write about dropping out

kanye already wrote too much about that

if you’re reading this now it means that i’m ... well, dead. there’s no easy way to say it. i’m sorry, this is creepy, but i had to ask my best friend to post this. the thing is (i’m sure you’re wondering) i promise i didn’t drop out of life. it must have been a lethal disease or an accident. because i didn’t even want to want to die (the puddle of mud where people who take their lives stay after death may be cozy and warm but, by now, i’ve learned to give worth to the journey of life and its place in the “big picture”). i’m probably quite mad right now, that i was taken, there was so much hope amongst the pain and so many things i’ve been dreaming to do… it’s not fair. or it is. anyway. i just want to say that i love you. “love” love, i mean. it came slowly and softly and sweet and one day it struck me, i even said it out loud! weird… i confess i was afraid. that was foolish of me, i see that now (only too late). no time to be afraid now, though. i love you deeply, madly, dearly, passionately. i love you like in music and poetry. i love you so much i want you to be happy forever. as long as forever goes. and forever is now, you know… so for what it’s worth, live each day as if it were the last (allow me to be this corny…) live everything to the end, the pain and the pleasure of it. taste it all. believe in love too, the way i do. “love is always real”. use sunscreen just kidding… ok, sunscreen and condoms . remember never to allow this beautiful person you are to be chewed and swallowed (or spit out, for that matter) by this crazy world you still live in. one more moment for a little tale? well, once i was climbing a mountain and, when there were about fifty steps to the top (i wasn’t aware of that), i sat down and gave up. “no, i won’t go further, i’m too tired”. then a friend came and told me “trust me, were almost there, it’s so beautiful up there, it’s worth all the effort”. and he took my hand. and it was amazing, the view from the top. i realize i sat down again this time, fifty steps from the top where you could be. or not. ironic, huh? but i’ll never have time in this life to take my hand and lead me there. so, all i ask of you is this, don’t sit down and give up. you may be only fifty steps away, who knows? you must think i’m cruel to come from the tomb to haunt you with a phantom love. cree-py. i just hope you can forgive me, after all i’m a dead person (sorry, bad joke …) but you’re alive. so go ahead and live!

I know you've given up and given in. Right now it's the only way that you see; right now it's the only choice for you that seems right. You tell yourself so many times you're past it and that this morning will be the one where your vision is no longer peripheral and the future (which I know for a fact is full of opportunities; it always is, for all of us) is all you're going to be able to see, but it never is, isn't it? There's always something on the radio or a picture perhaps a little carelessly left around or a message written in the clouds or love poems etched on the caps of your pens and it seems hopeless again, so hopeless that all you know and all you can do is lash out at anyone or anything that dares bring you back.

I don't understand what to do. I've tried. I thought I was the top student in this class but I'm nothing more than a drop-out; I thought that I could do at least something for you but all I'm destined to do is fail. I hate it. I can't stand seeing you like this because I was you two years ago. I hated and I had those who hated me. I was picked on and laughed at; I had someone tell me once to kill myself. It's not a pretty place to be.

All I can say is that there's a choice - every moment of anger will pull yourself in deeper but every moment you turn away and forget, every moment you occupy yourself with something and simply realize that you don't need her or anyone else - you grab a foothold and raise out and begin the long process of repairing the damages of being broken. You'll learn that there are lessons here in all the pain, and you will be better for them. There's nothing here for you in hatred, though, not even revenge; you gain only lost friendships and learn that even the possibility for closure may have walked you by. I know this but I think that time might be the only teacher and that hard lessons might be the only way to light the right path.

I've tried all I can do, but nothing I am is right in your eyes anymore. I know it, I understand it, and I hate it even though I may condone it a little. I wish I could tell you to stop but the decision will ultimately be yours. You will make it someday, but until then I guess you will do what you must.

a bit long, but I had an idea and ran with it.
===

Snickering, he stared at the toy plane sitting idle on the tarmac. It had been a while since he had a toy to play with. The last time he played, the ground screw took him away kicking and screaming after his motorcycle crashed into a mechanic. It was an accident, he protested. An accident. The mechanic stepped into the path of his 1967 Royal Star Triumph as he was leaving the hangar. He couldn’t stop fast enough. What was he to do? He really could have hurt himself if he hadn’t had stopped. He could have careened into the wall. The mechanic was a jerk, anyways. He deserved it. His story didn’t matter. The grounds crew never cared for his matters.

