that's just life, or so they tell me.

i guess there's a time in everyone's life for struggling. but you can't make it through alone.
driving to the grocery store with your food stamps, hoping your piece of shit car will even get you home.. and you're wondering what the hell is the point. that's when you start to realize that even if you haven't got a single thing of value to your name, you have friends. and you're sitting in a circle, talking about how we don't have any money to do anything, or enough gas to take us anywhere worthwhile. and how sometimes we just hate life. but right now... it doesn't seem so bad. because at least you're not alone, you're understood, and there's no one you'd rather be surrounded by.
and yeah, sometimes we hate life... but we're smiling anyway.

surviving through the days feeling so cold. wondering what the hell is the point, because you spent money on what you wanted instead of what you needed. and you just hope you can make this paycheck last til the next. and you just want to cry... until your mom calls you to invite you for sunday dinner. and you realize the only people you can count on in this life is family, even if you can't count on another living soul. and no matter how cold it gets, that feels pretty warm.

O lost by the wind, lost and grieved again.

How can you define yourself?
How do you look inside your heart and
know who you are and what you stand for.
And what it is, exactly, you stand against.
How can you even start to understand
what it is you want.
How would you even know where to begin... what starting line exists?
When every time you look in the mirror you
see someone slightly more aged,
and changed.
How could i possibly know where to go
when i get caught in the wind, and it
sways and manipulates me
into some other direction.
I don't know what building blocks come together
or what pieces are making me up.
I could contemplate myself forever
but I'll never reach the resolve.... what finish line exists?
When every time i'm quite sure i'll reach it

i get caught up again

and my foundation shakes
and all that i was just so sure of
got lost in the wind

...

i only tell you what you want to hear so it'll make you happy.
you seem to be oblivious to the fact that it's through clenched teeth anyway.
i just can't give you what you need. i just can't be there
when you need me. to save the day.
to soothe you with the sweet words you need to hear.
i've been pulled in every direction. i can hardly keep my focus.
i'm as far apart as i can go and everybody wants me,
to don my motley costume
to dance when they say dance.
to play the fool to keep you happy.
i'm stretched.
but i
still can't
reach
you.
not anymore.
it used to be worth it. to stand on my head just to
keep youhappy.
not anymore.

The clock talked loud. I threw it away, it scared me what it talked. ~Tillie Olsen, Tell Me a Riddle

has my brain ever been so full? ribbons of thought are swirling around in my mind tangling and knotting up. i just can't seem to make sense of any of it.. it's so distracting. they flash in front of my face and fade in and out of each other and they don't mean a thing. it blocks my sight and its distracting.

you say you don't want me to feel like i'm alone. you want me to feel like i have someone to lean on. lonely doesn't mean i don't have anyone. it means everyone thinks one way and i think another. lonely means i'm shouting for help but you don't speak the same language.

i ran away from a town where they try to stand up and stand out in a croud of hundreds standing up and standing out.

things

move

slower

here.

the worst disappointment.

"it's hard to love somebody so careless" ...that's what they say to me.
not with huge harsh arm gestures or shouted with red faces
but with silence. and shaking heads
as they turn their back on me.
"it's hard to love somebody so careless" that's exactly what's conveyed to me.

resolution.

Reality is just a haze of conceptions and misconceptions.
mostly the latter.

no resolve

Someone has to get it. I don't know. But someone might. Maybe? I watched this movie once, with my grandma. Into the Wild. He goes off into the wild by himself to find true happiness. Which makes sense. I guess at the beginning of everything.. at the beginning of any one's life we're born with something. I think. Some sort of potential I guess. Different things make different people happy and I think we're all born with our own means of happiness. Whether we decide to use it or not.. you know.. blah blah blah. I get it though. I get that he goes into the wild to find happiness because there is happiness out there. Anyway. That movie made me feel weird and it made my heart ache a little. At the end he decides that "Happiness is only real when shared". Sometimes when people say that no one understands them it gets viewed as some adolescent romanticism. I don't think so. No one does understand them. I promise. No one understands you and no one understands me. Would being understood make anyone happy, anyway? Do we need justification or validation or, you know, whatever. Just to be happy. Do we need some reassurance that "Hey, I get it. Your life sucks sometimes. My life sucks sometimes too. I get you." Does that really seem enough. I'm not sure what is enough.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn, this Russian guy who was a philosopher, historian, writer and whatever else. I tend to think he's right about most things. He says that "Any man is happy so long as he chooses to be happy." Which is a pretty universal quote I guess. But. Its just like.. I don't know. Its like this... you can convince yourself of anything. It doesn't make it true. You know? You can convince yourself that you are happy and you can act happy all the time but whatever does that make you happy? Is that all that happiness is? Slap a smiley on my face. I'm happy.

