I will tell you the reasons

Why Derek is my best friend.

In the midst of mass disapproval of my most cherished relationship, my best friend stuck by my side. My best friend was happy for me. My best friend understood what Nathan really meant to me. My best friend wanted what was best for me, and not for himself.

During that time, my best friend embraced how this relationship had changed me greatly and even was interested in discussing those changes with me.

My best friend and I have had our differences, but having you back in my life once again, brought us closer together than ever before. With a different appreciation for who we were as individuals, as well as the true uniqueness that we shared as friends.

My best friend gives me the worst birthday cards ever.

We swim in caves during thunderstorms and eat fruitsnacks in peculiar natural wonders. We drink tequila because we truly love it, and walk barefoot outside on the pavement in January.

When we were young, but not too long ago, we created a world together. That world still exists today and has grown into something that would have been out of our comprehensions back then. That world still waits for you, and always will, when you're ready.

I put explosives in your birthday cake to tell you how much I love you.

My best friend and I are snobs and reciting that fact makes us grin.

My best friend and I, will conquer this world.

Derek, you know I can never say enough.

Your friend,
Christine

Nathan

Nathan is one of the most incredible people that most will never truly come to know. He's incredibly reserved and figures it best to keep himself that way, but I wish I could explain. I really wish I could tell you why he is so beautiful.

Arrogance is inherent...

Honesty is harder to come by.

"Arrogant" is a term that is slung around so loosely these days. I say "these days" more out of cliche and digestible reading more than anything else. In the grand scheme of things, one can only speculate.

But that is significant isn't it? "The Grand Scheme of Things." It seems to hold a lot more weight when I place it in quotes and capitalize it.

So, what sort of capitalization do you make in your life? Markers of identity, if you will. How do you feel when I say, "I am an artist." VS "I am an Artist." ? I personally feel that the capitalization is incredibly unnecessary, yet so many seem to insist that I resort to it... given their own personal labels. There is a distinction. Labels are unavoidable. I won't waste my time talking about it.

Would it be arrogant of me to make that claim? No. Why? Who would deny it? I've expressed an explicit interest and an undeniable ability. This trait is commonly accepted and acknowledged by many. Although the term encompasses so much more, I meet the minimum requirements. This isn't really the point of my blog, but please, as a public service announcement: CHOOSE YOUR WORDS WISELY. It becomes incredibly offensive to those who have dedicated their person(s) to the idea. This goes for many other ideas and identities as well.

At any rate, I'm not really interested in getting caught up in this. It's just something that aggravates me on nearly a daily basis... that among so much more.

But honesty... honesty is what I'm truly interested in discussing, or rather putting out there for people to think about. How honest are you with yourself? And more importantly... "How do you know?"

"Because I know." Is not acceptable this time. (It hardly ever is.)

There is a method in gauging one's personal honesty. I don't mean what you tell others, but what you're really thinking when you're bragging about yourself. Do you really believe it? If you do, then why feel the need to express it? It should be obvious. I mean, if it's worth bragging about right? Perhaps not always. Maybe you're with a close friend... all of us like to talk about ourselves occasionally (I should know) without it being... well, arrogant.

*sighs* This is so difficult to express fully and properly...

At any rate, we all should know that we exist on 3 planes:
1. Our inner plane, how we feel and perceive ourselves.
2. Our middle plane, how people close to us "know" us.
3. Our outer plane, viewing from a distance. What would someone say browsing around on your facebook or seeing your appearance or perhaps just knowing what you do for a living.

Coincidentally, the second 2 have sooooo much to do with the first. Is it worth everything? No. But it certainly is worth a lot more than people give it credit for.

You have your inner thoughts, your inner feelings. You tell yourself "other people just really don't understand me for who I really am." Or "There is so much more to me than I let on." But I beg you this question: Are you certain??

I mean, why haven't they seen these things? Action and thought are two entirely different things and in the end, it's action that means so much more. Will the people in your life (especially those close to you) attest to these traits? Their opinion on who you are means a lot more than people would probably prefer. I say this because that would mean we would have to accept that we're not as awesome as we think we are, and that our lives are bleak, and overall, we're just not that special... for the most part. So, how do people become great? That's the beauty of it. The accept themselves for who they are and realize, it's not who they always have to be until that becomes a part of themselves.

Most of us measure our own personal self worth based on perceived potential, which is just a load of crap. If I can do anything, then why haven't I? Why am I not better? Potential has everything to do with what you would realistically do (which involves so many factors to list) and not with what you THINK you can do.

I just want others to consider the person next to them. You think you're special. You think or "know" (if I must really say it that way) you think differently. You will make a difference. And you know what, I believe you when you say those things... you know why... because I feel that way about myself. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because there are so many things that I don't say, that I can't express. But I find so often that when people think this way about themselves, they have an excessively difficult time accepting it about others.

