attachment

     Empathy overwhelms everyday life. Just the sight of someone begging for sustenance creates scenarios about how they got to where they are and emotions take me over. The desire to lend my couch and shower, to help them find hope, livelihood and happiness once more, penetrates my entire being. Then a concrete wave of reality hits me and I sadly realize I can't. Without the means, safety, or room for all those I would like to help, I'm at a loss.

     I remind myself that we've all failed them, the defeat is not mine alone, that we are all responsible for their suffering. The media, government, greed, selfishness, image. We care more about getting ahead and providing a good life for ourselves and those we are personally responsible for. When in reality we are all personally responsible for every living thing on this planet we call home.

    Volunteering is not enough when so few do it, the impact of one is so small compared to the impact of many. Too many label these people as con-men, lazy, mentally unfit. They are you, and me in different circumstances. They need a warm smile, friendly conversation, food to eat, connection.

     That is not where our selfishness ends. Every living thing is you, is me--in another. When we treat animals as less than us, when we neglect our pets, our parents, grandparents, friends, strangers. We are neglecting the essence of existence. We are dismissing the only thing in which we can truly make a meaningful difference. We are lending ourselves to drown in the downward spiral of society, government, and media driven ignorance and greed.

     Attach yourselves to what really matters.

Trespass

Lost in an almond shaped world void of color, taste, fragrance, meaning. Slipping slowly into a darkness that sucks up energy, steals sleep, suffocates and crushes existence. Moisture bites the corners, constantly threatening to tip over the edge. A powerful cloud of despair seemingly impossible to evade. An intrusion into the facade. The mask that fooled so many now cracked and stained with deceit. A heartbreaking trespass into the world of another.

Featured! :)

http://folioslcc.org/post/48309121318/gone

Creating Suffering

I recently was talking with a friend from high school. The subject matter isn't what I would like to talk about, but a specific sentence he said. It was that "we create our own suffering." It wasn't something I hadn't heard before, but I had never really took the time to explore the meaning behind it or how true it is, at least to me.

While studying at Utah State University I took a class on philosophy and religion. At the time I was trying to discover my own beliefs but it ended up confusing me more. One of the things the professor would always bring up was suffering. Especially when talking about a God... how could a God justify the suffering in the world? A lot of students in the class had very well thought-out arguments to defend their God, but none of them seemed to cut it for me. Which had me walking the line of disbelief in God or hatred toward God.

After a while I was tired of trying to figure it out and distracted myself with music, friends, etc. I found that everything that was making me unhappy though would go back to what my beliefs were. i.e. If I believed in certain christian religions than drinking was "bad." So I was constantly conflicted with my own actions. The religion of my childhood and my choice in life style were in constant conflict which diminished my confidence. I was focusing on the smaller decisions instead of the big picture and at some point I realized that until I found what I personally believed I would constantly second guess my decisions. I know a moral compass or belief system is not necessary for everyone, but it is for me.

So I began reading, researching, and attending meetings for various religions. In doing this I found that they all want you to be happy and be kind, etc. I found that most want you to believe blindly--they relied on Faith. They would deny science, facts that have huge amounts of evidence behind them that don't ask you to rely on pure belief-- that could even coincide with their beliefs. But because they don't understand these facts they look at them as attacks on their belief system. i.e. Evolution doesn't disprove any deity, but it doesn't prove one either. When I would ask questions about things backed up by science religious leaders would get defensive, like I was attacking their beliefs. Which was not at all what my intentions were. To me it did not make sense to get defensive, it made more sense to explore these facts within the religion than to freak out. This is one reason that Buddhism seemed like a good philosophy to me.

Another friend introduced me to Zeitgeist, a three-part documentary, one of the parts being about religious congruities. How they all seem to have original names for the stories attached to many before their time. After researching these I found that religion was just a form of "organized hope." That I personally could not believe in a deity because there was no evidence toward one, just unoriginal stories of miracles that could not be proven. At this point I believed myself an Atheist. After I started falling back into the discontent with my decisions though I found myself looking for something to believe in, whether it be a philosophy or simply to believe in humanity. The latter is what I believed in for a time. Simply believing that doing good to others and making this inevitably difficult life as easy for others as I possibly could, easing others suffering brought me joy. This is when I started to think about Buddhism on a more serious level.

