Another day.

Another day beckons me
Calling for my ceasing of action.
Calling for me rest my head so it can prepare itself.
I am ready for it now
Sleep is on the horizon
I am waiting for the sun
To call my name as it arises
To rouse me from my bed
As It tells me whats in store
I can’t wait to see
What tomorrow may bring to me
What next expeirnces will show
And what memories to be made
Another day beckons me
and I am ready.

Sickness Fatigue

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I got sick again, and in doing so, its thrown all my plans through the ringer. The idea that I would stay on top of things never accounts for sicknesses of any sort which is probably a bigger problem in the first place. I have probably have said this before, but it really has put a damper on things. This time not just the sickness but the recovery.  It’s taken me days to feel some semblance of normal, and I am still ridiculously tired. I think that’s the worst part of it, not the symptoms but the fatigue.

It hits me like a wall, almost as if my head is moving through a thick fog of fatigue. It has plagued me for days, forcing me to cut short the productive hours I usually have.  Maybe I am pushing it too hard, but I want to make the most of the time I have now and actually make steps to getting ahead in the life in which I dream to be. It even makes waking up feeling with my head feeling heavy of sleeping sand.  I don’t enjoy this at all, it makes me feel so detached from me.

I can say that being sick will always put things in perspective how good it is to be in good health.  I wish I weren’t tired, I wish it didn’t throw out an entire weekend of productivity, but I can’t undo the past. I want to work for the future, but it’s this fatigue that is following me everywhere I go.

I know this isn’t my usual spiel and more of a complaint than anything else, but what can I do when my head is pounding against my eyes asking me to hit the pillow instead of the books.  I can fight back, but I don’t know how much to, I don’t want to relapse and watch myself descend back into sickness, especially when I am so close to these days in which I am free to be as productive as I want to be.  So I will bide my time and wait until I can rise again healthy and full of energy.

 

Help And Aid All Day

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A world made up of heroes and villains, a world of fantasy that over lays itself on our own.  People far and wide look up to heroes and want to be like them. I think the world loves its heroes not because of the flashy way they go about their lives but the idea that someone of an almost mythical quality can come an take you away from the problems you have.  I’ve always wanted to be a hero in someway, someone who can save people, change their lived in an instant, and inspire other to carry on doing great things.  Its not exactly that straight forward though, it doesn’t just happen in a moment.

I just want to help others, lessen as much of their suffering as much as I can, but it doesn’t always work out the way I want.  I can’t save everyone on my own, but does that mean I should stop trying. Never. It’s a matter of understanding what I can and can’t do at the moment. The limitations that I have, and what powers I can use to lessen a problem not create new ones.

Situations may arise where it turns out I am simply not the right person to help, that in no small way am I the hero in their story, not the right person to be telling people advice or helping them along the way.  That there is someone more meaningful or impactful that in their heart of hearts they hope they see. Do I keep at it then, it’s a bit of a slog over time. Perhaps I should help find the person that would be most impactful for them, being an intermediary hero. Maybe I need to maximize my impact by excelling in my own way so that people can look up to me, perhaps they will listen then. Then maybe I can become this right person to help them along the way.

There is also the saying of “healthy neglect” the idea that people in some way have to struggle on their own through situations so they can learn the lessons and get stronger.  I have a hard time with this because I see somebody struggling and my first instinct is to extend my hand in aid.

Furthermore, I hate that the world has its own plans.  It’s the hard part about psychology, even if you know the problem and answer, it doesn’t mean it will happen or that you can do anything about it.  Each person had to make their own choices because they are the ones who have to deal with the feeling afterward.   Each step they take they have to take on their own.

Who really knows though, I will keep fighting because that is who I am.  I might get saddened by peoples sadness, hope to god that I can just make their life better even if it’s not by much. To create that positive impact that follows you like a trail blazed through a forest.

The Ballad Of Delusion And Madness

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Today I want to tell you part of a story.

