Tuning Out Reality

Last night I lost the connection that I have grown to depend on.
I lost my sense of self with a complete lack of grace.
I lost any thought to the darkness into which I dove further.
I needed a lobotomy.
I needed to no longer think.
And that’s when I turned on the TV.
It sucked me in and I grew to depend on a world I have no place in.
I didn’t want to react and so I set back to take another reality in.
I allowed the colors to captivate my eyes.
I dove further into the thick plot of lies.
I turned my back on what I was facing inside.
The characters built on the screen allowed me to believe that I can seek a different version of me.
I allowed my mind to dive further into a world that is not real.
I denied any feelings I had left to feel.
I buried them in the scheme of what I saw on the screen.
Since I desperately no longer wanted to be me.
And the TV listened to my plea.
It allowed me to escape reality.
It drew me in to a different world and I was lost in what unfurled.
I allowed the characters to over take me and allowed them to become a piece of me.
I sunk further into their made up of version of reality.
Nothing else existed around me.
I allowed myself to be sucked in by their hopes and dreams.
I began to finally forget about me.
The longer I sat on the couch soaking up an alternative reality the longer I was able to extend my fabricated peace.
If just momentarily.
Since the TV cannot return what I see.
It cannot tell me that there is a girl it perceives lost in a fit of anxiety.
It cannot not share the story of my demise.
It cannot unearth the root of my lies.
It cannot stop the terror that is building inside.
It cannot explain why my life is so difficult to survive.
The screen is lost on me and the reflection it sees.
It cannot conceive my mundane reality.
There is no thought through plot.
There is no hope in the character development.
There is no music to go along with it.
There is just me,
Sitting on a couch,
Attempting to escape reality.


This time is different. This time I will not lose it. This time I got this. This time I will recognize myself as no less than capable. This time I will bring all that I have to the table. This time I will serve me.

There were many times when I tried this before. And there are many times when I failed before. There was so much more than I was once looking for.

This time I will be more. This time I will remain dedicated. This time I will not get faded. This time will be different.

There were times when I said this before. There were times when I did not mean to seek what I did out of boredom. There were times when I thought I could do more than this.

This time I can mean something. This time I can come clean. This time I will be me.

There is so much more I want to see. There is so much more I want to be. There is so much more than me.

This time I can see. This time I might actually believe. This is the time when I can be.

There was something lacking in my past. There is something that was not allowing me to react. There was something holding me back.

This time I want this more desperately. This time I want to be more than free. This time I want to become an honest version of me.

There was something that escaped me before. There was something that I allowed to hold me back. There was some form of honesty that I lacked.

This time I know me. This time I can see. This time I am approaching.

There was something missing. There was a gap in my understanding.

This time I will move on. This time is gone.

There is no more hesitating.

Drinking Friends

They’re like family.
They are the reason that I look forward to drinking.
They come with smiles and long hugs.
They put off all of the trials that I can complain of.
They are why I never practice deceit.
They find truth in the words I fumble over as I speak.
They share the same polluted air I breathe.
They are why I keep returning.
They are from who I am constantly learning.
They give me a reason to speak.
They give me something in which to believe.
They share the conversation I was hoping to find.
They have never wasted my time.
They are what I want to serve.
They provided the acceptance that I once thought was undeserved.
They still prove to get on my nerves.
They are what provokes me to go further.
I am the friend that I thought they never had,
Since I was the friend they thought had gone bad.

Watch Them Grow

The plants have it right.

They stretch and grow with the resources they sow.

They are deceiving.

They flash beauty and are rooted deep only showing us what we might find worth in keeping.

They hold a secret to their success.

They stretch deeper into the earth and the mess that they were born from.

They use the dirt as something to rise above.

They are humble as they root themselves deep beneath the surface that we only scratch.

They are waiting for the perfect time to react.

They recognize that there is a weakness in their seed state.

They are willing to wait.

They can sense the time when they need to emerge and allow their leaves to unfurl.

