WoM- Okay, I wasn't tarred and feathered after Ojos Verde, so I decided to make something of a comeback! No real connection to Ojos Verde, just another random poem. Once again, feel free to flame me (Though I'm not really expecting any here…)
"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us."
-Helen Keller
Alone
It's quiet.
--My lonely lost cries are sounding
But no one here seems aware
I'm sinking, and I'm drowning
Trapped in my abyss of despair--
Then again, it's nearly always quiet. Sometimes, it really drives me nuts, this constant silence. Because when it's quiet, the doubt always comes back. The self-hatred starts eating away at me again. Maybe that was why I was so desperate to be adored. Because I knew I could never love myself, so why not make other people love me instead? That didn't work out too well, though. It was all a fake love, and I knew it from the start. Still, I kept telling myself, fake love was better then nothing. I'd almost had me convince, too, 'till you came along. After that, fake love was never enough. It couldn't be enough. Your passion, your power… it was all so different, so unique.
--I fight back, and I struggle
But this pain doesn't seem to end
My heart is just fragile trouble
And I'm runnin' alone once again--
Unique has always been something of an interest of mine. And I lived, breathed and existed for passion. My mother once told me I was drawn to people who stand out like a moth to flames. Maybe because that'd always been the way I lived my life, trying to stand out and show everyone how I wasn't something to be laughed at. Craving for the adoration, for the knowledge the people knew me. That's what got me killed, you know.
--Cause I'm in the rain singin' to the blue moon
Since no one else ever hears me
And I stand in a crowd of no one at noon
Looking for my way to be free--
He was so unique… so passionate… and a damn good actor. I bought his every lie. Tricked myself into believing he loved me the way I loved him. That I would always be first and foremost in his thoughts. But he was so warm, so attentive, and I was starved for love. I guess that made me stupid. At least, I felt stupid after he ditched me for another chick while I was dying in that damn hospital bed. The fact that he didn't know I was dying at the time did little to ease my hatred of him. That's what turned me into a ghost, resentment that the man I'd loved was a liar, a cheater, and a fake. I wanted to make him suffer, to haunt him until his hair turned gray.
--And I'm standin' alone, barely here anymore
Livin' on stubborn will to survive
Yet all I can do is take broken wings and I soar
To the place where this pain will reside.--
But it took me about five years to learn to control my powers, and another three years to track him down. I still looked the same, being a ghost. So long as we have enough power, we won't age. Eight years was nothing to me. But the same can't be said about humans. Maybe I could've gone through with it if I'd found him miserable and alone, maybe I could've gone through with it if his acting career hadn't fallen through and he was still the same jerk who left me to die alone after that accident in the concert. Maybe then, I would've finally been able to rest.
--Millions of eyes blind to what I now see
Through the darkness of friend and lover
Bonds that are broken, lost fidelity
Yet we ignore more then we can discover--
But the fact was, he was a normal guy. Happy, with a wife and two sickeningly cute little twin girls who looked normal enough to make me wanna hurl. A job running a local hardware store one of his uncles used to own, though he'd sworn forever and a day that he'd never take over the family business when we dated. I should've hated him for it all, for living, but I couldn't. And the fact that I couldn't that I knew I wouldn't be able to go through with haunting him, made me hate him even more. Worst yet, though, he, the only person in the world I expected to remember me, had been so consumed with guilt after my death that he went to a hypnotist to erase his memory. As far as he remembered, I never existed.
--But I watch them dance in this Masquerade Ball
Telling others what they wanna hear
And I've seen the faces when the pretty masks fall
The truth nobody sees in the mirror--
After that, I couldn't bring myself to see him again. To see him happy, changed. To see myself forgotten, I suppose. But since I couldn't bring myself to haunt him, I also couldn't move onto the Otherealm. The world beyond ghosts. Christians call it Heaven and Hell, Buddhists Nirvana or reincarnation and a million other different cultures and religions had a million other names for them, but the fact was, I was stuck in between there and the Mortal Realm for longer then I'd ever wanna know. I'd forced myself to forget my life in that time, and, after a while, I figured that if I was gonna be stuck, I might as well make a name for myself and cause some havoc. Then, you came along…
--And I'm in the fog, dancin' for the new moon
Since no one else will stand near me
And I'm waiting here for my flower to bloom
And I wonder who you really see--
You fought for your friends no matter what. You and your friends stuck together and broke through my spell. It made me feel lonely again, watching you and your best friends together. Weird, huh? Here I was with hundreds of fans, and I was jealous of you. It shouldn't be any surprise I felt that way, though. I was already acting like a true ghost before I even died. Even my death didn't change my number one rule; Look after yourself first, let everyone else make it on their own. But while the rest of us try so desperately to gain strength, you denied it, content with what you had, and learning by yourself at your own pace. More then anything else, the way you can just accept yourself makes me so angry.
