if i may

i would like to take a leaf from a friend's book

ahem



oh well in five years' time

we could be walking 'round a zoo

with the sun shining down over me and you

and there'll be love in the bodies of the elephants too

and i'll put my

hands over your eyes

but you'll peek through

and there'll be

sun, sun, sun

all over our bodies

and sun, sun, sun

all down our necks

and there'll be sun, sun, sun

all over our faces

and sun, sun, sun 

so what the heck?

'cause i'll be laughing at all your

silly little jokes

and we'll be laughing about how we

used to smoke

all those stupid little cigarettes

and drink stupid wine

'cause it's what

we needed

to have a good time

but it was

fun, fun, fun

when we were drinking it was

fun, fun, fun

when we were drunk and it was

fun, fun, fun

when we were laughing it was fun, fun, fun

oh it was fun

oh well i'll look at you and say it's the happiest that i've ever been

i'll say

i no longer feel i have to be James Dean

and she'll say

yeah well i feel

oh pretty happy too

and i'm always pretty happy when i'm just kickin' back with you

and it'd be

love, love, love

all through our bodies

and love, love, love

all through our minds

and it'd be love, love, love

all over her face

and love, love, love

all over mine

and though admittedly all these moments

are just in my head

i'll be thinking about them as i'm

lying in bed

and i know that admittedly

it might not even come true

but in my mind i'm having a pretty good
time with you oh

in five years' time

i might not know you

in five years' time

we might not speak oh

in five years' time

we might not get along

in five years' time

you might just prove

me

wrong

oh there'll be love, love, love

wherever you go

there'll be love, love, love

wherever you go

there'll be love, love, love

wherever you go

there'll be love, love, love

wherever you go

there'll be love, love, love

wherever you go

there'll be love, love, love

wherever you go

there'll be love, love, love

wherever you go

there'll be love, love, love

wherever you go

there'll be l♥ve















































i still feel like, uh


well, like shit




but i feel better?


and i'm sorry for -

you know.

i'm sorry

to you, Corey, to Sonia

to you, Elaine,

to you, Sir Thighpiece,

and you, Hakurei,

and you, Nick,

and you, Morningstar,

and Killjay,

and John











and to you, Maurice











and everyone else

all the names i can't say

all the names i don't know





i'm sorry




i'd Run if i thought i could




i'm not in any condition to do so







though if you want to come and pick me up







i'd be happy to get as far away from cheshire as possible





they're releasing me from the hospital in nine hours








they don't know i'm on the computer


they wouldn't want me to be





Corey brought me a laptop to use, courtesy of Sonia


















whatever you think

of me

of anyone



whatever you know

whatever you see






just remember


i'm here




i'm smiling




i'm happy






and i love you

all of you


and that love is deep-seated enough that i can





that i can promise


i won't go down while i have that love





i can promise i won't go down without a fight

I'm going to start by saying that I WON'T be going on about how you're all crazy and this thing can't be real and blah blah blah. One of my oldest friends has been basically turned into a living corpse, is missing one hand, and just swallowed a bottle of pills. God knows how she managed to open the damn thing. Anyway, the point is, she's in trouble and I simply don't have time to argue about why. I know how that goes.

Emma is in the hospital right now. She's just had her stomach pumped, and the docs say there shouldn't be any residual effects, besides the psychological ones. What they're not addressing is why, after most of her hair fell out, she started losing teeth. Continuing with my not-being-in-denial method, I've been seeing the guy in the top hat around the hospital, though never directly. Always in a reflection or turning a corner, and he's always smiling. I managed to get one good glimpse of his face so far, and I can tell you two things: the first is that it is in fact Lewis, Emma's old boyfriend. The second is that his demented grin is something unnatural. It's not just a crazy stalker psycho-slasher grin; it's as if his face was stretched. At least he takes care of his teeth, although I can tell you, if I never see them again it'll be too soon.

The nurse says that the hospital is too crowded to allow Emma to stay here for very long, even with her obvious emotional trauma. They say that they can recommend a good psychiatrist, and she'll need lots of friends about her; and if we see Lewis again we should call the authorities, which I don't plan on doing. I know how that usually goes.

There's one more thing I should probably tell you, but I don't want to sound callous about it. I know how much Emma cares for her cats, and nobody's told her yet, but they're - you see? It's hard, in text, not to sound like an uncaring bitch. When me and Sonia showed up at Emma's place and found her laying on the bed with the bottle next to her, we found her cats. I won't disturb you with the details.