I had heard Buddhism described as a religion, a philosophy, and most recently as an education. I liked it described as a philosophy until I heard it described as an education. Thinking of it as a philosophy was what got me on the path of learning more about it. Buddhism, from my understanding, revels in science. When science disproves something in the beliefs of Buddhists they adapt. They are searching for knowledge on the path of Enlightenment. This was a "religion" (education) that I could spend my time exploring and possibly believe in, if not, at least live the life style of. The friend I mentioned at the beginning; the one who said "we create our own suffering." Is a Buddhist. This belief of his is from this education.

It simply means that our expectations make us suffer, our expectations of others can also make them suffer. We can dispel suffering by changing our thinking. "We create our own suffering," is a simple statement that can change your entire attitude toward life and others. When we don't have expectations we make others comfortable around us, they don't feel judged, they feel accepted. When we don't feel the need to meet other's expectations we don't feel the sting of failure. We all walk this path called life differently. We can make it easier for ourselves and others.

So after a long path to figure out what it was that made sense. The simple phrase "We create our own suffering," is what solidified a system of thought that makes me a happier person. No one that I know, religious or not, has argued with that statement. To a certain degree, regardless of what you believe, this statement does ring true. That being said though, it is still very healthy to have goals, but keep in mind that if you don't get that promotion or get an A on that test those things do not create the suffering you feel, you do, your expectations do. So get back up and try again.

Tight Rope

Our culture has made life a balancing act. In the eyes of society we need to: get an education, get out of debt, own a home, have a fancy car, have the newest phone, have a high paying career, and rear a family. Depending on where in the country you live by the time you achieve all of this is what determines if you are a failure or success.

So let's look at things from a different perspective.

We are all failures. We are going through resources faster than we can make them. We are living of of "food-like" products instead of food. We are sitting in cubicles when in reality we are animals just like every other living organism. Imagine how healthy a _insert favorite animal here__ would be if they sat behind a computer screen for eight hours a day instead of outside moving around. It's no wonder we're obese. It's no wonder we're not happy. We are not anywhere near as Japan, working themselves to death. But are we not on our way there? Is competition not driving us in an unhealthy direction for our species? Instead of trying to help others and ourselves live healthy, fulfilling lives, our society wants us to be dependent on the drug administration. Treating our symptoms instead of the simple solution to our problems... eating real food, and treating ourselves like the animals that we are. We need walks, fresh air, a proper diet for longevity. We do not need to be constantly connected with everyone we've met since we opened a facebook account, we do not need to watch 30 minutes + of television daily. We do not need to take work home to get "ahead" when we're actually severing good relationships to the people in our lives.

We are all successes. We have evolved into amazing creatures which massive potential to create a better world for our own species and for every other species we share this world with. We have different cultures to learn from to make these advances possibly. We have such capacity to really improve the lives of any creature we come into contact with if we could put greed aside and focus on the fact that we are all one.

So what is more important? Being happy? Making others happy? Truly living? Or "living" for others? You decide.

Fake it.

After a late evening my eyes were having trouble opening so the decision to stop by the gas station for some caffeine was made. At the gas station I quickly grabbed the drink of choice and went to stand in the surprisingly long line. There were two cashiers but only one was actually going through customers at a normal pace. The other one was held up by one customer. 

A fluffy woman with long silver hair tied back in a pony tail. She was leaning over the counter and speaking with the one. Her facial features were like a wrinkled version of my mom's. She reminded me of her for a few different reasons; because of her hair--keeping it long  is somewhat uncommon in woman of a certain age around here, her conversation--you could tell how lonely she was, and her face--the resemblance was uncanny. 

It made me feel guilty and sad. I don't know where to draw the line with my mom's and my life. I don't know how to get all the things I need to done and still spend enough time with her to make her feel appreciated and dismiss her loneliness. It's hard enough to balance work, school, and a social life. I spend time with family weekly, but it's not enough to dismiss her loneliness, it's easy to see. 

