The Mind of "M" by M.J. Garrett (good story books to read .txt) 📕

for as long as I can remember." She smiled from the thought and politely offered me a seat at the table below the painting. Her proper attitude and perfectly spoken English put an ease in the dimly lit café. "Why have you come here? You have been warned to stay away…but yet you choose not to be forgotten?" She smiled at me as she lifted her small cup of tea with her skinny vein covered hand. Her silver hair was perfectly placed in a bun on the back of her head, but her voice and eyes displayed a great amount of displeasure. "She isn't here," she said. "She has chosen to forget the unforgettable…maybe it would be wise for you to do the same." She again softly smiled as she lifted her tea cup to her lips.

"I leave tomorrow" I told her.

"And yet…you find time to wonder the rainy streets of the city? Who are you hoping to find? Are you searching for the love that's forsaken you and your friendship for the arms of security and a name worth living for? Leave her, I beg of you. Let her find the happiness you seek. Let her forget." She lifts her cup to her lips and looks at him.

"You aren't quite as charitable with advice as I thought you would be."

"Charity has no place in a conversation full of inevitable heartbreak."

"I think I'll have a coffee to go" I told her as she gracefully got up from the table and walked toward the kitchen. "One thing that I admire about you is your honesty. I'm willing to bet that it's the sophisticated doubt and snide comments that win people over the first time they meet you. I see that not much has changed in this town."
She stopped walking and politely turned around to face me. "You have also failed to change. Your belief in fairytales and happily-ever-after have clouded your mind when looking at reality. The reality is, if you must know, is that she no longer lives here and your idea of chasing ghost has worn you and your wallet thin. Why don't you give up? Know that what you had was special, but it's over. Be happy for her and find peace in the fact that you didn't take her away from her destiny. With that, I'll retrieve your coffee, sir." She gracefully turned away again and headed to the kitchen.

As I waited for my coffee, the husband of the woman came to fetch my coat and luggage. "Your coat, sir" he said. He was dressed in a brown suit and his wrinkled face smiled as if to say everything was okay.

"No thank you. I won't be staying long."

"It's not her you seek, is it? It's the reason that has you wondering. Son, there are no reasons. Cling to hope. If it is love you seek then it might be where you least expect it. Stop looking so hard and enjoy the rain." He slowly walked away, leaving me there covered in my wet coat.

The old lady quietly returned to the table. She carried with her a tray holding two small coffee cups and a fresh pot of coffee. "You'll have to excuse my husband. He has become quite nostalgic in his old age. It seems that he has taken a liking to you. He says that your blind hope and tenacity remind him of himself when he was younger. It is adorable to watch him remember. I see you still have your coat…are you not staying long?"

"No. I have a long night before my train leaves in the morning."

"In the morning?" she quickly asked. "Why not catch a taxi to the station across town. There is a train that leaves tonight and you could easily make it. With the weather the way it is, it would be easy to lose track of time as well as the possibility of losing power in these old buildings."

"Thank you for your concern, but I think I'll take my chances. Besides, I have a lot of walking to do." She quickly walked away and headed back toward the kitchen. The old man slowly poked his head from inside the corner office. His awkward smile and hopeful eyes somehow tell me that I've made the right decision. Sipping the last bit of coffee, I gathered my soaked luggage and quietly walked toward the door. The bells once again filled the quiet room as the rain began to soak my jacket and hat.
As I stood there collecting rain, I turned to look back at the café. The little old man and his wife watched from the window as I smiled and walked away.

"He's just like you, you know? He still has your dream filled eyes and your strong will. I just hope he finds me when I get off the train tomorrow."

"You don't have to worry. If I know me, then I'll be waiting for you when you step off. You see, Darling, that's what fairytales are made of."

As I walked away, they watched me. They hugged in a happy embrace. Maybe they understood….maybe not. All I can say is that I better not miss my train


I keep counting.

