Dreaming

I’ve been someone before. People knew my name and I was important.

In the shadow of the night people raged against the darkness screaming my name. Loving my face and the presence of me stilled their fears. I was a hero. I was a villain. I was evil, and I was god, but then I was dead.

I was a killer. I was a savior. I sought my darkest fantasies, and I learned how to cure cancer.

I became successful. I lost my soul. I was homeless, and found the meaning of life is not in possessions.

I ran never tiring, and at other times, I ran and didn’t move.

I’ve lost my mind screaming into the night. Yelling for someone; anyone to take the pain so I could not end it all. I’ve lost my mind hollering the name of the love of my life; praising the joy I’ve finally.

In the end I was always dreaming.

Fading Imaginations

If you don’t get imagination as a child you probably never will. – Dr. Seuss

Did you ever run into the wild with just your imagination? As a kid it’s how I always played. A stick could be sword, bow, or a bazooka. Foes and enemies appeared before my eyes, and I bested my greatest challengers. I often recall these memories with fondness, and think to a car passing by I was just a kid tumbling and running around for no reason. My imagination was strong back then. The lost of imagination is one of the greatest tragedies. Because we stop believing we can beat the things that haunt us. Our belief in ‘good triumphs over evil’ is squashed in the harsh reality that is life. As a kid you believe paper wings can make you fly, or pieces of junk can be turned into a time machine. Where does our imagination go?

Reality takes it when a hero dies. Reality takes it when the darkness of this world is greater than the light. Reality takes it when you have to get a job. Reality takes it when those paper wings fail and the time machine never comes to life. Adult imagination isn’t nearly as powerfully as a child’s. It has to be nurtured the older you get because the truths become too real. Turning a blind eye to facts becomes harder. Some might say you can’t live in a fantasy world, but why not? Maybe people wouldn’t be so cruel, depressed, stressed, or cold if they just opened their mind up more. Not open to new ideas necessarily, but just to the power of the mind’s eye. Be willing to stare nonsense in the face, and accept what it has to offer.

I think back to those times in the woods, my front yard, at the lake, running around my house; all the places I explored my imagination, and I miss that time of being lost in my mind. Worries were few, and joy was great. I think I will take a weekend sometime soon and wander into the woods. Pick up a stick and fight my foes. Engage my imagination because it is something I don’t want to lose. The world is too real and harsh of a place not to get lost in a fantasy world once in awhile.

A Poem About a Monster

(Strong Language and graphic)

It’s a cold silence that fills this room.

One that seeps inside my soul

With a weight no mortal should assume,

But it effortlessly swallows me whole.

I sit in the darkness of my mind and cry.

For a life that is as true as a lie.

I’m not happy. I’m not okay,

But round and round this game I play.

Don’t give a fuck. Hold back a care.

Look at all the people who aren’t there.

But that is the lie. People are there.

I’m the one who doesn’t care.

A piece of living breathing shit.

That’s compiled of corn, meat, and spit.

When I walk around, I leave this stinking trail.

Sucking sounds as each foot lifts.

Always growing quieter, as I turn tail.

Hoping no one ever catches a whiff.

For I’m the bullshit monster.

Soggy with piss instead of covered with fur.

I haunt those close to me.

Fucking up their lives and who they want me to be.

I write stuff so people will see,

I’m self-loathing, please feel bad for me.

This fecal line I craftily spin,

Is just another way my victims let me in.

I’m the bullshit monster.

Be careful how close you wander.

Man Before You

We all need a friend, but some are always needy. – Robert Joseph

You look in the eyes of the person in the front of you,

He looks back into yours too.

You feel lost and like your all alone,

This man, too, seems to be on his own.

You ask him, “Why love never seems to stay.”

He doesn’t respond just miserably looks away.

You tell him you feel misery and pain,

When all your strength for love is in vain.

Still no answer.

Tears show in his lonely blue eyes,

Like he lost the star shining in his night sky.

You tell him a girl causes you pain tonight,

How, for some stupid reason, without her nothing seems right.

