RyanKenward.com
- and now you know!

To be great is to be misunderstood.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you die you’re completely happy and your soul somewhere lives on. I’m not afraid of dying. Total peace after death, becoming someone else is the best hope I’ve got.
- Kurt Cobain

Written 2 March 2006

And if this ship goes down I’m riding it to the ocean floor.  I’ll write a novel of the obvious and title it something clever, like the trials and tribulations of life inside your mind.  As the pages turn the words will burn into the back of your eyes and stick with you and haunt you yet; you won’t even realize what they mean or why they are powerful – you’ll just be beat into submission.  The story goes like any other with obvious developments along the way but the subplot is a dark and twisting tale involving a multifaceted layer of emotions and actions.  The hole in the roof is getting bigger and the rain keeps falling on my head as the hour grows late and I’m staring at the walls again.  The perfectly preserved memories crystalized into a tangible manifestation of a time not so far away, just lingering on the tips of your fingers like it had never really left.   Night lost its edge when we walked hand in hand through the intimidating shadows of architectural wonders, those are the nights that will always be with me.

Written 1 March 2006
The Great Gatsby – as I would have written the ending

And so Gatsby and Daisy went off into the world hand in hand.  He remembered the first summer day he saw Daisy’s beautiful face and then the day he fell in love with her.  His dream he had fought so hard to attain had now come true.  He knew that the perilous journey that nearly had destroyed him was now over and well worth the risk.  Gatsby believed in the love he had for her, that filled his heart with joy.  Though we did not see it, he was happiest when he was alone with her and nothing could ever compare – but alas, we know it all now.   So time will pass, and challenges will come and go regardless; the bond that’s been forged no man nor thing could ever undo.

I need to find creativity again.


His eyes rapidly scanned the black and white checkered board behind the safety of the dark colored sun glasses. “Check mate” he said coolly with a faint smirk, “good game.”  His opponent looking rather defeated held out his hand in approval of his defeat, quietly rose to his feet and gave pause for only a moment before quietly stepping away into oblivion.  The victorious chess player grimaced as he drank from his cup and brooded over his seemingly all too simple yet eloquent victory.  “The victory isn’t sweet anymore and neither is the taste of wine, the air does not fill my lungs with satisfaction nor does my heart pump any more love for this wretched place.”  He continued to think over his situation for a moment longer before abruptly rising.  He gave a final rushed glance about the room and fluidyly took the blue pill down with another swig of ale – “Check mate” he said grinning to himself.  His body writhed and convulsed for only a moment before hitting the ground like a meteor falling from space.  “A champion of what?” – the final thought to echo in his mind and stretching outward beyond the vast grip of infinity.


thus my life rose and fell before i could even realize what was happening, any greatness ever held by me for even a milisecond has evaporated into nothingness leaving not a single remnant of it ever existing. my mind is decaying and no longer is so maliable, nor capable of the things it once was. and so it goes, full circle – from nothing to nothing. the only thing i ever wanted to be was normal, and happy – in pursuance of the world’s declaration of normalcy i lost myself. in hindsight i wonder if it was worth it or if i ever had a chance at all.
oh sleep, why can’t you hold me in your clutches and never let go?


It’s just another ordinary hot July night as just another ordinary twenty something year old young man sits beneath the artificial glow of lights far above him, brooding over the things he’s done and left undone. He sits deeply entranced as one sometimes will when they reach some sort of epiphany or greater level of thought that can only be brought about by such a limited amount of stimuli, in this particular case many come into play. He thinks about his regrets, all the things he did wrong, all the times he’s been inconsiderate, all the times he said the wrong thing, all the times he hurt her and takes it all in as if nursing the wounds to some ferocious boxing match gone horribly awry. He thinks about his sadness and loneliness, the feeling of being over a thousand miles away from home – whatever home is, perhaps nothing more than where she is and how the only thing he could ever dream of or have hopes for would be of that moment it somehow all comes together and he is standing in her presence. He battles his doubt, his crippling doubt – the doubt that he’ll ever see her again.

