Forget It:

Just forget it.
All of it.

Especially the part where I told you I loved you.
Especially the part where I accepted you with open arms and you punched me right in the fucking heart.

Meanwhile I will try to forget the times where you made me feel like less of a person.
The times where you tore me apart…
Or rather, you made me tear myself apart.

There’s scars all over from where I did it.

It still hurts.
It still hurts.

And that’s not fair.
It’s not fair that I stretched myself so thin.

I let you see right through me.

I tore myself apart to give you all the pieces.

They weren’t good enough.
I wasn’t good enough.

I did everything I ever could for you,
I loved parts of you that no one else knew existed.
I loved every last bit of you.

I dug deep inside myself to give you every last bit of me.

I wanted to save you.
I really did. 

But I couldn’t pick up the pieces alone, they keep slipping through my fingertips.

I couldn’t give you your shattered parts when all you did was refuse to believe they were yours.
You swore they were all mine.

I can’t believe you could think I was that broken.

Even then, you never wanted to help me mend them.

The good news, the best thing I learned from you is:
I don’t need help anymore.

I don’t need anyone’s broken pieces anymore. 

You had me hold on to yours so tight, you made me bleed.
I tried to hold you so tight I cut myself on your jagged and rough edges.

The scars will last forever, but I won’t hurt over this anymore. I won’t bleed the way you want me to.

And I’m sorry.
I have to save myself.

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I Want:

I want to tell you.

I shouldn’t tell you.

I want to tell you
I want to tell you.

I want to tell you that you were so much more beautiful before I found out what you were.

I know I shouldn’t.

So I calm the shaking rage in my hands and I forget about you.

If only for one more day.

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I Miss You:

It’s been two years and I am again losing someone I love to a sickness I can’t help.
I am powerless to stop it, and all I’m able to do is watch, horrified, scared, alone, and hurt. The rollercoaster of it possibly getting better then getting worse is more than I can take.

At times I wish it would just end, even if it meant flying off the tracks and crashing.

However, I try my best to hold on hope. Because I know worse things have been overcome, by myself and by others.

Sometimes, it gets dark but you can get the light back after some fighting and searching. But sometimes, you waste your life away grasping in the dark for something that once was. You can light a candle but the wind always comes to put it out.

Your eyes keep having to readjust and it’s tiring. At times it seems even darker than before.

If it’s not a lit candle, it’s a small reflection of hope, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. It’s just your mind playing tricks.
I suppose the most difficult feeling is being informed you can get off the rollercoaster, only you may never return again. There will be no more hope, but no more disappointment.
Maybe one more, but a level one.

Walking away for good, shutting the door on the dark room, no more searching, no more fighting.
But then there’s no more candle light, no more glimpses of what once was.

It’s when the bad times outweigh the good times that it becomes an issue.

Two options: take her off life support, or wait for her to go into cardiac arrest.
Two options: end it, pull the plug and walk away, or wait for it to crash and burn you.

The sickness took over my mother’s life and put her on life support.
The sickness took over him and put my love on life support.

I’m watching the monitor intently now, her and my heart along with her slowing down to a blip and I am so scared.
I’m so scared.

I don’t believe in miracles anymore.
But I do believe in my mother’s amount of fight.

For three months she battled and fought her sickness for me.
For two months I battled and fought my sickness for him.
For two weeks, she was only able to hold on artificially.
At times, I’m afraid I am too.
I’m terrified of a day coming where I am asked to pull the plug. Because I know what my decision will be.

There are too many things I can never return to, and I am constantly plagued with the things I have long since lost.

I don’t think I’ve got much more to lose.

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Day 4:



I love the smell, I love the feel, and I love the contents. 

Something about the weight of a book in my hand puts me at peace, and I can’t ever get enough of the words. 

I can get lost for hours and hours in bookstores and libraries. Books are my religion, and libraries are my church. 

Books are portable universes, there are so many little worlds to get lost in while you are just sitting on your couch. There’s so many different possibilities with books, and I see so much potential in all of them.

