Life worth living

It's amazing to see people complain about how their life ought to be, so caught in creating a perfect reality. Too busy trying to fill empty purses, people are mistaking blessings for curses. Well let me give you a little glimpse into me: I've been blessed with a broken body, mind, and even a broken family. Now I know these words are shocking to hear, but they are words I hold dear. It's the brokenness of life that makes us whole, refined through fire I've strengthened my soul. Through trials and tribulations, despite stumbling over temptations, I've begun the retaliation. The push back against the norm and breaking out against the traditional form. I do this because I refuse to sit back and accept that the tragedies of life are all that is left. Why do we resign ourselves to such solitude when all it takes is a bit off graceful fortitude? It won't solve itself with strength or force, but with a calm attitude and ability to stay the course. Things get rough but that's life, filled with times I strife. But here's the secret, it's also full of love, love from others here and above. It's a simple statement that isn't made enough because we are so caught with collecting better stuff, friends, money, toys, chasing after girls and boys. I've done this all too, I've said it before, but I know there is much more to live for. Life is so vast and grand, the idea that people miss out on it because of a few bad spots is something I can't understand. It all gets to feel a bit much and the weight is crippling, but that's the thing. It seems cruel and unfair and sometimes it feels like no one really cares. So we go on trying to fill that whole with stuff, instead of stepping aside and letting in Gods love. I don't mean to be preachy but it's something that life has shown me. It's nice to know that no matter how I feel I'm never alone and He can make anyplace feel like home.

Fleeting Feelings

This one goes out to the dreamers and innovators, the people who aren't content to sit back and wait for later. This one is for the people who chased after what they wanted and by the haters and critics they were never daunted. It's not easy to go for your dreams especially when everyone only tries to put you down, "you'll never make it as a band/writer/actor stop acting like a clown" To those people I offer a simple gesture, a middle finger so large you'll never enjoy the same sick pleasure. That twisted feeling you get because you've made yourself "superior" while make others feel inferior. And you've done this for no better reason than you're a colossal idiot, to afraid of your failures to even admit it. So while you sit in the shallow end of self-pity others are enjoying the bright lights and big city. All because we dared to dream of things you couldn't and because the act of giving up is something we wouldn't. Because when you find out what your passionate about it doesn't matter what the others are trying to figure out. To break from conformity is seen as this tragic abnormality, but aren't the philosophizers and inventors that were called stupid in their own time the same people we hold up now as those of a genius mind? So enjoy your 9-5 dead-end cubicle job and try to put as down, even though we are already so high off the ground. So this one goes out to the writers and musicians just trying to make it, the people working 2 jobs just to play a bit. Those who call them lazy slackers have no idea the dedication it takes when you have no backers. You have yourself and a handful of friends who you would take with you to the ends. Forget all the haters, they only exist to prove you matter and it's up to you to rise above the mindless chatter. These haters no mater how bold or loud only prove one thing...what you're doing is a beautiful thing. Few have the courage to simple go for it and become something much more than normal society will permit. You're one of the lucky ones to break free of the mold, now let's keep that going till we're old. Don't let them take what's yours, fight for your dreams and you'll find those open doors.

Mirrored Fears

Most days I wake up feeling OK and things seem a bit clearer, other days I wake up and can't even face myself in the mirror because I find it impossible to face my reflection. It's a cold and callous recollection of all of my imperfections. Suddenly, it's not me I'm looking at anymore, but some horrid apparition I've never seen before. It's the manifestation of the things I've never been man enough to face, so I push them down into a dark, dark place hoping I never see them again but they always come back to the surface. I turn away from the mirror, out of sight out of mind, thinking that if I leave the mirror, I can leave the demons behind. I know that's a lie their in my head whispering deceit, breaking my psyche down until I admit defeat. It's a problem that can't just be ignored, but it's not easy to get rid of the things you've abhorred. The cracks and breaks in your ego are hard to cover up, especially when you're already broken and beaten up. Sometimes I just don't feel like picking up the pieces because the constant torment and voices never ceases. "You'll never be good enough, you'll never amount to anything" skips on repeat in my head until it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. The worst part is the words never come from outside influences, but always internal circumstances. Self-hate and self-loathing begin to define who I am and who I'll be, clouding my eyes and distorting everything I see. Before I know it the world is cynical and cold, I don't even want to live long enough to be old. I'd rather crash and burn at 22 then live a life hating every single thing that I do. These words and lines pale in comparison to what others write and I'll never be able to do anything right. I claw and pound on the walls inside my mind, trying to find a scrap of decency that I can hide behind. God forbid I let people see the demons hiding in my body because who could ever love someone so gaudy? All of this tension is building inside of me though because I have no way to vent or let it show. So I write these poems and stories in hopes to gain some glory. A vain and shallow hope that maybe if I expose my flaws people will give me some sort of faint applause. 'Oh my, you're so brave and strong to put yourself out there, tell me why do you think that talent is so rare?' It's not. I'm not some mythical hero pulling off the impossible, I'm just a broken idiot trying to make something out of the illogical. A simple guy trying to pull together the wreckage of himself to possibly make it into oneself. Trying to banish the demons from his head and replace them with something more gentle instead. I'm trying to create a reflection I can finally bear, instead of avoiding my own blank stare.

Beaten Down

Tonight things will be short and concise, I figured a change of pace might be nice. I have a tendency to just type and type, even knowing no one really reads what I write. I find myself in a creative exhaustion from all of this cathartic expulsion. It feels great to write away the stress, but if I push to hard I won't be giving you my best. I want to make points and challenge you to think with my words, but all that dreaming is for the birds. Maybe people just to don't take a blog seriously, or maybe I am just rambling on deliriously. Sometimes we all just need a break from reality, but these writings give me a break from insanity. Time to sit down and collect my random thoughts and try to untie these stomach knots. Believe or not, it's not always easy to write about you terrible you've been or the horrible things you've done way back when. So I'll continue on with cleansing my soul, and hope what's left is still whole.