Two familiar faces walk by as he sits alone, they wonder what he’s doing and why he’s there to which he skillfully and altogether far too mechanically responds with the forced grin and forced tone that nothing in particular is going on, perhaps he’ll meet them later. This answer seems to suffice and again, nothing but the glow of the lights above and the clouded over moon hanging far off in the distance to keep him company.
Memories flicker through the deep recesses of his mind, echoes of laughter and of words – eerie, to say the least – perhaps to some varying degree haunting or tormenting. He can almost feel her in his arms; see her sitting with him staring back into his eyes with the most gorgeous blue eyes to ever come into this world. The nearly audible warm and comforting laughter of himself and of her, together harmoniously, for however long now infinitely looping serving as either constant joyous remembrance or eternal torture – so deafening the noise. A kiss, a hug, a loving smile – as if just moments had passed since those days yet he is consciously and painfully aware of the time now gone as an older reflection of himself blankly stares back from the puddle nearby.
And then there were words. Not hers but his, an infinite roar of syllables crashing into each other in a most anarchic fashion. Spinning in his mind are the words, the chaos, the uncertainty of what to say, and how to say it – when to say it, how to say it. The pendulum swings back and forth and time moves on, yet he still sits… brooding, a broken remembrance of something once much better – as he battles himself to try to find some way to bring it all together.
The mind’s eye still sharp and ever vigilant incapable of seeing any other way, it sees the truth. It sees and he knows everything that he is – and its everything opposite of what she thinks. His heart beats steadily, a comforting pulse speaking proudly with an unconditional infallible love. It aches, and it yearns… there must be some way. Mind, heart and body all in complete synchronization in what they know they need.
Lastly, there’s the void. The dark emptiness that is the source of all of this… that place torn from him when he cast aside his armour to let her in. Voids are rather complex instances of nature, of a bond broken but not lost – held in place by love – a love that does not falter, one that stands steadfast in what it believes. It’s that belief that keeps it all from being sucked into the void itself, causing complete annihilation to another foolish soul. The belief that he can. Furthermore, the knowledge of the fact that he can. He remembers. He loves. He fights. He lives. He dreams. He breathes. He is everything he was, and nothing that he was – rising up, he stands vivified. He holds out an empty hand and she does not appear to take it… no, not a dream – this is reality. She is there and he is here, and there’s over a thousand miles in between. He thinks again of the words she says, that hurt him so much and she doesn’t even see… echoing again – you don,t care about anyone but yourself, I’m not interested in you, I don’t care, I don’t love you.  I don’t want to see you.  Its a pain that would get to anyone but deep inside, beyond it all a faint voice quietly still says I love you, I always have. This above all is gives him strength, by no means is he weak, by no means does he want to be a burden, by no means is he wrong for her. He knows that he was made for her and she was made for him but mistakes were made. In lieu of all that which has come before, he knows there is still hope for as long as the words can be heard faintly in his mind he will never give up. He will see her again, he will make her smile again, he knows who he is and he knows who she thinks he is… he knows in time, all of this will change and he knows he will hear those words again someday. He closes them up and keeps them close to his heart, looking one last time blankly at the moon he turns sharply and heads down a faintly lit corridor, turns into a door and is gone. He’s just an ordinary twenty something year old man with dreams he must fulfill.


sound off the sirens, calling all guards
an analog compendium of unabridged white noise
fade out, fade out – hear the quiet shout
dastardly catastrophe bringing down the walls
see it crumble, see it crash and look the other way
monotone, monotonous, weary winded requiem
ignoble recluse’ introspective monologue
falling rain – mind numbing pain, quiet demise come
smile and turn away, smile and turn away
no one knows just why things became this way
all alone staring off into the storm a sigh
oh what a fool i am. look, look – oh lost dream



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