Look, I don't know exactly what Emma has done for you or what you've done for her. I don't know, either, how much you matter to her or how much she matters to you. But if you could give her some well-wishes, or say a prayer for her, or even just keep her in your thoughts, I, personally, would really appreciate it.

-Corey

P.S. And don't give me any of that bullshit about "walking away now" and "in over your head." Okay? I couldn't care less right now.

A peek into another dimension...

There's a door, and you don't know where it leads.

Hello?

There's a door, and you want it to lead to Paradise.

Who's there?

 

There's a door, and it leads to Paradise, but you don't know that.

Can you see me?

There's a door, and

and

I'm sorry

i'm so sorry

i can't do this anymore

i can't do this anymore

i'm sorry

i'm so sorry

i can't do this anymore

forgive me

please forgive me

for all i've done

for what i'm about to do

Because I Don't Know What He Does With His Half

Bala

Balan

Balance.

You get out of the theater early.

A spotlight burned out,

and it won't be repaired for at least a week.

You get home two hours before you normally do.

You knock on the door,

get buzzed in by the receptionist,

take the elevator up to your apartment.

It takes you a little while

to find the proper key.

You can hear people talking from inside.

You wonder if there's a party.

Could it be yours?

No, your birthday was two months ago.

Could it be his?

No, his birthday isn't for another two months.

You shove the key into the door

and drag yourself inside.

There he is, sitting on the couch,

kissing some girl you've never seen before.

It takes you mere seconds to understand the scene.

You drop your bags and run,

tears running down your face

nearly as fast

as you run from the wreckage of your heart.

You run and run and run and run

until you can't run anymore.

You run so long and so hard and so fast

that you get to the end of the Earth.

You stand there at the edge,

staring over the brink,

waiting at the place

where the sidewalk ends.

You trip,

you fall,

you tumble.

You wake up.

You look around.

Just a bad dream.

Just a bad nightmare.

Just a bad memory.

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.

Balance.

You're being interviewed for a job.

You're not in it for the money,

but for the experience.

The interviewer is a short man with a bushy beard

and a dimpled smile.

He looks like he'd be a nice guy to work with.

While you're waiting,

a man dressed in rags and Mardi Gras beads

enters the room.

He's muttering to himself.

Something about aliens or demons or -

or something.

He gets called in first,

since they're going by alphabetical order.

He's only in there for about ten minutes,

and then you get called in.

Over the course of an hour,

you feel like you've impressed the interviewer

with your extensive resume

and interesting personal skills.

Your great shining smile seems like it encourages him,

and he smiles back.

You really feel like you've got this interview down pat.

When all's said and done, you leave the building,

thinking you'll get the job.

After all, there are only a few applicants,

and you're pretty confident in yourself.

Eventually you receive a letter in the mail with the news.

No, you didn't get the job.

Guess who did?

A friend of mine is here to type for me because I can't. Not after what Cheshire did. He just let me go when he was done with me, and I don't know why. I think he's done something to me. I keep throwing up every time I try to eat something, and my hair is falling out. Luckily my friends have been with me through thick and thin and it doesn't matter to them as long as they can help, and Sierra and Mab don't care about appearance as long as I love them and take care of them. Which I try. I've tried ever since I got them. But I just don't think I can do that anymore. I can't give them away. They're too young, and Sierra still hasn't recovered completely. It's not that I can't afford them anymore, but I'm scared that Cheshire will hurt them like he's hurt me. Or worse. He could hurt me so much worse, but he's saving his anger. "Six left," he said. So if a finger was one, and a hand was two, what's three? Four? Five? What happens at zero? I'm not a cat. I only have one life.

There's something I need to confess.

Kathleen Schrödinger isn't my real name. When I became an actress I took up a pseudonym that was more interesting than who I really was. I figured nobody would want to cast Emma-Sofia Mondegreen. But that doesn't matter now, does it? I won't be acting again any time soon.

I'll be back up to snuff soon. I hope.

Being a Tale of Danger and Fear Involving the Evasion of a Very Slender Man

Herpin'

anna derpin'.

Balance.

You're on a camping trip.

You're all sitting around a campfire,

at midnight,

roasting s'mores

and telling ghost stories.

Then you step up,

and you volunteer to tell the tale

of Cap'n Gorehook,

the ghost pirate.

And it goes a little something like -

but then a terrible roar comes from the forest.

A sound like a cannon shot rips apart your ears.

