If my life was a Microsoft Word Document
From this place.
This terrible day.
And start over.
I Still RememberThose late nights
And wanting so badly
To just stop thinking
And stop hurting
And sitting on my bed
And picking up the tiny blade
And holding out my wrist
And running the blade across my skin, barely touching it
And doing it again, pushing harder this time
And doing it again and again
Until I saw a tiny bead of blood form
And feeling the sharp pain
And then feeling the rush of endorphins
And wiping away the blood
And feeling at peace
As I admired
What I had done
Ramblings 1 On Procrastination and the Future
Man, I sure am lucky I'm smart.
I don't care about school. I hardly try at all. I procrastinate. I don't study for tests. I don't do extra credit work. I do the bare minimum, and just that. My goal is only to pass- just get a D, so I can move on to the next grade, and the next, and the next, and so on until I graduate high school.
I don't want to go to college. God knows my parents would kill me if I don't. But I just don't see a reason to. I'm sure I can find some job, some career, some way to make money.
Maybe I won't even need a job to get money. Maybe I'll learn to count cards and win big at Blackjack. Maybe I'll become a master thief. Maybe I'll make a living doing odd jobs for my neighbors.
Maybe I won't even have neighbors- maybe I'll live on the streets and be a drifter, a vagabond. Never sure where my next meal is coming from, just being satisfied if it comes at all.
Maybe I'm being absurd. Maybe while I sit here thinking about what I
BlackMost people think black is scary
But they're wrong.
Black isn't scary;
It's the not knowing that's scary.
The not knowing what's out there
Of your nose.
But that doesn't bother me.
Because although I can't see what's hiding out there,
They can't see me
Fingertips and Working HardAn Essay on Fingertips and Working Hard
Sometimes when I'm feeling sad or worthless, I'll just feel the pads of the fingers of my left hand, tapping their hardened tips with my thumb one at a time, down the line. Index, middle, ring, pinky. Pinky, ring, middle, index. Often I think that they're the only proof that I've worked hard at anything in my life.
I mean, I have my multitude of perfect straight-A report cards, but I've never really tried hard in school. It just comes naturally. And even if I did work for my grades, it wouldn't be because I wanted to do well in school; it would be because I had to do well in school.
The same goes for almost everything else in my life. If I like something, then I'm automatically great at it. If I don't like something, I'm still great at doing it. My whole life, I've never had to work and practice and study to be able to do anything.
But I couldn't always play guitar. The first time I picked up my dad's 20-year-old Fannon, the
MusicIf you're out of the loop,
Music is magic.
But when you're in on the secret,
It's simply a science.
The River of WordsSometimes
When I write,
The words blend together
Into a river of sounds.
The river flows
Like a well worded poem.
The writing is perfection.
If I lose
My train of thought,
The river is reduced
To a trickle.
If I get writer's block,
More Than FriendsI'll hold you in my hands forever
Grasp you tight, make sure I never
Let you go again.
Let's be more than friends.
Beautiful MusicOne day, a man sat down on a bench in the city next to a young woman. The woman had a set of iPod earphones in. When the man sat down, the woman turned and smiled at him kindly.
The man, being a man who enjoys music, spoke to the woman. "I hope you don't mind me asking," he said, "But what is it that you're listening to?"
"Oh, I'm listening to beautiful music," the woman replied.
The man wasn't satisfied by this answer. "Well, generally that's what people like to listen to. I meant more specifically. Is it by an artist I'm likely to know?"
"You may know the artist, but I doubt you've listened to this music. People rarely do," she answered.
Once again, the man wasn't entirely satisfied with her vague reply. "If you don't mind, may I listen to this song? I love to find out about new artists and music, especially if it's someone that isn't popular."
"Of course you can listen to it," the woman said happily.
"Well then, may I have one of your ear buds so I may hear this beautiful music?" Th
School, Tests, and All The RestI'm not smart enough for this.
I have no answer for this question.
The more I search my brain,
The more I feel inadequate.
I cannot fathom the correct answer.
Didn't I study this for hours?
Why is your intellect based
On such trivial things?
Apparently, I am not as smart as I thought.
Why don't I know what to write?
This test is a nightmare.
Why can't I get this right?
The only thing about me I was proud of
Has now vanished
Because my textbook knowledge
Wasn't up to par.
Letters to all the people I have kissedi. Rob
I expected a knight in shining armour but you were
just a boy, just a boy.
you flirted and you teased and you kissed me
at midnight on new year’s eve and set the tone
for that whole god-forsaken year.
