Untitled 3.

What I did to deserve this/ I don't know/ To wake up to something so beautiful/ There's not much I can say that you don't know/ And words will try to show my heart/ But that's impossible

It's scary too/ 'Cause I know nothing's for certain/ And fate please don't pull this curtain/ I guess I've been April's fool for so long

Voice inside says "I don't deserve you"/ But I would never want to be/ One to unnerve you

I guess I'm trying to keep that stuff inside/ When I see your arms open wide/ I guess I'm saying dear never mind/ And love you never fail me anytime

I guess I had a fear of hope/ And I don't know a thing of miracles/ Undefined and vague and cold/ 'Til you came long and took me/ Places I couldn't reach on my own

My heart and mind like/ Treble, bass in all keys/ Scattered notes/ You make symphonies/ I guess I'm saying you make sense of me/ I guess I'm saying "girl, where have you been?"


Goh Nakamura's Y.T.

Valentine.

It's a strange thing to compare the feel of this day from years back to now.

Down.

I felt the aches that come with it; my chest heavy, but came no tears. I yearned for that release, but I could not be met. Only further festering was to be remained. I cannot seem to find light when I do not know how I became engulfed by the dark.

Cut.

Feeling it necessary to remove myself from the family smog, I stepped into the blood-chilling outside air. I curiously walked over to a normal looking police officer, who was oddly waiting on the sidewalk near the house. Waiting for who or what, I did not know. We had only begun to converse when a brown truck with a tan-striped side went revving by. Skidding the corner down the street, we heard a thunderous crash and a girl screaming in the distance. Without a moment of hesitation, I went sprinting to help whoever could have possibly been hurt. Jumping the hedges, I braked myself in mid-air as I saw the truck immediately in front of me. I collapsed to the hard concrete as if the ground beneath me had been ripped away. The driver leaped out of his truck, lunging toward me. The five-inch blade slid deep into my side. After the painful extraction, I reached to grab the knife in his hand, only for him to stab into the flesh between my thumb and forefinger. Trying to pull back and shield myself, he sliced about my left forearm and hand. The shield bled. I finally took hold of the knife, stabbing into the right side of his abdomen. Cutting severely into his chest, I did not look to see if he got up afterward. I slowly took step after step back to the house. The now seemingly odd police officer was nowhere in sight. I pushed the front door open with whatever strength I had left. Wandering around the family dinner party, I dripped crimson as I called out for my mother.

Waking at 6:27pm.