you

This is for you. Nobody else.

And I hope it finds you at the right time.

For the one who is taking care of a family alone… while still in high school.

For the one who works to provide for everyone. Everyone but themselves.

This is for you.

For the one who is scared of everyone but themselves.

For the one eating between the double doors.

This is for you.

For the one whose collapsing under the pressure of grades, friends, and family.

And for the ones who’ve already been smashed.

This is for you.

For the one whose only canvas is the space between the palm of their hand and their elbow.

For the one who knows their mind could produce horror movies, yet they strive to be positive.

This is for you.

For the one whose happiness comes from a pill, and who is blind to the people they inspire, but fully aware to the ones they do not.

This is for you.

For the one whose nights are spent crying, and whose weekends consist of isolation.

For the ones whose worst enemies are their minds, and whose lives are rated R.

This is for you.

You. The ones walking through the halls behind their masks of happiness. The ones who think they are alone, that no one sees them.

The ones who think they can fool everyone. You might be able to fool them, but not me.

I’ve been there.

I know what it’s like to have the happiness sucked out of life, and to want nothing more than to end the pain.

But I know you care. You know that ending your pain will only bring so much more to others. Don’t do it. I love you. We love you. We care so much.

So come find me. I won’t judge. I remember the pain. And I don’t want anyone dealing with it by themselves. I already know you. And that’s why I’m here… waiting to help. 

recordabitur

I remember choosing to forget...

Soul

;

I walked through my dark bedroom to my desk, to switch on my favorite candle. I reached under the desk for the switch, a spider bit me… Put it’s fine-point syringes of antagonizing venom into my hand.

Eyes wide open, I saw the paper-thin incision points through the darkness. They were growing, floating off my hand. They grew closer and closer to my eyes, turning into binoculars, giving me a clear view of the inside. I saw the metro of nerves, leading to my brain. I hopped on, no one asked for a ticket. I rode to the deserted Grand Central that was my heart… What once was a thriving city with perfect weather, towering skyscrapers, and constant, beautiful light was now an empty wasteland. A dark gray-scale beating organ, almost non-essential to the life I was living. I dared to venture into it alone, and pushing passed the old libraries, filled with books of old memories, the trinket shops with their shattered windows, obscene writings on their walls. I took the stairs all the way down to it’s catacombs. Infinite winding halls burrowed deep into the abyss. Filled with etched names of those who left their mark. It’s faint light seemed to move away from you as you approached it. There were no lanterns, no sources for this dim light, but it was the only color in the whole place. A dim yellow. It flickered at times, which was the only way you could tell that you weren't frozen… Then finally it stopped, there was nothing but blackness. Seeing it for exactly what it was, I gathered myself, and took the leap of faith… The leap into my soul. It was a place I had never seen before, never even knew existed. I had heard so many things that remained unproven to my mind, it was as if they were all challenges. White people with white collars writing down things for us to test in a book and throwing it at us, all the while they didn't want us to test it, but simply to mark it with our stamp of approval, as if it gave them some sort of pleasure. It was as if I was damned for standing out. For not agreeing to just say OK. For wanting to experience everything, every sensation whether it be good or bad or bad or good, just to feel it… All of it. Because in my life the only thing I ever do is feel. I am good at it. I feel the sting of people talking about me, ridiculing what I do, the chill of those who turn their backs on me, who leave me to myself. I feel all of that… just as I felt that spider’s paper-thin fangs go in, and felt my passion go out. I felt myself sliding into blackness, knowing I would never return, and the only thing that was on my mind was her smile, the smile that used to light that now empty station.  I knew that that small light, that danced along the tunnel walls, providing you with some hope of something greater, was out. And that not even the sun…could take it’s place. 

please do not compare blogs

< 3

When a heart breaks, it hurts. 
But in the end it heals...right? 

Well what happens if it doesn't? 

Unfortunately I can answer that question. 
When you have a broken heart you're sad.
I don't mean the got ditched by your friends sad, I mean the my mom, dad, and sister all moved to New York without me kind of sad. 
The my parent's are putting me up for adoption at age 17 kind of sad. 
The my mom said no Netflix for a year type of sad. 

Love will drive you crazy. Sometimes it's absurd, and involuntary, and other times it's blissful, and perfectly balanced. But most of all, love is sharp, and every time something goes wrong it cuts you, but if it all works out it will cut you loose, liberate you, set you free. It will give you someone who completes you...someone to run with.

You find your true self when you're in love...at least that's what I've heard. You see I don't know if that's true or not. How should I? The last person that loved me back hasn't cared about me since Sophomore year. 

I want to listen to my heart, and all the good things it's trying to tell me, but I can't, because it's still trying to heal from the last girl who told me, "Josh you're a dream. But I don't feel the same about you as you do about me."

2am

; I think I saw this on another blog, but I wanted to make my own. So props to the original writer for unknowingly allowing me to steal some of their creativity. 

2am

2am is for the worriers.

2 am is for the forgetful.

2am is for the hungry, the anxious, and the worried. 2am is for kids like me. 

2am is for the over-thinkers, the under-thinkers, and the procrastinators. 

2am is for the caring mothers, the crying babies, and the snoring husbands. 

2am is for the sneaking out, for the Beto's runs. 

2am is for the Alpine cops looking to bust the kids trying to have a little fun. 

2am is for the kids on Christmas eve.

2am is for the people who work at Megaplex to clean up after a late showing. 

2am is a barrier, if you don't find sleep before it, it's not gonna find you after. 

2am is for the lovers, the fighters, and the one-siders.

2am is for the horror movies, for the cuddling, for watching thunderstorms from the window. 

2am is for the long drives, for the flood of thought, for the deep conversations. 

2am is when you get to really know someone. 

2am is for the wishing, the wondering, and the reflecting. 

2am is for the laughter, the tears, and the phone calls. 

2am is when everything happens. 

So don't miss out.

Nature

Nature is all around us. 
It's in the pencil you're holding,
the pages in the books you read, 
the walls in your house. 

Nature is everything,
the water in your toilet bowl,
the background in your photo shoot, 
the spot where you take your gf. 

But the way some use nature is far more admirable than the way others do. 

All you campers, all you adventurers, all you rock-climbers, cliff-jumpers, river rafters, I envy you. 

I wish I could do the things you do, I wish I could find love in nature. I wish I could disconnect the cords that plug me into the e-world, because they are starting to get tangled, because Twitter, Xbox, and Netflix are starting to tie themselves around me. 

I yearn to be free, to explore, to lose all the stress. It is my goal to get loose...

But right now, I feel like if I unplug the cords...I might just run out of juice...

and die