Do I Even Want My Crayons Back?

If you had the chance to be a kid again would you?
To start completely from scratch?

I wouldn't.
My childhood was filled with crying and the word no.
Being the youngest you automatically get made fun of.
Constantly.
My crayons were broken from the beginning.
I was very shy,
And the friends I did have didn't give a shit about me.

If your childhood was bad do you like where you are now?
Or do you dream of the future instead?
I couldn't say I like where I am,
Nor do I wish for the future.
Maybe when I'm happy.
Though that feeling is becoming rare again.
I feel like it's just behind a locked door,
But I buried the key long ago.

Honestly,
I don't want my past,
I don't like now,
And the future sickens me.

What do I dream of?
Easy,
Nothing.

Fall...The Season

We are fall.
We begin with a full set of leaves.
Slowly our opinion on each and every one changes.
As we pick the ones we like best the others fall.
Soon enough all you are is your own bare skin.
Who we are finally shines through.

So let me ask you a question.
When all your masks and fronts you put up abandon you will you love your beautiful bare soul?
Or cry with the snow and go through an endless cycle of uncanny emotion.




The world is a canvas, and Fall is the masterpiece.

Silver

The ocean. 

The surface rolls peacefully under the sun. 

It's beauty undeniable. 

As you watch the waves reach towards you

The water seems to smile. 

Enticing you to come and play. 

You never thought it was a cry for help. 

That those days when the tide was high she was trying to drown her world. 

Waves crashing furiously. 

But that's supposed to happen every now and then right?

Not even close. 

Most people just adore the ocean for the way it compliments everything else. 

They don't know what lurks beneath.

Sharks swim in these waters. 

Nothing making sense as fish eat other fish and defy natures status quo.

The pits run so deep and become so dark. 

Even the ocean itself can't comprehend it. 

Few have tried to go so deep. 

Have you ever even thought of the ocean as lonely?

It's filled with creatures, 

And people come and go through it constantly.  

But do they really care? 

It may be dark in those pits, 

But I believe the beauty is not just the shore. 

More Than Just A Hat

Once there was a hat vendor.
He walked amongst all the people in his crooked village,
Everyday trying to seduce their eyes with his unique hats.
Putting on his work smile every morning,
But his eyes were too deep to completely hide his pain.

When he was young he made a promise to himself.
That no matter what he would always pursue what he loved,
Never letting greed nor the pressure of "regular lifestyle" destroy his happiness.
But he fell into a routine with his hats,
Forgetting why he chose them in the first place.
Making them evolve into a reminder of his mistakes.
His regrets.
Where could he go from here?
For he lived in a small house,
In a petite village,
With just his hats.
He wasn't rich But he had enough.
Though he never felt like enough.

His hats like the people in his life never stayed long.
They'd be swept away by someone who matched them better.
He was only the maker,
Not the wearer.
Helping and giving it his all,
But only finding himself lonely once again.

One night on his way back home his depression spoke up.
He looked up at the starts and began to cry.

"I know I'm the maker. 

I don't get to call anyone my own.

But please give me something.

I'm so alone. 

You've watched me my whole life.

Being my only true friend. 

Though you are so far away. 

It's getting harder to pretend.

Please help me fix my hallow body. 

It's starting to fall apart. 

I need someone to help make me. 

And give my life a start."

His wish went into the sky joining all the others. 

Tears stopping, 

Walls back up, 

As he crawled into his bed. 

Back to his like with his feelings in a box,

And nothing but his hats. 

My Sweet Melodies

I have troubles defining my feelings.
Anger and depression are the only things I know by heart.
The rest tries to swim against a whirlpool,
Until they sink so low they give up.
Taking them to die in the deepest pits of my mind.
Never to be known.
Never to be felt.

Sadly I've never been good at swimming.
I can barely cross a pool without breathing hard.
Making me someone who rarely even dips my toes in those deep waters,
As I lie to myself,
Saying "I'll be okay right here."

Many people have tried to swim for me.
I am very grateful,
But the outcome is never good.
After so many years I finally found my Olympian.
My sweet melodies from people who have captured my highest respect.
Their voices fearlessly go into my abyss,
Bringing back things I have missed out on for so long.
Making me more than veins and bones.
Giving color to my face,
And eyes into a beautiful world.

Not only does it resurface me,
But helps me understand these new confusing things.

Music saved my life. 

Welcome.

As you can see like most of you I'm not new to this whole blog thing. I give you my old writing as an invitation to my mind. Though I don't expect nor care if you actually take the time to read it at all.

One thing I should make clear is I'm not writing for school or readers or any reason other then the fact that I love to write.

It helps in those dark nights we all have. Sews my pieces together to stay human. Makes me understand the galaxy of thoughts and feelings in my head. Without writing my eyes would not close at night and my heart be three sizes too small.

* * *

I seek the great perhaps in my life. I want to experience everything I can, and not focus on rules or the normal way to go about living. 

I regret nothing. Even though my past is full of hurt I can't help but look back and smile, because it made me who I am today and I love that. 

I've spent a lot of my life waiting for everything to happen for me. Searching for those perfect moments instead of making them.  Assuming that my life is already mapped out on a parchment by a very detailed artist. Though that quickly turned into a mere fear of the future. Luckily I've evolved into someone who lives in the moment. I want to do something memorable everyday of my life and write it all down. Because one day I won't have anymore future. I'll sit and look back at my once fear and be happy I thought about every little day instead of the one day that was supposed to make all the little ones worth it. 

I Am Everthing

Who am I?
At this moment.
Not my past, not my future.
Now.
I am that look in your eyes I haven't seen in months.
I am the knives in a back,
Wounds fresh and bleeding uncontrollably.
I am confident yet scared in a shrink room.
I am digging to find my heart that's praying for a new beginning.
But my nails aren't strong enough.
Yet somehow I do the impossible.
I take what should be bad and find living.
No no. Living free.
I create a shovel out of that late hazy night,
The snapchats I overthink,
The sweet and different,
And not you.
You put my heart in that coffin a long time ago,
And only decided to let me save it now.
But guess what.
I don't need you. 
That's what you miscalculated.
My feelings.
Though I guess you never really cared about them in the first place.
You held me back from my great perhaps.
And now I'm free.
So in the most fucked up way.
Thanks.