Its a title I'm churning still. If Only... I like the way it sounds and the way it appears. Meaning is only secondary, but I still think it hold ups. Think about it...

If Only.


Its strange, but in a way that I find myself wanting to accept it. Like butterflys. Its strange the way something so hideous, so ugly transforms into something so light and brilliant. The concept itself is easy enough to appreciate and accept. A caterpillar to a butterfly. Easy. Simple. But if that was the only thing to it, it wouldn't be so strangely appealing would it? No. I don't think so. Its that hint of surrealism that catches our attention- it makes us wonder...if only...and there it is. It suddenly becomes everything and anything to someone with an imagination- wait, let me clarify. An imagination without boundaries- but that is another issue. So the butterfly. It makes you wonder about everything you every called hideous or well im sure you can translate those feelings into many different adjectives not all of which need be synonomous. Anyways though, everything hideous. You start to wonder. And the edges of your being stretch until a dark ring envelopes your vision and you seem to roll back within yourself- but really you're anywhere but in your own skin because you're elsewhere. In that if only place. Then a friend coughs or asks you a question and you realize how you had shut out the world in that instant- for that small instant. and you wonder if only. There must be a way. To roll into yourself. Of course you've tried, many times. But nothing every happens. Because its only an if only...and if onlys don't make butterflys.

The point of this mess. Surely I'll get to. I read a book. Another One of THOSE books. You know the type. Same plot. Slightly different girl. Slightly different guy. Slightly different situation. Slightly different take on mythological creatures. whev. But same thing.
Anyways he reminded me of Dexter. Dessen's Dexter. But a jaded Dexter. And a more calculating Dexter. But a shadow of Dexter. And she reminded me of...whats her name...Auden- NOT the poet- the character- another Dessen character. But a more wild one. What is it with Dessen? i think she just writes so many books that one of the characters is bound to remind me of someone. Or maybe I'm grasping a small whisps of string- plastic string. Thin fibers. Cutting string. Surely that must be it.

But thats what I do...don't you? Well...I do. That is I can't help relating characters to each other. With the first few pages of meeting a character- is that...oh...just like...from....only a little more....and there it goes. The same few characters rearranged in new situations. Changing and trying out new counterparts. Trying it all on for size. until their written into a new story with a new setting, a new counterpart, a new loyalty. without any regrets. without any memories. without any feeling.

is that what we do? you think? reincarnation? i don't know. something tells me to doubt it. but if only it were true...could you imagine. it would be just the same. we are those few characters being cast and recast. and sized and changed. and adapted. and shifted. and our loyalties change. our feelings change. without memory. without regret.
but what if they didn't? subconciously that is. what if that accounted for how we strangely just can't become attached to some people. how we strangely immediately like some people. how we strangly know we don't like butterscotch though we've never tried it. i don't know. and honestly im not even sure it matters. but then again such a limitation would be quite hypocritical of me...so im obligated to contine...but what if it did matter? if only it did...what would you do? would you try to find old loyaties. would you carry around a notebook to jot down first impressions. well?? i wouldn't. because i don't believe. sometimes. because i can never remember that i hate butterscotch. or eggplant. or tuna. i can list it sure. but i still buy them and eat them. perhaps though thats just because i WANT to like them...but can't.

And is that not the most frustrating thing in the world? Not being able to control your feelings! Oh why its infuriating! the absolute worst. i try to be stolic lol, gosh you know i do. but i suck at it. hard. but doesn't everybody. of course. because there is at least one person in your life who you hate, deep down, like makes your muscles tense when they breath a word...but you're supposed to like them. they're supposed to be your friend. so you pretend. and you WANT to like them. you WANT to love tuna sandwiches. but you hate them. and you can't help it. your head pounds and you feel sick every time you take a bite of tune. because you hate them for irrational reasons that only suggest that there's a weird unexplainable force pushing us together and pulling us apart. As if our mere unseen auoras can attract and repel before words are shared. lets face it you hate tuna. and you say its because it smells like fish. but you love salmon. and you logically realize that such an explaination holds nothing worth having. because damn it you hate tuna.
or worse. theres worse things than misplaced hate.


dear the internal fires licking the edges of sanity! this is rather lengthy. and well if you've read this far. either you're extremely bored...you like the look of robotic words that hold any meaning you would like to recognize...you're stalking me b/c you have this unrootable hatred that you're harboring (i suppose after that rant i can't blame you)...or...or...or...well there are no other options. pick one. stick to it. feel the discontent at the limited number of options. but pick one anyways. because it doesn't matter. really i swear it doesn't. anyways! a merry day of isolation in the land of if onlys to you!

Sincerely.......me. raw. not really. i edited. like always. because im...a perfectionist in my own right. though at the same time not really. after all look at my format. but if you look. really look. its what i would consider as close to perfect as i would have it in specific. so it is perfectionism. it is a lie. my beautifully crafted lie. of words and lines and rhthms. but not really. then again though don't we all do that. we come off as we think we want to. but yah...the best if only's to you...