Start A Riot

Part of me (a very large part) demands insanity.  I’ve grown used to falling, those midnight scars from stepping on bottle caps and pieces of metal sticking out of the ground.

I was desensitized to death at a young age and I hate it.  When people die I just don’t feel.  My heart keeps beating and my body keeps moving.  I can’t stop and fathom the horrible situation of death.  I don’t understand what it means anymore to lose someone.

But a caring person would call me over dramatic.

A non-caring person would also call me over dramatic. You really have to pick out who cares and doesn’t care these days.  Force them into a stupid conversation and see how much attention they give you.

But if I fall one more time maybe she’s right.

I’ve grown to like the taste of water.

I don’t understand how you drink coffee.  Not the taste, but the process in itself.  (also had hot cocoa to this list of hot things that I’m not physically capable of drinking safely)

I’m diving into the world with a huge safety net at the bottom.  And if it fails I’ll just pick myself off the ground.  Shake out my arms and check for any broken bones.

I almost have a sick attitude to acting depressed lately.  Its easy and fun to me.  I’ve only used it as an actual escape once so far.  But my body refused and healed back up within hours.  I don’t know where all the marks went.

Don’t read it out loud because the sound of my words scare me.  You should never hear yourself talk and the echoes are only a lie.  (cliche cliche its just a matter of time before we run out of line.)

If I had a wish.

If I had some desire.

It would be to see you smile every day.

I want to you see you fully understand how amazing you are.

And I want you to live up to your abilities and be happy with yourself.

Those are about three different people.

Would you ever take a bullet for someone? I would.  I have a list of people I would jump in front of a car for.  I don’t see a problem with taking the hit, taking the shot, all that pain.  A lot of people are worth that fleeting moment of decision.  I wouldn’t hesitate.

I don’t know.  I feel different.  I feel (not older) but awake.  I feel content to an extent.  I’m not hidden and that makes me happy.  The right people know how fucked up I was (I prefer was because I feel better now).  And every day with my thoughts is a happy day.  I can still be toppled and shoved down.  But I’m separating pain from life now and not letting it control my every waking action.

Every morning you smile.

Every night a kiss.

Knowing you’re loved is enough.

I wish it was me.

I really do.

But its not something I dwell on.

I know who I am.

Its not worth the thought.

That kind of hope it what kills you.

I don’t want to die when someone like you is so beautiful.

Knowing you is the best part of my adulthood.

I know its stupid.

I know its simple and I’m overreacting (again).

I guess you don’t understand the silence (even though you probably do).

I could get up and overcome.

But time has come and gone and I’m still here.

Pictures are pretty.

The sun is setting again.

I can whisper stupid things.

You don’t hate me so life is ok.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to be happy.

Its coming closer.

I don’t care if I’m over the top depressingly crazy.

Its good to talk to people and share dumb things for no other reason then to vent secrets.

Thank you for listening.

It makes me better.

I feel like the target audience for “Friendship is Magic” after writing that.  I also feel like calling myself a nerd for reacting like some fucking angel dropped from the sky and saved me by just knowing me.  This is stupid (I’m stupid by relation).  Feelings suck and I could write 1,000 words about how knowing people make me happy.  Man, fuck you guys.

P.S Had to counteract the overreaction with an opposite opposing overreaction to the subject at hand.  Don’t you think I’m soft.  I just think flowers are badass.  Get over it.

P.P.S I’m probably not allowed to call some of these people friends and here I am being a special magical unicorn about them.

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Normal Baseball

Her words stuck to me, clang to me, and held me close like a lover.

“I played softball up and to the point my older brother took out to the backyard and proceeded to pitch and hit me with a baseball on purpose.” she said

“That’s what older brothers are for.” he simply replied.  And that was the last level of the conversation.

Why, why did it end so simply for them.  Were we not born of the same parents, the same fucking family. They ease from past trauma like lowering an umbrella after the rain has passed.  Just a storm passing through.  They forget it so easily.

“I’m going to teach you how to hit a baseball.” he said.

I don’t think I ever hit a baseball again after that.   I only remember the pain in my leg and refusing to bat again.  His promises that the pain would help me learn to hit.

I was lied to.

Why does it stick to me more.  Why do I remember it all on my own.  Why can the rest of my siblings just move on while I sit in the same place contemplating all this pain.  We’re from the same parents.  The same family.  Lived in the same house.  But why are we so different.

I hate it.


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Road Trip

It was a warm summer day, or was it winter?  Well now its raining and all I can think about is wild flowers, road trips that never end, and melted candy.  A warm rain washing away the thoughts of yesterday.

“And taking me away the places I once knew.” I say while reclining my passenger seat back.   Kicking my feet up onto the dashboard.

“You know, your smelly feet make it hard for me to focus on the road.” she says while turning the radio on.

“I hate this song as much as I hate you.” I say while putting my hands behind my head and closing my eyes.

Excuse me.” she says while trying not to swerve.

