Living to die, dying to live.
A friend once told me that life and death are symbiotic.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means that one cannot be feared without the other.”
Thinking of You
my, the time has passed.
when did it become
so cold?
i must have become too numb
to notice
my pale bloodless limbs.
it’s grown cold.
far too cold.
i feel the icy chill
of frigid bones moving under
dry skin.
wasn’t it only yesterday
when you wrapped your arms
around me, slowly
engulfing me,
finally settling your head
on top of mine.
Random Ramblings
it just happened…
one day I felt like shit
the next
normal, even happy I’d say.
me.
normal.
now that’s a fucking laugh!
all right, so I guess the best way
I’d put it
is
well, I kind of just forgot about him.
he’s like a dream.
every day, becoming more distant
and unclear.
it’s strange.
I feel strange having
this feeling of freedom.
I never thought I’d see the day
when I was no longer a
slave to hopeless love.
the same love I’ve wasted all this time
trying to prolong when it was
already gone.
the one destined to implode
into a tiny million pieces.
a carefully concealed time bomb.
I had no idea.
we had no idea.
now
the past, you, EVERYTHING,
the details are all blurred,
the facts skewed.
I feel
renewed,
resurrected even!
my friends,
finally,
I’ve figured it out!
this change I’ve undergone.
the one I’ve now spent lines upon lines on
excess lines
trying to understand
and to explain to you.
after careful contemplation,
I’ve determined that
my recent
shift in realization transpired
once
I finally probed the past
with sober eyes.
the madman survives the looney bin.
I’ve accepted my flaws,
our dependency – both to
each other and to drugs,
so many drugs.
we were reckless,
foolishly invincible.
what an absurd notion that
we truly believed
we were hoodrats.
let’s see.
going forward,
I’ve accepted his love.
yes.
it was real.
it was all real.
strangely, I feel the urge to
pat myself on the back.
what’s wrong with me?
how could I fail to see what’s undeniably
clear to me now,
what has been plainly apparent
this entire time:
he never loved me.
I created this
fantasy
with my own
two hands,
unstable hands, unconsciously
shaking in desperation
seeking relief in the absence of drugs.
only I would have the balls
to smirk
at that moment,
where most would fail to find humor.
don’t you fuckers get it?
it was all me! this entire time!
I drugged myself into oblivion,
forcing myself into believing
every goddamned lie –
a tangle of lies that became
my fantasy
my reality.
they were one in the same.
once I finally escaped
from my self-induced stupor,
and trust me
it’s been a helluva long time,
I grasped reality just as
everything
fell to
p i e c e s.
Lost
i feel so lost
without you.
only you can save me.
C’est La Vie (First Short Fiction Excerpt)
Note to Reader: היא means she and הוא means he
C’est La Vie
a short fiction written by Alexandra Suh
:היא
I have always believed that life is balanced like the yin and yang. That every bad event, individually significant or not, sets in motion an equally good event. And vice versa. Little did I know, today would be the day when my ignorance finally caught up with me. Resulting in the complete obliteration of my haphazardly constructed reality, leaving me helpless in the chaos I had inadvertently created.
Raz, my darling Raz. This was a very rare name here in America. He told me once that his name meant “secret” in Hebrew. At the time I had laughed lightly, effortlessly flirting with a handsome stranger. His facial structures were comparable to the sculptured busts of Greek gods, with chiseled chin and sharp angles. But it was his eyes that attracted me. Those eyes, which at first glance appeared to be a plain brown, were oddly intense. On rare occasions, if I looked at him without him noticing, his gaze would cloud over and expose a carefully concealed expression that I had only seen twice. I would be filled with an unexplainable, overwhelming sadness. And pain. Yet at the same time, those eyes managed to stir desire in me. After all, that was the basis of our relationship. Drugs and sex. We were such ignorant fools. Grasping at love to fill the emptiness inside of us. And it was our mutual acceptance of this delusion, of love, that led to our inevitable demise. But I try not to blame myself for everything. After all, the devil has a reputation for being elusive and I never would have guessed that I was staring right at him.
