(PART 1: PREQUEL)

when i first started this whole process i

was an incoherently babbling proud idiot. i

was unsure and unconfident yet arrogant and

so proud i can hardly believe it now but

it doesn't really matter, does it, because people

learn from their mistakes.

it was relatively common for such a

babbling idiot as i to shield my mistakes and

delude myself and move on. yet that phrase,

'move on', is funny in the sense that it

suggests that it is alright to

thrive after death.

as stated above, i, along with the general

public engaged in the act of applying godknowshowmany

layers of makeup to shield

myself from the pain, because if you can't

see it you can't feel it,

can you?

and yes i was

acutely aware of my numerous faults yet so

proud so defensive so helplessly scared though

i wouldn't admit it (and that's another one of

them). i was stubborn and innocent

and I believed. that's what hurts the most.

i was fairly young. you could say

that though i was too desperate obnoxiously

self-centred and numb yes numb to

truly experience time- age was almost a

foreign concept to me.

and that was when i

started to merely exist i could not understand i

could not comprehend what the hell

living even was. that was around the

time i slipped away.

(PART 2: DYING)

i have to admit i had preconceived

notions about death in a way. i

did not believe in heaven and hell for such a divide

was incomprehensible. what was the

difference, really, between good and bad?

it was different like the colours were

different like brown was not green and black

was not white. yet what was the

difference that gave you the power the privilege

to sort between?

and none of us were that worthy it was

obvious glaringly obvious like black on

white like white on black. it hurt

to be told that you were unworthy yet

it was a simple truth.

and truth hurt and life hurt and

averageness hurt so much they were

glaringly obvious in their

presence and the same in their

absence and all i knew was that i

wanted out.

that confusion crept up like sneaky

thieves thrifty bastards damn it all the

black coils of memory swirling

around me until there was nothing but

dread and apprehension snaking creeping

sizing me up.

it seized me suddenly it was

swallowing me whole i didn't know

whether it was life or death or hell

i didn't know. there was nothing worse than it

tangling around me tangling

me up.

(there was nothing worse than me)

(PART 3: DEATH)

and that was how i came to

be where i am i don't know where

i don't know what they're doing i'm still

confused idontknowidontknow i

can't comprehend.

i did not come at the very

beginning. i was not there

when it first started. i was not

there when the voices first rose. the

pain i feel is not sudden it is slow

steady.

the pain i feel is gradual creeping like

understanding and wisdom and

comprehension. it is soft then louder

then louder i feel like my

eardrums will burst then i

remember i don't have any.

my lips are chapped and my

voice is uncertain hell every cell of

every tissue of every organ of me is screaming

with confusion. understanding is slow

but it comes yet comprehension is

what i ache for and what is yet to arrive.

i am a newbie they can see and

all of them they look at me yet

no-one helps i don't know why but

i think i know what i'm supposed to do.

yet knowledge is not enough. when i open

my mouth i only let out

a squeak. more than anything i am afraid.

(PART 4: LIFE)

the others do not look

at me at all yet i get the funny

feeling they're trying not to laugh.

i stand there (or do i i'm confused as

to what this whole death thing means)

and try not to cry.

and suddenly i both give

up and grasp it all- i don't need

to care nor want to care about

what they think this is not the place. i

don't even care what i think of

myself this is the place to just

be.

and it doesn't matter whether you're

good or bad or right or wrong or insecure

or confident or malicious or kind or

gay or straight or even homophobic

because there's nothing that lingers

like unanswered questions and nothing that's

wiser than to let them go.

and so i stop and listen to what i've

been hearing all along. i'm not going

to delude myself tell myself that it's

not painful it makes my ears ache but

there's something refreshing about

the whiteness of pain.

and most of them are hardly

gifted musicians their croaky voices

are hardly blissful to hear. their ensemble

is a cacophony but hell, music is

overrated and there is something

comforting about the harmony.

it would be unwise and inaccurate to

describe it as shrieking or even

screaming because that suggests that

it is short-lived. it is not it is long

agonising excruciating it is forever.

i raise my voice my voice is immediately

surrounded by the others' wrapped in a

contorted melody it is absorbed by the sheer

energy of every single person (is it a person

or a ghost i still don't know how this

death thing works).

my voice is surrendered to the ongoing

(sound? music? noise?) and i scream for

my life my death myself. i feel further from yet

closer to myself than i have ever been. it is

less of forgetting than less acutely remembering and

this is when i give up pretending to be

anyone but myself.

(funny, that it is in death that i learn how to live.)

A/N: Wow. I really don't know where this came from.

But it took a loooong time, so be a really sweet reader and review.

(that's the guilt trip method)

PWEAASE?

(that's the awful-attempt-at-being-adorable method)

Oh, come on. You know you want to review.

(that's… propaganda?)

It's what everyone does. Don't you want to be cool?

(that's manipulation)

I admire you so much for actually making it through the whole super-long poem. You, my friend, are awesome. Why don't you just leave a teensy review so I can have a nice chat with you?

(that's the sucking-up-to-the-reader method. and also really creepy.)

If you don't review, some psycho stalker named Eggfart Dullen will DRINK YOUR BLOOD. MUAHAHA.

(that's threatening)

I'LL GIVE YOU A COOKIE!

(that's bribery)

And if none of those methods worked for you, I'm sure you appreciated my efforts anyway and so you'll review.

BYE AND HOOHOO TILL NEXT TIME

~Pickingupthepieces