“Yes, I agreed to a 4 hour car trip with you and the first thing I say is an insult.  Because I obviously hate you so much I’ll seriously tell you how much I hate you.” I say while trying to fall asleep.

“Why do you always have to be so rude.” she says while finally calming down.

The passing cars put a numbing sound in the back of my head.  Each oncoming forest of trees and bare farm land.  Another overcast in Michigan.  It looks cold but feels warm.  Or does it look warm and feel cold.  Silence is deafening and I can’t hear a thing.

“No one ever talks.  No one ever says anything.  If I don’t fill the air with nonsense the silence will kill me.”

The emptiness, the void, the pure silence of it all fell from her like an avalanche of purposelessness.  Its beating on my head, its beating on my chest, its digging into the heart.  The thump of highway as we drive along.  The numbing cars as they pass by.  Another semi truck, another minute.  When will it end.  When will it begin.  Its pushing on the inside of my skull.  Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“Everyone is the same and the silence never ends unless I make it end.” I finally say after what seems like hours.

“You’re just over-” she begins to say but I cut her off like the truck ahead of us just did.

“You only spoke after being forced into an awkward situations.  Don’t argue back, that’s worse.  Just say something off the top of your head.”

“I don’t know.” she quietly replies while putting her focus on the road ahead.

“No one ever does.”  I say before falling asleep.


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Well Hello

“I’ll take this gun and disappear.” I say while tapping a gun against the side of the table.  ”I’ll leave.  I’ll be gone.  There will be a little mess, sorry.  Here’s the $20 for the meal.” I say while laying a $20 bill on the table.

A cool breeze passed through the open windows in the room.  Chilling the air to better fit in with the time of night (11 PM).  I hate scenes that are set so easily.  Putting feelings I don’t already have into my body.  Artificial dread.

“My dread is real without the help.” I say while pressing the tip of the gun against the side of my head.

“My dread is this night.”

“My dread is that it will come back for me.” I say quietly while letting my hand and gun fall slowly to my side.

“I am trapped in my soul.”

I slowly tap the gun against the ground before letting it drop to the ground with a clank.  The breeze has long passed but the room is already chilled.  My heart has come to a rest.  The night has finally ended.

“I won’t escape.  I’ll leave on my own free will.”

I take one last long look at the room while I leave everything the same.

“I’ll probably be back.  But this is only a playroom now.”  I say while kicking a piece of a broken chair around.

“I think I’ll go now.” I say while exiting through the door that was always open.

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This is Life: Update

I’ve been reading a book a day when I have a book to read.  Its a little annoying to read on days that I work but I just read them after work and finish them when I wake up.  In some way I feel like I’m trading distractions for more distractions but I’m not completely sure yet.  I feel different.

I still can’t/won’t cross the boundary from good acquaintance to good friend with people I know.  I mean I’m trying its just the whole life style difference.  I feel like a religious nut who has no religion to back it up.  I’m sure people would be nice enough to do it but I wouldn’t want to join them.  I still blame my depression/abuse filled developmental years for this.  But its whatever because I’m happy with who I am.  I just don’t know anyone who wants to do the same things I do.

I wouldn’t say my standards are low or high, just stupid.  I have stupid standards.  And I still can’t get over this feeling.  I feel awake for the first time in years.  I feel alive.  I feel in control of my own life.

With that being said, I bought a long sleeve t-shirt 2 week ago and just realized it last night.  So about as much control as I’m capable of being in.

I should buy pants/shorts.

I should escape my current home life for adulthood at some point in the future.

I should start less sentences with the letter “I”.

What would it take for me to escape.  A federal change in minimum wage for the entire country?

Or would the inability of corporate leaders defeat the purpose of correctly paying employees. If you cannot exist within a country because of laws you probably shouldn’t be running the company.  Its like being incapable of making hot dogs without wood chips.  You’re in charge for a reason.  Make it work or get out of the way so someone who can make it work has your job.

I oddly love people, like most people.  Its really stupid but I do.  Throw something in the trash can, I love you.  Say thank you, I love you.  Be generally nice just because, I love you.  I think a lot of people are just flat out amazing.

If you read this far, well I love you too.

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“I found it! I found the key!” I screamed lifting the key to everything into the air.

“We can finally escape!” She screamed back running toward me.  Escape all the torment and torture.

“But why?.” I say while pulling the key back to my body.  ”Why leave when this is all we know?”

“Because we’re dying!  We are slowly dying because of you!” she shouted while stepping toward me defiantly.  ”We need escape like we need air.  I need release.”  she says while reading toward me.

I drop to my knees.  ”I need love.  I need validation.  I need proven existence to waste away my days.” I say from the cold hard ground of my youth.  ”I am nothing without something.”

The girl in front of me fades away again.  The dim light darkens and my room disappears.  The ground becomes wet with over dramatic tears.  Overly serious words spoken for no reason.