Silence

There are somethings I just can't figure out, like why are there problems we never talk about? Thousands of kids contemplate suicide and harbor fears and thoughts that never subside. If this is some so prevalent then why does no one ever talk about it? I know the pain and loneliness but I have no idea how to deal with this. It seems so easy to tell someone to get over it, it gets better, but what do you say to them when they're writing that letter? That final good bye written on paper and ink, in hopes to leave a permanent mark before they're gone in a blink. We ignore the sign posts and warnings till it's already to late and we begin the mourning. Why have we lost another poor soul? I tried to help, but I couldn't fathom the hole, the hole inside their heart that could never be filled, not with all of his tears or blood that's been spilled. Slit wrists and empty bottles seem impossible to imagine, but to that kid in crisis it's a reality that seems bound to happen. All because we ignore them, push them to the side, and for what reason? Selfish pride? Are we too proud to admit that some people have problems? Or are we too stubborn to sit down and solve them? We are so quick to send them to a doctor and get a nice little prescription, but before we know it that kid has a nice little addiction. We don't treat the problems, only a symptom, cured through pills and appointments in hopes someone else can solve them. We focus on getting kids to face their bullies and issues in hopes they can forgive them, but what these kids need is to forgive themselves. I know that's what I needed more than anything, a chance to absolve myself of everything. Now I still struggle sometimes with these thoughts and feelings, but I don't find myself so often reeling. I'll admit as confident as I come off, I feel ashamed, useless, and worthless like is life really worth all this? I've never thought about how I'd do myself in or go out, but it's just something I've thought a lot about. Don't be scared you'll find me on top of a building, I'm picking up the pieces of my life and rebuilding. I know I'll never have the strongest foundation and I don't use as much support as a should, but I'm building a life that I know will be good. I don't fear that my walls will ever come down, but I do fear that it's still happening all around. Kids have no one to talk to who's felt a similar way, so they bottle it up and shove it down every day. I use my writing to pour out these emotions, but not everyone has these notions. There's no way for them to release until they are laid in peace. I guess what I'm saying is we need to take care of the real problem at hand and let them know there is something better planned.

Tiny Voices

Sometimes I lay in bed at night and hear the chatter of little voices, it might sound annoying at first but I've found it drowns out the other noises. I guess it sounds slightly crazy that I'm plagued by these voices but I don't see what the other choice is. They are there to stay whether I like or not because as sad as it seems sometimes they're all I got. I know it's all just me up inside of my head, but it's nice to pretend it's someone else instead. I haven't given them bodies or faces, or imagined they are from far away places. They are just the little voices in my imagination, they have no need for past destinations. You see, you can't talk to just anybody with some of life's problems, so it helps to have a personal proxy to help solve them. Blur the lines between fantasy and reality and you've now opened up a different world to see. But be careful this world isn't often nice it can break you down piece by piece. It's a darker reality in this middle world, but it really is a wonder to see. Maybe that's just me and how I have perceived, this dark little world might be different to others who have it conceived. So maybe for you the contrast is stark, but I guess my imagination is a tainted a bit dark. Sometimes I get caught up in my head, and simply wonder what would happen if I were dead. It's not out of self-loathing or hate, but out of a morbid curiosity that stirs this debate. Would there be sorrow and crying? Or would it be full of people with epitaphs and lying? Sure, I might be a bit too cynical here, but this is just my fear. I might be missed for a bit by a few, but I don't think the church will be lining the pews. However; I'm not really afraid of not being missed, now what I really have begun to fear is this. I'm scared I'll be the last to die, the only one left in a world of lies. I'd have no one to ground me in reality, and remind me who I'm supposed to be. I'm afraid I'll be consumed by the noises and be permanently trapped in a world full of voices. Those tiny little voices that talk and chatter about everything that never mattered.

Simply Said

I'm going to be honest I find it hard to write sometimes, my mind is just crammed full of lines lines lines. It's hard to make headway inside my own head. It'll only be quiet when I'm finally dead. I can't even imagine what goes on up there, full of creatures and wonders so incredibly rare. Some think it's easy to just come up with these rhymes and to those people I say why don't you try it a few times. It's not just a trick that I can turn on and off, and if you think it is then just bugger off. I go insane sometimes trying to sit here and write, I'm pretty sure I'm not totally all right. I hear the buzzing of words throughout my brain and I think that's what's driving me insane. It never stops, just keeps rambling on and on and on and I think I should just move on, you get the point, there's no sense in going over that joint. I'm sure you understand why I'm a bit of an odd person so there's no need to go on and on and on. Try to imagine a balloon if you can and now imagine it starting to expand. Now when almost full until it's about to pop, start cramming it full of things right up to the top. That's what it is like inside my imagination and why I write with no hesitation. It's a rush to get things out first, before that precariously packed balloon bursts. So sometimes may seem dark or scary, but don't worry friend, things aren't that hairy. It's just that there's so many thoughts and dreams and hopes I want to share with you all and that means I'm going to have to tear down this wall. This wall of impenetrability and began to show my own vulnerability. Creating a world of words and phrases to show you all of my life's different phases, the good, the bad, and the why do I still remember this, I guess it is time I show everyone what it all is. No more hiding, no more fear, it's time to show you everything my dear. Everything about who I am and who I've been, but I must warn you once we start, we can't go back again.