You can learn from books, and not just information, but life lessons. You can learn so much from the characters in the books you read, and you can even fall in love with them.


I gave up television, cell phones, and most of the internet. I now immerse myself in piles and piles of my books, burrow myself into silence, and slip into a whole new world.

I am engrossed in the classics…. I’m learning about something I would have never even known about had it not been for that one trip to the bookstore….it’s amazing how these things happen.


Truly, books have and continue to save my life. I don’t know where I would be if I never had that opportunity to run away. Even if it was just for a few chapters. 

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Day 3:



Day 3, on what was supposed to be day 4.

I’ve been sick, which caused me to sleep when I would have written this post.

I apologize.


I used to hate sneakers. 
That’s really no secret. I owned over twenty pairs of shoes, and not one pair of them were sneakers. 

Until I found these, and although I don’t like being attached to material things, I love them.

I love them because they have stood the test of time. They are as worn as I am, and they have stayed together. 
That gives me an odd amount of hope. 

These shoes have accompanied me on both my wistful, introspective walks, and my hyper, fun walks with friends.
They have accompanied me on some of my most sorrowful walks…like my last walk away from my mom. 

Something about these shoes puts me at peace, and whenever I’m in a bad mood, I put them on. I’m not sure where this attachment came from. 

However, I’m glad they have been able to walk me to wherever life takes me.

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Very Much Me

Very Much Me

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Day 2:




I spend a great deal of time looking out this window. 

Something about it inspires me to no end. I could sit for hours and reflect in front of this window…not necessarily looking at the outside. It’s almost as if I look past it all, and I find myself somewhere in there. I find myself in a certain spot, between the trees. 

I find myself in walks alone.
I find myself in crowded bars.


I fixate on certain spot, and I realize that I am staring at a thought.
A thought that is unique to that moment, a thought that could only be found in that moment.

I feel that, since the outside is always changing, the thoughts I find out there are always changing. 


My creative process is an odd one, but this window seems to be a perfect constant, and that feels nice to have.

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I am working on carving myself into a sculpture. It will only get better with the more time I spend on it.

I will become an unwavering manifestation of who I set out to be. 


The people I meet in the years I spend chiseling will leave good and bad marks. 

No one is perfect.

I will do my best to make sure that the bad marks are only tiny, minute, blemishes; but when you look at the overall image, they won’t matter.
You won’t matter.


I will also do my best to stay focused.
Even when others try to entice me away with empty promises. 


Those who matter will know the importance of this project.
They will not mind when I go for days and days without communication, or that sometimes I will be distracted when I am carving out one of the more intricate and elaborate parts of myself. 


Those who I keep in my life will be the ones who inspire me to make my work better. They will not be biased, but brave enough to point out the parts that could be better, or the parts where I am messing up.


People who try to get me to step away from my project will be considered people who don’t actually care about me.

Why wouldn’t you want to see me become the best work of art I can?


Gone are the days when I would abandon myself for months at a time, leaving my tools to lay out and gather rust, and only succeeding in making more of an empty shell.


I will be me. 

The me I want to be: strong and unbreakable.
However, able to make revisions when absolutely necessary. 

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Day 1:



I have spent five years looking at this tree. One of the only sparkling things I am able to enjoy in the glum place I work in. Somehow, this place keeps calling me back, and somehow, I keep returning. 

Maybe I’m not being fair.

Some of the people here have been terrible, and some of the things I’ve seen here have been terrible. 
They were only temporary though. 

The people I have worked with for the past five years have been great. I suppose that’s why I keep returning….for the people. The people who have helped me out more than I can imagine, and have always been here for me to return to, no matter what terms I left on. 


I used to feel like I wanted to be anywhere but here. I used to think that this was a fate worse than death.
I realize now that although it’s not ideal, it is comfortable. It feels like home. 

Sure, I won’t be here forever, but it’s good to know that no matter what happens, I will always have this place to return to. 

