For the Individual, Ruined by the Ignorant Masses

The second to last light on the bus was out. From where I sat, directly under the light, everything in front of me looked significantly brighter. Every other light shone above the other passengers like halos shining humbly over their nameless selves. I had no option to get up and switch seats, which made me more frustrated at the overcasting darkness over my head. Every other seat on the entire damn bus was occupied. My seat was no less comfortable than the others, nor was it dirtier or less desirable than the others. They weren’t the ones knowingly in the darkness, though. I am not sure every occupant who had ridden in this seat had thought the same thing, but I am certain that nobody else had envied my position. Everything just looked a little less vibrant from my position, especially the sky scraping Golden Gate Bridge, our destination.

In my darkness, I didn’t feel like looking out the window. I had been from east to west and there was no window art that could turn the lights on over my head. I instead found comfort looking down. I never looked for anything in particular, but I would always find something. Here, now, I found a bottle of water, half empty, rolling freely on the ground next to me. I studied it for some time while my mind searched for empty thoughts. I studied it’s movements, rolling back and forth and splashing within the confines of it’s structure with every turn we took or bump we hit. 

Splish…..
Splash…..
Splish………..
Splash………………
Splish………………………………….

The bottle would ripple back and forth,gently slowing down to a reasonable calm. When the bus drove straight and the waters were calm, I could see just a small glimpse of myself in the bottle. Perhaps it was just the slightly unusual lighting that overcasted me on this ride, but I could make out a blurry outline of myself in the water for just a brief moment. Just then, the bus hit a bump and I was gone. The water rippled back and forth again, erasing all traces of me with ease.

I looked around again to study the nameless people around me, each one sitting in their well lit seats, thinking of the objections that laid before them. Some must be going to work, some home, some sightseeing, but every now and again, a nameless person takes this bus to jump. They come here to emphasize what isn’t quite so Golden about this Gate. They come to try their luck on a two percent survival rate, to plunge into the water in their last romantic gesture. 

As the bus came to a stop, I stepped off into the edge of my world, a world of nameless people living private lives. The air was calm, a rarity for the Golden Gate area. As I looked down, however, I saw the water splashing violently against the bridge, as if a boat had just passed by. 

Splish…
Splash……
Splish……….
Splash……………….

The waves slowly died down, splashing against the confines of the bay with less and less velocity. Slowly, but surely, the ocean worked its way back into a calm.

I began my walk to the center, going at my own slow pace. The countless and nameless faces walked through me, as if I were a ghost. I was alive for just a brief second to each of them, as they noticed me as an obstacle; traveling slowly and inconveniently on this crowded  bridge. I was alive for just a brief second, then discarded as a disposable thought. This didn’t bother me at all though, I preferred the thought of being nothing. I had become used to being invisible to society. 

It was just before sunset, and the lights had systematically lit up on the bridge. They shone uselessly, casting no noticeable light in comparison to the sun that still lit the way. They were clearly on, though. Anybody optimistic enough to look up could see that they were alive, hanging high above the heads of all the nameless other people on the bridge. I’m sure even I had a light over me from some angle. I couldn’t see it, though, so I tried to not acknowledge it.

As I reached the middle of the bridge, I stopped and looked over. From afar the bridge looks so low, but staring down it seemed monstrous. I felt as though I was towering above everything, just a tiny insignificant thing on a gigantic landmark. I saw a boat coming, carrying other tiny insignificant things. Each had their own stories, their own lives, their own loves, hates, demons, pleasures, and fears. For now, though, for here, they were nameless. I looked directly down into the still calm water, and saw the reflection of the bridge I was looking from. Unlike the half empty bottle, however, I couldn’t see myself. As I studied harder, the boat passed under the bridge, causing the water to ripple into another state of mayhem, stirring up the reflections it had once showed me. 

With the calmness gone, I climbed the gate, surely causing panic in the people around me. I jumped down to the support beam below the walking path and began to write. I wrote and wrote, ignoring the crowd that had surely formed around me. I burned through words, spilling everything out until I came to where I am now; where the pen meets the story. After all I’ve said, I’m sure to the very few nameless people watching me now, I have a name. I am no longer an obstacle to avoid, but a story to watch unfold.