They sought out this moment patiently.

They continued progressing at a level we can’t see.

They emerge cautiously.

They slowly rise from the darkness and allow their progress to be rewarded with the sun from which they feed.

They found what they need yet they still proceed cautiously.

The strong plants refuse to bolt and are focused on more than a quick reward.

They observe the surroundings of where they are trying to take hold.

They learn to adapt.

They reach and grow in unusual directions taking the path that we least expected.

They are steady in their pursuit.

They know how to use three simple ingredients to get through.

They focus on nothing else besides their pursuit to grow.

The weak ones are left to reside closer to the earth from which they were mothered.

They are destined to feed others.

They serve the short life they were given.

They have reason to believe in the cycle of rebirth that only some of us observe.

They know they will return.

They have an influence that was bright while it lasted.

They know that could have mastered this earth.

The wise ones know when it is their time.

They can sense their strength growing inside.

They are thankful for the advantages they were provided.

They reward their mother with everlasting green.

They provide life to landscape ignored previously.

They are generous with their bounty.

The wise ones will watch as they grow steadily.

The plants knew it all along.

They are the reason that we breathe.

Every Imperfect Piece of Me

Everything must be perfect. Every thought must be thought through. Every word I speak needs to come from me and be the brilliant thought I could ever conceive. I have to longer disappoint me.
Everything must be planned. Every detail must be considered. Every action must be thought through. I have to consider my every move.
Everything must go smoothly. Every step must be carefully placed. Every misstep must be promptly erased. This has always been the case.
Everything must be under my control. Every decision has to have been thought through before. Every event must be anticipated otherwise I will feel that I have wasted it.
Everything must be working against me. Every move I make is countered. Every effort I make is ignored. Every time I look up there is something more disappointing.
Everything must be as it seems. Every moment I have is wasted. Every day I grow more complacent. Every time I try to express this I get bored.
Everything is going horribly. Every action I take is counterproductive. Every accomplishment I reach is lack luster. Every argument I have against myself I have had before.
Everything is escaping me. Every imperfect thought is lost. Every imperfect moment is a disappointment. Every weakness I possess is infecting any strength I have left.
Everything is broken. Every moment is lost. Every mistake resonates. Every trial is greater than the last one I faced.
Everything is what I believe. Every lesson is lost on me. Every misstep haunts me.
Everything is what I make it to be.
Every moment is mine.
Every change takes time.
Everything I want will one day be an imperfect piece of me.

A Magical Gathering

It is more than just a gathering of nerds,
It is how I learned to practice speaking my own words.
It is an evening when I am not in my own head,
And there are friends surrounding me instead.
It is when I am allowed to regret none of the words I speak,
And when I can truly be me.
There is the shuffling of cards that keeps my hands busy,
And the plays to create that keeps my mind spinning.
There are the subtle differences in how we approach this game,
And the people we allow ourselves to be when we play.
You are seeking to destroy and conquer,
Living out the fantasy of what you have been denied before,
Not realizing what you have asked for.
She is seeking to be an angel of death,
Killing your creatures all in one breath,
While realizing her desire to be a God instead.
He is taking the path less travelled,
In an effort to break up the usual pattern,
And wandering into the same age old battle.
And I am watching your every move,
Observing the traits that naturally make up you.
Since on this playing field you are free to be,
The truest version of a nerd that I have ever seen.
There is humming in the background,
Of incoherent sounds as you pick out your deck and shuffle through your current bet,
Sifting through spells, artifacts, creatures, and lands that combine to make a world that to only you makes sense.
There is a lack of tension in the air even as you prepare to kill each other,
Since there is a mutual understanding that this is all in the name of fun.
There are countless painful puns.
But the tensions build still,
As you each dive into your card mill,
Hoping that you might have the chance to prove you skill.
Since on this stage you are free,
To be the nerds that can still dream of a reality that is different than the one I see.
I see a group of introverts who finally found their cohorts.
I see a group of self proclaimed nerds who are happiest when playing in the realm of Middle-earth.
I see the competition in your eyes,
And a fire that lets me know you are still alive.
Reality has not crushed the spirit you were born with,
Because you are allowed to escape into this world with,
People who understand this version of you,
And the fantasies that you wish you could pursue.
I see so much truth as I watch you,
Play this game that I still don’t understand how to play.
But the lack of a deck does not separate me,
From seeking shelter in your version of reality.
You extend this opportunity to me,
To escape with you into a world where we can all believe,
In the magic of nerds gathering.