Arrrrrr!

screams a gravelly voice.

Laaaaaand hoooooo!

screams a...

squeakier voice.

And then a squawking parrot

flies in and pecks at the others!

A big man with a matted beard and strange outfit

moving like a whisper,

so silent among the pine needles,

walks into your circle

and starts digging up the fire,

looking for something underground.

Eventually he finds a huge chest,

that he opens and inside

are coins.

The whole time,

your campfire mates are just watching,

giggling,

whispering,

but then the pirate screams at them,

and they all run -

but not you.

You walk up to the pirate

and high-five him.

You take one of the coins,

unwrap it

and pop it into your mouth -

delicious chocolate.

And you giggle

and he chuckles,

and all the others

are hiding under the beds

in the RV.

Schrödinger

 nononononono NO!

I'm sinking like a stone in the sea

I'm burning like a bridge for your body

Where strange things and shenanigans happen.

R.I.P.

to all who we have lost.

Balance.

You're at a magic show.

The magician is a new one,

but he looks like he'll put on a promising show.

You settle down in your seat,

quietly eating your cotton candy.

He gestures wildly.

He says some silly magic words

and waves his hat in the air,

and guess what shows up?

A huge elephant takes the stage,

and he's riding on top of it!

Applause fills the air.

Then,

he calls for a volunteer from the audience.

No one raises their hand.

Suddenly he lifts his arm

and points right at you.

You stand up quickly.

He hands you a huge basket.

You open it.

There's nothing inside.

He snaps his fingers,

claps three times,

waves his hands over the basket,

and says some more magic words.

Suddenly, it begins shuddering.

You hear something shrieking,

coming from inside it.

The man opens it again,

and out fly a dozen pure, snow-white doves.

They flutter around you,

and for a moment you look up into the air

waiting for them to fly away - 

but they don't.

They perch on your head, your arms,

anywhere they can reach.

They love you.

They know you're a kind person.

That you're a friend

to all.

Love you all, people.

but not myself

Today I don't feel like doing anything

I just wanna lay in my bed

Altum videtur

Fly away, little birdie,

fly far into the sky!

Balance.

They're everywhere.

Dead rats.

Mauled,

as if by a dog.
 

But I know who did this.

It's him.

Cheshire.

These -

these cuts

they can only be from his sword.

The sword in his cane.

The one he used to

to

well, you know.

Every day,

another dead rat,

eviscerated,

disemboweled,

at my doorstep.

I thought it was Sierra or Mab at first -

they are cats, after all.

But the consistency and the nature of their injuries...

He has no remorse.

Cheshire was sweet when I knew him,

when he was still Lewis Jacobs Lyman.

When he was still my Jack.

Jack wouldn't do this.

Jack would try to nurse them back to health,

no matter how bad they looked.

Jack would have given them a proper funeral,

and I would have been right by his side.

I'm scared, yes.

But I'm also strong.

I don't have to let fear consume me.

Into the gala, now's the time

We're ready and we look divine

It's simple. You need something delivered, but are being stalked by... You-Know-Who. We are good at Running and like money. Elementary, my dear Watson~!

Teehee!

Teeho!

Balance.

 You're at the post office,

on Valentine's Day.

There's a young man

sitting on a bench,

just outside.

You sit next to him.

Beautiful day, huh?

you say.

No response.

You have a Valentine?

you ask.

Did,

he says.

He coughs. A tear runs down his cheek.

Left a week ago.

You smile.

You take his hand and smile for all you're worth.

You miss her, huh?

 you say.

No. Him.

You're taken aback,

but only for a moment.

You smile all the more.

You pat him on the back

and give him a short,

tight hug.

You wait,

patiently.

Eventually he smiles.

You've cheered him up.

Thank you,

he says.

You hand him the box of chocolates

that you had just gotten in the mail.

You don't need to be a mind-reader to see

he needs it more than you.

Schrödinger

i can't remember

And if I were a tree growing tall and green

All I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves

play the part be the part play the part be the partplay the part be the part play the part be the partplay the part be the part play the part be the part

Flawk-sin...

flocksy...

How do you say that?

Balance.

Your first production.

You're a minor character,

almost an extra.

The director is a naturally angry man.

He won't stop yelling at you.

He won't stop harassing you.

You can't take it.

You crack.

You yell back at him.

He fires you, sure,

but you stood up for yourself.

You walk out with your head held high and your back straight.

You walk out yourself.

You walk out

proud.