Imagine the scene, eighth-grade year, the last year of what be the school that this barely even teenage kid had devoted seven long years to.  This kid was by no means a stellar student or popular. He had to deal with all the crap that comes with not being particularly liked, but at this point, he was more than happy to have others to share that dark spotlight with. Truth be told, he was more concerned with keeping his head down and out of the way than with trying to stand out. Let me tell you, that’s hard for a kid who’s a bit too zealous with asking questions and answering them especially if that boy has a tinge of awkwardness that follows him around like a cloud.  Either way, the year was almost over, high school was on the horizon, but a great debate about the future seems to lurk around every corner. He seems okay but underneath it all,  he’s being crushed by the weight of a decision that ultimately isn’t even his.
You see, his parents are divorced and separated by miles and miles of road which was perfect for the moment. Great until it becomes time for something to spark a change. To ignite a wildfire through their lives. Their sin, love for their children and pride. It would send earthquakes and aftershocks in the future, but neither of them knew that at the time. All they knew is that there was a wind blowing and change coming and they wanted was the favorable wind.
With types of fights, the large hand of justice looms overhead and intervenes for the sake of “the children.”  Setting up arbitration and evaluation to determine what is right and what is good, the decision is quick, but the process is not.  A member of that hand comes to observe and report what should be and what is.  Writing notes and recommendations about where this future should go, and what direction it will take. I wonder what they saw though, especially for this boy. Did they capture all the loneliness he felt? Did the capture his alienation?  Did that hand understand what it mean to be him and how that all he wanted to do was escape into a different world that might be able to understand him a bit better? He even wondered if they were looking.
Adding on top of this multitude of problems is youth.  You see, the poor kid started developing a crush.  A crush on a girl who didn’t go to his school but was the first one who he felt gave him the time of day.  Someone who seemed excited to talk to him or wanted to hang out. This was all new to him, he needed guidance so unlike what he is used to, he sought help, unlike he’s used to, people wanted to help him. For once in his life he felt like this might work out. A seeming oasis from his tribulation, he felt like with his peers helping him he didn’t have to be alone.
But that’s just the setup for the final act, the set up that would ultimately fall like dominos one by one.
So here we are, the beginning of May and the final piece that comes to play is set up.  Courage and love. The boy finally works it up, after much thought and deliberation he hatched a plan with his peers to finally chase after what he wanted.  To ask a question of the girl he didn’t know the answer to.  He decided it would be at the annual school festival, he knew she would be there. At the annual school festival, so would everybody else.
So there we are, a morning of the day that he is nervous. Adrenalin takes hold as he makes his way alone to the school.  Fun, games, and people all around. Laughter, and noise filling the air along with the smell of baked goods and grilled meat.  He was there that he knew there was no backing out now, he felt the power of the world behind him, and he couldn’t let them down.  So by the time the afternoon came, he found the girl wanted to question.  By the late afternoon, he was ready for what he thought the answer would be.  But hardly ever are expectation and reality something that goes hand in hand.    It was then he found out she had a boyfriend, it was then he knew thing weren’t going to work out.  It was then things began to crumble. It was then he needed help.
Where did he go for it? He went to his peers.  Some offered a small condolence, but the boy searched for the people that helped him. He searched for the ones who spent all this time helping him along the way.  But what he found was nothing, not a care or a word.   What the boy didn’t know is that the kid of the moment became old news.  He was no longer interesting, so there was no need to care.
This is when he began to fracture, this is when he began to see the breaks within.  He put on a tough face but after it all, he walked home through the night, tears flowing from his eyes wish it would all just go away.
The domino had fallen, sending rest of them falling down the line. The cogs began turning, and the world changed slowly.  Soon enough the decisions by the looming hand of justice were being made. For high school, it chose for him. For his schedule, it chose for him. Where he would be living, it chose for him.  This looming hand was determining the course of his life.  What again was it that he wanted, after it all, he didn’t even know anymore.
His parents bumbled and blustered, even though the spent all that time beating and bruising each in the court room never really got what the wanted.  Each decision wore away a bit of the boy, who at this point was already broken.  He felt like a rock in the desert slowly being eroded away, day after day with no end.  Soon, all that was left was void, a void where he threw all his emotions and feelings. He felt empty, and this made him content.

After it all they made him go see a therapist, in hopes of reducing the damage they had caused him.  But it was too late, the kid had built himself a mask, a mask to show the world what they wanted to see, a mask that would save him the trouble of having to worry about being exposed because if everything seemed alright, then nobody asked questions. If he could mimic human life, then he can live in this void forever. The therapist thought the boy was fine, the boy thought the therapist needed someone to talk to so they talked about him. Soon enough the boy was out to clean bill of health but just as empty as ever.
As the dust settled the kid wore that mask, and for a long time, all he felt was nothing.