The motorbike incident happened two months ago, and now, an infusion of glee widened his eyes as his hands approached the plastic aircraft sitting atop the stainless steel table. The door to the hangar opened and he watched the crew chief enter with a swagger and a gritty bravado. Asshole.

“Good morning, Edgar. I hope you’re feeling well today.” He smelled of cheap cologne to hide the subtle traces of grease, oil and engine fluid. What a cheap bastard. “I figured, we could have a discussion today, now that it’s been two months since we’ve last talked.”

Edgar’s hands now cupped the plane. His handcuffs limited him from fully examining the aircraft. He didn’t know what those were about. One of the mechanics put them on him right after he was sedated. He knew he shouldn’t have taken the cup of water from the cute, brunette receptionist. Edgar couldn’t say no, to the pretty face. Cobalt blue eyes and luscious red lips. She made him nervous. Women did that to him, and he didn’t like it.

“I apologize for the circumstances in which we’re meeting, but it’s actually for your safety.” Crew chief safety man’s name eluded him. Call himself Dewsom or something. “The staff and I, you recognize me, right, Dr. Dewsom, the one who’s been trying to help you?” Oh, and he called himself a doctor. How many crew chiefs called themselves doctors?

“Edgar, we want to help you get better, but in order for us to do that, you’re going to have to help us.”

Edgar snickered again. His eyes followed the plane’s movement in the air as he flew the plane with his arms outstretched, awkwardly bound together at the wrists. He envisioned clouds whisping past the windows as he flew. He knew he had a group of jumpers in the back. Fuck helping Dr. Dewsom. Edgar needed to help the parachute team get up to altitude.

“Can’t help you today, chief,” said Edgar, curtly. “I got a crew dropping out on me and I gotta make sure we get up high enough so they can drop out safely.”

Nathan Dewsom didn’t like to engage Edgar Pestorelli in his fantasies, but as his patient only communicated through props, toys and trinkets. The last time, two months ago, Nathan gave Edgar a plastic motorcycle to tinker with as he talked, to get him to provide information about his victims. Only the forearm of this particular victim was found. Enwrapped in the front spokes of a Triumph motorcycle.

“Drop, drop, droppin’ out. See there they go.” Edgar’s green eyes motioned to the floor as if to follow each one out of the plane. “There they go chief. I think it’s pretty cool how they can run out of the back of a plane at 12,000 feet, barreling down below, only with a sack full of nylon on their back.”

“And why are they jumping—“

“Dropping! Drop, drop, dropping out.”

“—Why are they dropping out, Edgar?”

“Putting on a show. Like the flying Elvises.”

“Like them? So they’re not the Flyign Evises?”

“Oh no. These are the flying Jim Morrissons.” Edgar possessed a fixation for the Doors, especially Jim Morrisson. “They’re gonna break, break, break on through, through the other side.”

Nathan jumped back as Edgar leapt upward out of his chair. He writhed and turned, shackled, in an orange jumpsuit. Cautiously, Nathan regained his composure. He didn’t want a repeat of the motorcycle incident, where Edgar stabbed an orderly in the eye.

“So, where are these Jims going to land?”

“I think I over heard them say in a field near the Pine Barrens. Not sure why they wanted to land there. Too many damn fucking trees. They wanted the challenge, one of them said. Bonus points if it was near the creek and shit. Balls out, I say. I just hope they don’t break an arm when they land. An arm’s a terrible thing to lose.”

Nathan turned, horrified at the accurate description of the victim’s body, to the two way mirror and mouthed, “Get that?”

Edgar, meanwhile, swayed in place, still flying the plane through the air. “Drop, drop, dropping-ing-ing ou-ou-OU-OUT.”

===

Several days later Nathan received a call in his office. “Goddamn, Doc,” said officer Jake Wheeden, “Whatever mind shit you do, it works.”

“Thanks, Jake. It’s all a dark art, really.”

“But what I want to know is, how the hell did Eddie know his victim was a professional sky diver?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, we asked the fam a few followup questions. Turns out Susan Keranto was a well known sky diver in the northeast.”

“Hrmph. Interesting.”

“No shit, Nate.”

“Hey, you're Sherlock, not me."

"Well, Watson, I don’t want you mind fucking with me.”

Nate laughed. “Nah, I only do that to people like Edgar.”

“Sure, sure, whatever. Aye. Now, I can hear the prick singing, ‘drop, drop, dropping out.’ Where’d that come from?”

“I have no clue.”