Some of the most brilliant people I know, are piss-poor at expressing themselves. They think/feel on a level that's difficult to perceive, and even more difficult to comprehend.

Oh, there is so much more that I want to say. So much I want to say on a regular basis.

What I struggle with the most is not giving into the temptation of shattering the illusions that people paint for themselves. Ironic really. I paint/create fantasy... yet I posses the ability to shatter another's. How do I know this... it's not like I haven't done it... many times before. What results, is incredible. I have plenty to attest to it. People whom I've created a bond with that will tell you exactly why, Christine Karamol is not arrogant, she is honest.

However, there must be a level of trust and patience that one must be able to accept and the person needs to be open to change. If not, then I will never tell you what I'm thinking. Not even a little bit. I will smile. I will add to your statements making it seem like I have a basic understanding (but not as deep as yours) of what it is you're speaking of. But what I possess is too potent. Dangerous. I love too much to unleash it when the timing is not right. Besides, if I did, that contradicts the point somewhat hm? It's not my place most of the time anyway. There are bigger giants to contend with who usually do a much better job.

Ask yourself, living in a glass jar your whole life, how do you know the glass isn't tinted?

Alunae Short Story

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Due to this little box thing being stupid, the text did not copy the way I originally intended the font to appear, so italics and things of that creative nature are no longer present and I am too lazy to go back and change them... despite the fact that they are very essential to the way I want readers to read my work. C'est la vie. Welcome to the day in the life of the Alunae palace. This does not occur in the novel, but within the context of the story... make sense? If not, go away and please do not read this. You'll hurt yourself.

Lenoir's Shirt

It was late in the evening in the Alunae palace. Moments like these were hard to come by. It was peaceful, quiet. Somehow, Evelyn had managed to make it to bed before midnight.
She sighed, nearly in disbelief, at this hallowed event as she nestled down to a work of her favorite fiction. Reaching outward for her glass of water just placed within arm's reach, she had been thinking about how good she was going to feel from the quality rest she was about to experience, that is until she heard a knock on her chamber doors.
She peered over to the doorway vehemently, hoping that if she ignored whomever was standing outside long enough, would simply leave, if not to respect the hard working, most likely sleeping, Empress of Alunae then to leave purely out of impatience. No such thing must have been heard of in the Empire of Alunae these days, as the intruder of the peace persisted in their knocking.
Sighing once again, only this time in disdain, she didn't bother to remove herself from her bed.
"Who is it?" She asked, irritated.
An all-too-familiar voice responded, "It is I, your Majesty, Luc Lenoir."
For Luc, this was entirely not out of character thus removing what little concern Evelyn may have had before she heard his voice.
"What is it that you want?" She questioned, still not getting out of bed.
"Your Majesty! It is an emergency!"
At this, her expression shifted, appearing more concerned. She quickly got out of bed and tied her robe while approaching the door.
"An emergency?" She said as she gently opened the large chamber doors.
Luc pushed past her into her room with his arms up in the air. Evelyn shot a glare at her guards for allowing him to slip by so carelessly without her permission but said nothing and closed the door.
"Someone has stolen my shirt!"
Evelyn grabbed the spectacles off her face and aggressively rubbed her forehead, "Luc... that is not-"
He interrupted her, "I know, I know... you must be thinking, 'Luc, that is hardly an emergency...' "
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Her tone heavy in condescension.
"But you are wrong!" He continued, "For you see it is not just any shirt, but a fine, golden, silk shirt that I had custom tailored and received only but yesterday!"
Evelyn made her way back over to her bed, not hesitating to get back under the covers, "What do you want me to do about it?"
"Well, I know precisely who did it...." Luc came over to Evelyn's bedside and stood just in a way where the light from one of her candles would be blocked by his body only to be unblocked once again whenever he shifted. Thus, elevating her frustration level even further.
"...And?" She stared at him apathetically.
"It was Durkin! I want you to arrest him!" He exclaimed passionately and plopped on the end of the Empress' bed.
Evelyn shook her head in disbelief, "First of all, how do you know it was Durkin? Secondly, even if it were Durkin, I am not going to arrest him for supposedly stealing your shirt. Why would he want any of your shirts anyway?"
"Because he is a thief and is jealous of me! Is it not a crime to steal your Majesty?" His eyes seemed so profoundly round at that moment.
"So, those are your grounds for accusing Durkin? Luc, I sincerely hope that someday you realize how absurd this is and how self-centered you are for thinking it was a valid reason to interrupt my evening." Evelyn pulled the covers over her head and turned to her side that was facing away from the pestilence that was currently Luc Lenoir.
Luc appeared to feel a bit of remorse, but it became soon apparent that was not the case, "Those were not the only grounds! He was in my chambers earlier today discussing it. He was aptly admiring my shirt's beauty as it was hanging from my wardrobe. Then, I went to take care of a quick matter and when I returned, it was gone! As was that thief Durkin!"
"Luc..." Evelyn began from under the covers.
"Yes your Majesty?" Luc responded, hopeful. He was certain that the Empress would understand where he was coming from now and would not allow such a misdeed to go unpunished.
"Go away."