That’s not where the story ends for the boy, there more to come. How those events will shape the boy. Events that helped set him down that spiral downward.
Again, this isn’t the end of the story, just a part. So if you could wait until next week to hear the end and what happens to the boy with the mask, I’ll be there to finish it.

To: Love

Dear Love,

I haven’t heard from you in a while, and trust me, I knew after our last encounter we needed some space.

It’s just been strange without you around. I remember you, and I having been inseparable since I first met you around 6 or 7.  You used to play with me whenever I felt lonely or down.  All through school, you accompanied me through my awkward phases and social situations, nagging me in the middle of class, diverting my attention.  I didn’t mind, I always enjoyed myself when you were around even if things didn’t work out as planned. I remember how charismatic you were, telling me stories and tales about others people who knew you and dreams of the future you had with me.  You were always there, pulling at my heartstrings, making me feel the true immensity of being crushed by the unrequited feelings I had in my chest.

Years went by with this persistent feeling, as I got older, our relationship deepened. I came to better understand you.  I took some time in high school to grow on my own without you around, knowing that we would reconnect as old friends when I got back. That period I learned not to lean on you, that I needed to learn to stand on my own two feet without you around. I couldn’t expect you to carry me in the future, especially if I didn’t have anything to give you in return.

Through heartbreak, I found you, through experience and a desire to not make the same mistakes I sought you. I thought you would leave me disappointed again, but this time you came back in spades. It marked a new depth to things, you really got to know me, and I really got to know you.

We were around each other for a while, taking a break every now and again. My college years were full of experiences with you, learning and growing.  It started to feel like this was what growing up and maturing felt like. We hit a groove, a rhythm, an understanding that maybe this would be something that continued without pause.

Then it happened, you and I got into a bit of a disagreement.  It wasn’t something unusual, and normally I would bounce right back, but this last one didn’t sit right with me. I knew we needed some time to figure things out.  I had taken you for granted, and you hit me where it hurt. It became heavy when you were around, and I just couldn’t handle the strain, there was too much memory, too much complication, and too many unresolved feelings.

I realized we couldn’t just keep going on like we used to, that I needed some time away from you. There is no blame to be cast, it just one of those things that happen.  Without you around, I could figure out myself and grow. Part of me knows that if you were around, I would get comfortable and complacent. Part of me believes this is the best for both of us, that one-day things will work out okay. Part of me is afraid you might do the same thing to me again, so I don’t know how much to trust you.

Time will mend these wounds, the experience will overwrite the pain. In the end, I know sometimes you treated me like crap, pushed me into situations where I would be let down, but I don’t regret any of my moments with you because you gave me memories I will cherish forever.

One day we will find each other again when the time is right, we meet like old friends who bump into each other at the supermarket, and without skipping a beat, we will reconnect. Until then I wish you well and hope you are okay. Know that I’m not gone for good, I will figure things out.

I miss you love, and I love you. I promise I’ll come for you again soon.

Sincerely,
Me

 

Hey Chicago Girl

I saw you in my dreams, and it felt like you were almost real to touch, I wish I didn’t have to wake up.

We met in Chicago, a city that I haven’t been in. I just remember all the buildings looking down and in on us, slopped at the top as if they were sinking slowly into the ground.

I can’t remember how we met, might have been on the train, a plane, or maybe in a room. I just remember having to go up to you, wanting to talk and get to know you.

You were much shorter than I was, dark hair and pale skin but kind of verve in your brown eyes that lightened my spirit, no wonder after I was awoken by my cat I decided to go back to sleep to hang out with you.

Oh Chicago girl, you showed me around your neck of the woods, showed me the city you grew up in as we talked and talked, smiled and laughed, getting to know each other.  You had a cool job, and you seemed to have everything together as you moved through the world with a energy and joy. Even though it seemed like moving through a city normally, it felt like an adventure with you.

I didn’t want to leave but I knew I had to, I had the feeling as if I had a plane to catch to go back home.  I got a nagging feeling that I would regret if didn’t at least get to know her name or some way to contact her.  I decided to ignore this call to leave for back home, to spend more time with you in Chicago, squeeze out every last drop.