We have what we have in life and we do our best to make the most of it. But all you can do is try hard to make it enough.

Sometimes you see bad people doing bad things. And you have people in your life who you help you deal. Sometimes life has that downward spiral where you are the bad person doing bad things. And you hurt the only people you have to help you deal. And thats really hard. Its hard for me to accept that I'm a bad person. We're all bad people. I can accept that easily enough. We're all bad people. But I'm selfish enough to think that since I can see it so clearly, I should know better. I should know better. But I'm still twisting and bending everything so it fits me perfectly. I still hurt people I love. And I'm a bad person. And you're all just doing your best to find happiness.

I'm not sure. But maybe happiness is just a light at the end of the tunnel thing. It's not real.

Well. I don't mean that. It's real. Happiness is real. I feel happy.. I know it's real.

But it's not some destination you can just arrive at. It's only something you can convince yourself of. Brainwash yourself into believing. It's real. But it's an illusion.

"Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live." Mark Twain. Mark Twain is a pretty smart guy, too. But i'm not really sure what to think anymore. This thought has no resolution.

things will be fine.

There
is
no
more
comfort.
there is no more comfort in friendships and meaningful relationships
it all feels so
shallow.
nothing feels right.
the only thing that soothes me will hurt me
the only thing that helps me will ruin me
as if it matters. i wonder. does it even matter.

i'm up late tonight
all the worlds problems biting at my throat
and i realize i'm defenseless
might as well let them
sink their teeth in.

don't tell me things will be fine.
dont you think
i already know that.
the point is that things aren't fine now.
and all i want is some comfort.

it all feels shallow. nothing feels right.
there is no comfort in love.
and oh, how i love you. but i wonder,
does it even matter.

Testimony.

So. I think that a lot of people need their belief in a God. I think that some desperately cling to the idea just so they can make it through another day. I'm thinking specifically of addicts and 12 step programs. I certainly don't think this makes them weak.
Like, if I don't believe in a god then I resent anyone who does. No, I embrace religion.
Let me tell you why.
Each religion seems equally as likely to me. Each religion seems equally as absurd to me. Any one of them could be true. But I'll be the first to admit I highly doubt it. If you want to talk to me about Jesus Christ you might as well be talking about dragons or some other mythical creature. None of it rings true to me. I will listen and I will most likely be very interested in what you have to say. But it means nothing to me. It never has.
Well, except once.
I like to talk about God. And I like people to know my thoughts on it. A lot of people are really cool about it. Some aren't. But anyway.
Once I was taking care of a woman. She was dying. People get scared when they die. She wasn't scared. She was happy.
She told me over and over how she wanted to die. She wanted to see her daughter again. She asked me to pray with her. And, well. How do you say no? So I sat on the bed with her and we held hands and she prayed for her daughter. She prayed to see her face and hold her in her arms again. She begged God to take her so she could finally be with her again.
I said amen.
Even then, my words fell to the floor. We were talking to air and I truly believe no one heard that prayer except the two of us.
She seemed even more happy after the prayer. If you can imagine that's possible.
I felt worse.
I couldn't stop thinking. I don't believe in God. If there is no God then she will never see her daughter again. How awful. How unfair. What a sick joke on humanity religion is.
Anyway. This isn't some profound story. I still don't believe. But right then at least it meant something to me.
And the fact that other people believe still means a lot to me.
You ask me what I DO believe, I want to ask you why does it matter.

onelove.

i've heard people say that "i love you" is overused.
its lost its meaning.
like if we say it too much it will get
w a t e r e d d o w n
flimsy.
or something like that... i don't get it.

i've seen people afraid to say "i love you"
like it will expose them.
open them up and
invite rejection.
like they are saying it to make themselves feel better
and if it is received unwelcomed
they might feel stupid
or something like that.

don't you want to feel loved...??

why
wouldn't
you just
say it.

don't you want other people to feel loved?

i want you to know that
i love you
for a hundred reasons.

between the devil and the deep sea.

i'm just like you and you

are just like me.

if you are wondering where i learned to internally panic

despite the calm polish that gleams on my face

like plastic in the sun.

i learned it from you.

i learned to see things differently
because you never gave me a second look ..did you?
i'm just like you

and you

are just like me

i see the insecurities and the doubt
that muck up the words you mean to say. caging you up.
binding you to an obstructed outlook
you wont see around it. you just can't seem to see through it.
how i wish you could see what i can see.
and don't you wish
that i could see it all?

i'm just like you. and you're just like me.

I know what you're going through. you're trapped.

you're trying to escape but no where is quite far enough.

