words

Change


Which one is true: People change, or do they always stay the same?

Obviously we change, develop from a baby to someone with hobbies and dislikes, preferences, and experience. Then again we sometimes develop habits that will never leave us, maybe this means we cheat, or like to have everything perfectly in order. Which on is true?

Can they both be true, applying to different circumstances or even different people all together?

I think everyone is so different in so many ways (obviously you know this too) but what differences really define us as an individual?

Example: I am a writer, she is a dancer.

In this situation our hobbies define us.

Example: He has cancer, she has been in remission for six years.

Does the condition define them, or life and death?

Example: Mom likes to drink, Dad likes to smoke.

Both can kill you, what’s the different?

I could go on and on for days with all the things that make me different from you, but at what point do you distinguish me as someone not in your circle? What makes someone really enjoy your company?

The question I suppose I really want to know the answer to is why does it matter?

Example: I like to write, and my sister likes to dance.

Different hobbies, same blood.

Example: They met during treatment, she is still fighting for him.

Difference?

Example: They picked up bad habits after the unthinkable happened to them.

We are all different, and for our own reasons, so what makes it okay for you to judge someone else for dealing with their life the way that makes sense to them? This life is so complicated because of the countless things that can happen right before your eyes, good or bad. We cannot sit by and continue to judge our fellow humans, instead we need to know when to help, how to address a situation, how to sit before someone and just be there with an open mind.

We are constantly finding reasons to dislike people, and I cannot figure out why. It isn’t more fun, it’s sad that people have become so cliche in such an inhumane way.

That we have to drill it into peoples heads to be nice, because it isn’t the natural way of things anymore. Reminders or happiness and hope are being spread by few to the many who have forgotten. When will we be kind? When will you smile?

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Write A Little Love Note.


This is a work of fiction, and nothing more.

Someone once told me that love was the best thing in the world to have.

I wanted to badly to believe that for a very long time

Meeting people, hoping they were my love.

Praying they were my love.

Dreaming they were my love.

They were always my undoing.

I would cling like a leach a sucker on each end.

Sucking one dry of all he had.

I did not understand why they all left.

What wasn’t there to like about me?

Possibly the fact that I am needy, complicated, and obsessive.

I live in a la la land, a beautiful delusional land where hearts are warm and everyone wants the same thing.

Love.

I have warped my mind, obsessing it with one little tiny thing.

I have forgotten about everything else.

No one cares to see me any longer, I cannot blame them.

I am not in touch with reality.

Someone once told me that love was the best thing in the world to have.

I cannot believe Love is real.

One Thousand


I keep having this dream, it’s a rather peculiar dream.

How about I tell you about it.

I am on my way home from dinner with a very nice boy, he is tall and very beautiful, yet the second I saw him that night I knew it would never be. I knew that I would never love that man, and though I knew such a brutal truth so soon, I decided to chance dinner with this fine man, we talk, and laugh, it is a lovely night.

As we approach my apartment on a very busy street in a very busy city, on a very busy night he turned to me and said this:

My dear Veronika, I know you will never love me, believe me I’ve tried to make you love me many times in this life, I always fail. You like me, and you will always be there for me when I need you, you will never love me. Now this may not make sense, but I am here right now because you need me, not right this moment, but things are changing, and you will become an important person in our future.”

I gawk at this beautiful man, and I don’t understand why, but I feel his sincerity. Deep within my soul I know that he is telling me the truth. 

What is your name?” I ask, the curiosity getting the better of me.

The man smiled a smile that made me feel as though I’d lived one thousand lives with him. 

“Well now, you’ve gone an forgotten my name?” he jumped in front of me on the very busy sidewalk, disregarding the very busy people, bowed before me and said,

The names Beval”

and of course that is the very moment I awake every night I have this dream. Somewhere inside my soul I feel that Beval is real, that he is searching for me and finding me in my dreams instead of on this land. This means I must go and find him, I believe he is real. 

A letter to the Writer


Dear writer,
You should understand that I don’t mean to cage you. I don’t mean to hide you away, in fact I urge you to come and play.  Oh writer the ideas that are within you are pure perfection,  and I’m sorry that I am not doing you justice.  I convey your thoughts as best I can, but sometimes it feels all too much.  How do I brinf these people you’ve created to life? How do I build the world around them?  Please writer, help me, help you. I want nothing more than to give life to your ideas.

