#heatrbreak

[thesongthesoulsings]

[megarockradio]

Elvis Presley Heatrbreak Hotel Live (1956`)

Elvis Presley Heatrbreak Hotel Live (1956`)

3 April 1956, Elvis Presley appeared on ABC-TV’s ‘The Milton Berle Show’ live from the flight deck of the USS Hancock in San Diego, California. He performed ‘Heartbreak Hotel’ ‘Shake Rattle And Roll’ and ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’ It was estimated that one out of every four Americans saw the show. https://youtu.be/W4euyTDhFnk Elvis Presley Heatrbreak Hotel Live (1956`) Read the full article at The Day…

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[brookebreazeale]

Poetry Undefined (a lil' experiment of mine)

Poetry Undefined (a lil’ experiment of mine)

The reality is, this isn’t working out the way I’d hoped.

But, I refuse to torture you with yet another dramatic exit from the blogging world, explaining…

It’s not you. It’s me. (a conversation I avoid at all costs).

Instead, I’m offering a detour of sorts.

Most of you know, I have a slight obsession with quotes or powerful phrases that can evoke strong emotions with just a few words.

My…

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[sassyb3otch]

It’s easy to say you’re over someone if you aren’t seeing them. The challenge is to look them in the eye and see their smile and hear their voice and still be able to say “This is not what I want anymore”

[museofbeauty]

Travels

I miss you on plane rides as I watch lightning rip through clouds far, far away from me. Thoughts of you illuminate within me as flashes of light murmur through masses of darkness. As we steadily approached our denouement like a scheduled destination, I raised my white flag on this red-eye journey—Take these seconds of doubt and give me minutes of your truth. I would give all the hours I have left for a moment of you. I learned later that the past, present, and future were not timezones— and probing the globe endlessly will not land me in the yesterdays when you used to love me nor transport me to the tomorrows when I will stop loving you.  Now, I feel like I am suspended in the air when I watch you fall methodically and steadily out of love with me—trapped in a vacuum sealed contraption taking me farther and farther away from the world I once knew. The pilot said we were traveling at 500 miles per hours but I still felt paralyzed by the gravity of your absence—weightless in time and space as I watched oceans pass beneath me, quilts of green pastures and deserts and cities slip through my fingers—ultimately handicapped by the loneliness you have left me with. I remember you on train rides. Getting a one-way ticket from home was what it was like to walk away from you. The demise of our amour spun around me like a bullet train—what I thought would take lengthy years to destroy was brought to its shaky knees within a few minutes. In our final moments, I would have liked to feel the wind course through my hair a little longer, watch the the scenes of earth pass by like faded strips of film on a dusty projector. I would have liked to feel the dying breath of our love—once so alive—evaporate like steam from the tired engine. In the meantime, I think about you when I hear the train pulse rhythmically against its tracks like an irregular heartbeat; Yours is the song of a traveler who moves in and out of my life like a foreigner lost in winding, narrow streets and cobblestone paths. Our love story was a railway track unfinished—built with purpose and innovation and abandoned with the rusting of time. Cities were built around us and the world inevitably grew bigger—we had to go to farther distances at a faster rate. Intimacy became outdated, our simple affections archaic. Centuries from now, they will point to the history books and remember: even the love stories and inventions that revolutionized the world will someday be obsolete. Loving you is like sailing towards the hazy line of the distant horizon. I outstretched my hands as far as I could but I will always be left chasing something that does not exist— a destination that will never be. I have trodden down these waters so long that I cannot remember where the oceans end and sky begins, when I began voyaging in unknown waters to find uncertain shores. Like a sailor hopelessly lost at sea, I have been reduced to an acute insanity by the heartless mirage—by looking into your cold, sea-swept eyes and believing that I could land in your warm arms again. A medley of pinks and orange sprawl across the watercolor sky like a broken mosaic and you have traveled with me every step of the way.

[enticing-catastrophe]

I do not understand where my hands are going or      what they're doing or      if they're even attached. My brain is a different malady entirely,      for I know it's been long lost.      I am crazy.      Are you? My heart is broken, but it's always  broken--perhaps this time the damage is      irreparable--for      it was accomplished with a sledgehammer      of razor-sharp words. I might be dying, but I'm really not sure. My heart aches though I am numb,      disillusioned. There are no constants, but you--      you were my constant, if only sporadically. And perhaps I require a dictionary to      compose my words in a more agreeable,      reasonable format,      syntax. Or perhaps it never makes sense because you      are always there while I am      here, and I don't know time.  Not      like you do. But I am numbed from this pain--not     shock, but pills and liquor. And if this is goodbye, I might make it permanent despite my fascination with      impermanence. And if this is goodbye, I am gone.  I can      disappear--you know I am capable of           magic.

