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Below are the 9 most recent journal entries recorded in Todd Ross' LiveJournal:

Tuesday, September 24th, 2002
7:29 pm
~~Just to know me~~
If you could see me truly when there was nothing but me to see.
If you could look on my face, braces shining in the moonlight, and it was only me.
Not beautiful and not ugly but simply me.
And I knew not that you glanceed my way. Only that I am there.
My face in awe of the night and the sound of a lonely jet that passes in the distance pinned to the black sky like a brooch.
Dressed darkly in the night yet undressed to you.
Would it be my sould that you see or would it be me?
So often have I seen from some distance my face like this, deep in thought and simmering in the darkest starlit night.
Wandering in a dense cloud, a figure you cannot be sure is me.
Dressed like a robed monk of old following some dark trail through my mind.
And you stop and peer closely at me. "Is it he? He looks so different floating there so absorbed in his thought. I have seen him not this way before."
"That abyss of dark that shrouds his face among his hooded robe. Is it only in my mind that I see him this way?"
"His soul exposed naked in my arms like life itself in its beginning."
And your eyes caress me warm but there is a fear that you hide. There is something different about me tonight that you see or is it something that you seek.
Yet I ask nothing more than you know my soul so that I am yours in my nakedness.
Stood silently beneath the fogged streetlamp. I could have been anyone tonight you thought. "But oddly enough it is you."
Tuesday, September 10th, 2002
6:44 pm
Dark
The thunder clattered above my head, I could hear it distinctly.
I saw you.
I knew when your automobile stopped and you frantically tried to make it go again.
I knew when the first rain drops hit your coat.
I felt your fear of the dark night, the blowing trees and the brilliant lightning and its impending thunder.
I willed you here to my home. There was nowhere else you said to yourself. Just the dark lonely looking house at the end of the road.
You almost laughed to yourself as you saw how you had wound up in this haunted movie through no choice of your own. It almost fascinated you.
I heard the stones as they ground under your feet. I could smell you. You had the fragrance of a young man not unlike myself in appearance.
The cold rain clinging to the roses at my arch drenched you as you opened the gate. You stopped and shuttered. Then you proceeded up the ancient concrete walk to my door.
You didn't notice how dark and huge my abode was until you looked up again and it loomed in front of you.
I opened the door for you.
You stopped. You tipped your head to the side to see if there was a light but there was none.
I heard the wooden porch creak andI felt the excitement of you entering into my home. It took my breath away.
I had just awakened as the sun had dropped in the night sky and there you stood in my parlor. You stood silent as you centered yourself on the red rug in the middle of the room. You wondered why the room was lit with candles.
This was a quaint place you thought.
I watched you remove your coat and warm yourself by my roaring fire.
"Hello?" You called.
I did not answer.
I stood just behind you in the shadows.
Your pale boyish figure made me cling to my own youth. It was so long ago but my body said otherwise. Though I was old I appeared as you did, youthful and full of life and yet full of death.
"Welcome!" I said.
You turned with a start.
"I'm sorry. Did I frighten you?" I asked.
I feasted on the rays of light from your eyes that devoured my vision.
You froze as I glided towards you never seeming to take a step.
"You are cold and tired." I said.
You stepped back as far as you could against the roaring fire.
Was it my pallor that worried you?
I moved to meet you. Intimately close I stood before you.
Why would you be afraid? Afraid of one as beautiful as I?
You did not move and I placed my teeth against your neck and I drank.
Almost instantly I could feel the pallor drain from my face as you slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor on the red carpet.
I had willed you there. You were mine this night and the thunder exploded and my laughter echoed throughout the house.
Now you will be with me here always. I am your maker. I am the monster god that made you.
Thursday, September 5th, 2002
8:55 pm
Golly Gee
I wish I was more into writing right now. That last one came out kind of ~AAAAAaakkk huh?

I didn't really intend for it to be so..., well you know....
But I was reading a journal in here that made me think of love. Of course when you think of love you also sometimes think of love lost. There in lies my problem. I started thinking how happy I was for him which made me wish I was that happy. Not that I was jealous, just contemplative.
Having someone walk away from you when you are still so much in love with them must make one hope that they at least take part of you with them. To hold and keep in a warm spot.
You lay awake at night and think of them and you wonder if they are thinking of you. You miss them so and there is such a blinding silence all around.
Every place you used to go haunts you now. Songs you used to love together, now hurt your ears.
Seeing others happy in love only makes you sad.
I remember when I fell in love once. It wasn't long ago. It was my first time. I felt almost ill to realize that I needed this person so. The pit of my stomach hurt and I was so afraid that I would blow it. But I didn't. It lasted a good long while, until one night I saw my love with someone else. That was the night that I learned what they meant when they used the words broken heart.