Pick A Direction

Choose your battles, you picky bitch.
Choose what you want to fight against.
This life can’t hold everything that was once foretold, in fairytales from years of old.
Choose what you want to do with this life.
Choose your own version of strife.
You are not the person that you once assumed.
Choose what you want to do.
It is as simple as that.
Choose what you lack and learn when to fight back.
Choose to be more or choose to sink to your knees, exposing your hands that bleed with a desperate plea.
Choose who YOU want to be.
Choose. Or move on.
Stop this complaining repertoire.
Cease your fire! You no longer have a while to ponder. It is time for action. There is no more time to squander.
Choose this fight.
Or choose to lie down your weapons and be open.
Choose what you search for hopelessly.
There are no answers for the questions you pose. There are many unspoken reasons for the path you chose.
So choose once again.
Learn that there is more on which you can depend.
Choose to stop choking on your own words.
Choose a battle that is less absurd.
Choose something to believe in. It is on you who you depend.
Choose what you are willing to see and how this could be everything you once needed.
Choose which fight destroys you.
Admit what you are willing to lose.
Everything will not be simple and nothing will make sense the more you fight this.
Choose to embrace it.
There is much more you could lose, yet there is so much more you could use to get through.
Be more than this.
Rise above this debate.
Find ways in which you are able to relate.
Choose the words you want to convey.
Don’t take back what you said when you committed to a life that is your own form of bliss.
Choose to work harder for this.
Choose what you are willing to miss as you choose to let go of this struggle against your own choice.
Choose to find your voice.
Choose to move on.
Or choose to cling on to the life that you once created.
Choose which reality you want to debate.
Is it the battle inside that satisfies your mind? Or is it the hope that you are working towards something in time?
Choose which answer you want to find.
This battle will rage forever.
Choose how you want to react.
Choose what patience you lack and what fallacies you want to attack.
Choose what you will never be able to take back.
Choose to make now the time to react.
Choose or lose this battle fought within you.
That is all you can be expected to do.

I Feel It In My Feet

The ocean breeze clashes with the wind that whips around the mountain.
I’ll be coming home, but not to my own end.
The trees blend seamlessly into the landscape, stitched into the crevices that appear so deep they could swallow everything.
It is through these trees that I must travel.
Darkness dances in the light and beneath the clouds rolling through the melancholy town.
In this darkness I will seek all that means something.
The mountain watches over the sea, careful of the air it breathes of pollution from you and me.
It looms in the distance over me, taunting the dreams I once observed fall farther than from the top of that very mountain, to the ground on which I have grown to depend.
The earth is cold and wet beneath my feet.
The grass springs a never ending green with the tears from the sky fueling the drive to survive.
I look up to see the stars uncovering.
The sky blends from blue to red to purple and then back to black.
I wait for my moment to react.
When the blackness takes over and one light at a time begins to shine, slowly emerging from a peaceful sleep.
I breathe.
The wind whips around my feet and up to my shins, it begins to press in. It rises with the tide and tightens around the breath that I attempt to take in.
It slaps at my face in an attempt to awaken.
A chirp of a bird is heard in the distance as the stars begin to wane in their existence, giving the stage to the glow of the sun, rising above the mountain.
I must move on, I can feel it in my feet.
The glow warms the earth penetrating the darkness that once controlled all view of this world.
I must move quickly.
The sky blends from black to orange to red and back to blue.
I know what I must do.
The chorus of birds begins to rise, filling the once so still sky with a song that is foreign.
The city begins to wake as I wait.
The rusle of movement from a single blade of grass leads to a leaf trembling, and a tree swaying, up to the birds that continue making the sounds of life.
I listen.
It is time.
This landscape no longer holds for me what I sought to see while it was on darkness that I was focusing. It no longer holds the light that I sought against the trials I previously fought. It no longer speaks to me. I am listening but I can’t seem to find the same song that I found comfort in at a time when I was desperately searching. I found the darkness in this landscape of light. I found the flaws in this beauty. I found all the flaws I was avoiding.
There is more hidden in these trees than I once thought.
There is more darkness in the light that I sought.
It is time for me to move on.