The tears in his eyes push out,

Is this, too, what his pain is about?

You take a deep breath and again begin to speak,

“She made me feel so strong, but now so weak.

Do you know what it’s like to have no hope with a girl like this?”

You know he does when whiteness fills both his fists,

And one lonely tear rolls down his face.

His eyes look lost and empty as space.

The tears just begin streaming from his eyes,

You realize you, too, have started to cry.

You try to comfort him and yourself,

You say, “If we become friends maybe it won’t hurt worse than anything else.”

He bitterly and doubtfully laughs about what was just said,

You, too, feel great doubt in your head.

You now realize the man that stands before you,

Is just a mirror, a reflection you wish wasn’t true,

Because the man in the mirror is you.

This is Breaking Down

I want to write something to change my own life. Nothing I’ve written has been for anyone else. I want praise. I want meaning. I want someone to notice me. I want some one to say I’ve been there. To say they understand what it’s like to be like me. Its all about I, My, Mine, and Me. I’m a selfish asshole who wants people to care, but doesn’t have time to care about anyone else. I want to say here, “I wasn’t always this person”, but that is a lie. Was I ever nice for anyone but me? Was God ever real or just a vise? Did I care only when it mattered to me? Convenience. A show. A fake. Me.

I’m a pretender. A type of person I shit on without realizing that person is me. I can blame life, people, circumstance, or fate; but in the end I’m to blame. I don’t finish anything, I just exist. I hate existing. Life isn’t suppose to be hard. It’s not suppose to be complicated. Everyone else does it, but I fuck it up. My whole life I’ve been waiting for something big, but never doing anything big. I’ve lost touch with so many people, and I only see how it effects me. Because I’m a selfish piece of shit.

Megan, the first girl I obsessed over. Is it where I fucked up? Obsession not confidence? A shy introvert who thinks having morals actually matters. A fucking loser who couldn’t talk to girls. I fucking hate that guy. I hate him, but now I’m this man. Fucking broken. A wreck. Not some wreck you can’t turn away from, but one that has been there so long you don’t even notice it anymore. Just junk on the side of the road.

What do I need? Maybe a new question.

For all who read this. Never become me.

Reaching

I play this game when there is something I desperately want. I look the other way. I try to pretend it doesn’t exist. I focus on anything I can to not think about the thing I want. I do this because when I want something, I obsess over it, and before long whatever I wanted is gone. It fades away out of reach, and my life is back to being just me.

This can’t be a feeling mutually exclusive to me. I know there must be others who find when they focus on a desire it disappears, but what is the solution. Never truly care about anything? Feign engaging? Wouldn’t that just lead to more loneliness. If you are anything like me, the loneliness reaches a point where it is not bearable. Humans need connections. My soul is wired to want the connections that want me the least. In that moment, when I try to focus on anything else, everything, but the thing I want, becomes joyless; tasteless; meaningless; just not enough. The people in my life notice, but their cries for my attention go ignored.

I never said I was a good person. In fact, I would venture to say I’m a terrible person to those that love me. The exception was always Einstein. Even when I was reaching for the one thing I wanted, I never lost sight of him, but his story is still not one I am ready to write. This is about reaching. About desire. I think some people, like myself, are wired with such an intense wanting that there is no solution. We are the ones cursed to worry about wanting anything because it means such an intense loss that our own minds cannot begin to fathom. How does one become so attached so quickly. I have no words of wisdom or encouragement. This was just to see if there is others like me, and to let others know there is people like them.