I could taste lies on your tongue and doubt in your fingers;
you said you were a taurus but you were gemini all over.
friends shouldn’t kiss in the kitchen and
friends shouldn’t drink gin together and
friends shouldn’t cry, drunk on misery, and
friends shouldn’t break another friend’s heart and
I’m still sorry.
I expected just a boy but you were
a knight in shining armour, silver to the pretty
ivory teeth, who was looking for a damsel and found
only don quixote, tilting at windmills and refusing
to be saved.
we were drunk and you were more beautiful
under the harsh car park lights than I had noticed before
and you were mid-sentence and I was mid-hiccup and
we still laugh about it now.
Dear MeDear me, I know we've had disagreements
And that we don't always see eye to eye,
But the last thing I want for you
Is to feel like you have to say goodbye.
Dear me, I know you've been hurting a while
And I know that you're sick of the misery,
But just keep holding on a day at a time
And someday you'll find yourself set free.
Dear me, I know you've been crying.
I've seen your demons give chase.
Smile instead for things will get better.
Wipe those tears off your pretty face.
Dear me, I know your heart is breaking,
Like your being is shattered in two,
But please, don't give up just yet.
The survival rate is too few.
Dear me, I see that you're struggling,
That you feel like you're on the brink.
But keep pushing forward, keep fighting.
You're much stronger than you think.
Dear me, I feel so proud of you.
You've made it out alive.
You're happy now with all you've gained.
You've reached all for which you did strive.
HopeWhen no one else ever seemed to notice me,
You were the first to say "hello".
And you did so with beaming joy.
When I felt so outcast and alone from the world,
You were the one who sat by my side.
And listened with an open heart.
When no one else would acknowledge my very existence,
You were the one to reach out and bare your soul to me.
And you made me feel like somebody.
When I thought of so many reasons to die...
You became my reason to live...
And I will never forget that.
This Is SchizophreniaI feel like I'm talking to myself,
and not in the humorous way,
not like the, I'm “going” insane way
because I am Insane.
I'm insane in the sense that I can hear
things that aren't necessarily there,
things that burrow their little bodies
inside of my ears.
And insane in the way I see things, things that
you can't see. And trust me it's
nothing to “feel” special about, not a magic act,
not a special power that I harness.
This is schizophrenia.
This is a delusion so real and “natural”
that you can't tell whether it's imagination
or something unnatural
This is a nightmare that never goes away,
that a pinch to the arm only angers more
than medications that are supposed to stop
the mental sores.
These are arms so red and angry,
because pinching doesn't work,
but you pinch and pinch and pinch
in order to maintain some sort of normality.
And these next few lines are not to
dote down on Christians, because
I'm one of you. Just God's
forsaken child, I
Soldier BoyOne day he came home,
A man given freedom.
He looked in the mirror,
And liked what he saw...
The days wore on,
And he lived his life.
Morning PT was a distant memory,
So too were the shouts of a Sergeant.
Training came thrice at first,
Then twice, then once,
The days wore on...
And life became harder,
Sacrifices were made.
He looked in the mirror one day,
And didn't like what he saw.
Not the pot-bellied man working for a few scraps.
Nor the slovenly fellow who'd forgotten how to clean his kit.
He earned his freedom, but he had lost what he respected...
And the days wore on...
And so he went out running, one fateful day,
His lungs burning with every breath.
Yet despite the pain inside his chest,
He resolved the soldier, would return to his best.
"You've been gone a long time Corporal Chen, what say we go once more around
-Word of Chen, One-shot, 24 February
god is love
i want to scream god is love. i want to hide god is love i want to cry god is love i want to give up god is love i want to fight. god is love. i want to hate. god is love i want to die. god is love i want to disappear but god is love. i want to cry god is love. never give up dear friends for we are not alone for god is love
dear friend reverse thinking for inspiration . it does not matter which religion you are. we are his children there is light in the darkness donnot give up
The futurethe path widens
toward something unknown
a nervousness follows
a curiosity takes over
and we run to embrace the future
vogue is full of contusions it's fashion week
an d it smells
a n d lust, of fur coats,
swe e/at, and dust.
silence and tongues
like a coffin
and th r oats
and hurdle puddles of your past
and give them to please
let me soak it in my abdomen
and thrust against my hips
until knees buckle
and we crumble together
i am failing
you are lying
but we are fucking
or maybe fucking dying
or tucking crying
in the holster of these paper cuts
tell us who we gotta be
or gonna see
in the afterlife of