I have nothing left to give. The light above my head has been out for sometime. It was out in the college night classes where I crammed in a major in hopes that there were still opportunities for myself. It was out when I spilled everything to a girl who had better things to do. It was out in the east, and out in the west. It was out when my mother cried for my well being, and it was out when my father ignored my presence. I had a light, yes, but I burned it out too early. While all the ones around me are living progressively, I’m only declining.

With choppy waters below my feet, though, nothing is quite clear.

Splish…
Splash…..
Splish…………
Splash…………….
Splash.

I try to not budge my head into social issues as much as I possibly can, but it seems my generation has become just a little brainwashed on an issue many people are highly uneducated on. As a young college student, I hear may opinions from creative and eager minds. Although no twenty something wants to sit and discuss pressing issues in a modern world, social issues have become excruciatingly popular in my generation. Rightfully so, because your opinion on foreign affairs really only says so much about you, but your opinion on issues like abortion, healthcare, gay marriage  and so on gives you individuality and defines you as a more specific type of person; a modern man. While I do have a few sets of opinions myself, I have a great deal of empathy for any argument. I am a man whose opinion can be changed if you show me something that is more sensible. But there is one issue that I can’t leave alone. I am an active part of the NRA and a firm believer in gun ownership.

I am not going to quote statistics and turn this into a research paper (although you would be appalled at the figures you’ve chosen not to see).  I am merely going to show why gun control is a debate which shouldn’t even make it to the table. The second amendment states you should always have the right to bear arms. This is not for hunting or even self defense, but rather to protect from a tyrannical government. This is where we loop back to common sense. Some might consider a government that disarms its people a tyrannical government, meaning we should have guns now more than ever. Even more will agree that all these news headlines would have a better chance of being prevented if one bystander could take a shot at the killer instead of standing hopelessly by hoping they don’t get killed. Even if none of these thoughts compel you, keep this in mind: more innocent people have been killed by tyranny than all mass shootings combined. The holocaust showed us that nobody is completely safe from a tyrannical government, and to lose sight of that just shows how forgetful of a society we are. But I still haven’t quite made a more understandable argument.

As a socializing species, we have prided ourselves in differences. We all have different interests in life and above all, a different set of values. Some people enjoy protesting. Our first amendment ensures that you can do just that and walk away unscathed, assuming you don’t take it to a personal level with the opposing side of the argument. We never question the freedom of speech. An act to rewrite the first amendment would surely put the mastermind behind it out of a job in seconds. We are bound to that right whether we choose to use it or not. You should never have to debate a constitutional right. It’s not a social issue or a court case, but something written in the cornerstone of America. You are not forced to own a gun (except for Kennesaw, GA residents), but you are given the option. If you choose not to use it, you’ve made a choice. To debate the freewill of a human being under the premise that you have chosen not to exercise your right is plain nonsense. We gun owners hold a set of values and responsibilities that ensure that the extremely vast majority of us do not affect the lives of non-gun owners in any way.

I understand that the image of the gun has been made to scare people. The people who want them gone constantly blame the inanimate object for what the person has done. I’ve never seen handcuffs on an AR-15 before, and I’m sure that one has never stood trial. The guns that the government can ban are the ones belonging to law abiding citizens. If you think about that point, you’ll realize why when this was attempted in the 90s, gun violence showed absolutely no change in statistics. If the image of a gun scares you, then the image of a baseball bat must be equally as horrifying. Those bats are much more brutal and inhumane killing machines. I, personally, fear people. I see bad and deranged people in the news, not walking and talking weaponry. This is why I own guns. I like knowing I have a fair fight against these deranged people, because I doubt they wait 9 minutes after you call the police to start killing. 