If you are lost in a crowd, you are not alone. – Robert Joseph

Making A Difference

What life have you touched today? In what small way did it matter. – The tiny man

We can go through life as a spectator. Never participating and just enjoying the acts of others. Some would say it may even be best. You can watch as good deeds go unnoticed, or good intentions have dire consequences that were never imagined. As a spectator though, you are safe from such things. Your only job is to watch and wonder. It is safe,

But in that safety comes a heavy price. When you watch others struggle, you do not struggle, but you’ll never know what it is to overcome an adversity with someone. To be that hand that pulls them through and shows them there is still decency in the world, and when you are the one calling out for decency, you will be glad there is a hand reaching out. Struggle also gives us the greatest friends, comrades, and confidants. You learn to trust and be trusted. When you make someone who is hurt or hopeless smile, you will find real joy. The joy of others can lift a person’s broken spirit like few things can. Being the spectator is safe, but loneliness is a price that few should be willing to pay.

I’m not foolish enough to tell you that it’s some magically thing where whenever you help someone it’ll turn out to change your life for the better. Rather, I’d say people change lives in general. You won’t always know if it will be good or not, but if you play it safe, nothing will change. For some, myself at times, they are okay with that. For most, go boldly forwards and make a difference.

The Wait

Read.

Seen.

Opened.

They are all a partial answer, but the reply is the full truth. Whether that someone is going to respond to keep the conversation going or find out more about you is what you await. What do we fear in this truth? A brief response, or worse no response. What do we hope for? Questions that show interest in us or just jovial conversation. The fear or hope decides whether it was worth the wait.

Read.

Seen.

Opened.

Forget them all. Read a book. See a movie. Open yourself up. Don’t let the wait control you. You can control your wait. That is the truth.

A day off

Long hours and slow minutes make for a mediocre day. You work your life away for a day off, but when it comes there is nothing to look forwards to. The games aren’t enough, the shows not adequate anymore, and the only company is the silence. A lonely ever coming silence. Your texts are left hanging. Conversations over before they have begun. Refreshing the page doesn’t give you anymore likes or love, but rather assurance that you are, without doubt, alone. You dream of a day off only to live the nightmare it brings. There is no joy in this loneliness.

Solitude. Stifling solitude. Strangling, suffocating solitude. Shocking, startling, savage solitude. The walls begin to close and the noise of the outside world is a distant thing that you want to be a part of, but people scare you. You scares you. When did making conversation become pointless, and companionship taxing. Has living a life always been this hard? Have thoughts always been this heavy?

Give it a rest. No one is listening. You’re just talking to yourself again and the argument is always the same. You can see the future. The one you desire in your mind. The person you want to be, but we know it’s a lie. A truth without truth. A wish of who you are, but who you will never be. Just sit there. Unsatisfied and unhappy waiting for something. Thinking of someone. Hoping for dramatic change. Soon work will be here again, and the desire for a day off will be back. The loneliness to follow.

If we are meant to struggle alone; we will do it together. – The companion within

Obsessive

Obsession; An idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind.

I don’t think it’s any secret that we all want to be loved, but I think the truth is that we want to choose the people who love us. The curious cycle of it all, is that the people we want to love us don’t always, and we ,as people, don’t love the ones who desire our love in the same way. I can think of many people I’ve let down chasing after a hopeless love. The tears and bitterness I caused them, that I was so often aware of. Some people love hard and desire to show that love constantly. Admiration gives the feelings flight, but in time, admiration is replaced by annoyance, and the feeling that gave you wings takes them away. In that moment, one never feels more alone and hopeless.

Gray Wrecked Plane Photography

I can remember the first time I was obsessive over someone. I was young and my friend would have rather played with my brother than me. The truth of the matter is that the three of us could have played and nothing would have changed, but it wasn’t good enough for me. I needed the validation that having a friend gave, and to see him choose to play with my brother made me angry and hurt. Since then I’ve never dealt with people well. I get close to someone fast, and the more I seek that closeness the more they pull away. The lie of my life is that it is spent alone. The truth is I’m surrounded by people that care, just not the ones I chose.

Free stock photo of people, friends, men, sitting

Is that fair to the ones who fought to stay in my life? I know the answer. Maybe in the end I reap what I sow. We don’t choose the ones who love us, and in the end that’s the hardest truth to face.

Silhouette Photo of Man Leaning on Heart Leaf Shape Tree during Dawn