Six people sat on the edge of a beach, watching everything around them swell and fall swell and fall swell and fall. It was like the way the lives of their peers had been acting ever since high school started. Swelling and falling over and over time and again. It was like everything they had ever believed was embodied here in completely natural phenomena. They all knew what was coming, they all saw it becoming so much more of a reality. Swelling and Falling. Everyone around them could feel the oscillating power, and related it to the frustration and euphoria that came and went in their life.

Five people were fatalists. No the kind that believes in fate, but the kind that would tell you not much matters in your life because one day you'll be in the ground and you'll be dead. One day they'll all let you know just how dead you'll be. It's not that they don't try, their lives still has the same waves as everyone else's, they want to be as happy as they can be, but in the hardest times they find it's best to just let it go, to let it slip be. We're all dying after all. Every day brings you one step closer closer nearer to the ultimate end. This is what kind of fatalist all these five people are.

Four people are clinically depressed. They're crying inside all the time, they're dying a little bit more with every day because of the stress and terrible things that are happening in their lives. These three people though, there's not actually much terrible about their lives. Fact is, they're not depressed, they're clinically spoiled and emotionally soiled. You can't just give in to everything like that, bite down hard and give it your all. You see some one rise out the ashes and you're proud of them, and you're proud of them, and you're sad to see that you couldn't over come barriers and do the same. For a second, you're sad you didn't have it hard. 

Three people have something wrong with their boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/sibling. You base everything off this one relationship in your life and now it's all going to shit. It's become some what of a torture for you to be around them. You've got three people who can't stand another three people who can't stand to look at these waves and feel them swell and fall. It's the people that torture them, it's people that see the world in one dimension emotionally, a swell or a fall. Not depressed, just no movement no emotion no nothing. Just tears tears tears. Their face is soaked again and these three people just don't want to have to deal with it any more and it's time to not deal with it anymore. They let it out once and only once and it's over. 

Two people are reborn. They've gone through something that's more difficult for them emotionally than you could have imagined, but it's okay because there's more to life than that. There two still wish sometimes that they had it harder. It's not really a question as to how they got over the difficulty they did. There was only one after all. They just got over it, and now it's time to move move digress into the opaque mystery that is the good life. You see them writing in new ways, talking in new ways. Drinking smoking grinding laughing crying. More emotion than these two have ever felt before. They grew up so fast it left stretch marks on their psyches. But they're smart now. They're reborn on the edge of freedom.

One person sits looking across at the girl he'd be hoping so much had the same feelings for him. You're together now, clothes on clothes. It's like you couldn't be happier, but friends can cuddle too. It's not an outward burst of outward affection. Friends cuddle too. It's coming down to crunch time now though. Edie Sedgewick's dead at this point and there's not a whole lot left to do. You've sat there long enough to realize how foolish you've been to wait. Her head's in your lap now. She's caressing the hand you've draped over her collar bone delicately with her hand. There must be something more to this. You bend over, fighting the fear inside yourself and gently let your lips press against her forehead in a tender kiss. She begins to sit up immediately, and you prepare yourself for the confrontation of a life time. She embraces you though, kissing you with some outward passion you'd yet to experience.

Is that what you wanted me to do?

No people sit by the beach any more, this is because it's all passed. In the past past past. The future is to come, but nostalgia was aching at my bones. It wished to be released. There it is.

I'm a comedian

This is how I came to realize people don't understand each other.

When some one's talking to some one else it's just one big toss back and forth. Just one person doing their own thing and adding just enough to be heard on their own terms. Bouncing back and forth. Hello. How are you. Good, You. It's never really a whole lot like a real talk. It's more like each person waiting their turn to say something. Sitting around your table would be exactly the same. Talking talking conversing but not really. Just waiting patiently for your turn to say something new.

I'm not really bitter about this, I don't entirely mind it, it's just sort of there. It just something else I noticed about people. Everyone that wants to be heard is going to be heard even less and ever one that holds it in is just going to get over looked because, honestly, how could you ride if you didn't stand in line? Stoicism and stoicism and keeping it in. Don't bother, it's not going to get you anywhere but throwing yourself the wrong way off of a cliff. Just another bad tumble onto yourself and more more more tears.

I don't say holding it in is terrible. It's not bad horrible stupid. It's just not how I would go about it because I can't hold it in like that. I guess I just like knowing what's wrong, and I like to tell people what's wrong. Resolution comes easier that way. You don't have to say anything at all, but enough would be fine. Wait your turn, be patient, then let it out. You'll get compassionate patience for a little while, and then when it's their turn, you'll get a compassionate speel that they hope will make them look like a better person. And help you in some way.

Talking's really counterproductive, just masturbation without a mess. You just keep repeating a process to attain an end.

Talk talk talk

Up down up down

Talk talk talk

It's all really the same, if you look at it that way.

I don't care if you confide in me. I enjoy it, so please indulge, and I'll do my best to help. I'm sorry though, I'll probably confide in you too, when my turn comes. That's how it work, you trust me, you tell me, I trust you I tell you and so on and so forth over and over time and again. 

Note to self: Don't talk to Miranda something.  :)