Finally, I know the NRA has a bad rep, and I don’t agree with everything we stand for, but with the immense power of the federal government on the opposing side the only way to have a fighting chance is with an equally as radical lobby. I believe the people are mature enough to decide what they want in their communities, and some will vote to ban guns, but this should never be a federal issue. Besides, which government official is going to want to volunteer to collect all the guns from the angry gun owners? The NRA is just our man in the White House. It is our defense from this becoming a one sided debate. All we’ve ever aimed for is a fair fight.

I know this is an opinion, but open your mind a bit. We don’t have a right to drive a car, and more people are killed in those than gun violence. We do have a right to own a gun, though, To change that would be changing the foundations of a country and disarming yourself from a government which really the majority of Americans already don’t trust. I have a lot invested into my weaponry, and I’m not going to just hand it over without a fight. 

School is a business
I’m not going anymore
My good friend is dead
We don’t hangout anymore
My brother is growing up
I should too
My mom’s getting older
I don’t want to, either
I’m moving away
Without my best friend
I’m drunk as can be
But still I want more
I think I need help
But It’s too much to ask

We started hanging out after I broke up with Jenna some years back. You, me, Kyle, and usually Mike and Matt would hang out until the morning just playing pool and whatnot. It was simple, but it was a group of “broskis” (as you put it) nonetheless . It was exactly what I needed at the time. You had a place in my life that wasn’t just a classmate or friend of a friend, you were an important part of my life. 

You were easy going and accepting. You let anybody in and you didn’t hold it over them if they got sloppy or out of hand. It was just so easy to come hang out every weekend because the atmosphere was so perfect. I know I’ll never find a more welcoming environment in my life.

Things did turn, though, and I watched it happen. Whether or not your grandfather’s passing was just so very unbearable or it was the last straw, it did to you what nobody should have to endure. Drinking a lot used to be cool in high school, but fine lines dictate when it becomes problematic, and you dove across that line with the momentum of a charging bull. Although this end is tough to bear, the suffering was what really hurt us all. Even though there were so many other ways out of that hole, I can’t help but find the smallest lining in that the suffering is over.

We all loved you Nick. We were a family. We fought, laughed, cried, annoyed, and smiled together. We’re all thinking back to what we could have done to avoid this outcome, and we’re going to beat ourselves up forever about any bad moment we had. I’d like to think we had nothing to do with it, but we have to find things to regret because of human nature.

I’m broken over this. I always thought I was too emotionally blank to have this awful pit of sadness, but it turns out I am a human. Kyle is so broken I can’t stand to be near him for my own sanity. I know you probably didn’t think about this before, but we’re all stuck in some surreal version of real life that we all hope is just going to end in the morning like a dream. It’s too sad and it’s too real.

I know how you felt. I feel how loud the world was to you last night. I know how worthless you felt. I’ve gone through those motions before. I could never follow through, though. I could only walk up the steps, not go through the door. I know. I can empathize completely. I just wish You would have turned around and gone to bed. 

Rest easy, Nick. We’ll be mourning for a long time, but we all remember the happy times and the long nights. We’ll keep your image in out hearts, laughing and smiling forever.

I listened to hate
I listened to fear
I listened to bliss
But could not find it here

The world could move slow
The world could speed by
I’m the only consistent thing here
Besides the changing of skies

I listened to Mother
I never heard Dad
I listened to teachers
But they always were sad

The men with the grey hair
Would teach me the most
The only thing constant
Was that they would be ghosts

I forgot about sadness
I forgot about hope 
I forgot about heartache
Because I feared being roped

I waited too long
I tried not to care
But the only thing constant
Is my graying of hair

I knew a man who flew away
With a devastating scene
I knew a man who drank his past
With nothing left to eat

I knew a man who cried for love
But was too shallow to dream
I knew a man who asked for change
But only found routine

I knew a girl who cursed the world
And the ones who held her strong
I knew the man who took a stand
And realized he was wrong

I knew the piano that played the songs
That the drunks all knew as well
I knew waitress who led him on
So she wouldn’t need to steal

I knew the mom who stayed so strong
When she knew there was no hope
I loved the girl who thought her world
Was a tale she could control

