contributions
"Yesterday I went to Venice and had my interview; at the end of which, I did not have any idea how it went at all.
I walked around, as I used to do when I lived there. In those days when everything appears less important; when you want to be a part of that flow of people, be none among the crowd. When you need to keep moving... Just to think of something else.
As I was going through the small streets that, altogether, compose a labyrinth where your mind can rest. In the direction of Castello, the farthest island of the Venice Fish... Nothing could stop me thinking of that smiling girl who I had met in Munich.
Sometimes you bump into someome; a word becomes a sentence, a sentence becomes a discourse... A discourse you like. You don't remember how you got there, but this is no longer your problem. You just want to keep speaking, laughing, no matter what at; just with her. All of a sudden, you end up kissing her.
Meanwhile, I arrived at Giardini (The Venice Gardens). I sat on a bench, smoked a cigarette, watched the landscape and enjoyed the warm sensation of the sun.
I took a deep breath of fresh Venice air and wondered if I would ever meet that 'gripping' girl again."
by Stefano Arcaya
Venice, Italy
"Do you remember the first time I told you I loved you? That love smothered me like a thick velvet cape wrapped tight around my neck, hanging over my shoulders. The only thing poking out of the cape was my head, but even that was swimming; drowning in a fish bowl of hopes and expectations.
I tried to deny it for a while, but couldn't ignore it anymore. My mouth kept spinning off on a tangent like those wind up chattering teeth, but I always slammed down and stopped it before I said those words.
Two years later, this cape won't budge. It's loosened it's grip, don't get me wrong. Shed most of it's material through tugs, rips and knots. Now it is more of a light netted material. Not a deep red, but a faded grey with cigarettes burns and blood stains. Instead of hanging, it just glides in the wind when I walk. On one last thread tied around my neck in such a tight knot that it is unable to break and fly away. Somewhere where it can disintegrate into the earth. More as a memory instead of something that exists. It's loosening. I still tug on it everyday, but it still won't budge.
Maybe I will have to ask your assistance in undoing this tie so this net can finally float away and bring distance between us."
by Cassidy Thomas
Munich, Germany
"Forming these statuses and ideologies of what life and love and happiness is. A depiction from a box of societies rights from wrongs. We are told figments of what is correct, we question judgements, and disagree on actions that one may find right from their wrong. Where is this so called free will? I'm free to no will of mine unless it is a will of yours. I live to understand your day to day judgments in order to be accepted. Is there a point where I start my life and end yours? Not to allow your feelings to vanquish my own. I let you control my emotions as I seem helpless, I used to dream of going away. I pushed everyone out. I need none of the people that will only limit my chances of my dreams. Everyone wants to get away, do they? I do. I see the world of mine, a fast pace motion and everyone is busy. Busy at work. Busy at home. Busy at life. I'm busy. I'm always busy. The characters we make in our heads are only fictional representations of what we want to be and accomplish. To go back to being alone is different from when I used to be striving to be with people. Meaningless chatter of things and stuff and more things and stuff. I see people who have their own experiences and stories and lives and wonder if their experiences and stories and lives will intersect with mine for more than just a moment. I've met thousands of people and heard names and names and none has held my attention. I always wonder if thats love. Is love the one that intersects and holds your attention? Holds it forever so that even years after you’ve met and you are sitting in that coffee shop at the same chair they used to sit across from you from and you see nothing but an empty seat and the bitter pit in your stomach because its empty. Empty like the chair. Empty is that air bubble that stays, empty is like that song with no meaning. Empty is what grows inside you and consumes you and forces another statistic out of you."
by Amanda Thompson
Temecula, California
"Do you remember the first time I told you I loved you? That love smothered me like a thick velvet cape wrapped tight around my neck, hanging over my shoulders. The only thing poking out of the cape was my head, but even that was swimming; drowning in a fish bowl of hopes and expectations.
I tried to deny it for a while, but couldn't ignore it anymore. My mouth kept spinning off on a tangent like those wind up chattering teeth, but I always slammed down and stopped it before I said those words.
Two years later, this cape won't budge. It's loosened it's grip, don't get me wrong. Shed most of it's material through tugs, rips and knots. Now it is more of a light netted material. Not a deep red, but a faded grey with cigarettes burns and blood stains. Instead of hanging, it just glides in the wind when I walk. On one last thread tied around my neck in such a tight knot that it is unable to break and fly away. Somewhere where it can disintegrate into the earth. More as a memory instead of something that exists. It's loosening. I still tug on it everyday, but it still won't budge.
Maybe I will have to ask your assistance in undoing this tie so this net can finally float away and bring distance between us."
by Cassidy Thomas
Munich, Germany
"Forming these statuses and ideologies of what life and love and happiness is. A depiction from a box of societies rights from wrongs. We are told figments of what is correct, we question judgements, and disagree on actions that one may find right from their wrong. Where is this so called free will? I'm free to no will of mine unless it is a will of yours. I live to understand your day to day judgments in order to be accepted. Is there a point where I start my life and end yours? Not to allow your feelings to vanquish my own. I let you control my emotions as I seem helpless, I used to dream of going away. I pushed everyone out. I need none of the people that will only limit my chances of my dreams. Everyone wants to get away, do they? I do. I see the world of mine, a fast pace motion and everyone is busy. Busy at work. Busy at home. Busy at life. I'm busy. I'm always busy. The characters we make in our heads are only fictional representations of what we want to be and accomplish. To go back to being alone is different from when I used to be striving to be with people. Meaningless chatter of things and stuff and more things and stuff. I see people who have their own experiences and stories and lives and wonder if their experiences and stories and lives will intersect with mine for more than just a moment. I've met thousands of people and heard names and names and none has held my attention. I always wonder if thats love. Is love the one that intersects and holds your attention? Holds it forever so that even years after you’ve met and you are sitting in that coffee shop at the same chair they used to sit across from you from and you see nothing but an empty seat and the bitter pit in your stomach because its empty. Empty like the chair. Empty is that air bubble that stays, empty is like that song with no meaning. Empty is what grows inside you and consumes you and forces another statistic out of you."
by Amanda Thompson
Temecula, California
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