Until I do leave, however, I will continue to look at this tree and daydream about all the things to come.


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This post was written after a while of writer’s block so it may be a little hard to follow and scattered. 

Just a warning. 

 I also have a new project I hope to be trying out here soon. 

I will be doing a 30-day challenge here I take a picture every day and write at least one paragraph about that picture.

We’ll see if I can actually follow through with it, because I’m usually bad at keeping up with these things.

There’s a few more challenges I want to be doing and I’ll probably be sharing them on here, so I hope you’re looking forward to that as much as I am!



I do people things. 
I’m not quite sure what that entails just yet.

I hate doing human-people things though; like eating and sleeping.

I don’t allow myself to laugh or cry as often as I should. Mostly I get angry at the fact that I am sad.


It probably makes more sense to me than it does to you.


I don’t write, I blurt. I don’t create, I regurgitate. Art is conscious or subconscious imitation. 
I’m no Shakespeare.


Whether or not I like to admit it, I’m only human. Human and half a person.
Please don’t ask me to explain how one can be “half a person” because I have no clue.


/At least I’m able to admit when I don’t know what I’m talking about./


I’m getting there though
I’m growing,
leveling up.



It may feel like I’m dying, but I know I am going to be reborn as something so much better.
At least, I hope I am.


That’s probably a matter of opinion.
I should probably only be worried about my own, but I’m sure I’m going to hear everyone else’s regardless.  

I suppose it’s a good thing; like a scientist gathering data. I guess our view of ourselves can get a bit distorted at times too.


Sometimes we’re hard to follow. 
No sense makes sense…to certain people.

All we want is for someone to tell us that we make sense. Or find something that makes sense, or create something that makes sense; to us and to others.

However, you can make sense to everyone. To try to do so is to commit intellectual suicide, so to speak.


The only person you should try to make sense to is yourself. All the love you could ever want will come to you, and it will be the right love. 


Know yourself and understand others. 


After all, why would you want to surround yourself with people who don’t understand you; and vice versa? 
I know it’s no fun getting quizzical, concerned looks every time you begin to rant and ramble.


It’s like being the only drunk person in a room full of sober people. You feel and probably look stupid, like you’re the only one laughing at a joke. 

It’s an incredibly lonely position to be in. 


At that point, there’s only two things you can do: compromise yourself and “sober up”, or be alone until you find someone who drinks the same brand of whiskey as you.


I choose the latter. 


I would rather be alone (not necessarily lonely) than give up this mind I’m beginning to grow fond of. 

I spent so long working on this personality and making sense of myself, why the hell would I give it up now? Especially for someone who didn’t even try to understand what makes sense to me.


I no longer require saving. I know what I am doing, and if I don’t, I will figure it out. With or without you.

Now that I know what makes sense to me, I couldn’t imagine anything else. 


It’s an inspiring, empowering feeling. 
I feel confident, capable, and unstoppable, or, I will be.

Everyone seems to think that it’s one giant leap to “the top”, or a climb. It’s really, for me, a gradual incline, but not graceful at all. There’s a lot of booby traps and things to trip on.

There’s also a lot of distractions. “Promising” relationships/friendships, things that look fun but will ultimately leave you destroyed. 
Things that will tear you apart and leave you to pick up the pieces of what you were.

They’re scattered everywhere, and it’s hard to put yourself back together when you’re still not sure what you were to begin with. 

It’s like doing a puzzle without the box.

Time-consuming and discouraging. 


When you have a solid understanding of yourself, no one can ever make you feel confused and scared. 
I was so tired of feeling that way.

I felt so weak and malleable. Like a ball of Play-Dough, and I let people shape me into whatever they wanted me to be.


Now I will only be who I feel like being, regardless of if I like who that is or not. 
If it makes sense to me and feels right, that’s what I will be doing. 


I realize that you don’t have to like who you are, you just have to know who you are, and be confident in being that person.

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