I know how it feels to beg for acceptance

but try to break free from these ideas

that weigh you down.

please, don't let them get to you.

i'm just like you. i know how it feels.

you're just like me.

my heart could really feel.

broken.

my heart could really feel

soothed

you are worth a million dandelion wishes

but, you know, i'm just like you

and you
are just like me.

"Why do we kill people who kill people to show that killing is wrong"

it feels like we've slipped
somehow

back in time
evolution rewinds

i thought i remembered you once,
when i ideas were presented, roads were paved.

instead we've found ourselves bearing clubs.
dirty and shivering. sleeping in caves.

every ounce of sophistication
perspired through our pores
a sweltering civilization

i could swear,
...we had somewhere better to start from
it seems to me
...we should have progressed beyond this.

yet,
here we are.
dirty and shivering. sleeping in caves.
hardly matured an inch passed beating our prey over the head with rocks.

hope dances on my heartstrings.

I can hardly focus

through the drip the drip the dripping

that echoes here.

Probably forever...
My pockets are deep with overused sayings
of hope
and the impression that hangs

from the ceiling

like icicles

If only I could see
passed the splash the splash the splashing
of the puddles it creates
here and there
that crowd my life and block my paths

Why am I holding so tight
when as sure as this frost is thawing
it will turn to icy water
and slip through my fingers
indefinitely

people say i'm a good writer.

poetic means insight
stuffed full of conventions.

poetic means nothing is good enough

to be called what it is.

we have to cloak it in similes and metaphors

before it's declaired worth

another look.

sometimes poetry

makes me sick.

Sometimes.

Sometimes.

I write down everything.

and I

I push it

to the very back of the attic of my mind.

and I leave them there.

long enough to gather dust.

Long enough.

That I can feel the moths fluttering around

and the old smell of smoldered thoughts lingers.

Sometimes when I feel brave enough

and sometimes when I feel

like I might just be
big enough this time.

I roll up my sleeves, and clear the cobwebs from my path.

And I climb the creaky stairs

to the attic of my mind.

And I tear open the boxes

and I flip through the pages

that document every stored thought

"Maybe if I had...."

"Why didn't you...?"

they fly around me

they bite and sting my skin like poisonous insects.

Every last bit of my composure

twists and chokes and bends til it breaks

and it scatters at my feet.

And everything inside of me is begging to just get away.

and I know then.

I'm far too small.

and I stumble back down

to safety.

and you must understand

how I don't want to talk about it.

you must understand

there are things that gnaw and claw and eat my heart up.

unless I keep them hidden between pages,

and boxed

safely in the deepest part of my memory.

Where I might not

stumble upon them accidentally.

I guess february brings it out in me.

Forever isn't such a long time
when you're tracing
over every
single
second
with your fingertips.
..marking them with our insignia.

fashioning our hand crafted sign and hammering it into the dirt
"we were here."

forever
is our place.
where we cuddle up under the blankets and
sshh....... whisper secrets .
and we tell stories that all start out the same way
"Someday..."

forever just doesn't seem
endless
enough.

and i love

i love driving

with you. when

your hand is on my lap.

and you let me turn the music up loud

and i roll the window




all


the


way


down. . . . . . . .
even though it's freezing outside.


and it makes my hair all messy


and i'm hoping that wherever we're going is a thousand miles away.


and we'll never get there, at least not soon, anyway.
and i love it when you hold imaginary bugs.

and SQUISH

them

and make faces when you wipe imaginary bug guts on my shirt.
and i love.


when i make a sad face
so you tell me that you're just kidding.


you didn't really squish him. he's still in your pocket.

...because that's where he lives.


and i love.

when we play the chasing game


around and around and around


the pool table.
until i'm so tired i fall down. and


we laugh we laugh we laugh


and our smiles hold us together and float us up
above the world.

How people treat you is their Karma, how you react is yours.

I think we pick our fates.
I believe deeply that whatever you send out in this world, is what you'll get in return.
"As she has planted, so does she harvest; such is the field of karma."

If there is any form of a heaven or a hell that I can tell you I'm certain of, It's the ones we create here in this lifetime. We make our bed and we lay in it.

I try to truly listen when people are speaking to me.. because that's what i want most, to be heard.
When I feel negativity I try to influence others to see the silver lining... because that's what I need, to hear someone tell me that it'll be okay.

I don't mean to sketch a picture of myself for you of a person who is flawless, or who says the right things, because sometimes decisions I've made create a world of hell for myself within the walls of my mind.
I, by no means, mean to sketch a self portrait of someone who is perfect.


I'm just trying to pick a fate for myself that I can live with.

And someday, my time will be up.
And everyone I love will stand around me and consider my life. They will cut me in half and examine my soul inside and out.

and I'm just trying to pick a fate for myself that I can die with.

Those who danced were thought insane by those who could not hear the music.

By Me, when I was about 13 years old.

