Gone are the seconds of yesterday, somewhere in a pile of rubbish with the hopes and dreams of tomorrow.  So we are left with today, which sucks because today I'm exhausted, utterly drained of every ounce of motivation, deplete of the willingness to make something, anything happen. so here I exist, making no notable impact on the world around me; using more oxygen than carbon dioxide I produce, which could turn into oxygen if it weren't for the fact that to record these thoughts I killed a tree, oh how selfish of me.  Running low on fuel that smells of disappointment of those around me who simply cannot fathom my inability to make an impact. "Do something!" "I tried!" to plant a tree but I broke the shovel, so i finished the hole with my hand only to realize I forgot to bring any seeds. Fuck. So I walked backwards to my front door turned by back then the door knob right only to realize I was wrong. About what? Everything. I can make a difference. My very existence is a miracle, a moment to be remember in the cosmic timeline of existence, an occurrence to be noted in the notebooks of those who record the record. A statement: That I, me, here and now, can and will, change the world, for better or worse, good or evil; that I will bring light to the darkness, sound to the silence, and once and for all prove that I exist, if only once but to be remembered by all! 
I must begin as soon as possible, so I choose tomorrow. 
Because today, 
                           I'm exhausted.  

And sometimes it's fun to write like a lunatic, like somebody who lost their mind but found their soul buried under a large pile of contradictions; a person who is fed up with the way life used to be and is only interested in today.  Somebody who is a blurry photo of their hopes and dreams; and endless story of love, lust, and destruction.  Somebody liable to leave town on a whim only to return because they forgot their charger and water bottle. "Forget it," they say after any words they speak that hold any weight. "Don't worry", when they themselves are worried about nothing and everything. About the way they look alone in a room, or the way they think alone in their heads. The future looks promising but they promised not to look.  So instead they dance, and move, and shake to every worldly vibration in existence.  Somebody who lives by no morals or general code of conduct.  Guided only by light and sound in a silent cave, by the screams of the mute and visions of the blind.  They forget to remember what they forgot, so instead they speak to those who don't listen and only listen to those who don't speak. They love to be uncomfortable but are uncomfortable by love.  So when the day ends and night begins they rest their feet on a pillow and take a loose breath, for it is the darkness of the day that reveals the light of the night and only somebody who is always wrong could ever be right. 

SCREAMING FOR HELP 

under my breathe. 

Have you forgot? 
All we did 
All you said?

The late nights where you promised 
that you'll be there in the morning 
and every morning after 
and i believe you....
     until I woke up alone.

     And then you came back 
     and put on an act 
     like you never even left 
     that shit don't sit right 
     cause before I felt down
     then picked my head up 
     and just when i forget 
     you appear to remind me 
     that every thing is fine 
     must have been a dream 
     not surprised by your scheme 

Fine, you win 
lets pick up where we left off 

    when you told me it was the end 
          fuck a lover, I needed a friend 

I think back to the car, the last time we held hands 
I knew in that moment, things will never end up 
                                                               as we planned. 

You ever see somebody walk past...

but they're in a place that you can't reach without extreme action. Like walking past the coffee shop you're sitting in, or in the car next to you at a red light, or leaving the bar you're walking into. And you wonder what it would be like if courage coursed through your veins for the briefest of moments, just enough so that you're past the point of no return.  So you go through with it.

​Because, fuck it. 

​What do you say? What CAN you say? 
"Hi." Good start, then what?
"I saw you in the window and was floored by your beauty" or 
"your face made me curious" - ok, uh, weird - how about 
"I've already planned my future and you're a part of it and let me tell you -- no, let me show you how.  Take my hand, follow me and it might not be perfect but I can promise you that we'll be happy, and life will be fun, because how could a love story that begins like this not be given the life to continue until we share the tale with our friends and families? About how I chased you down the street with an empty mind and a full heart, hoping that the latter would compensate for the former, and you would, if only for a second, feel what I felt the moment I laid eyes on you, twenty-five seconds ago." 
Yeah, maybe that would work.  But we'll never know, 
because I stayed in my seat and wrote this instead. 

I wonder: what causes people to become friends.  It seems to me that people either vibe or they don't.  There is some gray area, but I'm talking about my HOMIES.  For some, it makes mere minutes to recognize a bond, a plutonic attraction; like we both speak the same spiritual language...

A friend is somebody I feel comfortable in silence with. 
A friend is somebody I can share an abstract thought with. 
A friend is somebody that I fit into when I hug and always go for the same type of high five. Friends remember things that I'm passionate about and little details of the thoughts I once shared with them. 
Friends smile when they see me, they can't help it. 
A friend is somebody that I share an unfiltered, genuine laugh with, and I could never be afraid or embarrassed to cry in front of. 
Friends know when to say nothing or when to do all the talking. 
At the core, A friend is somebody who tries to be a friend 

​And to have a friend, I gotta be a friend. 

This past weekend my sister graduated college.  She is the second of my sisters to do so, leaving me as the last of my family currently attending college.  This is a unique distinction that I cherish. Although the thought of the "real world" seems fun and exciting, I enjoy my current living conditions. Furthermore, I believe my world is very real - thank you very much.