if you are a big stickler on proper grammar. But that is not the case. I am the one and only to be so blessed to have the privilege to fall into my parent’s laps and into a loving home but as far as I can remember, that was something I never wanted. Maybe it was the feeling of dependence on another. Maybe I had to feel sufficient enough to fight for my own food. Maybe it was just born in my blood to crave being alone, either way, here I am bearing out the depths of my soul.

     My mother named me Emery because it has the meaning for mental or physical strength and bravery. I guess they wanted me to be strong willed. I've always wondered if all parents named their children to how they wanted them to be when they grow up, then I can only wonder what they were thinking if the word they picked meant killer or rapist. My mother never believed in using a word to name her child that doesn’t have an actual meaning in the English language like Phil or Joseph. Hell. She married a Joseph herself. But she never wanted my name to mean nothing. I know all names have meanings but she always said if you can’t use your name as a compliment in a sentence, then the word isn’t a word in itself. Rather to be filth clogging up the channels of our vocal chords and a waste of a human being. She then proceeded to say she could see that I have emery in my soul, and she wanted me to use it for years to come. 

     My father was always working--as most fathers do--and I rarely had the time to see him, unlike mum, who was a stay-at home spouse and I could almost wish that I had less of her but I don’t wish that anymore. For by the time I reached an age to give me a title of "teenager" my mother was lost to me. At first she lost her hearing then she lost all motherhood she could ever hold. To what I believe, doctors and officials say that she had a virus or maybe a parasite in her head that made her loose all function in her brain and eventually that same brain would be like it just came out of a blender but showing the strangest circumstances to have never left her skull and into a blender in the first place. God bless her soul. By the time I barely even got to know her, she fell through my fingers and all I could hold on to through everything she gave me was my name. 

      I never had the chance to really get to know my father after that. Depression started to consume his life and I had to learn to take care of myself. He became both parents and although he was doing all he could, I became a neglected child. But I never blamed him for any of my imperfections, he was perfect in my eyes and when everything was dropped on my fathers shoulders I knew that there was only one thing I could do to thank him for everything he ever did for me and on a fresh Spring morning I prepared the greatest gift I could ever give him....

Next entry in The Child:

Entry 2

Remember me

The Child: Prologue

Once their was a child, born to be great, born with so many talents that people who have just met him believed that he will be a leader of many. A man who could be the best at whatever he committed to but he never wanted the attention. He lived his life always being in the shadow of his father, though he loved him, he feared that someday he would be just like him. The child was perfect in the eyes of many but he only had a desire of self destruction. He believed that one day he would disappear of the face of the Earth and upon returning, all would stand in awe. Its the boy who couldnt finish anything, the one who will be missed but never forgotten and who was everything that could be. The one who will disappear and then one day he would finish everything he started and thats when he comes back....he will be extraordinary.


The Child












Remember me

A Poets Stress

So....the disease has finally resurfaced itself and I have embraced it with a warm loving home.


     I can only stress about self control so much. Some of us have some but none of us have complete control in any way whatsoever. Some people cant control their addictions, others cant control their emotions, lastly others cant control their mind. For something that is all our own it almost feels like is is everything but ours. I feel like there is a unseen force within our mind controlling what we think about, what we in-vision in our our hopes and dreams for everything we want to desire and though if we act through out what we want and get all our desires, what triggers the thought of what we want?


     We learn our native tongue--mine being English--and we have all of our physical languages. You can go everywhere in the world and everyone expresses the same language mostly the same way so that isnt a concern to what im getting at but we learn a specific language, we learn our social norms, we live in a certain environment and through those who raise us, we become what people make us. Alot of people have the control to know what they want, some people do not. But what causes the thought of us knowing what we want and desire? My thoughts are scattered, I really have a trouble thinking right now so the answer may be obvious to you but I dont know what creates "The Thought". Its abstract and concrete, Its easily created and destroyed but other than being made by all things that have a higher intellect I really dont know what specifically it is. Like emotions or mental illnesses or even the simple thing like wind or gravity. It exists we can see the things it effects but it does not have a image of itself. Im ranting again, I wanted to talk about self control...if you want to hear more about my thoughts on the "Invisible" let me know.


     As I was talking about self control mentally I wanted to state that I have none to little. I take medications for depressions and anxiety and others but am I only taking it because I lack the desire to change it myself? I dont talk to my councilors so I have none, I dont complain to my parents or to close friends and the closest thing I have to talking right now is to this document that I am currently writing in Ever-note then it will be transported to my blog within seconds upon finishing and posted for millions to see--if they desire--and though people may like my writing and read certain entries several times--currently you are unknown to me but I appreciate it--and I regret to say that I do not read my writings a second time due to me being so self conscious and critical and anxious about my life and feelings and what I do to my appearance and my work and my family and friends and everything about me. Ive received no praise--or dont listen to it when I receive it-- and even though I like none and I am stubborn about it and I appear to not care maybe that is what keeps me doing this and when I say this I mean to live.....Im ranting again, same as above.


     I let my mind control my life, sadly enough my anxiety prevents me from doing alot of things that I want to do. I look back at my life and I notice that I have written hundreds of songs but I never finished them and recorded them, so they were forgotten. I have written several short stories, most of which were just tucked away because I feared what others will think. Im writing a few books, all of which are not complete because I have lacked the motivation to finish them because I doubt anyone would read them. I have several ideas for movies, screenplays, other blogs ect. and I just have always felt no one was ever interested in hearing them, so they were never completed or even shared. Im known as the boy who has the potential to be everything he could ever want to be, the true visionary, but I lack that same vision for myself, so nothing is ever completed.