The night began to decend and we spent more time together. We went through a scary maze with monsters and hung out in the upstairs of a house were we both got comfortable just living life as people came and went.  I got the chance to really look at you and it made me happy, made me feel at ease.

We talked about where I’m from and you were so excited to listen, made me feel somehow exotic.  We swapped stories and ideas, when sitting across from each other.

This is when the my dream broke, and I couldn’t hang onto it much longer. I was sitting across from you but in reality the morning was calling me to awake.  You just sat there at looking at me as I was torn away from my dreams, not knowing what was happening or that I was fighting to stay.

Every moment that pass a little of you crumples away like most dreams, this one sticking with me a bit longer.  I am forgetting the features of your face, the topics of conversation, the building around us and what we were doing. I’m am holding on for as long as I can, this feeling that we shared in a dream.

Maybe I am hopeless but if your out there in the world Chicago Girl, if you are real, I would be love to share a dream with you again.

Bags Under My Eyes

I have been getting less and less sleep
because nothing seems to get done
I keep going and going until I pass out
then wake up to start at it again
I wonder how long I can keep this up for
how long I will keep functioning
I always wanted this for myself
and yet, a good nights sleep is something to
die for

no sleep
leads to invasive thoughts and feelings
need sleep to make good choices
don’t sleep because I have work to do
can’t make the better choice to sleep instead of work
because I don’t sleep
see the problem
I don’t
because it at least makes me feel like I am
working towards something I love

sleep
I will get back to you
I promise
just right now,
I need to work
on the dreams you gave me while I was
sleeping

The Meal

This time of year people makes a big deal about a meal. Why can you have a holiday that revolves around the act of eating? The reason is that it brings us together to recognize what only a meal could, connection.
Now, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. Before you say it’s just because I like food and to cook, that’s only part of the reason.  See unlike Chrismas, birthdays, Holloween, and other holidays it requires you to give time and effort with a fleeting return.  Thanksgiving is based around an idea of giving thanks for what we have instead of receiving something extra.  It’s a holiday the requires us to sit down together in unity and forces us to suffer through being in proximity of people we may only be able to handle in small doses.

It forces us unabatedly back together regardless of the state of being and distance.  For someone like myself who is keen on keeping a casual distance from most people and my head in the clouds, it’s an opportunity to ground myself and forces me to reconnect.  I find all the trials and tribulations of planning, getting people together, preparing the meal, and finally sitting down together soothing. With so many gears chugging away and all the ways things can go awry, I find it’s a perfect personification of life.  I find this perfect disaster the very reason I give thanks on that day.  It is in this chaos of moving parts that we are reminded that life has a lot of ordinary things that pass us by, significant roadblocks on the path, and small happiness along the way and they are all things we should be thankful for.  SO this is my message to life, thank you for being the beautiful, crazy, perfect disaster that you are.

The Forlorn Day Dream

I saw it clear as day, as if I had just woken up. There was single spotlight beaming down, illuminating my arms and legs which were attached to wires extending into the infinite above me.
I was hanging in a black void, dangling from thread unable to move. The strings seem to pull, and my body starts to animate.  My limbs moved more like clockwork, with an unnatural flow and began reaching into the nothingness in front of me.
Suspended from these strings, I started getting used to my motion and after a time the spotlight dimmed.  I found myself in front of the world that was like a small orb that exuded light.
This world that looked and moved very much like our own.  All around it were small strings jutting from this blue-green globe. I sat there observing as days and nights seem to pass, and I grew to admire this world.  I wanted to reach out and pull strings, to influence the world in front of me. My hands moved as if on their own, reached down and started to pull these strings.  Each time is affecting a little bit more of this world in between my hands. With time, I learned what each string did, learned all the ways to use them to make what I wanted to happen. But every time I pulled strings they became more and more entangled in my fingertips.
That’s when the spotlight came back, my fingers all tangled up in string.  I was just an actor in a much larger system,  I was a just marionette who learned to puppeteer but, truth be told, I never knew who was pulling my strings. I wanted to know why, and for what purpose did I have to learn that no matter what strings I pull that someone was pulling mine.