Count slowly. One…two...three…make each breath a calming breath that sooths the very life out of all emotion. Four…five…six…as each raw bit of anger is out thought by the smooth calm counting…seven…eight…nine…ten. Now that is much better. I'm so glad I didn't allow myself the joy of being human. For a second there I thought that the side of me that holds memories locked away was about to get the best of me. I feel so much better now. I feel so…..lifeless. It's a shame that everyone else doesn't have the ability to be civil and responsible. While you all yell in anger at unruly children and cry at the thought of being unloved, I count. One number at a time…I unleash the calm over me as if hardened by time and experience that comes only in living for thousands of years. You are easily angered by betrayal and your pale face cannot hide the fear you have over never being loved. How do you cope with such emotion? How is it that you are allowed to curse the very face you kiss and yet you are considered sinless? Mere mortals have harnessed the power of god in ways that I can only imagine. You cry when you are hurt. You yell when you are angered. You laugh when you are amused. How is it that I am the one who is not allowed to be angry? How is it that I'm unable to cry or curse the face I kiss? One…two…three…four…I count. Each breath a calming breath that sooths the very life out of all emotion. Five…six…seven….I am still counting. Eight…nine…ten.


Final thoughts!

Dear God, I know you don't remember me
I'm the one that said I'd serve you continuously
I'd do anything that you wanted me to,
But it seems things change…I got better things to do
But I'm on my knees now because things are fucked
Up is down and left is up
I'm so confused by the signs you've been sending me
Maybe it's not you…Maybe I'm seeing the worst of me
Who knows if these thoughts are even real
Anger and rage with the a thirst to kill
I hope you don't allow me to get the best of me
Impressionable souls find a way to follow me
I don't want to be the one to lead them astray
But I don't mind being the fucking blame today
The way I figure it, you ain't even listening
You abandon people all the time…just look at your history!
Why is it that you never look for me?
I needed you too and you weren't there for me
I don't get how you could be so selfish
You got all the power but I'm the one who has to work for this
Why am I the one that has to talk to you?
Say something! You ain't got shit to do
But sit up there and seem so honored
Acting like a fucking Pre-Madonna!
"Serve me, pray to me, do what I want"
I'm tired of this shit, find me God!
Do you even know where to look?
I can tell you this…I won't be in the "good book".
Holler at me when you get the time
Until then….I'll dry my own eyes.


Blury

These emotions I find crystallized
Immortalized in my mind
Are the only thing that keeps me
Crucified between the lines
Of what I want and what I like
What I need and what I fight.
Trying to find the balance
I play the thoughts through my head
Circumstances that should be dead
Are the only thing that keeps my bed
From being the coffin that I want
From the fear of the thought
That one day I'll lay beside you
The one who never died
And she'll tell me I was wrong
I should have never belonged
To the one thing that keeps me sane
This nullifying grasp of pain
That I tell myself to embrace
The thought, the feel,
That look upon your face
As I find away to stay awake
To push away the dreams I make
Only to find that these white lies
Grip me by my weary mind
And takes me on a frantic ride
Until it's you that brings me back
To a place where I can't vent
And all I do is stare at the wall.


Chameleon

I could hear the beads of water drip off my nose and chin. They land in the clogged dirty sink filled with bloody water, stains of lime and soap residue, and a bloody yellow screwdriver. Filthy by any standards, my forearms rest on both sides of the sink as my face hovers over the water. With each breath I feel the warm recoiled air on my face and neck. I stare at the pale pink reflection of a man I don't recognize looking back at me from the water. I lift my head to view myself in the dirty mirror. The cracked stained mirror reflects my tired face and shirtless tattooed arms and torso. Blood and dirt with lines of sweat and water run down my chest and stomach as they quickly move in and out while I try to catch my breath. My dog tags flicker the poor lighting off of the mirror and walls. Where am I? Whose blood is this? Why am I so dirty? These questions race through my head as my watery bloodshot eyes dart back and forth, trying to take in and recognize my unfamiliar surroundings. The small restroom has been tagged up by people bored while sitting on the toilet. "Call this number for a good time….." "'So and so' is a fag!" Not to mention the barrage of tasteless hand drawn pornography by less than talented artist. The room smells of piss and everything