I was the man who had a chance
A chance to start up new
I was the man who had a chance
But spent it watching you

The sculpture stood grand. It was 12 feet high and 4 feet wide. The stone-grey man set a pose and stuck it like it was a hologram. He stood with an arm at his side and a sword in his hand, pointing to the skies above. His clothes were as detailed as could be. Every jacket pocked was stitched in perfect symmetry from a finely chiseled fabric. The base read a dedication which invoked pride amongst  the town people who had already known the back story. The mayor had even come down for photographs and handshakes. What was supposed to be a simple formality turned into a moment of amazement from the mayor, stating that the majestic sculpture was a proper homage to the man it represented. It was a child to the sculptor. He had molded it, envisioned it, and watched it grow to the masterpiece it became. He was proud as could be about his creation, and the sculpture didn’t wish for more. It was all that it could be.

Every day the sculptor would walk by the statue in the square. For many months, he was complimented by the town people. They would compliment many different aspects and reflect upon the story. As the people of the center would point to the aspects of the sculpture, the sculptor would study them. He began to notice tiny imperfections, the things that made the sculpture human. He would notice that the base was slightly unsymmetrical. At first, it would not bother him. He would go about his day with a smile on his face, basking in the compliments that echoed throughout the town.

As time grew, however, the compliments dwindled. After a few months had passed, only the out of towners would discuss the beauty of it. The novelty had settled, and now the people barely thought of it. As the renown faded, the sculptor began seeing more and more imperfections. The pride he has felt in his creation turned into wonder. He wondered if it would be too late to just carve out the slightly uneven corners. The townsmen didn’t care, though. They had a new symbol even if they took it for granted. And, of course, the sculpture didn’t care. It was all it could be. It was only what it was, and it had never been anything else. It could not put any blame on its sculptor. Instead, it stood proud as the day it was erected. 

One night, the sculptor snuck into the darkness, chisel and hammer in hand. He had obsessed over the imperfections and was going to ease his piece of mind. Subtly, quietly, he made his desired changes. With the skies pulling a sheet of grey from behind the mountains, he swept away his stone dust and went home before the morning crowd strolled through. As he reexamined his pride and joy, he smiled with content. Though the changes were minimal, his mind was eased. 

The next morning, the people of the town passed through the square as they always had. Some of them stopped to double take the sculpture, assuming that the lighting had made it look slightly different today. With the crowds coming through, the sculpture stood just as it always had. Its majestic sword was pointed to heaven and his eyes still gazed with the same mystery and curiosity it always had. It was all it could be.

The sculptor sat on the bench in the center, examining his year old masterpiece. the same clothes he had created all that time ago, the same hair it had been born with, and the same grin it had bore night in and night out. As he gazed into the eyes of the sculpture, he began seeing hints of arrogance. Though ever so slightly, he knew that the symbol of the town could not show a sign of arrogance! He rushed home, quickly as could be, and grabbed his sculpting tools. He had to fix his mistake before the town caught on and thought him a tyrant! Quickly, noticeably, he began carving. As the townsmen passed, they stopped and asked. “Why are you defiling our sculpture?” With a quickness of a thief, he made up a story just believable enough to send them on their way. They couldn’t know that he had made such a mistake. They would chase him from the town! He worked and worked and worked some more, until he thought the imperfections were gone.

The next day, the people gawked. The sculpture stood still, but not as tall as it had. The base was symmetrical, but the clothes were battered. They were no longer the clean and intricate clothes the sculpture once wore. The sword was shortened to resemble a regulation sword. The sculpture’s eyes now faced down. His face drooped like that of a sad angel, a man reliving the regrets he once lived. as the crowd stood in disappointment, the sculptor stood proud. The symbol of the town represented him, a man of regret. The sculpture was not content. He was not all he could be. He was once greater.

