I pose a question: one that has me so lost in speculation of its answer that everything else becomes minuscule and irrelevant. A question that baffles me and frustrates me to the point of helpless depression and choked tears. A question so strong in its persistence of "why?" that I can not break from it long enough to find an answer. A question which seems so foolish, so childish, so utterly useless. Yet it remains: this gnawing at my heart every time I become aware that the population must be of an odd number, because one is always left out. There is always one who can never find solace. One who will always be alone when another is most needed. And there always seems to be that one who always has someone. One left in abandon and one who is forever wanted. One who will agonize silently and one who will find comfort in another. One who will never get enough and one who has enough to spare. One who has nothing and one who has everything. Do you notice the one who looks at you with desperate eyes? Do you notice the wanting in my voice and the fire that burns my insides? Do you notice that all I want for is some recognition, some sign that you care. All that would make my day is a smile, a call, a "hello, how are you?." But the fact that I am left with this question proves that people are inherently careless and that my expectations are wasted.

Deftones: Change (In the House of Flies)

I've watched you change
Into a fly
I looked away
You were on fire
I watched a change
In you
It's like you never
Had wings
Now you feel
So Alive
I've watched you change
I took you home
Set you on the glass
I pulled off your wings
Then I laughed
I watched a change
In you
It's like you never
Had wings
Now you feel
So alive
I've watched you change
It's like you never
Had wings
I look at the cross
Then I look away
Give you the gun
Blow me away
I've watched a change
In you
It's like you never
Had wings
Now you feel
So Alive

I want you to see me dead and wonder about me. I want to stare back at you with open eyes and watch you cry my tears. I want to feel your touch when my skin is cold and rubbery. I want you to buy me flowers...would you, when I die?...and sit by my side just to listen to me not breathing. I want to know the feeling of having all of my blood drained from my veins and replaced by something cold and expensive. I want to lie in a soft dark space and be perfectly still. I want to know who would come to see me, who would cry, who would apologize and for what. I want to know what music you would play at my funeral and what you would have engraved on my headstone. I want to know the pain of death and laugh because you never knew me. I want to know the pain and dig around until I can find the joy in it.