[casanova-lives]

Ashley

I don’t know why I’m writing this, there’s no one to read it, but it’s better than holding it in I suppose.

If there was any person who had such an effect on me, it was a girl named Ashley. Now, bear with me while I use choice clichés and cheesy rhymes to describe her. Her face was the vision of hope itself, as it pulls you out of the darkest of holes. The kind that is filled with all kinds of nastiness and disease and horror. Basically, picture your worst fear and multiply it by one hundred, that’s the kind of thing that this person’s face could get rid of. And that’s just her face! Don’t get me started on her voice, her smile, her laugh, her everything! When I hear her sing, my heart melts. It’s become such a problem that the next time that happens, the doctors decided that they’d just give me a plastic bag and a pump instead of a new heart. Her smile can make an elephant fall off its ass drunk. Now, I’m just a teenage boy with a weak liver. The doctors decided to just prescribe me a bar of soap to chase down with my food now instead of trying to fix my liver over and over again from seeing that smile in my mind. Her laugh is as contagious as the flu. In fact, it spreads so fast that it’s become an epidemic in her town and the UN had to quarantine it for fear that it spreads any further and brings about world peace and tranquility. Yeah, it’s this kind of girl. I’ve tried to describe her personality once, and how beautiful it is, but the last time I made an attempt, I crashed all of Microsoft’s servers when the file was uploaded to the cloud. This girl is all shades of amazing, i bluddy swer on me mum.

This isn't some dumb highschool crush like it usually is. No, when a man proclaims to be madly in love with with a girl since middle school, that’s real love. Or at least I hope it’s real. Otherwise, my feelings for the past fourish years were fake and just hormone induced. But can it happen for someone who’s 200 some odd miles away and who you only see for 6 weeks of the year at most? I’d love to find out, so if someone is slightly knowledgeable on this subject, please give me an answer. Actually, I wish this was just a high school crush, so that I know that I’ll have a normal life that’s not wracked with yearning when I’m away at university and my job. I’m rambling now. Two paragraphs just to say that I love Ashley.

Now let’s get to the subject matter. What happened between Ashley and I? Why was I do compelled to tell my story to all of my nine followers. Yeah, I’m looking at you guys. Don’t make me find you all. I guess it’s just something I need to say. It’s more for myself than anything else. Let’s begin from the beginning, and I’ll make it short and sweet.

Year 1: I meet Ashley. We quickly become good friends and I consider asking her to prom, but I decide against it.

Year 2: Ashley and I held hands. Let me tell you, that’s every 14 year old’s dream. To hold hands with a beautiful lady like her is the pinnacle of a 13 year old’s sex life. Back to the story; she stops that due to pressure from her bunk mates. I’ve always been seen as the weird kid, despite the best of my intentions, and frankly, I’m used to it by now. I still hate it, though. I’d love to be accepted at least somewhere. Maybe later I will. I digress. She goes with this tall guy, I meet this lovely girl and all’s good.

I’ll break in the middle of this four year quadrilogy to tell you what happened over the time we weren’t seeing each other. She and I started talking by phone and Facebook. She tells me of some things, like her trouble with self harm, her troubles with her father, her troubles with sleeping, her troubles with her thoughts, her troubles with her dreams so on and so forth. I, being the overly affectionate and caring guy I am, decide that I have to help her, any means necessary. We stay up through the nights talking to each other, just giving ourselves good company, as friends often do. She knows my feelings by this point, but pretends to believe me when I say that I don’t have any feelings for her past friends. So on and so forth. Now, here’s the good part, and you sick fucks (I don’t mean it, I love you guys) on tumblr will really love this. On February 20, 2012 she attempts suicide for the first time since I met her. She throws herself off of a cliff and is missing for a day and a half. You can just imagine my fear. Fuck, you can ask any of my friends, I was shitting myself over this. I mean, I had to play it cool around everyone, but I just wanted to break down and cry my eyes out. Her sister and I get in touch and exchange encouraging words and suggestions, and the moon of my life is found sometime later. Before she was found, however, her sister told me that Ashley had feelings for me, but would never admit it. So that’s a little bit of happiness. Except that she was in a coma, so add another three sleepless nights. She wakes up, and first thing she does is text me, and I cry. I really did cry like a little girl. It rained on my face and I was glad I was home alone when it happened. I text her any moment I can to keep her company, and I send her stories to read through MMS. I guess that is all I can remember until we meet again at camp. She might have made another attempt a few months later, I don’t know. My memory got fuzzy from something that will be explained later on in this great wall of text.

