Midnight Rain

I stand alone in the midnight rain, smoking a cigarette, looking for hope, for a star, for anything to hold on.

I find myself trapped. On the only road I ever know, lost through smoke, closed minds, ignorance and looking for something. Close to the edge, everywhere I walk. Everywhere I look memories haunt me. It's not that I can't remember everything, it's that I can't forget. There are secrets, everyone has them, times you just can't forget. And it's not about love or a person, it's about you and what changed you. What made you who you are now, your fears, your wrongs and rights. Searching and searching, trying everything to survive, you become a puppet of the ones that observe us, and control us with illusion of freedom between closed walls.

The rain keeps falling, cleaning the earth. Yet we still manage to do it wrong, to make mistakes that continue to chase us down through life. Alone we search for someone, we try by any means necessary to make a change. Find someone to hold onto, or put our faith in. But we disintegrate with every moment we keep doing everything we do. Nothing will pulls of from these depths, but helping ourselves and everything that is around us. Now while we still can, we should change, we should take charge, blame and responsibility. Because we keep ourselves in the same place, no future, no happiness. Only mistakes. But until that day...

The clock turns 1 minute after midnight, the rain stops. As I enter a new day. My cigarette burns out. The sky is still dark, becoming darker with every second that passes. With the blunt cold wind blowing, I see myself in the reflection of a window. I become confused as I forget who I really am, who I was, what I accomplished. As I smiled, seeing my reflection scared of the past, present and future. I do not know what I should do, but one thing is for sure... Breaking the habit may help, Even if it's in believing in the lie I've built. But I won't wait for something, because I was the one that was supposed to save myself. Yet I see myself falling deeper and deeper.

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Originally published on 17.10.2012

Portrait (IV)

The End

Thus everything bleeds.

"When it all ends abruptly."

"Well..."

"What can you do? There's nothing you can really say..."

"Weird, I would say."

"Horror, the way I would describe it."

"Horror?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah... I think that would be it's appropriate designation. It fits really well too."

"But is it?"

"Oh... I mean, probably."

"Why am I discussing this? It makes no sense either way, it's something you have to live with. Something that now is a part of you."

"I don't know, honestly."

"It's not like there's anything wrong with this, you know? It's simply weird. And I... Well... You know?"

"Know what?"

"The limitations bother me, there's something absurd about all of this. Backwards and forwards. It like knowing..."

"Hmm..."

"I don't know..."

"But it would make sense, wouldn't it? Trying to define oneself on what they are, you know?"

"Who am I then? What defines me? It's senseless. It's frustrating."

"You can't define anything, can you? We can barely brush the essence of anything. It's not something we can comprehend. But control..."

"But that wouldn't be a problem. Definitions, essences, the problem is the thought. When you can't control it."

"It is a problem when we can't grasp something, it always was, it always will be. These are the things that make us feel at ease."

"I think..."

"You think?"

"It's really something else, a colorful spectrum of this world, so we don't have to fear it. Do we? We don't."

"I don't know me. No matter the line I'm on, I don't know. It's stressful. It's something..."

"Do you know you? I don't know you... I can't know you. No matter how I look at it, a picture may be a thousand words, but it isn't anything."

"Who knows... I mean who knows me? What is all this? The thoughts, the mess, the entropy, the optimistic pessimism of this. Poetic..."

"This is how it all started, right?"

The End. Now read it from here on up.

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Colors (III)

It bleeds...

Blue, brown and green. One hundred and eight shades of everything. Sky high, but down low. Heart beating and no flow. Basic and simplistic, absolutely fantastic.

Where do you get these ideas?

I wish I knew how it worked.

Where do you get these ideas?

I ask myself that every day.

The unholy cliche of the dreams I've been having, the pallets I've been using, the taint that this is.

But what's the point?

I keep asking this too.

I absolutely hate it. The narrative I've created, the problems that I have, the stupidity I dwell on. I can't stand it. I wish I knew how.

It's confusing...

I know it is.

It's profuse.

I know it isn't. All I'm trying to do is save my skin by pretending I have something to do.

That's sad.

I've been thinking that too. I've been thinking a lot... When the abundance is beautiful, but it's drowning in the shadow of others. I have to ask, who is this for? Red, blue and violet, who goes and riots? I see nothing but gray, letting life live just in my imagination.

It's sad.

And when you can't see yourself, no more. When you know that everything will be gone to dust, sooner or later. It gets sadder.

But then again...

Yes? I'm listening.

Do you know what makes sense? The fact that you can still do it, a brush, a sketch, combined with all that pain, it goes a long way.