So how does everyone else seem so functional? How does everyone seem to find a healthy balance and make everyone feel loved? Or is it this hard for everyone and they all just paste a on a happy face and go about their days pretending everything is okay? Painting a mirage in the line of sight for all to fall prey too. Using that whole "fake it till you make it deal" that may as well be "lie to yourself, everyone else will believe it and eventually you will too." 

The Magnet

Radiating your happiness isn't something you have to try to accomplish if you truly are happy. It's an attractive, a peaceful, and a reassuring quality. It kindly demands respect and reflects with it confidence. When you are focusing on abolishing suffering instead of looking a part, or another superficial goal it pulls people in. They may not understand why but it is because they are searching for that inner peace through paths the media, society, and religion have told them it is possible. It may be horrifyingly sad to see others struggle through these trivial hardships, but all that can be done is to be an example. It makes time better spent, days more rewarding,  life becomes well-lived.

first day

I love how much not caring changes everything. In school in the past I have been the one who is quiet and never asks questions, answers them when called on, and if I don't understand something I wait till the rest of the class is doing something and I can talk to the teacher one on one. Today.... was a different story.
I cracked a joke, answered questions without being forced too, and voiced opinions when appropriate. I thoroughly enjoyed it, understood and retained the material better and ended up staying after class talking with the professor and a couple students. SUCH a different and AWESOME experience. Participating, actually participating, changes learning sooo much. I'm actually excited for the term, and know that if I keep this up I will learn a lot more and appreciate the subject/material more than I have in the past.

contact

Seemingly unlimited space above, making way through bodies, the smell of sweat so strong you can almost taste it. Passing eyes all facing the south. Most you can tell aren't hearing the vibrations coming from the speakers their eyes are void of thoughts, so strung out on various designer drugs, others who can barely stand because alcohol has started to limit the control they have over their own bodies. Walking in beat with the heavy bass the crowd lessens in density with every few steps. And finally air, cooler air finally relieves the damp skin. Inhaling air void of the salty taste of sweat. Steps quicken on the path that leads to the double doors that grant absolute freedom from this haze of adolescent escape. Palms press gently against the door and a quick glance back into the faceless crowd, that finds its escape in this meaningless way, gets rid of any doubts about the decision that's been made. With a hard shove the brisk air of the evening almost knocks you back, the moon and stars light the way, with the pounding of the bass matching the rhythm of the heart. The pace quickens as you realize contact has left you in the state of the rest of the mass. This unwelcome haze has left you with limited options. Going back in, you will succumb to the numbness of your peers. Leaving in this state could get you behind some thick vertical bars, in a crumpled heap of metal, or if the decline of mental awareness continues.......

sharks

Getting the courage to "open the wound" and then getting deserted. Though it was not the fault of the deserter, family emergencies happen. It will add time to the recovery process; because the trust that was initially there has now been tampered with. Bringing all the raw emotions, that have been placed in a deep dark hiding spot, back to the very front of the mind. Just to disappear and not help through or give things to consider when thinking about them. Like leaving someone in the middle of a pool of sharks and then throwing in the bloody fish. How is one expected to come through without some help? The emotions were put away in a dark far away place because they are too hard to face, too much to handle. The books that were supposed to help have been read and they just add more sharks to the pool. They helped realizations come forth but knowing the problems just adds more hurt, how do I get to the side safely and pull myself out?

imminence.

If death was something you knew you would face in the near future, let's say 2 weeks, what would your attitude be? Would it be that of rejection and resentment? Or would you want to ask all the questions you had, make amends, and try to experience the things you had wished to experience before your last breath? How would you make your death personally meaningful?