***

The next morning Evelyn awoke not feeling as rejuvenated as she had hoped. However, she had risen earlier than she had anticipated due to going to bed earlier than anticipated. So she had decided to make her way down to the kitchen, the only place that was likely to have anyone awake at this hour.
"Good morning my dear Empress!" It was not who she had expected, but none to her surprise standing in front of her was Durkin, clad in a shirt that didn't seem to fit his particular sensibilities.
"What do you think of my new shirt?" He questioned cheerily.
Evelyn looked Durkin up and down and let out a small laugh before responding, "Oh, it's just lovely!"
Evelyn looked around the kitchen, "I wasn't expecting to see you in here. Where's Rodger?"
"I gave him the morning off." Durkin smiled in a way that suggested an ulterior motive.
Evelyn began warming a kettle over the stove, "Oh did you now? I didn't realize that the head of palace security had such abilities..."
"More like I said I would cover for him this morning. I do love cooking and I rarely get to do it these days."
She looked at the shirt one more time, "Cooking in such a fine shirt hm? Better be careful."
"You needn't worry! I am the embodiment of cleanliness!" His arms outstretched now holding a spatula he was about to cook with.
"I'm sure." If it hadn't been so early, she would have been laughing.
She shook her head and grabbed a teacup from one of the cupboards.
"What are you doing?" Durkin snapped.
"I was just getting a cup for my tea..."
"Not in my kitchen!" Durkin snatched the cup from her hands, "Now you get out and wait in the dining hall. I will bring you your tea and your breakfast shortly."
Evelyn's eyes opened wide, somewhat surprised, but secretly it just amused her all the more. So, she followed Master Chef Durkin's orders and sat in the dining hall only to find a deflated Luc, already seated, his head buried in his arms on the table.
"Luc!" Evelyn began.
He let out a long, sorrowful sigh, his head still buried, "Good morning your Majesty."
"You're up early." She took a seat next to him.
He lifted his head, somberly, "I couldn't sleep."
"This isn't about that shirt is it?"
"Yes. It is about that shirt but obviously I will be receiving no sympathy or assistance in the matter since you do not care." He was marvelously pathetic.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, "Oh Luc, of course I care."
His expression lifted almost immediately.
"In fact, I care so much that the very mention of the incident brings far too much agony to my very soul. You probably shouldn't talk about it anymore."
Luc's eyelids sunk, glaring at his beloved Empress with every ounce of his person.
She smiled, "Honestly Luc, I'm sure it will turn up at some point."
"You are suggesting that I misplaced it, well, I am telling you that I did not!"
"That's quite enough."
At this Luc became incredibly discouraged and stood up.
"Where are you going? Aren't you staying for breakfast?" She asked, anticipating what would be a hilarious confrontation."
"No. I cannot eat at a time like this." He began heading towards the door.
"Oh, for the love of the Goddess Luc!"

***

Later on that day Evelyn was down at the stables just getting back from a leisure ride on her horse Aaleyah.
"Oh! Your Majesty!" Durkin appeared from around the corner the way where he would make it seem like fancy coincidence, but, it never was.
"Durkin." She observed that he was still wearing that golden shirt from earlier. He looked stupid in it.
"Still wearing Luc's shirt I see?" She handed her reigns to the stable boy.
"Luc's shirt?" He was doing a poor job of lying.
Evelyn smiled wearily in his direction while taking the brush from the stable boy's hand, "Yes, Luc's shirt!"
"Do you think that Mister Lenoir is the only one around here to possess such exquisite tastes?" He looked down at himself fully realizing how ridiculous he looked and began laughing.
"There you have it." She began brushing out her horse's mane, "Are you going to give it back?"
"Give what back?"
She paused and stared back at him.
"...yes, of course. I just wanted to get him worked up for a minute or two."
She resumed what she was doing, "Well, just do it sooner than later. He's driving me nuts and I have a feeling that his productivity will be even worse than usual."
"Well, we certainly don't want that now do we?"
"I'm surprised you haven't run into him yet, seeing as how he is convinced that you are the one who stole it."
Durkin's jaw fell open, "What nerve! He thinks I would do such a thing? Lenoir is more perceptive than I initially gave him credit for."
After a brief pause he continued, "Yes, I'm surprised that I haven't run into him either. I've been attempting to all day now. Quite frankly, I'm rather disappointed."
Evelyn shook her head and laughed, "I'm disappointed it didn't happen at breakfast. He was in there moping just before you came in with my tea."
"That close, huh?"
"Yes, I would have loved to have seen it. Alas, good fortune is not on my side today."
"Well, you're Majesty, it's been pleasant, but I must be off." He flashed his standard Durkin grin.
"Where are you off to?"
"Oh, I promised the Captain I would help clean up the mess from last night's fight in the barracks."
"Fight in the barracks? What did you do?"
Durkin stopped in his tracks and turned around, "Why would you assume it was me, Empress Evelyn?"
"Hm, why else would you help Jonathan clean up a mess from a fight that you had no hand in? Or are you really that intent on dirtying that shirt there?"
He looked down to the shirt, "Well, if it's the shirt you're fretting over, no worries! I can't say the same for that poor chap's face though."
"What? What happened to who's face?"
"Have a pleasant afternoon, your Majesty." Durkin waved with his back turned, walking away from Evelyn.