     This blog has been something I have been wanting to do since I was little and I guess I can say that I have started it, will it continue? I guess that is my choice but the point is I still have the same exact problem to stick to something I love to do and I head back to the pain that im used to. Then again. We are only human and we all have the same problems. Im sure you can relate. I would like to be something known, something that others can dream to be just like me but at this moment, I dont even know who I am.

Remember me

Internal Dominance

Following is a short story I wrote in college...




     As I sit in this house I couldn’t help but to notice silence, tranquility, and peace. It made me uneasy. I shuffled around corners looking for something, something that could entertain, and nothing. My room was dark, I was nearly deathly afraid of the dark­—what was I doing here? All I had was a bed; I didn’t like to keep things that entertain me in my room because a bedroom is for sleeping. I opened the blinds and a burst of sunlight came in and I looked at the front lawn.

     Our lawn was sloped to such a degree you could roll a ball down it and you could watch it roll to the other side of town. The houses exterior is full of tans and whites—a shimmering building on top of a mountain. I looked away from the window and I decided to leave.

     I continued from my room to the one across the narrow hall. It was darker than the one I was confined in, quieter than the one from before. Desk, computer, television, assortments of books, this is where I put my objects for entertainment and then I heard voices. I followed the sound approaching my room again then taking a right before I entered my room. This was the living room, but for being how quiet it was it felt like a room for the dead.

     Ten foot high ceilings, extensive windows, I felt like I was in a cathedral. I took a right staying adjacent to the wall to reach the next corner in the room; this was where the fireplace was. I looked at the fireplace, a granite and wood mantle with a rope design—this was a well-crafted work. I dreamed of days when it was on and it would heat the whole house, snow was on the ground and everyone was “in the spirit”. I loved days like that, white reminded me of pure and clean, isn’t that what everyone wants to be? Every person either religious or atheist, emotional or numb, people still have a craving to be pure or their sense of clean. I feel clean, or even pure doesn’t have a concrete definition though it is commonly known as good. I continued to stare at the fireplace and I couldn’t help but to think, “am I this envisioned clean that has been created by society?”—I shivered. I hoped that someday I could sit by this fire again; I just didn’t have the patience to wait.

     I heard the talking again and I turned around to see the kitchen I walked forward and I looked to the right to see outside the windows. Green and red, my parent’s garden. My mom loves roses; so much she devoted our backyard to it. Red, red-yellow, yellow, yellow-white, white-red a cornucopia of various colours of roses. My mom was a florist before she lost her vision, but because she lost her vision doesn’t mean that she still doesn’t love flowers but she always loved roses.

     When I was young my mom lost her vision due to a blood clot in her brain, she was misdiagnosed, doctors say it was her fault. They say it was because she wasn’t taking her medication when she had a stroke, but in all reality they prescribed the wrong dosage. A year after my mom’s vision went from failing to inexistent, she has accepted the disadvantage and embraced it with open arms. She hasn’t changed since then. She still loves the things she used to though she cannot see them. Reading books turned to listening to audiotapes and cooking turned to being cooked for. This helped me to mature faster, and if it weren’t for that I wouldn’t be here this day.

     I continued to the kitchen and I passed the arch that separated the two rooms. The ceilings were taller than before and the light was positioned just right that it looked like the moon was only twelve feet away from me. Cabinets touch every wall and they nearly touch the moon. I stand there in awe for a few minutes trying to listen for the sound, further into the kitchen is my parents bedroom door. It wasn’t coming from here.

     I moved forward to leave the kitchen passing my parents door into another hallway. I took a left to approach a long dark hallway to see the door to the basement. If the upstairs would drive me crazy then the downstairs would make me clinically insane. I looked down the staircase and I realized this place can change my life, and so it did.

     Depression is a mental disorder that gives low self-esteem, lowered mood, loss of interest and affected sleeping habits. When in a depressed episode the individual will experience helplessness, insomnia, hallucinations and thoughts of death and/or suicide. Depression is natural in my family and has been passed on from generation to generation-through genetics; it was now my turn to carry the curse. The first signs of depression presented themselves when I turned fifteen, along with insomnia and a mild case of schizophrenia

     Several years later I lived in that exact same house but the house only had a few changes, but the house seemed less like a house and more like a home. I grew to love the quiet, and soon enough I moved down into the very basement I feared. The basement was laid out just like the upper floors but even less sunlight and smaller ceilings. The confined space felt soothing, quiet seemed to be my relaxer, my therapist.

     It was now winter and by this time I realized that things weren’t quite what they used to be. I viewed everything different now up was now down, the little child that annoyed you every minute was now a keep to yourself, quiet individual. I breathed in the warm air coming from the vents, I will never step outside when there is snow unless if I have to. I viewed white differently now. It felt disgusting; it felt like the very tomb I once lived in. I wanted to leave that colour behind me. I was pure, I felt clean few years prior but now I didn’t, did this curse make me feel this way? I didn’t care. I look at everyone in the world, trying to fit in, do all they can do to be accepted and I felt like the only one that was accepted but not at the same time. I felt perfect but flawed, I now knew I lived in an odd world, and I was one of its odd members.

     I left to the upstairs and not a single wall is white now, browns and greens now filled the halls. I walk back into the kitchen and realized what I once was, and how much I wanted to be that way again, but I now enjoyed the new me, —“Is that ignorance? Or is it Acceptance?” I thought. Right I looked outside I felt nauseous. Just a little bit of light meant a lot to me, the natural body needs sunlight to live. I needed sunlight to live especially with depression; I found that I was just like a natural man. This home is beautiful, and it will always remain a home to me.

Remember me