_______________________________________________

The following is a story about Old Sarah(*):

     "By far the most dramatic instance of timing and planning was the dying of Old Sarah. About two weeks before her death I received a radio message from Old Sarah summoning me to Arctic Village on a specific day. Nothing like this had happened to me before but I can remember thinking "she intends to die on that day." Dutifully I gathered three of her family in Fort Yukon and flew them to Arctic Village on the day designated. I was right about her intentions but wrong about the date. She had a son in another village and wished me to bring him to Arctic Village. She allowed enough time for me to bring in the last person. It was quite a company of people as was fitting for the undisputed matriarch of both the family and the community.
     "During the morning of the next day she prayed for all the members of her family. At noon we had a great celebration of the Eucharist in a her cabin complete with all the hymns and prayers. Old Sarah loved every minute of it, joined in the prayers and the singing and was quite bright throughout the service. Then we all left and at six in the evening she died. For the next two days the entire village turned out on the business of Sarah's funeral. Some of the women prepared her body and completely cleaned her cabin while other cooked vast quantities of food, much of which Sarah had bought for the occasion, for the workers. The mission house was turned into a carpentry shop for making the coffin and teams of men took turns picking and shoveling a grave in the frozen ground. All the village packed into the church for the service and accompanied the coffin to the graveyard, singing hymns while the grave was filled in with dirt and placing hand-made crepe paper flowers on the mound before the final blessing. Then there was a great feast for all the village. The burial customs were similar to these in all the villages but never before or since in my experience were they planned and shared so much by the one who died. Old Sarah's dying was a priceless gift to all of us."

___________________________________________________

     This death was truly a celebration of life, a coming to terms with mortality, and a gathering of people who had known her. When thinking about the services provided to the individuals in our lives that have past what is similar? What is different? Do we let our loved ones die in familiar surroundings with familiar faces? Or do we send them to the sterile machine infested hospital room where they are monitored by strangers with the titles of nurses and doctors? Trying to prolong the inevitable in a lonely unfamiliar space. What favors are we doing them if they are in this lonely environment? A couple extra hours? Days? Would it not be better to let them come to terms with their death in a place they've always known? With the people they love?

     I want responses. What would you want to accomplish? How would you feel? What would your immediate response be? Just think for a few minutes (or longer if you'd like) about all of this.


*This story is an excerpt from: Dying Among Alaskan Indians: A Matter of Choice by Murray L. Trelease from Death The Final Stage of Growth by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

professionalism vs compassion

Hospitals are a place where the sick go to heal, the terminally ill go to die, and the healthy go for check ups, shots, and to visit loved ones. The employees of the hospital have a line to walk. Procedure-oriented patient care or patient-oriented procedures (*Ross). They have to decide whether the procedures or the patients are more important. In my experience, a great number of physicians have lost track of the reason behind medical care and are focused on getting the paperwork done, following procedures, and getting in their hours. Visiting the emergency room more than the average person in the past couple years I got to experience how a lot of different doctors treat patients. Especially young ones with tattoos. They either treated you like a problem to solve, not a person to help. Or like a junkie trying to get a fix. What is going on in our society? I thought medicine was about helping people, about taking away pain, and figuring out a way to keep the healthy healthy and get the sick back to being healthy. It is a shame that the emergency room physicians see so many junkies that they can't differentiate between the truly ill and those out for a fix. We have such a messed up system and it's takes away from the patient-physician relationship. It makes physicians make bad calls because they're trying harder to save their asses than to make sure the patient is getting the proper care, proper tests done, and doing what they went to medical school to do someday. It is a hard line to walk... compassion and professionalism, but our society is making it more difficult than it needs to be.

*DEATH The Final Stage of Growth, by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross.

final bow

Reading through DEATH The Final Stage of Growth by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and listening to Summerland by Lunatic Soul caused, in a beautiful way, a moment of clarity, realization, awareness, and awe. It was a beautiful experience.

Our bodies are finite (Ross). We are all going to die, but we don't have to look at it as a negative thing. We can come to terms with the reality, and beauty of death. We can come to the realization that it is our "big moment" (summerland). We are taking our final bow in this life, letting loved ones reminisce over the times shared both good and bad. Death is beautiful.

