I Wrote a Melody

I wrote a melody and uploaded it to a thing called soundcloud. I really like my song and if you want to listen to it, you can follow this link >>> http://soundcloud.com/nikolasmurdock/normandy


Hi, Can I Write You A Poem?

This poem is for giving me your time, and not whining about what I do with it.
This poem is for reading my stuff even having better things to do.
This poem is for all of those who have talked to me when they feel I’m depressed.
This poem is for you.

This poem is also for all of those guys who sit on their beds all night long looking intensely at their cellphones waiting for a message from their crush.
It is also for the girls who are afraid to tell a guy their feelings because they feel like he should do it first.
It is also for the guys who feel rejected and abandoned and boring and are really just shy.
It is also for the girls who feel ugly and fat and boring and are really just imagining things.

This poem is for anybody who’s in love with someone who doesn’t know they exist.
This poem is for anybody who falls in love helplessly within a week with no reason behind it and doesn’t want to talk about it because nobody really falls in love with someone they don’t know really well and is afraid people will make fun of them.
This poem is for anybody who falls in love helplessly within a week with no reason behind it and talks about it because it’s his/her feelings and he/she doesn’t give a shit about what people say.
This poem is for you.

This poem is for you because I love you and want to be with you and you have a boyfriend or don’t like me or don’t seem like you like me or just don’t want to be with me right now or you’re just not right for me or you don’t appreciate people falling in love with you for no reason or you’re afraid I’ll hurt you or you’re afraid you’ll hurt me or you’re just not looking for a relationship or you just don’t see me that way.
This poem is for you because I love you and I don’t care.
This poem is for you because you don’t love me and you don’t care.
This poem is for you because I hope you’ll give me a chance someday.

This poem is for those that don’t recycle and those who do.
This poem is for the smokers and the drinkers and the junkies.
This poem is for the foot fetishists and the masochists and the porn addicts and the voyeurs.
This poem is not for you.

I mean, for what I just said it is not for you, for everything else it is.

This poem is most definitely from me to you.

I Guess

If you were mine, I would be the happiest man alive.
If you were mine, I would jump around my room on a daily basis, as soon as I woke up.
If you were mine, I would buy you flowers every time I could.
If you were mine, I would watch old movies with you.
If you were mine, I would look into your eyes and tell you pretty things.
If you were mine, I would look into your eyes every day and tell you that I love you.

Everyday I will tell you that I love you for my mouth has no further purpose but that of saying those three words to you.
And so, every day I will say this: I Love You.
And if they cut my tongue, I will learn sign language, for my hands will hold no greater goal than that of communicating my feelings to you.
And so, every day I will sign this: I Love You.
And if they cut my arms, I will carry with me a bucket of sand so that I may write upon it with my feet, for my feet will now be responsible for this most important of tasks.
And so, every day I will write this in the sand: I Love You.
And if they cut off my legs, I will learn Morse code and blink my words, for my eyes will now be not a gateway into my soul, but a hopeful window into yours.
And so, every day I will blink this: I Love You.
And if they cut off my head, well that will probably be the end of that.

If I Hide Myself Wherever I Go, Am I Ever Really There?

Better? No, I’m not feeling better. I’m dreadful that’s what I am.

You know what’s just bloody agony? Not knowing what you want is bloody agony.

If there’s one science I like to profess, that’s psychology. The study of the mind is just fascinating. But my point today is not to endeavor into the many discoveries of psychology, but to discuss a certain matter that concerns me, and that may concern you too, my possibly non-existent reader.

In the olden days of psychiatry there was this young Swiss man who answered to the name ‘Carl Jung’. Among other things, Mr. Jung developed the concepts for analytical psychology, synchronicity and the collective unconscious. He also came up with a very curious concept known as the psychological type, which basically means that every thinking human being can be grouped with other human beings according with their way of doing things. Then two other brilliant people known Katharine Cook Briggs and her daughter, Isabel Briggs Myers, began creating a test that could tell you instantly which kind of person you were. If you can and want to, I would recommend you take the test here, and then if you want to, tell me which type are you. The test is surprisingly accurate.

Yes, I have taken the test. That’s quite obvious. My type is INFP. Which in the most beautiful of classified natures corresponds with the profile of the healer. The healer, if you must know (and I feel quite proud of this), is identified with his constant care for the inner lives of others. Also for being shy and reserved (sorry about that). The thing is I had known I cared about the inner lives for others long before Mr. Jung told me so.

The thing is, i like to help people. When I talk to you, I like to make you feel good. I don’t bury you in criticism or avalanche you with my problems, because I know you’ve got your own, and I want to help you with that. There is nothing that brings me more joy than actually helping someone get something off their chest. The thing is, most people don’t want to be helped unless they’re paying you, which is actually quite strange. Most people, they think their problems will go away on their own if they think about it long enough and, while for some of them it works, for most people things just don’t happen that way. That’s where I try to come in, talk to them, show them some people actually care.

The thing is, the healer’s life is a lonely one. It’s really tough to find another healer to vent our own anxieties, because most people just don’t want to heal anybody. I’ve said it before, most depressed can be helped if you just talk to them. Most of us (and when I say most of us I mean me but I know there’s a bunch of people out there who are just like me), we spend the day with a mask of happiness that only barely holds our immense depression inside. We walk through the halls with an invisible gun pointed at our heads. Always almost pulling the trigger. Telling ourselves we’ll pull the trigger if this or that happens. Always with one foot on the grave.