Write back, dear writer.

Inhale the Creativity


This is a work of fiction, and nothing more. 

   He couldn’t remember the last thing she said before she died

But it was probably a lie, about some guy in some place, who made her feel like she was in outer space.

   He couldn’t remember the last thing she said before she died

He wished it would have been something kind, something nice. Then again, she wasn’t a nice girl, she didn’t say the things you wanted to hear, specifically because you wanted to hear it.

She was cold, heartless, but not very old. If she could have been a little nicer, he was sure she would have, it wasn’t her fault. And even though she hurt him in the deepest places, he would always wait for her.

He waited until the day she died, he couldn’t remember the last thing she said to him. It was tearing him apart, had it been a nice comment? Or was it another one of her games? Every day since her death he pondered, but still he had nothing. He supposed it didn’t really matter, he remembered the last thing he’d said to her, and that was enough to keep him awake at night. 

It wasn’t meant to be said, and now she’s dead. With words head that he’ll forever regret. 

Simple Excuses


Take my fingertips, and press them against your

secrets

Take my palms, and press them against your

hopes.

Take my sight, and show me your

soul.

Let’s just make this quick and take every part of me

and show me every part of you.

I want to feel what you’ve felt

I want to hear what you’ve been told

I want to see what you’ve faced.

But I’m blind 

deaf

numb

to everything I’ve ever thought I could love.

So I’m sorry but right now is not a good time.

My fingertips hurt and my palms are too sweaty.

Maybe if you come back I’ll be around to try again.

We both know this is never going to end.

It will always be a dance between our souls.

And do you remember that one time I told you to never let go?

I’m sorry that you did, and I’m sorry I let you.

But this is where we are now, and I don’t mean to offend you, it’s time to let go. 

We are forever bound this we know, so do me a favor

Go see the world

Read a book

Meet a girl

Save a life.

Go live this life and I promise you’ll see 

My happiness in every kindness you ever receive. 

I’m not yours but I’m forever there, in that place when everything was simple and fair. 

Today I am Feeling


Empty

Sad

Numb

Angry

I don’t know why, it’s just one of those days. 

I hate days like today.

Pretending as though everything is fine, when really, I just want to curl up and hide.

I miss my mom.

I miss my family.

I miss being stupid and not knowing what life was.

Eventually we all have to grow up. 

Mindless Wandering.


I do a lot of nothing.

Yet I’m doing everything.

I draw, a lot.

Yesterday I drew like 12 pictures.

In probably about an hour.

I work, yeah, I do a lot of that.

I constantly feel like I’m sleeping,

I’m always tired.

Stressing

Testing

Complex

and knee deep in shit that just doesn’t make sense. 

I walk among you every day.

You would probably never question me nor my sanity. 

You wouldn’t call me a danger to the public.

What about a danger to myself?

I’d say I’m no danger, but maybe I’m in the way.

Which is odd, because how can you be the one in the way of yourself?

Now I know it sounds preposterous, but let me tell you this:

It’s more than likely that no one else but  you is in the way of who you really are. 

And don’t tell me that I shouldn’t change between ‘me’ and ‘you’

Because I honestly don’t see a difference. 

Fashionably Late.


Self discipline is hard.

So as I sit here, at my clean desk, listening to Christmas music while my dog hugs our space heater, I’ve decided it’s time to do something big.

It’s time to start my novel. 

I’ve had an idea for a while, yet I’ve been putting it off.

Lately I’ve been letting work be my excuse.

Why haven’t you been over?

I was working.

When can we chill?

I don’t know, I work a lot.

Honestly, it’s not even that I work a lot, I just don’t want to be around anyone.

So, I think now is the time to start something beautiful. 

Reverb13: Poetic Justice


I see a world of possibilities

I hear endless ideas 

I smell nothing beautiful

I taste freedom 

I touch success

and then I see it move a few steps forward

and I hear the voices of my enemies telling me in impossible

I smell rage and hate

I taste bitterness

I touch nothing.

I see potential 

I hear my mom cheering me on

and I touch victory.