sweet old men

A sweet old man of 80-something talking to me over the phone and discussing every answer he gave with his wife. Another man in the same age range who said I have a lovely voice. Both made my eyes well up with tears. It's so bitter sweet. These individuals at the brink of the end of what we know in this consciousness. One so intertwined with the love of his life. The other handing out compliments to nervous young girls over the phone. They may have lived similar lives, or their lives may have only resembled each other in the most basic of senses. It's crazy how much we all have in common, how much of the same things we all go through, we all experience. How many of our "original" thoughts have been thought by so many others. At the same time though, it's crazy to be in a room full of people and feel like the only thing you have in common with any of them is humanity. It's like like a rope, and we're all strands in it. We all follow the same pattern but we get there with different kinks, some of the us live longer, some of us are discolored. Another crazy thing is how different experiences bring us to the same conclusions about beliefs, lifestyles, etc. How some embrace and some live in fear. It all seems so sad though, when you speak to a sweet old man over the phone. Thinking I wonder if his family appreciates him, really knows him, takes the time to listen to his life stories, reminds him that they love him, makes him feel important. I hope my grandparents know I love them. I know so little about their lives before I became a part of them. I really should speak to them more and do more thoughtful things for them. We can get so caught up in our own lives, or in helping people in other countries, or even volunteering down the road. We can forget about the ones that need and appreciate our love, concern, and service the most. The easiest way to develop love and nurture it is to serve and it's sad that the tendency is to neglect the ones in our lives who deserve, need (or both) it most. Here's hoping this gets at least one person to show their appreciation for the ones in their lives that need or deserve it most.

routine

sleepily, I wipe my eyes as my brain tries to fight the fatigue. another morning, as they always go. I stare at the top bunk, I don't want to get up. but I rip the blanket off letting the cool air attack my warm skin. off to the other room to get ready for the day, a quick shower, some mascara, jeans, and the first shirt my hand lands on. back pack already packed with distractions for work, I make a small breakfast to eat and wash it down with a bottle of water. grab a couple snacks and throw them in the back pack. then over to the lap top to scan the news feed on facebook. glance at my phone to check the time, put on some shoes, and I'm out the door. down three flights of stairs, down the hill a couple blocks, up four flights of stairs and I'm here. ready to brave social interaction in the work place, to plaster a smile on my face and say hello. I manage some small talk while turning on the computer. as soon as the screen is up I quickly put on my headset so I won't be bothered anymore, pull out a book, drawing pad, and pencils. I begin to sketch while waiting for the calls. a lot of voicemail boxes today, today will be a good day.

fading

he's fading now
though gone for months
his memory now
fills my thoughts
trying to sharpen
the blurred edges
of the snapshots
in my mind
his hands
that grasped mine
in times of pain
and happiness
the tears he hid
from all but me
the love so potent
almost suffocating
the words so bold,
brimming with sincerity
cannot let him be
forgotten
will not let him
fade.

he waits

he fills my dreams

like he waits for me

I will not find another

we truly were meant to be

we converse in slumber

like we did day to day

it seems I'll join him soon

his questions lend to that

the words flow so freely

without any second thought

it makes me miss my fiance

best friend, lover, soul-mate

he poured his heart out to me

loved me till his last breath

visits me in my dreams, even

in death he tries to comfort me

to take away the pain

the pain dismissed for hours

but only in my slumber

the reason I sleep all day

a desire so heavy and real

I want to join him in his eternal sleep

but I'm afraid the end is the end

that I won't even see him in my dreams

void

everything in black & white

cold & heartless

no tears or anger

no joy or giggling

the empty structure

dark & twisty

void of feeling

with color just out of reach.

breathtaking

warm drops touch cracked lips, seeping into crevices. tongue relieves the pain of the deserted skin and the taste is of the ocean. salty, it takes the minds eye to the view. the vast water, waves crashing into the rocks to the left. in front of me a beautiful man giggles like a little boy writing messages in the sand right, glancing over his shoulder to look at his love. feeling the weight of this emotion he holds so strongly for me. feeling entwined like strands in a rope. it's like our hearts, minds, bodies were meant only for each other.

shadows

Memories seem to fade over time, they turn into shadows of the life that we've lived. It's hard to think back over times past and notice the details start fading and then disappearing all together. Trying to recall times that made you laugh, made you cry, and made your breath stop at moments.