A brush, a sketch, combined with all that pain, you die, there's nothing, there's nobody... The long way that it goes, doesn't make sense. When after you're gone, there's no one left to ask you a why or how.

But pink, yellow and a little bit mellow, is what it’s about.

In a way, maybe. But when you have a rainbow, why would you go for something that's far below? While you can create wonders with just white, black, yellow and brown, why just limit yourself to what you have?

You forget the pink, red, and all the shades to come.

Yes, but I am none of them. I am me, and I don't want to be less.

That's pretentious, arrogant and stupid.

Then so be it, when it's all said and done, we're going where there are no shades, no brushes or sketches to be drawn. If I could change it, I would, but it's not that simple.

"What was I doing? I spaced out there... What was I doing?"

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Brush (II)

I draw a line somewhere...

It's weird... Like I did this.

Hmm...

I don't remember when.

Or why, right?

Right...

Like a dream...

No, a nightmare.

Yes, that's it, that's what it was. All this time it was just a nightmare, a thing that I couldn't escape. Yet I forgot about it.

But why?

But why?

I don't understand, I mean, look at me... Why is this, this? Why am I asking these questions?

We all have problems, like that chip on your shoulder. Chip, chip, chip, look at me, I'm a chip. And now what? We're all problems bundled as humanitarian cases... Wild, dumb and dumber...

Who did this offend? Whose problem is it anyway?

Mine?

No? Yes? Yours... Yes, yours... It should be...

Should it be? I have no idea... This is rubbish, when there's nothing to do, nothing to control, nothing to save anything.

Then why am I asking this? What's the point?

Point.

Yet I'm rambling.

What was my point?

A problem, there has to be a problem, an idea, a something.

Gripping. Tight. Suffocating. Thought provoking. Something different. Something magical.

So, can I get some help? I would really appreciate some help. I mean, you can hear it, can't you? That voice.

What does it say?

What does it say? Hmm...

I say...

I said... I mean... There is something wrong.

That's the problem... Isn't it? I get confused easily. If it's not right, it's wrong, it's not for me, it's not for you, and if it's for someone, then is it wrong? I don't get it anymore. Why do I care? Why does anyone care? How do we care? When it doesn't have anything to do with any of us... Yet it impacts us all... It's stupid.

Extremely...

Extreme! That's it... Like everyone's the worst, the best, the Hitler, the savior of the world. It's tiring...

I'm sleepy...

But the nightmares...

Yes, the nightmares...

Which is worse?

Worse?

Between the open eyes or the closed ones...

Worse... Are both, equally... 

Dread... That's the word I was looking for. Looming for...

Artistic, again...

Idiotic, maybe. There is no artistry involved in my...

My? Where was I going with this? I had something to say... Like it was wrong. Like it bothered me when I thought... Think, say, do?

Ha! Do... Wrong, again.

I know...

It's weird...

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Sketch (I)

I draw upon blood...

It was once, I think... Where I was really pleased with what I had become. A rare moment... We all have them, I think... 

But, that's not the point. Because I have a question, why is this happening? 

I have no idea, so if you can enlighten me... Please, do so. If you want context, I can give you that too... You see, I have this pain in my back. It really aches, and I don't know what it says. It's something else. Something like a cross, a burden, memories, regrets or dementia. At this point I'm not sure either. 

As I was saying, there is something that draws me in pins, holds me tight and has me in limbo. Poetic, right? It's this mind thing that keeps bothering me again... 

I have a lapsus, how do you call it? 

Doesn't matter. Talking about poetry, it's something along the lines of a poem. Or a tragedy... Not sure though. 

But back to the thing I was complaining about... 

I don't have an answer. 

When you, yes...

You... 

When you are a nothing, doesn't that make me nothing too? And if you're anything, that means... I'm something too. Right? 

No, that's not how it should work... Right? 

It's weird, I know... 

But, back to my problem... 

If I... 

No... 

That... 

No... 

It won't work... 

That's not how it works...

But isn't it beautiful?

I suppose... Suppose, right?

Hmm... Maybe, if it wants to be. If...

Funny word...

Truly... Like... That mind thing...

Smart? Yeah... Smart...

Funny, indeed... But...

Intelligence...

Yes, yes... Funnier... That is funnier... Intelligence... Aren't I intelligent?

Oh...

Hmm...

What was I talking about? What was I about?

I can't remember...

Oh, my mind thing... Right...

But which was it, again?

The pain... That's how you say it... I think...

Pain... Right... That limbo thing too...

Limbo... Paradox?

Hypocrisy?

Mr. Intelligent over here...

I need an answer...

Maybe that's the answer...

Those maybes...

Can't stand them...