Year 3: This is it, my big fucking moment, I take her to the prom! First, let me explain a few key things that will become relevant later on. It’s safe to say that by now, I prefer to spend time around girls. Not for sex reasons, but just because I feel like I fit in better. I met a lovely girl by the name of Zoe, who loves Doctor Who. A Katherine who’s a brilliant artist. A Kat who’s just lovely all around. And my greatest friend of all. Devyn motherfucking (can’t say his last name, sorry. Just imagine a badass last name here.) Devyn and the others eventually convince me to ask her out (by saying she wants me to, I’m scared as balls when it comes to asking girls out). So I did, and we went to prom, but my dammed bashfulness refused to allow me to dance. She wanted me to dance, but I’m not only terrible, but just absolutely over the top self conscious about it. What does she do, she goes to slow dance with tall guy. I was actually waiting for a slow dance, because I at least know how to ballroom dance. Afterwards, I go cry in the corner like a little bitch. I break contact with her for a bit, but I go back. I’m madly in love with this awesome person, remember? We make up and we’re friends again, like old times, and we depart, to see each other again next year. Before we leave, I give her a little kiss on the forehead, just out of affection, I didn’t mean it to be anything special. It took that for her to realize that she needed me. A few weeks after that, we are boyfriend and girlfriend.

Remember how I said these would be short and sweet? I lied. Buckle in kitties, we’re going on an adventure.

Intermission Part Two: Electric Boogaloo: She and I absolutely adore each other. We’re all ten thousand yards, sending love notes throughout the day. But it’s not all well. I feel guilty. Guilty?? You ask. For what? I was guilty because she shouldn’t have to be with someone she’s rarely ever going to see. She could be with any guy she wants, not boring, old, far away me. And she should be with someone who can hold her in his arms when she needs it, someone who can be around to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself anymore, and who can look her in the eyes and tell her how beautiful she is. I couldn’t do that, and I was guilty that I deprived her from not getting that. With the heaviest of hearts, I broke up with her. A month after that, she tried to kill herself by swallowing a bunch of pills again (she did it before, or after, but my memory is hazy on exactly when, or if she did at all). She told me it was her father that drove her to it. She went to a hospital. I’m not going to talk about it. After some of my own bullshit with dating at my school, I wanted Ashley back. I couldn’t bear being without her and I wanted to help her. We got back together, but she gets on some new medication that fucks with her mind. She ceases to feel much of anything. Her love faded with the the new pill. I’m torn apart.

The Final Chapter:

Year 4: Oh boy, did I fuck it up! On the grand scale of fucking up, from 1-invading Russia on the winter without proper gear, I scored electing George W. Bush for a second term. When I saw her again, she runs to hug me in an embrace that would cause carbon to fuse. I returned it, gave her a kiss in the forehead and told her how much I love her. She pretended not to hear. I played along. Time progressed, it’s getting nearly apparent that she and I would be getting closer than just friends again, but Devyn shows up. Devyn, at this point, decided to ask her out. She said no. I learned this from Kat, Zoe and the others. So now, I have to compete with this guy who knows just about everything about dealing with girls like Ashley when she’s breaking down, while I’m just left standing there with my dick in my hand. Don’t get confused, he and I remained friendly, but we’d both knew what was at stake. But it appeared that I was coming out on top. Except, I didn’t believe in myself. I was absolute shit at analyzing my situation, and I made the horrible decision to try to get over Ashley. What makes it better, and you guys will love this, is that I used Zoe in my attempt to get over Ashley. Don’t get me wrong, if I wasn’t madly in love with Ashley, I’d probably still be with Zoe to this day, but alas, things aren’t always perfect. Zoe and I were a, to put it coyly, an active couple. She fell head over heels, but I couldn’t get my mind off of Ashley. So I make the smart (read: really really fucking stupid) decision to tell her that I can’t be with her. I tried to let her down easy, and told her that I’ll always be her friend, and that it’s not her, blah blah blah, and it obviously didn’t work. I became Assholius Maximus, Emperor of Doucheville. And that’s how I felt too. Not only that, but I was outcast and shunned, as I deserved to be. I still tried to be with Ashley, but guess who took advantage of my outcasting? If you guessed Devyn, give yourself a gold sticker and a goofy smile because you’re one smart fucking cookie. Devyn came in and made everything better for her, while I sat out twiddling my thumbs and general boohoohooing over my mistake. Around this time, I heavily considered suicide. I had pretty much everything I needed. A giant 40 foot rock wall, rifles at the riflery shed, a trapeze, a lake, a bunch of rope, I had a myriad of options. But I didn’t go through with it because I didn’t want my dead body to be found. Skip ahead to the last few days, Devyn kisses her, she kisses Devyn, they seem to be in love, they tell me they’re not, I disbelieve them out of spite, I get depressed, I can’t eat, coffee calms my hunger, I can’t sleep, coffee gives me fake sleep, I get sick, coffee keeps me focused, I’m depressed, coffee keeps me alive. During this time, I became friends with two wonderful people, Tiffany and TJ. They really helped me out through that time and afterward. To tell you the truth, if it weren’t for them, people would be saying “He was such a great guy.” Last day, saying goodbye. I decide to forgive Devyn. It was my fault anyway. We hug, he cries, I shed a tear, goodbye Devyn. Tiffany and I hug, goodbye Tiffany. TJ left the day before, goodbye TJ. Kat and the others left two weeks earlier, goodbye Kat and the others.. Earlier that morning, Ash and I hug. I tell her what to say to death. I tell her to say “not today.” I tell her if she dies, I’ll bring her back or die trying. I tell her goodbye. I try to kiss her, but I couldn’t bring myself to it. Not after all that shit that’s staining my soul the deepest color of ugly. We part. Goodbye Ashley. Tell your sister I said hi. I love you… goodbye.

I get home, a 16 year old outcast with few nearby friends, a busy mom, and a bad case of the sads. What does he do at that moment? He gets fucking drunk. I’m a smart guy, I know how much I can have before it gets dangerous, so I made sure to keep a limit. When I was almost caught hungover, I stopped, because how the hell am I going to explain this shit? I hated the feeling of getting drunk anyway. My mind wanders back to camp and how shitty I was to everyone, my guilt rises. I can’t get over my second stepfather’s death, my guilt rises. School starts, I get into a fight with my best friend, we call each other names, my guilt rises. I tell Ashley that I can’t talk to her, my guilt rises. My grades fall, my guilt rises. I talk to Ash again, my guilt rises. November comes, and it begins. You don’t really understand why until you actually do it. I sure as hell didn’t. But when that cold, sterile, lifeless blade touched skin and made that first small incision, I knew. I can make all of my feelings tangible. I can take this imaginary cloud in my mind and make it real. Was it the right thing to do? Of course not, I wanted to stop the instant I started, but it's not something you can just will out of existence. It has to be weened out by good things and happy thoughts. Now, it’s a different game. Go to school, hide, pretend everything’s fine you’re happy no reason for you to be sad happy smile force yourself don’t let people know long sleeves smile bracelets and watch smile laugh it’s all alright, but stop. I was never a good liar anyway. I couldn’t keep the charade for more than a week until I had to tell someone. She supported me all the way through it and I’m thankful for that. If she wasn’t there, I’d just be another “Great guy”.

This is a good place to wrap up the story. Since then, I’ve been speaking with Ashely again. She even prevented me from killing myself. I still fear that she’ll try to make herself a “wonderful girl” again. I’ve reconciled with my friend who had a cold war with me. Tiffany and TJ helped me even further. I found other people to spend time with, my grades are improving, and I quit my bad habit, and becoming a “great guy” is now on the bottom of my list. My only worry now is college and if I’ll be able to wear short sleeves during the summer. And that’s one part of the great sob story that is my life. Tune in next time to hear a funny story. This time, I actually will write a humorous story of some talking writing utensils or some shit.

Have a good one!

~The Brony* of the Next Generation.

*(not really anymore, but this name is everywhere now and it'd be a pain in the ass to change it)

(Addendum: if there are any mistakes, I apologize, I wrote this all on my phone with a few edits on my computer, so I just hope everything’s decipherable.)

(Addendum 2: Electric Boogaloo: I'm alright now, so there's no need to worry, my lovely nine followers. To the person who got me help, thank you. You did the right thing, although I would have appreciated a warning. But one cannot get everything one wants all the time I guess.)

[heypolin]