It makes the memories currently being made bittersweet. Concentrating so hard to concrete all of the details into my mind, and at the same time trying so hard to have a good time. It seems so difficult. That's why it became a habit to have a camera in hand at all times, but no one likes the photo-happy girl snapping shots all evening. I'm just scared to forget. The things I'm trying so hard not to let slip away; I don't have room for anything new but I don't want to forget any of it-new or old, good, bad, happy, or sad. Not a single moment.

city streets

The city streets in the early morning, while everyone is still in bed or at least in their homes getting ready. Quiet, empty, serene. A place that holds so much bustle during business hours. So much traffic sees these peaceful roads, but they do get a rest just like us. There is a time when those who can't find rest can find the peacefulness that the rest who call this city home rarely, if ever, get to see. The country is known for it's peaceful nature, but if you look hard enough you can find peace and beauty in every place, in every thing, in every person. You just have to look.

stranger

Walking along a lonely path. A fork forces a choice in direction, feelings of anxiety, of fear-overwhelm. A decision is made. Strolling unsteadily, but not looking back; the walls surrounding are foreign. The people new, different. Even the physique that embodies the energy seems alien. Change in scenery, lifestyle; taking anything that was left of what was thought to be known. Coming to a halt, crippled by headaches that make death seem a friendly escape. Passions, motivations, creativity, cares all evaporated. A distance between two individuals comes to attention. One known, comfortable, normal; the other unknown, strange. Looking at the reflection in the glass a stranger stares back, touching hair and cheek with callused fingertips and still not knowing them. Carcass disintegrating more quickly than those of peers, soon enough, there will be nothing, nothing left. At an impasse, body and mind pulsating with terror.

Concerts!

Little vacations from reality. Surrounded by tons of people, dripping in sweat, singing loudly- words that all mean different things to each of them, creating new memories with an ocean of strangers. This is what I used to live for. After a recent trip down memory lane (which was fun) I realized I've come to truly enjoy a different way to watch live performers. A little spaced out with a crowd in the same state of mind listening to the beats and pauses, letting the music pulsate through my being. The next time I see a show this is the experience that would bring the most joy and this is the experience I will be going for.

F*ck

If only the world had a remote, a pause button. A way to stop the flapping mouths of the people around you, to stop the annoyance of having to think about everyone else. The option of distancing yourself long enough to clear your head, to regain a sense of what makes any of it worth it. This is not the case though, no one stops talking, nagging, bustling around. No one stops. The continuous hassle of being connected, the expectation to update every social networking website there is with something happy, witty, or fresh. Why should I care what validation every acquaintance of mine is trying to get? Because I really don't, I do not care. "No media" days should be a weekly requirement. Society is ruining itself.

sober and uninhibited

In my element once more. Getting to know new people over drinks. Teasing, laughing, exchanging adventures. Not inhibited, no pressure, simply enjoying good company. Interests bonding the promising new friendships being molded. Recreating the lost excitement in dreams. Helping goals gain greater momentum and importance through shared experience.

No more Hiding.

Almost ten months have passed since the event that changed me forever. Waking up to have the world I had come to know and love shattered. At first being in "zombie-mode," watching hours of television, not caring about what was on the screen as long as it would distract me from the thought of having to endure living without him. Then when that no longer worked finding comfort in drinking, drinking to hide from the emotions that would bubble to the surface in moments of sobriety. An opportunity presented itself that let me escape my world of hiding. It gave me responsibility and a new environment; for a time that was great. After it had become normal though, the thoughts and emotions that I didn't want to deal with presented themselves again.  After a time, unrelated to my misfortune, this new life fell apart. It was scary, and sudden--these new emotions and the old ones were too much to handle. I trusted in the liquid that had hidden them so well before. Now at a time when I'm trying to get back on my feet, a new job, a new place, I can't trust in drinking or any other form of hiding. I have to face what I've been through. I know it will be hard and I'll probably be an even bigger mess than I have been in the past few months. I also know that if I want to be able to think about him and only feel joy about the good times we shared instead of misery about the fact I'll never see him again--that I have to make a change and I have to try to work through all of this.