--And I wander alone, lookin' for somethin' more
Livin' though I'm no longer alive
And I need to make it, like I couldn't before
Trying to know the girl I am inside.--
I don't know who I am anymore now then I did when I was a kid. It isn't fair that you can accept yourself so easily, and trust so many so openly where I'm stuck in the shadow just watching. Envying, to be more honest. And worst, you even made me think back to my life before all this for the first time since I last saw him… Now, sometimes I even catch myself wondering if things would've been different if I met someone like you back then. Maybe someone like you could've saved me from the pain I forced onto myself constantly. Maybe you could've steered me from my road to self-destruction.
--Why do I have to fight alone in the end?
Where's there the gentle soul to care?
Where's my superman, where's a one true friend?
Come on is there someone out there?--
Or maybe I expect too much from you. After all, even with all your strength, your selflessness and your quick thinking, you're still just a 14-year-old boy struggling to understand what's happened to him. What good would that've done me, a girl who lived for attention and music? A girl who hated her father to the point where she ran away from home? A ghost who attended her own funeral? That's really rare, you know. Most ghosts that do have funerals never attend them. Kitty went to hers, but only because Johnny was still alive at the time, and she wanted to know if he was gonna come. No one but my mother visited my grave, you know. She always struck me as so weak in life, the reason I tried to be strong. But as she stood there over my grave, I realized how strong she was.
--And why do I need to be here at all
If there's no one by my side?
Where's the one who can catch when I fall?
Where's someone to make me feel alive?--
I was my parent's only kid, you know. During my birth, there was an accident, fairly usual back in my day and age (Not that I'll tell YOU when that was) and my mother was left barren because of it. My pops got pissed because he was a real traditionalist, and he wanted a boy to 'carry on the family name' and all that garbage. Because of that, I'd get yelled at no matter what I did. When I wrestled with the boys in the neighborhood, I needed to start acting more lady-like. When I started wearing make up, I looked like a prostitute. Thanks to him, and my mom's passiveness, I grew to hate everyone over twenty-five. When I was thirteen, I ran away from home. I found work with a band, and got really chummy with the guitarist. He taught me how to play and the rest, as they say, is history.
--'Cause I'm in the snow cryin' to the half moon
As I find that no one can save me
I sit alone, dyin' too young and too soon
Thinking of all I could never be--
Death really changes your outlook on life, though, as ironic as that sounds. Especially dying before you've really had a chance to live. I was only sixteen when I died, and because of that, I'll always have the mindset of a sixteen-year-old girl. I can never get married, or have kids except with another ghost, and it's not like THAT will happen anytime soon. I think every ghost here really hates the living because they don't know how good they got it. Our lives are over and done with, and they sit there worrying about the stupidest stuff instead of savoring being able to feel the sun on their skin, or even the warmth of their bodies. I can't speak for the entire ghost population, but little things like that are what I miss most.
--And I race along here, where the rain will not pour
Existing only on more empty lies
I can't stand to stand with nothing to fight for
All alone with my wide open eyes…--
It sucks, knowing what the world is like and knowing that, unless you're exorcised or something, you're not going anywhere for a while. I hate living like this. Actually, I'm not even living, so I don't know what to call my existence. I do know, however, that whenever I fight you, it eases my loneliness a bit. I don't know if it's because just being around you means I have to get out of the past and concentrate on the present, or because I just wanna show once and for all that I can beat someone like you and prove my choices made me the better ghost. Either way, I'm only happy fighting you now a days. As such, I'll continue to fight you until one of us can't fight anymore, even though I know that with your increasing strength, it'll probably be me.
…Still, no one's ever accused Ember McClain of being one to sit back and let things happen…
WoM- I was kinda begrudging about doing Ember, since you see so much of her around here… But once again, my muses work against me. (TT)Alone started out as a song, but I turned it into a poem for this, since I was worried the song would be toocorney.This one was probably much more obvious then Ojos Verde. After a while, I just gave up 'shrugs.' Oh, well! which Lady from Danny Phantom is up next? (All the Sam Fans are probably ready to fillet me by now… )
THANK YOU (in order of review);
Z
SAvee10
TayloWolf
Nisha Athalwolf
Nix nivis Noctua
dArkliTe-sPirit
DarkNightDreamFuzzytoesocks
Myst
Saramis Kismet
Please Review!
PS- for those of you who are wondering, Erato was the GreekMuse of Love Poetry, one of the nine original muses. If my penname didn't give it away to you, I'm a myth freak,so you might see a lot of mythological referances in my stories.