A door that can be simply opened appears before me.  No lock for the key I hold.  I may leave at my own free will.  But I don’t.  I stay inside a little longer.  Visiting one last time with my demons.  Saying goodbye to my nightmares.  Graduating from my ignorance.

“I think its about time I grow up.” I say while opening the door.  ”I can forget all of this and move on.  Its no longer important. ” and with that I walk through the door.  Leaving the key on the ground behind me.

If I ever fall back inside this dark room I’ll pick up the key from the ground.  And leave the same way I came in.

“I won’t miss you.”

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France Is Probably Ok

“What if-” I begin but get bored of the conversation already so I stop mid sentence.

“What if life wasn’t boring?” I say while wishing away my boredom.  What if I had something to do.  Someone to talk about.  Something to talk about.  Jeeze we all know I would talk to myself if I had something to talk about.

“What if lemurs ran the world?  Would they make us dress up like lemurs and do lemur things.  I don’t even know what a fucking lemur is to be honest.”

“They are typically arboreal, having foxy faces and long tails.  Deriving from Madagascan prosimian primate family.” said the girl.

“At least I’m giving my hallucinations there own voices now.  Makes me feel more sane.” I said feeling crazier then ever.

“I’m not one of your crazy hallucinations.” said the hallucination while throwing a pillow at my face.

“You’re beautiful, disarming, and totally not real.  Easily an hallucination.” I say while rolling over to fall asleep.

“If you say so.” She says while a warm body lays on the ground next to me.  Wrapping its arms around me.  ”Sometimes I wish you weren’t crazy.”


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Hipster Baseball

“I think baseball used to be a great sport.”

“I think you used to be a cool person.” she said with a slight sneer on her face.  Glancing down at her phone barely paying any attention to the world around her.

“I mean its best enjoyed at its lowest forms. Fly balls, bunts, simple games of catch.” I say while tossing a simple dirty baseball into the air.  Catching with the tips of my fingers before lofting it into the air again.

“You just like loser baseball.” she spat out.

“And you’re just a wannabe baseball parent.” I say throwing insults right back at her.

“Baseball is best when it works.  Baseball is best when attempted.  Baseball is best when its true.” I say while snatching the dirty baseball out of the air with my left hand.

“Ok, I get it Socrates.” she says while rolling her eyes.  ”Now can I see the baseball?” she asks while holding her hand out.
“Nope, but watch this cool trick.” I say while I toss the dirty baseball up and start bouncing it off my knees and feet.

“THIS ISN’T SOCCER.” she says with insane amounts of emphasis while grabbing the dirty baseball out of the air while I’m juggling it.

“But soccer is fun.” I reply simply.

“NO IT ISN’T.  ITS A EUROPEAN SPORT.” she says while almost hissing through her lips.

“Porque?” I say to her as she glares death into the very heart of my soul.

“I will murder you in your sleep.” she says while thrusting the dirty baseball into my chest and knocking me back a little.  She took one last long glare at me before walking away.

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“Baby, they say its the end of time.” I say while staring up at the ceiling from my bed.

“Somewhere past my pride.” I say as I grip my t-shirt on my chest.

“I saw you running away from me.” letting my arms fall away.

“Down a dusty road toward a church.” I say while closing my eyes.

“You’re what dreams are made of.” I whisper one last cliche line into the night.

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Holding Hands

“What if I ran away tonight and died tomorrow.”

“Thought you didn’t think like that anymore?” she says eyeing me carefully.

“I don’t but its still fun to say stuff like that.” I say while laughing.

“Self deprecation is still something I can’t get over.”

Its weird saying I used to hate myself.  I only stopped doing that like 4 days ago.

“I just wish you would stop sounding so depressed.  It irks me in a weird way.” she says with a sigh.

“I’m not depressed anymore.” I say while she mouths it along with me.  Only because I’ve said it a 100 times to her already.

“I hate when you do that.” I say while glaring at her lazily.

“Sorry but you’re starting to sound like a broken record.” she answers.

“Dude, broken records make the best music.”

Life got… different when I had my life altering moment a few days ago.  I became different but not really.  I’m just someone I used to be.  Rediscovery is such a cliche word.  I’m no longer focused on all those scars I guess.  Trying to stop myself less and let my mind work my body for once.

“Hey, hold my hand.” I say while holding out my hand to her.

“Umm why?” she says suddenly pulling her hands close to her body.

“I don’t have a real reason but it sounded like fun in my head.”

“Holding my hand sounded like fun in your head?” she says while lowering her hands slightly.


“I don’t think that’s a good reason.” she says.

“Fine.  Hey, my hands feel kind of cold but I think its just me.  Can you check real quick?” I say while holding my hand closer to her.

“How is that different.” she says while rolling her eyes.

“I need you now.”

“Fine…” she says while gently grabbing my hand.

“You feel fine.” she says while rubbing her fingers against my palm.

“See, not that bad is it?” I say with a smile.

“Ugh.” she sighs while slowly taking her hand away from mine.

Now I feel empty.


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