Organism

The human body- an amazing organism that many of us don't take care of the way that we should. Capable of truly awesome feats and yet we fill it with things that hurt or don't provide it with the nourishment it is designed to run off of. We selfishly devour things that entice our taste-buds and do little for the organism that keeps our consciousness in full functioning order. Here in the states we over fuel it with things that do no good while we sit on our asses and don't keep it in a healthy state of existence in which it could do so much more for us. It seems that the majority are on both extremes of bad care habits for ourselves. We either starve ourselves and work ourselves to hard to reach unattainable and unhealthy images to match what we see in the media or we gorge ourselves and over do it, giving in to the outrageous portion sizes we've come to see as normal avoiding the gym because we're embarrassed about our bodies. Sickly, healthy, or grossly out of proportion our bodies are beautiful organisms that we should love, cherish and never be embarrassed about. We hold in ourselves the knowledge of how to care for our specific needs and get to our healthiest image. You should never be embarrassed of trying to better yourself, it is something so many of us are too consumed with the frivolous to actually try to attain.

gone

soft eyes gaze down through thick lashes
the pace of my heart quickens
blood rushes to my cheeks
a smile touches the corners of his lips
the creases in his cheeks deepen

I bury my head in his chest
to hide the effect he has on me
his arms pull me deeper into the embrace
my fingertips trace images on his back
prolonging his hold of me

feeling safe in his arms
breathing him in, in silence
taking in the moment
wishing it to last longer than it will
knowing it will end soon

with a squeeze of my arms, it's over
pulling away a kiss graces my forehead
with a gaze I want to hold forever
and the words I'll talk to you soon
he turns on his heel and is gone.

disrupted dreams

The desire to fall asleep is completely gone. Sleep used to be refreshing, it used to give energy and a fresh perspective. Now it never comes and when it does I wish it hadn't. The dreams are full of angry clouds, pain, sadness, destruction, loved ones hurting, and I am helpless in all of it. Death seems to touch everything I care about before I can reach it. I awake weak with exhaustion from my restless slumber. Spending the day trying to reach a tolerable level of sorrow, attaining it just in time to start the cycle over again.

Apprehension of imminence

death is imminent. it will happen to each and every one of us. some speed up the process with their lifestyle choices, others choose to attempt to slow it. it does not change the outcome though. we will all die. what then comes next?-a popular curiosity that leads many to the comforting hope of religion. death stirs fear in many that do not lend themselves to hopeful fallacies. it can inhibit us so much if we let it. it is illogical to fear something that we know will happen. if we could all dismiss this fear, so much more could be accomplished. it's a pity so little transcend this apprehension.

naturally.

people are selfish, naturally. so it should be no surprise when they let each other down, constantly, but yet it does take me a little off guard. especially people I come to trust. maybe the bubble I grew up in gives me higher expectations of those I call friends or maybe they are just completely oblivious. who knows. really it's how to go about letting them know they let you down that's hard, not trying to offend, but to make sure they know that it did kind of hurt. that is the tricky part.

Missing You

A letter was drafted, that will never meet your eyes. Words of pain at your absence. More than anything I miss our friendship. Our long conversations about every topic there is. Laughing at the most ridiculous things and knowing how to help each other when the days were difficult. Always trying to make things better for the each other and being acutely aware of each other's feelings. 

The person I wanted to tell every little detail of my day. The first person I thought of every time I awoke, the same one I would dream about most nights. The person who I wanted to be the best Me I could be for. 

Life lost meaning when you fell permanently asleep. It still hasn't regained much. It's hard to lose the one you love and your best friend in the same moment. Literally no one to talk to and the one I really wanted to hold me while the tears fell was the one they were falling over. 

You had become everything and I've yet to figure out how to really cope. It just feels as though there is no purpose to life. When the bustle of everyday life came to a halt I realized exactly how much raw emotion I've been hiding from. I'm not sure if I'll ever really be okay, but I'm working on it.