Right... Well, whatever... I need the help...

It was once, I think...

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The Time

You still remember the time you got off and met someone, but all that remained between the both of you are just silent words from an unknown past.

The time you tried to convince her that you could give her more than she could carry, that you were special. She started believing you, but you screwed up by bringing the past back to life, trying to explain what you are. Just ending up in being friends, and as time passes you got your second chance. But didn't take the step that was needed. So now, you go on as a friend. But you still get reminded that she could have been yours.

The person that doesn't have any silver lining, just wrong or right, good or bad, intelligent or stupid, not average, not normal. But that isn't all there is to this curse, telling the truth to every person you know, but lying to yourself is the worst part of this curse, called myself. And even though I know the truth, one thing keeps me back. The fear that was struck into me since I was a child, the fear of failure holds me back. As for the ones I know and knew, I disappointed them too many times. And afraid I still hide in my house for days trying to forget, trying to find myself and go on. But every step I make is on a road back to the past. Waiting for a new way out, time flies away and leaves me into this cold world.

Behind all this, there is a story about time and truth, about being right and being wrong. I've been through a lot, maybe too much. The story I wanted to write is simple. One night I got a call from a person that I remained friends with, we were out for a drink and a chat. We talked for hours, everything disappeared as we got into our own world, debating one thing, love. As we talked, she told me she was never in love and tried to convince me that she will never fall in love. Because in her experience, she only had people who loved her but, not the other way around. I started explaining to her that love is something beautiful, the way you feel that no one can hold you back. The way you smile when you're in love, it's the best drug that there is. She would've given me a chance that night, but I did not take it, because I knew there was something else, and I would get just hurt in the end.

The time passed by, we rarely talked and one day she came by. And I almost made a mistake, it didn't happen but, it could've been a mistake. Because I wouldn't wanted to be right by my own hand, I wanted to let things take their course. And I know after so much time, I read her blog, being happy but, sad at the same time for knowing I was right. She was in love, she got hurt and now she is trying to forget it, through work. It's not the first time, not the last time, but what I was trying to say is everyone has its curse or blessing just like this one.

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Originally published on 12.10.2012

Just another simple day.

Bright mourning.

Who am I? I asked myself many, many times. I am to be them? I asked myself many, many times. Since then, I've been fighting this. I've been fighting the urge to kick the bucket. To give in and be on you them. Those soulless humanoid things... With those empty eyes. I kept fighting it, always will. Otherwise I might be just another hypocrite, another soul this place took. With its dreams smashed, with its ideas shame and mocked by the world. I want something else. Always did. But you can't just do that. You can't avoid it. They won't let you. Whatever it is, you won't be able to do it. And by the end of the day, you are what you got scared of in the first place. At least that's how I see it. That's how I see myself in the mirror lately. Selfish, soulless, hypocritical more times than not. And this is my excuse. I can't just escape it, since they won't let me. Since I can't do it, I blame all you. Is what I would say, if I weren't alone, in this room.

Which is weird, I feel a bit schizophrenic. I've been talking to myself for years. But now I mask it, it's under all this writing I am doing. All these thoughts that I can't put out there and tell people about them. About all this turmoil that I've turned into small stories. But this is my tool, my way of fighting the thing I am afraid of. I can't say that I don't love it. Then again, going back to the schizophrenic episode, it's a lot like talking to yourself and those voices in your head. Because no one will answer my writing or to my thoughts, other than myself. Well, whatever... I don't have to convince myself of the things I already believe in. On the other hand, is good to have a debate with someone, just in case I missed something. Maybe that's how I keep my fire intact for the moment. If this isn't an allusion to masturbation, I don't know what is.

It's weird, not that I complain. I said again to myself, lonely as I sit in a chair. Thinking that all this might be just a coping mechanism. Something to get me through the day. Some lie I've been telling myself all these years trying to survive. Not that I had something to fight against or a reason to fight for something, I spoke again. For some reason, I can't keep my mouth shut, not when I'm alone. Now then, not that this is something wrong, as long as I can control it. Were my thoughts at that moment. And I wasn't wrong, because people don't care unless you take that filter off, put your mask under the strike of your boot and just open your mouth. Not that I encourage everyone to do this, and I never would. Since many do it on social media, and oh boy... Well... See, I thought to myself. I am a hypocrite, I exclaim as I publish this blog post. Then again, it's just another simple day.

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Just a simple day

Waking up with the sun in your eyes, blurred in the reality, finding something to eat while watching television. Having a coffee while smoking a cigarette. As the smoke vanishes into thin air, you start your new day.