Schrödinger

tall and proud, tall and proud

That was quite a show, very entertaining

But it's over now

Helping you help yourself

Let those who worship evil's might

beware my love -

my glorious light!

Balance.

You're walking down a street,

on a hot summer's day.

Joggers run by.

Cyclists race their triathlons.

And you

are taking in the sun.

But then

you hear a scream.

A man's scream,

gurgling and horrible.

It's coming from that alleyway.

You rush in.

A police officer is on the ground,

and an angry-looking man

is standing over him 

with a knife.

The man runs away before you can get to him,

but you make it to the dying officer.

You whip out your phone and dial 911.

You grasp his hand,

telling him it'll be alright.

You can't know,

of course,

but you can hope,

and you can pray,

and you can believe.

The ambulance arrives.

They pick him up.

They take him to the hospital.

It takes weeks

but eventually you get a call.

Asking you out to dinner.

Someone wants to repay a debt.

You go.

There,

waiting,

is the police officer.

He looks great.

Full of life.

And smiling.

That's the true reward,

his smile.

Schrödinger

i'm so confused

I was gonna be rich, no matter how much it cost

And I was gonna win no matter how much I'd lost

A place where I talk about music and random life stuff. :D

Marching all around,

marching up and down.

Balance.

You're at opening night.

The opening number is ending.

Your heart is pounding.

You're about to go on stage

when you're hit

with a wave of fear.

You can't go on!

You'll embarrass yourself!

You'll damage your reputation!

You'll lose all your friends!

Oh, dear, oh, dear,

oh, dear.

What will you do?

But the song comes to an end.

You have two choices:

fight

or flight.

With the knowledge

that at least you'll have tried,

you go on.

You begin your solo.

You have shut your own ears,

hoping beyond hope

that you won't have to hear yourself.

That nobody else will.

But when you finish that first song,

when you open your eyes

and look out at the crowd,

they're not cringing

or booing.

They're applauding.

They're standing.

They're cheering.

And all you can think is,

How did I get here?

K.S.
nonononononono

If it fell over, would it make a sound?

And if it did, would it be the sound that you like? 

Sursum corda et surgam

Watching,

waiting,

wondering.

Balance.

I see him there.

He follows me.

Cheshire will not go away.

He knows I'm afraid.

He knows I don't want him to hurt me.

But what he doesn't know

is that I have the power

to overcome fear.

I know he's going to try again tomorrow,

or maybe even later today.

But this time,

I'm ready.

He won't hurt me.

I have Sierra.

I have Mab.

I have you.

And as much as I'd hate to hurt him,

I also have a can of pepper spray

and a taser.

Hopefully,

it won't come to that.

I don't believe in such things as lost causes.

They may exist,

but I don't believe in them.

I have a story.

One day,

a reporter is visiting Albert Einstein's home.

She notices that,

over the doorway,

there is an upturned horseshoe.

But surely you don't believe in luck, do you?

she asks.

Of course not,

scoffs Einstein.

Then why do you have a horseshoe on your doorway?

presses the reporter.

Because it works whether you believe it or not,

he says.

You may not believe

that there is good in everyone.

Cheshire may not believe

that he can lose.

He may not believe

that with my friends

I can beat him.

He may not believe

that I can draw a circle

and take him in.

But that doesn't matter.

Because I can.

Stamp on the ground, jump, jump, jump, jump

Move it all around, jumpin' all around

Rome's ashes mix with those unwilling to fight back.

Teetering,

tottering,

and...

Balance.

You're in the park.

To your right,

hundreds upon thousands of trees.

To your left,

hundreds upon thousands of people.

But there is one person,

a tattered,

worn-out,

poor man laying on a bench.

You walk up to him.

He waves you away,

but you won't go.

Why are you lying on that bench?

you ask.

Got nothing better to do,

 he says.

You try to pull him onto his feet,

but he struggles and wrenches free.

He doesn't want to live a happy life.

He just wants to be left alone,

on his bench,

to die.

But you won't have that.

Eventually,

you get him up.

You show him the beauty of the park.

You remind him of the glory of life.

You finally manage

to bring a smile to his face.

He spits it all out.

He tells you his story.

He confesses to all his sins.

He takes credit for all his triumphs.

He smiles.

He laughs.

He thanks you.

And he goes off into the day,

happy,

with the will to live again.

//SCHRÖDINGER 

i think

Look into my eyes, and it's easy to see
One and one make two, two and one make three