My Hobby

Once I found a hobby that was really fun until it hurt me. It made me fall down and shave the skin off my knees, elbows, and face.

After I fell everyone said, "I told you so. You should have been wearing a helmet." The people that said this are smart. Well, at least I once thought they were until they became human again.

I would have loved to respond with, "No one likes a told you so comment. Asshole."

I went home and bandaged the knees, elbows, and the face. My body was hurt again and I felt like crying. It ended up happening anyway. My tears fell beyond my cheeks and directly onto my shirt. The shirt got messy and I had to change it.

I never got my life back together after that. I just sat down and stared at a wall waiting for a spark of motivation. The spark never came. It seems to have left me and never came back. I am not sure if it was ever there to start with. Something seemed to animate me before this bloody life became me.

The entire thing was depressing and all I ever feel going on is death. One step closer and one less breath.

A Dream

A dream.

Sitting on top of glass.

Sagging, creaking, broken.


Eyes turn to the sky.

Looking into imagination to find a new dream.

The sky, so full of hope.


Yet, the sun has hidden

The dreams have run out.

The hopeful sky has floated its last cloud.

No Title For This

Apparently, I was spending too many days indoors. I wasn't bored.

"Get out of the house," she says.

I was out and I tweaked my ankle. I fell on my face and lost a tooth. I am tired of being out of the house.

Freaking out and reaching for the right piece of paper to write this on in an anxious fury. Afraid to forget these feeble words that suddenly popped into my mind and there is NO WAY to write fast enough. ILLEGIBLE!

Thoughts untranslatable with the accompanying vision and concept that cannot ever get out. Only for me locked within. Is that sad? I haven't cried in weeks. Should I? With an extra hold in my nose? BLOOD!

Over and over I just fucking bleed. The pain is no longer pain. Just a numb feeling. The blood is still thick, red, and sometimes black. Balance between black and white landing in something blue with indifference.

Life With a Heavy Heart

When living with weight the mind does not seem to have the correct rhythm. Feelings are heightened and sensitivity is in a hyper stage. These feelings can be a blessing and a curse. The curse appears when so much intensity is felt through the feelings that one is left with irrational and paralyzing thoughts. Yet, intuitive feeling can be a blessing when one can feel the truth and the reality of what is really going on. The blessing is when feeling is sharpened to pierce the illusion of things happening to me.

It is so easy to forget all those things others have done when looking in on one self. At that point it is all only happening to me. Others only exist, as they are out to get me, hurt me, or destroy me. Is this the truth? Where is the blessing of intuitive feeling? Why would one feel this way?

Sometime in the past others hurt without meaning to. They did it over and over for whatever reason, intentional or not. The effect of that is carried into the present and projected onto current situations. The effects manifest in many aspects of life leading to compromised work and relationships. If this is so compromising, why carry the weight?

There is this backpack sitting on my back that is full of the past. I don’t even know it is there. Even though, I carry it. When something seems to correlate with a past experience a corresponding memory is pulled from the backpack and held in front of myself. At this point some experience from the past, that might not be entirely related to the present, is brought to the present and relived as well as enhanced to become stronger. At that point my ideas, words and actions become confusing to others outside of me watching my past as I repeatedly act out the drama. This is may be the first time others have ever seen this play. Of course it is confusing and seemingly mad.

I don’t know if everyone’s life follows a similar pattern. I am not sure if I can know about this. My feelings seem to be lies being told by an unwanted guest named ego. They are built out of past experiences that I carry around with me. This is my blueprint of how I relate to others, know how to act, and understand social or cultural rules. However, I know deep inside that my true blessing is to know that my backpack is actually full weight that I do not need to carry.

Paragraph 4 of 4

While driving along a cliff I could barely make out a seashore below. My eyes caught hints of green layers above as well. A dense fog was thicker than a black night sky.

My mind wondered with the wind and was as clear as nature's presence. This place is beautiful and I would like to live here. Leave it all behind as they say and go back to my real surroundings.

I love to feel the ocean spray on my face. Nevertheless, I turn away every time a wave crashes. I think of how I don't want to get wet. I should just face it feeling all its reality and beauty.

I could let it eat me up and suck me under while swimming, laughing, feeling happy and content.