Undeserved Loyalty

You are the best friend I can not claim to be only mine,
But our friendship has grown with time.
You are the one on who I have grown to depend,
And yet there is no reward for you in the end.
You are the support that I need.
In you I find consistency.
You hold the moments that usually escape me.
You give me a chance to breathe.
There is a light in your eyes and a perk of your ears that alerts me to your attention.
There is an understanding in your complexion that I do not deserve.
I see love in your reflection that is unearned.
This all a projection of what I want to see in you, since we cannot understand each other plainly.
There is a gap in species that separates you and me.
You communicate with your eyes as I try to internalize my own demise.
You sit with patience while I expect more than this.
You rely on consistency while I crave to be anything else.
You taught me there is more to be felt.
I admire you.
I admire what you have gone through and yet what you are still willing to do for those who take care of you.
You wait all day for my return and provide me with love that is unearned.
You hate to see me cry.
You seem to sense my pain as it builds inside.
You have sat with me in silence and danced with me in celebration.
You have supported me through my trepidation.
You are the one that I hold near when I have so much in this world that I fear.
Your touch gives me confidence to move on with this life.
And you are the one that I will miss in spite of knowing that I must move on from your life.
I can’t live the life you live.
I need to move on to one where I am given a chance to find my own best friend.
I need a dog of my own on who I can depend.
And despite my never ceasing love for you,
There is so much more in this life that I must do.
I see the understanding in your eyes,
More than your human could ever say in lies.
I must move on from you, but it is not because of anything you do.
I still love you.
And I always will.
You are the one who helped me heal.


I feel no responsibility any more to do what I promised to do before. I am tired of the way that I contribute to people who can’t accomplish things on their own. I am tired of picking up my phone. I can’t conceive another day where I am the last to say that my time was well spent.
I am tired of this repent.
I want to move on and I can’t seem to budge. I tried motivation and passion both of which I found to be lacking. I tried patience and grace but they seemed to hold no place in the trials I am bound to face. I tried denial and fear but discovered that I always keep those near.
I tried.
But this is the fire that still burns inside with dissatisfaction. I lack the reaction that I was hoping for. I am less than I am more. I cough and hack up a lung onto my bedroom floor. I am weak. I am ashamed of the words I speak. I have too many questions that have no perfect answer in the end.
I am a perfectionist.
And I am infected with this desire to never be satisfied. I want to curl up into a ball and die. I have tried this before. I failed at that even more. I am not the perfect person and I am not the model of depression. I am somewhere in between. I swing. In the evenings I grasp at hope. And in the mornings I am devoid of all positivity. I find myself to be less than I once thought when I was able to dream.
I once slept soundly.
I would have never believed that this was me. I never predicted my vulnerability. I am proud of what I accomplished. And yet I still want more than this. I have the audacity to hope. And I hope that I never lose that drive. I hope to continue to develop a sense of pride. I hope am not dead on the inside. I still have much life left. I have more time to circumvent this disappointment. I am stronger than I think. I have more words to speak. I am not you. Even if this is a path I did not choose. I will no longer feel used.
I can’t. I hope. I won’t. I seek. I will never. I dream.
And I move on.