This invisible gun can be easily removed with a little help. A word of support. A loving gesture. A hug. A kiss. A high five. A question: “Are you doing all right?”. The answer: “Yes”. A repeated question: “Are you doing all right?”. A hesitating answer: “Umm…yes,  think I am”. Then the hook: “You know, you can talk to me about it. It’ll help.” That’s all. It’s so easy it’s actually stupid.

This probably isn’t a for real suicide. This is more of a ‘call for help’ thing. This is me asking you to please, please, if you feel like you caught a glimpse of the invisible gun I am always pointing at myself, please talk to me. There are so many people who couldn’t care less about me, it overwhelms me sometimes. It’s a very lonely existence, and I would really like people talking to me about anything at all. Really, it doesn’t have to be how I’m feeling. Talk to me about music, or your dreams or how you really don’t like somebody else, just talk to me.

Every once in a while, I may ask you if something’s wrong. I would really appreciate it if you let me help you. It’ll make both of us feel better. This way we can heal the world one person at a time. We can create beautiful relationships that will last until we die. Let’s make our worlds a better place and, in the process, remove our invisible guns.

Ballistics have never actually saved a life.

There's No Such Thing As Serenity, Part 2

Life: It’s fucking horrible.

That’s my idea for the guy that designs the signs hanging above the tunnels that lead us into the after-life and the rightnow-life. If our souls travel through some kind of pathway before we are born, you know, coming from the before-life, then there should be something to warn us of the imminent pain and sadness we are going to experience in the rightnow-life.

I seriously believed she was going to fall in love with me. With ME. How could I have been so stupid? I’m sick of believing shit. It doesn’t work that way. I care about you, you don’t care about me, so why should I care? The thing is, it’s not my fault, but I should still get over it. Honestly, get over something I didn’t cause. It’s all bullshit. All that stuff people tell you about not giving up and getting her back and honestly expressing your feelings, it’s all a bunch of bullshit.

You wanna know what I told her? I don’t care, I’m gonna tell you anyway. I told her I thought about her every day. That my life would be horrible without her. That I had fallen in love her the second I had laid eyes on her. I bought her flowers, but never gave them to her because she doesn’t want to see me and didn’t. SO the flowers I bought are rotting away in my car. I mean, my car will smell very good tomorrow, but what’s the point? She told me she wasn’t changing her mind. I mean, like her decision wasn’t based on something as irrational as fear.

She told me she was sure of her decision. That’s what maddens me the most. How can she be fucking sure? Dammit I was really really happy with her. Like, really really happy. Being happy becomes an addiction when you’re such a sad sod as I am. I told her that. I told her i was immensely happy when I was with her. You wanna know what she said? She said she was happy with me too. I mean, FUCK ME SIDEWAYS. Just tell me you hate me. Stop pretending like you actually give a fuck about me. Just tell me you don’t want to be with me anymore.

Seriously I’m tired of all you people and your pretending to care. What does it mean to care? What does it mean to be friends? Oh, did I mention she wanted me to be her friend? I mean, why would I want to be her friend? Didn’t I make perfectly goddamn clear that I wanted to be her boyfriend from the beginning? So, so far we have, she is happy when she’s with me, but she’s sure that she doesn’t want to be with me, and she wants me to be her friend. SHIT THAT’S THE MOST CONFUSING THING I HAVE EVER HEARD.

Did I mention I had already told her she saved me? That was probably it. Nobody wants to save me. It’s like “Oh yeah I love you, oh wait, you love me? Fuck you then” Oh you girls and your silly mental knots and misplaced priorities. Seriously, what the fuck is going on up there? What have you got instead of good old neurons?

How am I doing? Are you seriously asking me that? I’m fucking miserable, that’s what I am. I’m inside a pit and I’m still digging. I’m in such a low place, you have to use a lantern to guide your way down here. I’m in a place so sad that’s it’s actually becoming a happy place due to the duality of the emotion.

Of course, no one will ever take my side. I don’t know any of her friends and none of her friends know me. So no one will ever talk about me with her and so she will  probably never ever think of me again. Not that she actually did before. I pretty much know down to a fact that she didn’t. Actually, I’m pretty sure she’s got a long line of guys waiting for her and after a week she’ll be going out with some other douchebag.

I’m so fucking sick of everybody being ‘happy’ but me. I mean, who leaves you after a month? After a GOOD fucking month. “Don’t make this harder for me” FUCK YOU!!! You don’t want me to make breaking my fucking heart harder for you? What am i supposed to do? TAKE A FUCKING NAP?! Like “oh no, it’s fine, I’m just gonna go to sleep now, tomorrow I’ll probably not love you anymore” FUCK YOU!!! Shit yes I’m gonna make this harder for you because you SUCK and you need to KNOW IT. Everything you’re doing is hurting me so much it’s actually PHYSICALLY PAINFUL.

Oh, it wasn’t your intention to hurt me? You never meant to do that? THROW ME A FUCKING PARTY THEN!!! Parties never hurt my feelings. Or buy me a pony. That never hurts. Hell, buy me an Arizona tea if you don’t want to hurt my feelings. If you’re going to break up with me for no good reason then you should at least be FUCKING PREPARED to hurt my feelings because that’s what’s PRETTY MUCH GOING TO HAPPEN!!!!

I’m sorry if I sound like a hateful bugger. You know what? NO. I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT I SOUND LIKE. I’M ANGRY! I’M VERY FUCKING ANGRY AT EVERYONE BUT ESPECIALLY AT YOU FOR BREAKING MY HEART FOR NO GOOD FUCKING REASON. It’ll probably go away in a few days but meanwhile just know that in this specific moment I hate humanity.

And you’re kind of part of humanity so…