Not only did my heart break but it felt as if my love took part of it away. There was an emptiness that is still there if I allow myself to feel for it.
And I always wonder, does my love ever think of me? Miss me?
8:29 pm
Your Half
If love should break my heart
Then let it break in two
So you can have one half
And I can have it too
*
So if we should ever meet again
And time should change your mind
You could take the half that's mine
And let them begin to twine
*
But if our paths shall never cross
I will remember you
The one who has the other half
Perhaps I won't be so blue.
*
And when I feel this broken heart
Beating in my chest
I'll know the other half
Is warm against your breast.
*
I know you'll never throw it away
I know it will always be there
Beating there inside of you
Even though it has a tear.
*
When I lay very still at night
I can hear the other half
It's beating very strong again
I can almost hear your laugh.
*
It was such a sweet melodic sound
Until that fateful day
You broke my heart in two my love
And took your half away.
~Ross
Thursday, August 29th, 2002
6:00 pm
I didn't know
It was never told
That boys were not to cry.
I never knew what a fuss I'd make
If I did anything more than sigh.
*
"Look at Ross." I heard them say
"He's really taking it bad.
"I've never seen him shed a tear,
I've never seen him sad.
*
I put my face down in my hands
What did they expect me to do?
My Father is gone this day from the earth
These tears are overdue.
*
"A smile is always on his face
He always jokes with me."
"He's sobbing now and we're all here
By his side shouldn't we be?"
*
But no one came to comfort me
They were all afraid
To see this boy so sad today
To see his bright smile fade.
*
I listened to them whisper
I waited for a word
Or even to feel a hand on my back
But it was all absurd.
~
When the funeral was over
And all were gone
I sat there all alone
*
Something had changed
in the tempo of life
I knew my cover was blown.
*
For all the friends I had at school
None had seen me cry
And when they saw me next at school
My eyes they'd see were dry.
*
Around me they'd come again to play
No mention of yesterday
And when I'd say where were you that day
All would shy away.
*
Why didn't you come and hold my hand?
Why didn't you talk to me?
Was it tears on the face of a happy boy
You couldn't stand to see?
*
I've know you all for years, with all our fears
But on this terrible day
You could not come and sit by me
Must I hide my tears away?
*
It was hard I know to see me cry
I'm always such a happy guy
But when I needed you all the most
Couldn't you even try.
*
~ By Michael
*
~I'd like to say that I wrote this little poem but to be truthful I didn't.
It was written by a very special friend the day after my dad's funeral. He brought it to me on a deserted baseball field after school. I was sitting on the bleachers just looking out over the field. I didn't even see him coming until he was right there next to me. He didn't say anything. He sat next to me on the bench and handed me this little crumpled up piece of paper. On it was this poem.
I read it silently and I felt a few huge tears fall on my knees. I raised my head and looked at him and he was crying too. He was like me, a happy fun guy to be around. He said, "Turn it over."
When I did there were the signatures of every friend I had at school. It was nice to know that they all knew how difficult it was for me but the greater thing was realizing how difficult it was for them.
We had all laughed and joked and partied together all through school. None of us had ever thought that the other might have a lonely moment, a tearful day.... we were to busy having fun.
It is a stark realization that in our world of teenage fun there are still all the emotions we were born with. Those we had never explored. Those we were afraid to see.
To all those friends and all those of you who understand this even remotely, I want to say, I will always be by your side if I ever see a tear.
Tuesday, August 27th, 2002
12:07 pm
Waiting for him
The rain seemed to envelope him as he walked across the street.
It was mid-afternoon but darker than she could remember.
She watched this boy as he came to her.
She sat warm in the small cafe but already she could feel him. His hands wet but warm on hers.
He was far yet. But she could know his smile as if it was close to her. She waited.
He looked so clumsy as he dodged the cars and stepped wide over the puddles. He was coming to her. And the rain poured.
She could smell his scent mixed with the wet woolen coat he wore.
She could feel his lips on hers. He was a handsome boy.
She could hear his vioice greet her though he had not spoken a word.
Still he came.
Splashing, walking briskly in the rain.
Right at the cafe door he came.
And then.......
Then he was gone.
On away from her.
Perhaps it was not him after all.
Perhaps there wasn't a "him" for this young girl. Only hope and imagination.
11:37 am
"The Cutter"
The sand shifted and fell a trillion miles into space.
I looked down.
My foot at the very precipice of time.
Far too close to the edge of this cliff I have come too often.
Heart throbbing in my chest like some beating orb wishing to be free.
I know the danger.
I even know the fear.
Yet nothing stops me from this fate.
