Delidoodle.

Blind. Sight has no meaning, for seeing is done in place of believing. Yet I have nothing to believe in anymore so all I can do is sit and wonder. Wonder if outside of these glued eyelids is as dark as inside. It’s not scary, not like a horror movie where the dark is only the home of the things that go bump in the night. No, not the dark that makes you shake and miss the last train of sanity. No not like that at all, it’s…homey. There’s a beat, a familiar one that I used to sings along to. When I knew that the beautifully inspiring musician was none other than my heart…but we all know you took that from me. And then set it in your jar of hearts on that dusty shelf. Shelf. I helped you build that shelf. I supplied the nails that kept it together. We painted it the colours that emerged from the light kissing the broken glass. Broken glass from the jars I had broken when you weren’t watching. I hated hearing that song…the song of those other contained hearts. I hated how they drowned out our song while we sat on the sun soaked floor. It all lead to the day you stole my heart…it was raining then. Your hands were freezing and I could feel my soul chilling. As I recall that was the day my soul caught a cold. No not just a cough of transparency or nakedness. No, this cold was cancerous and the pain was unbearable. I thought my heart would be the cure, so I climbed those shelves seeing all the scars and the love you tore from so many believers. I reached the top…you said I never would. You laughed and my fingers slipped and my foot tripped. I missed and I fell. I fell and I fell. I didn’t feel the landing…my memory seems to be like an old tattered blanket. It has holes. But I do remember thousands of crystal beautiful jars above my head…they looked like stars plastered in the sky. Until they fell too…I don’t know what happened afterwards, you told me I was blinded. Shards of crystal that once held something as pure as love left me blind. Blind. This was it. My heart is gone but the beat still mysteriously whispers in my veins. I can feel it. I feel the pavement of this roof top caress my sore feet. I can feel the edge right under my toes. Then I feel the rain. The tear drops run down my cheeks. Although I can’t tell if they belong to me or the clouds. Suddenly I realize…someone is crying out there in the world. Why can’t the clouds hear my cries? Is it because I am heartless or because I am blind? I inhale…the wind secures my face in this embrace. Jump. You would like that wouldn’t you? If I jumped. If I gave up. I feel you breathing on the back of my neck. I’m at my mind’s end. I’m at my strengths end. Like a battery I wasted the energy by leaving these emotions on. But I’ve learned to live half alive and this is it. Jump. My feet don’t move. My soul as sick as it has become begs to feel the end. But I forgot. I forget. I forgot what beauty was long before I forgot how to see. I forgot beauty the day I forgot how to beat my own heart. We forgot how to put the light back in my eyes. Oh how we forgot.

- Hannah Martin.

Well, Each person who has ever lived had a great impact on someones life. The lives lost in terrible tragedies will always be remembered by someone. That is the greatest gift, to be eternally remembered. None of us want to fade away with the wind. None of us want to wither from existence and be reduced to nothingness. We want to be forever remembered by someone or anyone, it doesn’t even matter who as long as they look back to the days you were alive and a part of them still wish you were still here. Most things we do in life are not really important, but it is important we still do them because no matter how insignificant they might seem it will make a profound impact on another life. Remember all those who have perished from this earth, that is the least you can do. Remember them, keep them in your hearts and alive in your memories.