After a semester filled with racing cars, shoplifting, and an abundance of drugs, Raz and I were inseparable. The happiness that consumed me during that time was phenomenal. Life couldn’t be more perfect. But everything changed once winter arrived and the nights grew cold.
I woke up every morning that winter break scared to death, left with no option but to pretend that everything was normal. That everything was going to be okay. Ever since the end of the semester, Raz had been living with me since his parents kicked him out of the house. He told us it was because he failed all of his classes. But so did all four of us.
Yet in the moment, it seemed as though fate had brought us all together. A miracle of sorts. Each one of us acutely aware of some strange bond forever sealing our friendship. But the reality was that we were four lost souls using each other as an excuse to justify our reckless behavior. The time passed so quickly then that days blurred into nights. It was an anomaly if we weren’t high on something or another every single day. That was a time of experimentation for me, with both adrenaline rushes and hard drugs. Our bodies willingly succumbed to our growing addictions, which were easily compensated for by flipping drugs.
Hoodrats. We were goddamned hoodrats.
“My parents hate me,” I remember Raz telling me. I didn’t believe him until he half-heartedly divulged his mother’s crazy e-mails to me. Normally, Raz exuded an air of confidence, but that day he broke apart. He confessed that he was still on probation from a previous drug charge. How his wealthy and influential parents constantly moved, never staying in one place for too long. How they controlled his siblings hoping to mold them into their image of perfection. How it was easy for him to make friends, but despite his popularity, no one knew the real him. He admitted to being a whore who fucked to forget. The man whose carefree attitude and chronic optimism I had been so envious of, faded into that of a small child who just wanted his parent’s love and approval.
I skimmed over the e-mails. Certain phrases jumped out at me. You’re dealing again? No more chances. Go to jail or hide in Israel. Your friends don’t care about you. Can’t be trusted. All lies.
Raz looked at me with a sad, defeated look. “They won’t stop. All they care about is their reputation. And right now, they see me as a threat. The longer I associate myself with you guys, the higher the chance that my ass ends up in jail and I tarnish the stupid family name. I can’t let anyone else get involved.”
:הוא
It was hot. Israeli summers were always unbearably humid. In my new pitiful home, remarkably smaller than a freshman dorm, the heat was so condensed that the fan served no purpose other than to trick the mind into believing the room would cool down. This tiny dump was supposed to be an upgrade after living in the local hostel. I had to find a place fast; those bitches only left me 40 bucks. And they’re supposed to be my fucking parents! Not that they deserve that title. By the time I even found this pathetic hellhole, I had to sell my iPhone to literally meet life’s most basic needs: shelter, food, and cigarettes. At best, during these horribly long days, I was able to budget a loaf of challah to last me for the day – sometimes, for even longer.
I stared at the computer screen in front of me. Just end it, don’t think about it! I’ll only hurt her more if I prolong this. Come on… what’s taking me so long? Why can’t I forget her like the others? My mind was racing. The same ominous thoughts had been relentlessly taunting me. Sweating and frustrated, I got out of bed and turned on the lights. I stood there for a few minutes quickly trying to adjust to the harsh glare that flooded my vision. I read the typed messages in front of me one more time:
“Hey! It must be so good to see all your friends in Israel.”
“How are you? Haven’t heard from you. I miss you, my dear.”
“Are you going to answer my skype calls?”
“Answer me! You can’t be busy all the time for this long!”
“…Dump me already. Just stop ignoring me! Please!”
And on and on the messages continued following the same passive-aggressive pattern. My mouth was dry. I felt desperate and gripped the water bottle next to me. Relief flood through me as I immediately drained the contents of the bottle. My anxiety had passed and I regained some semblance of self-control.
It took persistent willpower to stop myself from responding to her, but that still didn’t manage to stop the ruthless onslaught of memories of us together. Everything was a trigger. Everything was a reminder. So, I did what I did best. Pretend she never existed and ramble on. Instinctively, my emotions had shut down and I had resorted to any form of instant gratification. I became addicted to tattoos. The pain and beauty of needle penetrating skin engrossed me. My diet consisted of black coffee and stale cigarettes. And sleep was a foreign concept, consisting of me laying in bed staring at the ceiling.