***

"Oh, Adeline, can you please tell me something?"
"What is it Master Luc?"
"Why is it that I think that when I return to my wardrobe my shirt will just appear?" Luc was leaning against his wardrobe, the doors still closed and his head pressed to the back of his hand.
She looked confused, "I... I don't quite know..."
"Because I am crazy! That must be it! Tell no one Adeline! Do not speak of how the great Luc Lenoir has officially gone mad. No! Actually, it is up to you to tell the world of this horrible crime. I will be a martyr for all injustices done onto men such as myself, with no one to stand up for them... so it is that they can see the horrific outcome."
Just as his servant was about to respond, Luc opened his wardrobe, only to find his golden shirt, in plain sight. Perfectly pressed, and just as he left it, it prevented Adeline to comment.
"What is this? Is it true? My shirt? It has been here the whole time? But... but I looked here!" Luc exclaimed rather loudly.
"What's with all the noise?" Durkin slung through one of Luc's windows.
"Durkin!" Luc responded, instantly annoyed.
"What right do you have to come in here like that? Have you no respect for other people and their privacy?" He continued.
"Of course I do Lenoir, but when I heard the yelling as I was doing my rounds, I felt it was my duty to come and investigate. I am the head of palace security you see." Durkin was standing right next to Luc now. He reached out and touched the sleeve of Luc's shirt that Luc had been holding out in front of him, "Oh, I see you found your shirt. That would explain the excitement."
"What are you doing? You filthy peasant boy! Do not touch my shirt! You'll soil it!" Luc sneered at Durkin, pulling the shirt away aggressively.
"Mister Lenoir! I am a patient man, but I'm finding my patience running thin with your inexplicable animosity towards me. How have I wronged you, so as I can seek the most appropriate way to correct it?" Durkin held his palms towards the ceiling.
"Those are some big words coming from you but there is nothing you can do. You are beneath me. Accept it. That is just the way things are. Now please leave." Luc waved his hand, motioning for Durkin to leave.
Durkin let out a heavy sigh, "I also hear that you thought I stole your shirt. Now, I'm not of noble blood, such as yourself, for I am but a mere, poor orphaned boy and I may not know much about these sorts of things, but where I'm from... which isn't saying much, people don't hold grudges for crimes that they know the person did not commit."
Luc hesitated before responding, "That is not true."
"No, it's not. But, can't you find pity in your heart and know that I only wish to serve your best interests Master Lenoir?" Durkin went down on one knee and bowed his head.
Luc squinted down at Durkin, who was on the floor before him. He continued standing there, mulling over what Durkin had said, "Alright. Alright! Fine! Get up!"
"Thank you, Master Lenoir." Durkin stood and placed his hand on Luc's shoulder.
"You are most welcome Durkin, now please leave."
Durkin smiled then exited back out the window.

***

"Good morning your Majesty!" Luc beamed, strutting down the hallway.
"Good morning Luc." Evelyn looked Luc up and down and smiled.
"What do you think?" He motioned to his newest outfit, complete with the golden, silk shirt.
"It's remarkable, truly." She responded softly.
"What is even more remarkable, your Majesty is that this shirt that I had been searching for this whole time was in my wardrobe! It is the strangest thing really." He followed by her side with a nice spring in his step.
"And do you know what I find even more remarkable than that even?"
He looked back at her with his glimmering, hazel eyes.
"That I actually prefer that shirt on Durkin."
Evelyn continued down the hall while Luc remained, his arms dead at his sides.

What I will miss...

The cool descent into death,
the lingering breaths of life, fading... sweetly, and with flawless transition.

A trigger,
A stimulus,
Electrifies the air.
One last celebration before the end.

I will miss you my darling. But we will meet again.