So here I am.

I'm been listening to great up-beat music lately. Part of me misses those heart throbbing Bon Iver-type songs I used to listen to all the time. But I can't bring myself to listen to them, not now. Not when things are looking up. I told myself that time has made everything better. However, I'm starting to believe that time has nothing to do with it. I've been bandaged up and my bruised ego has healed. Now I just worry the things that patched me up will lose their adhesion and I'll be left as pathetic as I was before. Fuck I was a miserable human being. I embarrassed myself for months. It freaks me out to think that the same thing could happen again. I guess that's why living under a rock has the potential to be comforting.

I could never do that though. There's no fun in living without fear of pain. The problem is that we can never see an end to pain. But, ends do come and happiness happens. So live it up and blindly step into the future.

I'm learning to enjoy the quest to find something better. That's pretty much the only thing keeping me together.

I Think I Should Have Come With a Warning Sign Tattoed on My Heart

I really should be doing the copious amount of work on my plate right now. But, I really don't feel like writing a book review. I get sick way too often. It could be the drinking, the smoking, the constant stress, but I think it's because I'm falling apart. I believe that there is a direct correlation between the mess I'm in and the state of my mind. Seems pretty obvious.

Anyways, I like it here. In this giant concrete building full of crazy teens, breaking windows with their asses, pulling fire alarms at 2am, and causing a general ruckus. I also love it here. When you're sick, there are people that give a shit. You have no idea how many people offered me tea to help me feel better. But, the thing is, all I really need is time. Time is always seen as a bad thing. We fear it as we get older, we curse it when we die. I've been watching too much Six Feet Under. Damn that show is depressing. I think I spent at least 13 hours yesterday watching one episode after another... It doesn't really open your eyes to anything new. Everyone dies, people cheat on each other, people often die alone/young/old, sometimes people let each other down, and in the end it really doesn't matter where you go when you die. If heaven is real, then that's awesome, but for a lot of us, our lives are our hell. One of my greatest fears is to never get out of this mess I've made. One of my greatest hopes is to be an extra in a zombie movie. But, overall, I want to fix more hearts than I break. Maybe I'm not the right person for the job though, soon I'll figure it out and perhaps I should become a funeral director like the brothers on Six Feet Under. Then I wont have to worry about hurting people.

Anyways, back to work to keep my mind off of my sickness. I hope it will go away soon, but then again it's kinda comforting to feel the constant effects of my misery. I need to keep telling myself that the world is a beautiful place and that I'm in a wonderful situation in life. I need to forget the fact that I'm inexperienced in the ways of the human heart. Someday, hopefully soon I'll learn. Until then I'll save up my money for an ad campaign to warn the world of my insanity.

I think I should write another short story. I haven't written anything creative in a long time.

Wishing Well

In your innocence,

you wish with good intentions.

When will this minute pass?

When will this hour end?

When will this week be over?

When will this month go by?

But, when will it be time to live at last?

Sometime soon, our time will end.

And we’ll have nothing to remember as we fade.

Our hands will strain for another minute.

Our limbs will reach for just one more day.

And our molten hearts will leak hot from our mouths as we pretend,

that everything’s ok.

We never let ourselves be beautiful in our own eyes.

Our baby skin and our baby hearts have long gone.

Why did we spend a lifetime wishing for more, wishing well, and hating what was drawn?

And we’re scared of never being able to love ourselves.

Now it’s too late and our skin is dead, our hands are limp and our eyes are rust.

And our leathery old skin will turn to dust.

It will be too late by the time you know,

we were wishing our time away and we forgot to let our baby skin glow.

We will regret never feeling the heart beat of a lover

or taking just one moment in a lifetime to discover

the comfort of crying on a shoulder and being protected,

while telling a secret to a stranger, soon connected.

You wished your time away

and now you're stuck hoping for just one more day.