Taking a shower after you wake up. The steam of the hot water that hits your face is trying to clear your vision. Yet when you wipe your face the only thing remaining is a clean sense of dread. Now, on your way to work. Looking in the eyes of strangers, your thought run away to a weird place and you get to ask yourself "Will I become what I just saw? Someone with that kind of agony in their eyes?"As everything looks the same, the thought that you already are one of them, starts to get stronger and stronger into your brain. A solution seems to fade away with the question itself, as you work through the day. Finding yourself home at the personal computer, doing your routine, the question pops up again in your brain. You go out for a drink, looking at the people around you, it starts to click as you find yourself in everyone around you.

As the path remains, you try to make something new in the start of a new day, but a pattern shows in the bright of that early morning. And as you try to change everything, you lose yourself. With every step you make, the less you know about who you are, losing even the past. Everything around you crashes and turns into dust. As alone in the middle of the night, you stare at the screen. Becoming more and more ignorant of the reality that stands right before your eyes. Empty as the night's sky in the middle of a big town, you wander around with the agony of death written in the depth of your eyes, smiling to fit in the environment around you. So, the only fear that you had has embraced you, and with that you became what you didn't want.

But as with every story and every truth, there must be a spark, a change. As the sun sets down in your eyes and the darkness sets place in your heart. Finding something that you liked or you loved is hard. The smile from your face faded away long time ago, the smile you had, and the laughter you lost, they couldn't be found. As you smile or laugh, and see or hear yourself. You start to ask "Where and when did I become something like this?"Finding an old video cassette of you as a child, hearing that innocent and clear laughter, seeing the smile you once had. Tears start to roll down your face, regretting what you had and lost because of the road that you had to take. The rough life that everyone seems to know, but no one went through. Watching the tape, you hear that one song that was in your consciousness for a second, you regain that smile and your laugh. But as the song goes on you lose them, you lose yourself. But like everyone you must sleep at night, and you do too.

The night passes, fighting your way through sleep, as the sun shines in the sky. In this morning you jump from the bed and it doesn't even matter why or how. But you found the energy to make a change. The only thing that made him this way, was a dream. A dream where he found that one person, where he made it to his star, made something different with his life. As the day went on, he remembered that it doesn't matter how people are. You do not have to compare yourself to them and the only change he had to make is to dream. As the dreams fueled him, he made his way to the place he always wanted.

Through life you learn one thing, that the dreams you have, even the unimportant ones, will keep you different... alive, creative. As dead as he could be on the inside, without any dreams, as alive he became... As he started dreaming again, even without that smile, laughter, or innocent look in his eyes. He was never so alive as he is now.

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 Originally published on the 28th of September 2012.

Welcome to the new home of Nobody The Blog

It's been quite some time. So I welcome you all back. For those new around here this is Nobody the blog. A blog with short stories, rants, excerpts from books I write and commentary on said excerpts. Basically I'm trying to be the embodiment of those little voices we all have in our heads. A mockery of all that's holy and normal. Yet with a very valid point to take into consideration. If any psychologist is reading these stories, please e-mail me and tell me what's wrong with me. Please. Moving on...

I tried to define this blog many times, doing commentary on news reports, writing short stories, ranting. But after publishing my books, I came to the conclusion that this blog needs a bit of refinement. And with that, I will re-boot slowly the blog. Editing and changing old stories, having a second post as an addition to the original, something to give them more context, to build on them. Since I find that many stories I've written in the past, could use an update. As much as I like my 3 AM, blurred, mindless, mistake filled writing, I there's something more I want to try with this blog. But this does not mean that I'll just rehash old material for clicks. What I am doing, is introducing new readers, like you, to the journey I've been throughout years.

So, now... What to expect on this blog? Well, weird short stories, excerpts and updates on what I am working on, rants and weird ideas. I will also try and experiment with the short stories that will be here. Try new styles, genres, abstract and fantastical elements. In order to have a more diverse, interesting, weird reading experience. This time there will be one post a week. At least for the next 30 weeks. That I can promise you. So, whether you're a new here or old. There will be something for you to read after you watched everything, when you're bored at work, home or if you're stuck somewhere you don't want to be. And the most important thing about this blog, is the fact that it's for nobody. Welcome.

Scheduled posts:

A simple day.
Just another simple day.
The Time
MIdnight Rain
Walking through a hurricane
Trapped: Post
Stories
Simple Life
Mistakes
Easy

These are some of the upcoming posts you should look forward to in the upcoming weeks. And with that, see you next week. Also a note, if you want to keep updated with every little thing I'm doing, subscribe to the sub-reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/AuthorRaulFO/ or follow my Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/raulf-o these are the places I will post on daily.

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