Life was simple; I worked to live and drank to work.
As time passed, insanity slowly monopolized my reality.
Leaving me stranded
in a fucking
war
zone.
Depression’s Last Grip
relinquish me
from my demons;
those fiery beasts are a constant reminder
of the pain.
they won’t leave me
in peace.
they drive me insane.
constantly creating
paroxysms of shock that
jumpstart my brain
a jumble of emotions and thoughts
pictures and words
running on top of each other
racing to make themselves known.
each one somehow hurting less,
until i feel nothing.
i cannot sleep
nor eat.
and time means nothing,
yet i notice the changes
that become of me.
my feverish eyes
pupils darting every which way,
my sunken cheeks
with bones prominently displayed,
and worst of all,
my posture
which threatened to permanently shut
my body in half.
a spitting image of someone broken.
yet it is not my appearance
that scares me,
but what lies inside:
the evil that thrives off my fragile being.
i do not know what it is
real
anymore, only that
i will never be the same again.
the only living witness
who could liberate me disappeared
wordlessly sealing me with this fate
for eternity.
my last hope for salvation gone.
Drunken Thoughts of a Mad Man
i woke up today,
drowsy and irritable.
another long night had passed
filled with
strangers and booze.
the room displayed an assortment of misplaced items
a labyrinth translucently veiling the events
of the previous night.
i spot several empty liquor bottles
smashed
the broken pieces glittering
in the harsh sunlight.
a sigh of relief escapes my lips
as i eye the crumpled condoms
mere inches away from
the trashcan.
same shit, different day
nothing ever changes.
i think of the many years
many days
many hours
i have left
wasting my life away
with cheap whores and bottles of liquor.
fucking, and drinking,
and writing.
i look out at the morning rays
bursting through the curtains
and hear a rooster crow
marking the start of the day.
the absentminded and shallow
lives
of this world
will be rising soon to work their
menial 9-5 jobs.
and i sit thinking,
picking up a stale beer from the floor,
drinking to ease my hunger
or at least to help me forget about it.
abruptly, i began
laughing maniacally
at this god-forsaken world.
hysterical laughter
between gulps of beer.
me, in dirty old clothes
with tobacco-stained teeth,
relishing in the fact that
i have it so much better
than all the fools out there.
The True You
never did i think
that i could like you
someone who i never even
gave a chance to
get to know.
even the most seemingly
unrelatable
people know something
we can learn from.
every single person
goes through hard times
and every single eye
has shed a tear.
do not judge a book
by its cover
because there is so
much more to the
magnificent being who
stands tall in front of you.
possibly containing life
experiences beyond your
wildest dreams.
The Truth Hidden Within My Eyes
they say that the eye
is a window to the soul
but no one seems to
really see
the reality of what resides in me.
darling, take a good hard look
and you will see
the pain and hardships
that have brought me here
resonating within the narrow tunnel.
a single scream could
echo forever within its endless space
as it has many times before.
there are different doors
within
showing a glimpse into
days filled with tears,
violent accusations,
and waving somber good-byes.
but there is also pleasure
mixed with the pain.
and certain memories
show beautiful moments
like the day i met you
and your beautifully sculpted face
teeth shining bright
enchanting
leaving me breathless.
those precious recollections
are the only thing
remaining
of me that keep me soft
and genuine
against a world
where violence and terror run free.
Do You Remember Me?
do you think of me still
when you walk down the street
and hear a song we
used to listen to ?
the words reverberating in your mind
listlessly playing over and over.
a solemn tribute
to the good old days.
do you think of me
when you cook breakfast
flipping the omelette
reminding you of days
when we’d wake up together
smiles in our eyes ?
just being in each other’s company
was enough and nothing more.
do you think of me
when you use the film i gave you
as a gift
to capture those rare moments
that are precious to you ?
each click of the shutter
a memory
of those long winter nights
huddled close for warmth.
do you think of me
the way i do you ?