12:20AM, 10/21/05

i just started to shake for no apparent reason. well, i know the reason i just do not want to mention it here. it is not something you really need to know so what would be the point in telling? i am just going to treat this as a journal of sorts. i did not really want to make this post right now but if i do not do it now i might not ever get these thoughts out of my head. not sure if i will use the term dropping out or anything like that but i am going with this anyway.
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i want to run away. i want to escape from everything and everyone. some might say that i want to just run away from my problems but that is really not it (well not 100% it). i cannot go alone because i would get too lonely, probably more lonely than i am at this very moment. so, i need someone to come with. we could run to the bus station and get tickets to some random location and take off, you and i. if we get hungry, we will eat. if we get tired, we will sleep. we can just go explore and try and find ourselves. that is all i really want to find, myself. i used to think that finding a significant other would solve all of my problems. i was happy with everything else in my life except for that one missing piece, her, she, the unknown. now i am beginning to think that i was wrong. they always say that if you really want to find something, stop looking. this seems like good advice at a time such as this.
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anyway, i think that is all i really want to say at this point. i could drag it out and talk more and more about what i am going through but that would be just like playing the same old record over and over.

12:42AM, 10/21/05

what's the matter with you, you've been down all day
what happened to you to make you feel that way
baby ain't that a shame when they call you a name
droppin' out from school, guess it wasn't so cool
everyone, everyone needs, some space, to breathe
all the time, we have been blind, so blind
yeah we just couldn't see it
you're too old to cry, too young to die
what happens in the in-between?
don't you think it's strange, things just change
it's just a burnt out town, a burnt out scene
you've been a dropout ever since you've been seventeen
lonely child, when will you see you need to be free
oftentimes, people they find, they're not blind
yeah they just don't see
lonely child, listen to me
it's just a burnt out town, it's just a one horse scene
gotta get away, gotta get away, you got to
hanging out in the parking lot at the dairy queen
you've been a dropout ever since you've been seventeen
gotta get away, gotta get away, you got to
-nash/king

it’s over, i’m done, i don’t love you, i never did.
you looked at me with your earnest green-blue eyes, lips curled into an innocent smile as
you ducked your head slightly and asked me what was wrong. it was obvious something
was- my nervousness and uncertainty had already spilled over into clenched fists and
rambling apologies and warm, wet tears. i actually shook- as if i had that right- as i
handed you the slip of paper. i’d known that i’d fail to explain myself properly in this
situation, so i’d turned to words to finish the job for me. i slipped it into your shirt
pocket- one last touch- and turned away after doing the deed, almost backing out at the
very last second when i saw you stand there with your puppy-dog look.
puppy-dog- those grow old after a while.
if i was more honest, i’d say i’d known before it even began. that i’d chosen you well in
advance to fill in a gap in my boredom. that i’d sat there on the grass in that circle and
said your name, half in jest to protect myself, then after you worked it out allowed you to
woo me. that i never really did understand the depth of your affection, not even after you
ran after me for one last kiss that first night.
i mistook my feelings for love when they were really just fear that horrible day you had
the accident. i thought it was something deeper those nights sitting by your hospital bed. i
really convinced myself when i had that feeling of terror in my gut as i pictured you lying
there, kidneys failing, heart in arrest. i worked myself up into such a state from crying
that i threw up.
this must be love, i figured. i was younger than i am now. never stopped to question the
lack of a deeper connection. oh, maybe you thought we had one; probably from under my
eyelashes i made it appear so. never intentionally.
you got better and my fear subsided. i didn’t need to worry that my hugs would hurt you
anymore, even though you always said they never did. one day we were walking down
the hill with my friend the ex- you know the type. you always feel something for them, no
matter how buried. more than i did for the one whose hand held mine, if i’m honest. you
held out my ring finger and made some grand, fleeting proclomation. i saw that future
flash before my eyes like a death sentence. i knew then as i’d always known, since that
day in the classroom when i picked you out, that i’d never let it go that far. i hope i didn’t
let you think it would. i’m too picky, you see. i know better now what i didn’t know then.
i know what not to mistake for love.
i hoped to not break your heart when i dropped out, but better that than maintain the lie-
that i told you as we kissed goodbye that morning, knowing i was going to end it later
that day- ‘i love you’ (liar, liar, pants on fire). it was you or me, see, not you and me.

When the bottom drops out of your world
Don't think you're falling, know you're flying

I really like that. Is it original or a quote?

It's original, thank you for appreciating it.