memories lost
in minds aging faster than we do
decaying faster than we do
faltering as we do
to technology years younger than us
as fickle as us
changing with the trends like us
falling to its whims like us
with passwords forgettable
with people regrettable
with obsolescence inevitable.
memories belong to time
becoming sweeter
as they dance upon our lips
and leave us with the fleeting joy
found in impermanence
I've stopped growing and dreaming and becoming.
I've already grown and dreamt and become.
I've settled into myself
Like the dust on shelves
once within my reach.
I'm no longer enamored by the possibilities of life,
But comforted by certain companionship
towards an uncertain tomorrow.
And yet,
I'm delighted by the joy you've found with me.
Tell me your stories and I'll tell you mine,
Of old loves and youthful summertime,
And reawaken the dormant life in my bones.
I'll tell you of my sweetheart,
Who saw me in my best years.
And you'll tell me about your darling,
While we laugh through the tears.
They say love is saved for the beautiful and the strong,
Who have the world before them,
While our years are long gone.
And yet
This could be love,
Even as we walk slowly,
Hand in hand,
Towards that eternal darkness.
Today, I wanted to reset the world.
Reset
restart
redo
today.
Anything I could have done so this wouldn’t have, and couldn’t have happened. Just like all the games I’ve ever watched or played. Foul? Rewind the clock. Lost a life? Just load a save. Made the wrong choice? Press a button and start again.
But I couldn’t do that today. No amount of wishing or praying or hoping could change this. I can’t rewind time to a few days ago or go to a save point or change my choices and hope to affect some kind of change.
This isn’t a game.
I felt the world get a little heavier and the sadness became more palpable… Whispers spread like wildfire taking flight and each of us coughing and crying…. Unable to distinguish the tears from grief or from the ashes clinging harshly in the air.
I knew as I felt the hushed sighs and the heard the silent tears that there is nothing I could do.
I did the only thing I knew. I pulled you closer and held you tighter. And as I stroked your hair, I hoped you knew that I’d hold this with weight with you too.
Hustle culture is the myth we're told grants us success. We need to worship the grind to get by and that's bullshit. It's the lie we’re told to keep us running in circles and spinning our tires to get barely an inch of success.
Instead of worshipping the grind and running in your wheel… Don’t take up the grind without the stone. Sharpen your tools and harden your skills. Get ahead by spending time in your head. Find purpose so your time isn't worthless and your work starts to make sense.
Believe in the hustle, but make purposeful, the grind.
Do you venture beyond the city streets, to where the sea becomes the sky? Or to places where the mountains meet the dark and endless night?
The darkness there wraps you up and lights you up more brightly than the city ever could.
Each star a quiet invitation to trace each constellation with your wonderfilled and wonderful eyes.
When you find these places and see the twinkling sky, you'll see the stars shine coyly… just like when your eyes meet mine
Have you ever seen the bare night with curious, unwavering eyes? When you do, I hope that each star shines brightly for you.
Are people only as valuable as what they are able to contribute to society? Or are people inherently valuable despite their contributions? Should someone earn their keep in this world or should someone be treated with dignity despite their shortcomings?
If life is sacred in the womb, but not if the contributions of the individual are useless to society; what do you actually believe?
Why subscribe to a faith that preaches goodness and kindness when you actively choose and demonstrate you have none? Why pretend to have mercy when none exists in your heart? Why can't you forgive liars when you live an inauthentic life everyday?
I guess what you lack in morals you make up in money.
Sometimes you just tax yourself so much on the unnecessary that you have no choice but to feel emptied of any energy to feel anything.
Anger is the thing that everyone gets to have.
Except me.
What is it like to be the one who doesn't fuck up constantly?
Everyone has days where they feel like they don't belong to themselves, right? It's almost as if we belong more to each other... So are you ever really truly your own person?
We came to be because of them choosing to become an us, and then choosing to make a me, who immediately becomes part of a we. I know, it sounds crazy, because even in all the us and them and they and we, it's said that there is a me. But me will always be part of we, no matter what we all try to be.
I fear a certain life with certain things. The problem with certain things is that they are certain. The sun will rise. The sun will set. The world will spin and it will go on and on again.
I prefer to live in ambiguous spaces and in-between places. When I'm there, I'm certain of what I already know, and ready to embrace what I have yet to know. Certainty does not belong to me, but I do not belong to it.
We stand, facing off, ready to overcome whomever crosses the line of uncertainty first.
Pretty words can come from pretty mouths with sharpened teeth.
It's true isn't it, that people are afraid of everything becoming new?
That change is good if only for themselves, but if it's everything else, it's too fast and too soon.
The fear of losing something you love is paralyzing, isn't it?
It's any wonder people live knowing that anything could happen... And while I know that isn't much of a life, there are people out there living it.
I hope that doesn't become me.
Keep my name out of your filthy mouth so I can never think of your violations again.
I think this is the first time I've been around so many people that I didn't want to disappoint.
That's good, because I think it's the first time in a while I've respected myself enough to care.
Sometimes you can't help but watch fire dance. You sit still watching her invite you with each flick and flutter.
And when she slowly fades, you can't help but approach until you are close enough to the flames.
I've been told I should have left home, left the nest, and adventured somewhere else for school. That's fine. Maybe I should have.
Most people who've told me that believe they know me best. But they're not my mom, and she knows best. Maybe not all the time, but she definitely knows better than them. Dad too, but he says to ask mom first just in case.
I didn't know it when I was younger, since my mind was distracted by messy men. As I've aged, and compared my grays to their grayer grays, I'm happy at home here with them.
Despite what everyone says about needing to move away to grow up, I've never felt that was necessary for me. I'm going to grow anyway, it's not a matter of if but when... Though I'm told I should grow up away from them.
And maybe I should have, but that's not for anyone else to say. I know it's to encourage me to leave and grow up, I guess. But I'm not sold that it's the only way.
I find it sad that we forget our elders long before they've forgotten us. The value of time appreciates with age, and exponentially increases even as markets crash. We invest time with uncertain returns. There are no certain returns, only the certainty of death at the end.
My family is important. That's it. There's nothing better than a happy home, full of love and life, no matter who it is.
If there's anything the past 12 months have done, it has made me numb to everything that should otherwise infuriate me.
My emotions are tempered, and while I remain even keel, I've forgotten how to take control of the winds.
Sometimes, you know?
You strip away the words you need so you know you know your words mean nothing.