Don’t panic, my son
I mean this with truth
The world is an evil
Even to my own youth

It’ll very well kill you
I know this for sure
But try to see past it
There isn’t a cure

Your life will just happen
In warm and in cold
You know you can’t stop it
So just let it unfold

I know that you’ll miss me
And I’ll miss you much more
It’s not just an exit
It’s a wide open door

You have a rare chance
To discover what’s dark
You’re a boy of great strength
So go on and embark

I’ll stay here dreaming
What I can’t understand
But one day I’ll come find you
With a noose in my hand

No money in my pocket
To go hop on a plane
No ride out to the station
To climb aboard a train

But man has rights to travel
Just maybe not with ease
But depending on your motive
This move should be a breeze

Pack your things, let’s see the world
I’m too sad here for snow
This ocean current smells the same 
As it did 10 years ago 

I swear I love someone

I swear It’s not you

I thought it was someone

But I think that’s not true

A landlocked soldier is just covered in moss
Even though he won’t wander, he’s the only one lost 
He could travel the poles, he could travel alone
But the house he was born isn’t all that is home

I can’t seem to leave here

I can’t stand to stay

I just need to leave here

I’ll do it someday

There’s somebody out there who thinks of this, too
She’s waiting to find me but can’t seem to ensue
I’ll do it for her and someday for me
Because the life that I could live is all I can see 

The desert, the forest

The things I don’t know

I want the audacity

to just get up and go 

People thought him heartless. They saw him prance from girl to girl, location to location, friend to friend, and job to job. They thought that only a stone cold man could just walk away so easily and settle with no regrets. His problem laid elsewhere, though, for he wasn’t heartless or shallow at all. He loved everyone and everything. He saw the best in everyone and fell in love with their strengths. He had a heart that nobody could quite comprehend. It was bigger, nobler, mightier, and more loving than any heart cut out of society. He loved everyone.

The women who were the most gorgeous tended to be the intolerable ones. If he saw you as beautiful, that’s all he could pull from you. But it was still something. Some girls were funny, they could make him smile naturally and shamelessly just by normal conversation. Some were bold, so bold that they could keep up with his constant chase for excitement. Some were damaged in the most beautiful ways, like a piece of art that you just can’t pull away from. Some, though, were just beautiful. 

As time grew, women learned to stay away. They thought that this man would treat them like garbage, when in fact he would hog tie the moon for them if they showed the desire. He just wanted to love. But he never chose favorites. To the women in his life, this was heartless.

This world isn’t ready for such a heart, it just doesn’t belong. This is a world built on competition and inequality. The most selfless of people still want more, it’s just a human nature. So when a woman wants love, she wants something to stick a flag on and call hers, because ownership is synonymous with love.

I feel a need to run
Away from everything
And hide out in the bushes 
Like I’m hiding from the rain
It’s all around, it’s hard to dodge
But still I want to love
I hate my heartless denotation
Though it fits me like a glove

I’m drunk, I’m high, I’m far from life
My reality is skewed
I hate myself, I hate the way
It’s all because of you

Maybe I’m different
But when did I stop?
I just can’t remember
I think I forgot
But I used to be someone
And you always were you
And I thought it was written
And our fate was so true

Our lives wandered off
But I didn’t hold on
I took it for granted
And now everything’s gone

I’m all who’s to blame
But I still feel so lost
I would kill to go back
I would pay any cost

But I think it’s too late
It’s a New Year too long
But I wish for it now
I can’t face I was wrong

It had to be me
It has to be true
Unless I was wrong
Unless it was you

Maybe you’re different
Maybe you changed
Maybe I’m still on track
Maybe you ran away
I stayed here waiting
I swallowed my pride
You just ignored me
And the feelings just died 

The snow it falls so quickly
Whitening the ground
It covers all the memories
So scattered all around

I’m scarred, I’m lost, I’m in the air
I’ve walked out of the race
I gave up on my normal dreams
And focused on the chase

I dream and dream and dream again
And wake up all the same
There has to be a way to leave
To forfeit this whole game

Someone, someone please come help
I can’t leave on my own
I’ll drive and pay and seize the day
Just please take me from home

I’m dying here, with so much there
I can’t quite comprehend
The world is such an open road
And I live on a dead end.