I'll always love you.

a first love

we met through friends and that first night I knew. that you were someone who would matter, I didn't know that would, from then on, be the case. you talked so passionately about things I had never put any effort into, but it was intoxicating. your fervor drew me in. your love of learning, of sharing that knowledge with others, and desire to better the world regardless of how far your reach. your ability to be true to yourself even in the hormonal stage of life that tells us to find our place and fit in. to not hold back and put yourself in such vulnerable situations, and so much more. you had the biggest heart of anyone I'd ever known and no matter how much time we spent together it was never enough. hearing your stories, your dreams, your interests. teasing, cuddling, and just having a really fun time. how different things would have turned out, if I hadn't ended things in a moment of nerves, I have no idea. the idea of us still having such a great time together even now is how I like to picture it. for as long as I live I will hope for your happiness and success in all your dreams. you were the first.

whiplash endured

It's hard to know how to feel. When you get pulled back and forth by someone you care so much about. They've hurt you, you've hurt them. Both make mistakes daily and do their best to show they care. When you find out that you have something hard, something you wish no one would ever have to go through, in common... What then? How then does the situation change? What is to be made of it other than a deeper understanding of the individual? The walls he hides behind now have canvases upon them. It makes you hurt for him, it brings up things you thought were behind you. This time though it isn't as hard, knowing he's been through it too. It angers you to know how he was treated, what he has felt because of others. The ways he lashes out are clearly products of what he's endured. He's starting to make a little sense.

Awake.

We go through this life in stages, stages of consciousness. We are born and completely overwhelmed with this grand world even though we are only shown a small part of it. We peer at everyone and everything with pure curiosity  with the desire to learn. We are born questioning. We are exposed to different people and experiences. We go to school and are conditioned to listen, not to ask, not to seek, but to pay attention so we can pass exams. The desire we are born with slowly being diminished into nothing without most of us even knowing it. Of course this isn't the case for everyone, there are always exceptions. Somewhere along the way a lot of us re-cultivate this desire and start to ask hard questions. We take a step back and look at our beliefs, morals, and lifestyles. We start using logic instead of emotion to drive our decisions. This is when we regain ourselves, when we find out the most about who we are, when we see how we can handle the truth about our existence.

To live.

How to live fully, how to not merely exist... how can I possibly accomplish such a task? Through questioning, exploring, and experiencing other's existence. By never being satisfied with the answers by always wanting to know more. By exploring this planet that's created a balance able to sustain our existence. By valuing the geography, by finding the beauty of every organism.

of mind & body

the mere enormity of existing. of being a living organism with conscious thought. with the ability to learn, create, endure. to feel love, pain, suffering. to have a body that works so intricately that we have to nourish. to exercise, to maintain even though it's dying and growing old our minds are young and vital, but our nutrition and activity is what will keep it in a state of vibrancy. without proper care of our bodies our minds will decay as fast, if not more quickly than our fragile human forms. it is in my opinion that our minds are far stronger, far superior to our feeble bodies. like a clown fish and a sea anemone, our minds could not exist without our bodies.

Sorry doesn't cut it.

You can't let hurtful words flow out of your mouth so freely and expect a "sorry" to erase the damage they did. Knowing enough to say only the things that cut the most, the things that really bring me down. The emotional whiplash you cause is throwing everything else off balance. Bringing up emotions, thoughts, and so much more that were already worked through. Trying so badly to suppress all of these things another time around is so much harder. You're doing more damage than good, please just leave me alone.

Simple

There are days it seems like the only way to survive is just not to move. Not to think, because doing either would make it unbearable. Living can be so truly taxing on the emotional state of self. The only thing I've found to help is simply being held. To have someone you care about wrap their arms around you and just squeeze you tight. It does so much good and it's doubtful they have any idea. At the brink of tears or inner turmoil a simple hug is the solution. It sounds ridiculous, it sounds too easy, but it is the case.

dwindling

Lying in bed, knees curled, I can feel the energy that pulsates through me being pulled from every limb and taken. I lay there empty, convulsing with grief, blinded by tears and swollen eyes, with aching abs and heart. Arms hugging his picture to my chest. Why?... repeating over and over again in my head. I cry till the tears no longer fall. No energy to leave my bed, the hours pass by in sad silence, still clenching the picture tightly to my chest. Attempt to fall asleep but sleep won't come, another day passes, motionless. Hope and minutes dwindle in unison.

Brittle

Shaking so violently it's hard to stay standing. My head bowed, vomit splattering around my feet. Water running down my skin, the warmth not reaching, I can feel every goose-bump. Grasping the wall for support, I lower myself and sit with the water blinding me, hoping the shaking might stop. It doesn't, it's a cold that makes the bones feel brittle.