The mind is power.
He who takes advantage of that
can convince himself of anything.
he can imagine himself flying
and he,
well, he would feel the wind in his hair.
in his mind
... he IS flying.

someone who doesn't understand
who knows... because don't we all know?...
that it is impossible to fly
would call that man crazy.

Yet,
I might call that man genius.
The mind is power.
And he who takes advantage of that
is called crazy
(hardly seems fair, does it)

Had I one wish. I wish to fly.
... and not be called crazy.

foolish questions.

It seems i might need a new style of thinking. This one's getting worn down and faded.
My gift is my desire to know. Only sometimes, questions and answers and stray thoughts get all mixed up in my head and it feels hopeless to sort them out and place them in their precise spot in line. I ask questions that you might think
I should already know by now.
Maybe I should.
But I don't.

Then my curiosity, my first and simpliest reaction, seems more like a penalty. I am not satisfied with my opinions and i am hardly content with my knowledge.

My "gift" is no more than a willing confession of ignorance.

To whom it may concern.

I think everyone needs to visit their garden of peace more often.
I understand rage, I suppose. I see it following some people around like dark angry clouds. Any minute the thunder can crack and it will all come raining down like tears.
It gets the best of all of us at one point or anther, right?
Every now and again we all dip our paintbrushes in black paint and color our lifes a darker shade of black. We can always find a reason to get angry.
But is it ever a good one?
Eventually the black fades and the color starts to shine through.
And we realize how small our problems really are.

And that we've only burned oursleves when we lash out with hot words.

Next time you can start seeing the black embroider your life, please, take a walk with me.
We'll walk through the garden of peace together.
I'll pick a flower just for you.

This type of thinking could do us in.

There are two kinds of people in this world, I think. People who know, and people who just don't. I am most definitely a long time member of the "people who don't know" club.

If someone went through my trash they would find crumpled up pages of doubt and left over hesitance. Please, don't minsinterpret me. I don't mean that I don't understand things. I only mean to convey to you my uncertainty.

Yet, If someone offered me saucer full of answers I'm not very sure I would accept. 'Why?' inquiring minds might ask. Well. Why the hell would I?

Please, allow me to explain.



Faith, for instance. Is there a God? I don't claim to have the answers, and it doesn't matter to me one way or the other. If suddenly it was known that the Mormon religion was true, or Catholic, or any religion, my life wouldn't change. I'm just doing the best I can, here.

Shall I go get my "People who don't know" club membership jacket now?

Ignorance can be bliss. Without uncertainty the drama of human life is destroyed!

and sometimes.

Having all the answers

(or THINKING you have all the answers)

doesn't get you very far at all.

Brick by Brick

So, I asked Scott what I should write about and he said I should write about love. I don't think I have ever ventured down this road before, writing about love seems so tacky to me! :P
But this is a bit different type of writing than I'm used to so I might as well give a different topic a try too.

Things in my life are transitioning.
tangling up and straightening out.
And I'm building a life for myself brick by brick. People say this is the most exciting time of my life. Maybe so. There's no dead end and my mind is swimming with little fishies of possibilities.


I'm getting married, and I'll never have to walk alone. I love Scott.
I'm gaining a family. I've always wanted a sister, and I'm acquiring five. Oh yeah.. and four more brothers. :)
I love Linda and Steven for everything they have done for me and Scott. I've never met two people with so much love in their hearts.


With these changes, I'm trying to find my place in the world.. how on earth could I ever do that without my best friend, Mom, who inhales questions and exhales answers.
And Dad.. Two peas in a pod, we are. I find that some times when you really want something from someone you've got to meet them half way. At the bottom of his heart I'll always find love.

It's such an important thing in life to know how to give love, and to learn how to give love freely.

But its twice as important to know how to let love in.

penny for your thoughts.

I'm wondering; If I could go back in time would I still be sitting here where I am now?

I'd like to think that they would. I wonder if anyone could go back in time if they'd be where they are now, for that matter. Maybe it's a pointless question. Everyone has regrets.

People say that things happen for a reason, don't they? That trials only make you stronger, and build character and you learn from your mistakes. However I think "If only" might possibly be the two saddest words on the planet. I can't say I have had a great many of trials in my life, not counting the ones I have brought entirely upon myself :)

But still...

there is no such thing is a life without regrets... wishing you had said something, wishing you HADN'T said something, wishing you had heard someone asking for help, wishing you had turned left instead of right.

I don't particularly feel regretful right now, I enjoy writing about emotions. But I suppose if there is any point to this at all

It's that every single day we make a thousand choices, and that no one can make the right ones every time.

I could sit for hours think over my life and every mistake I've made.

Is there any use beating myself up over it?

all I'm doing is hanging myself with my own noose.