I lay the silver blade to my skin and feel its sting.
I draw it toward me, across the many other old scars that have gone before.
Funny how it always stings though.
Each time never learning from the last.
A crimson line appears.
Yes. That's what I wanted.
To hurt me.
Deeper I press.
So that which hurts me from the outside can never compete with the hurt I make.
So many times in my life I have needed pain to mask pain.
So that which I see is never so much as what I make.
It is the only thing I know.
To hurt so bad from within that I notice nothing of the pain from without.
I raise my arms fearless of the vast space before me.
I close my eyes and hear the sand shift again.
One step from falling a trillion miles into space.
Someone save me tonight.
~Todd Ross~ 8~27~02
9:30 am
After an exhausting day at work I stopped for a bite to eat and remembered that I had left my keys at work. It's a small keyring that has the key to the main entrance to the publishing company that I work for on it as well as a key to my file cabinet. I obviously had a second set along with my car keys but I didn't feel comfortable with them sitting on my desk over night.
I am one of those odd people that seems to feel nature all around me regardless of what else I have on my mind. I'm not talking about woodland creatures like squirrels and woodchucks. What I mean is that, especially at night something will always draw my vision up to the night sky if the moon is especially beautiful or the clouds are deepening.
Tonight it was clear though and the moon was low on the eastern horizon. Still there was something. Something that made me feel different about this warm August night. Maybe it was the fragrance on the breeze. It wasn't particularly windy, there was just a light breeze but it carried on it the smell of autumn already, of ferminting leaves being tossed with a generous helping of damp loam.
As I stepped from my car and headed across the empty parking lot it hit me. Something made my stomach roll a little. Although it could have been the Taco that I had for dinner, it was more of a familiar yet distant feeling of some lonliness.
About a year ago I lost my father. He had a sudden heart attack at work. There are three of us boys. I have an older brother 24 and a younger brother, 15. My older brother has been married for about a year and they just had their first child.
On that particular morning, all three of us were home getting ready for work as my dad and mom were having coffee in the kitchen. I heard my dad say he was leaving for work and as usual everyone just sort of passivly acknowledged his departure. That same feeling rolled through my stomach. I figured it was probably the toast that I had crammed down moments before.
Our dad had always been rather close to us as my mom was rather ditzy at times. She usually had every depression and mental departure that she could find in a book and took an arsenal of pills for it.
No one knew that this would be the last goodbye for dad. He was an attorney and seemed in good health. But the word came to me through the telephone. It was my sobbing younger brother who called my work. Dad had been taken to Cedars. He had a massive heart attack and they weren't giving him much of a chance.
As it turned out, he had never made it to the hospital. He died on the way.
The funeral and all was something out of a traditional nightmare. Whether we wished it or not, dozens of good friends and relatives decended on our home with food that was not eaten and conversation that was not heard. A priest had been with my mom upstairs all afternoon. It was more or less left up to us boys to deal with the hoards of loving friends and family.
I had held up rather well as did my older brother. Jeff however was having bouts of tears all through the day. One or the other of us older brothers spent time in a closeness with my little brother that we hadn't seen in several years, talking to him, helping him through this grief.
I wasn't until tonight though that I had felt this whisper in my ear in that empty parking lot. No, not the whisper of a dead man but something so familiar that it reminded me of him so completely. He would say to me, "Ross, can you feel the night? Can you feel that excitement, that change in the air?"
I always could and tonight too. It was like my dad's voice speaking so clearly to me without words but with a feeling that he and I had shared so many times before.
As I placed my spare key in the door and turned the lock, there was a sudden warmth that came over me like a hot breeze.
I stopped. "Dad?" I said very quietly. And almost as if someone had hugged me. I felt a blush come over my face.
Friday, August 23rd, 2002
4:02 pm
Just to start off with.
Hi
My name is Todd.
What I would like to say is that I have had a few classes in high school where the teacher has instructed us how to interpret a given piece of poetry. I think that is the worst thing that a teacher can tell a class. Poetry is only good if (1) it is well written and (2) if the reader is free to see whatever he or she sees in the poem.
We all have childhood memories which are part of how we see life as we grow up. These memories, such as smells of grandma's kitchen at Christmas, the perfume our mothers wore and maybe how dad smelled like the factory where he worked, are all part of how we sense things today.
Sight also plays a big part in how we interpret things we later hear or read. Touch, sounds, they all have a way of bringing out the spice from within us that we flavor our senses with now in our lives.
What I hope to give you is something from me that is so personal that it will be like knowing me forever, and I knowing you.
I am going to give you pieces of my heart. Pieces that I will never ask back from you. They are yours to keep.
~Todd~
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