not my mind or my direction, but my ability to captivate you.

I’ve been confronted with the idea that I base my value on the way others perceive me, or how I think they perceive me. I’d prefer for this to not (& am working so it won’t) be the case, but meanwhile, I vow to only surround myself with people who find me to be nothing less than wonderful and act accordingly.

Self-reflection is an ongoing activity, but when it pokes its head above my subconscious, I’m terrified by who I see. Where did I go & how did I manage to drift this far from the person I planned to be, hoped to be?

I need to pause and redirect. I need to re-familiarize myself with what’s important—to me, not to those who breathe around me. They have their own lives; mine is my own.

if it makes you less sad, i will die by your hand.

hope you find out what you want, already know what i am.

& if it makes you less sad, we’ll start talking again,

you can tell me how vile i already know that i am.

i’ll grow old, start acting my age, be a brand new day in a life that you hate.

a crown of gold, a heart that’s harder than stone,

& it hurts to hold on, but it’s missed when it’s gone.

call me a safe bet, i’m betting i’m not.

i’m glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes, you can forget.

if it makes you less sad, i’ll move out of the state,

you can keep to yourself, i’ll keep out of your way.

& if it makes you less sad, i’ll take your pictures all down,

every picture you paint, i will paint myself out.

it’s cold as a tomb & it’s dark in your room

when i sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds.

so call it quits or get a a grip.

you said you wanted a solution,

you just wanted to be missed.

call me a safe bet, i’m betting i’m not.

i’m glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes, you can forget.

so you can forget, you can forget.

you are calm and reposed, let your beauty unfold.

hell, i like the skin stretched over your bones.

spring keeps you ever close,

you are secondhand smoke,

you are so fragile & thin,

standing trial for your sins.

holding onto yourself the best you can.

you are the smell before rain.

you are the blood in my veins.

call me a safe bet, i’m betting i’m not.

glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes, you can forget.

—brand new

Wanna know what’s exciting? Anticipation. Particularly, the anticipation of going home. Of walking through the door, 2 dogs’ tails wagging wildly as I hug my mom, dad & sister. The anticipation of it could knock me down if I wasn’t so damn jacked from excitement. Ugh, I can’t wait to return to the place where I belong.

Don’t show up unprepared. Especially don’t show up late & unprepared. Don’t even attempt justifying your lack of punctuality by referencing your text that said you’d be late…the one you sent 5 minutes before you were actually suppose to be here. Plus, your text said you’d be late, not that you’d be here an hour later than planned. That’s not late. If “late” could be used to describe the number of minutes between when you were supposed to be here & when you actually got here, we could say that Michael Jackson isn’t dead, he’s just “late” to his next concert. You fuck. You should’ve just stayed home; you would have been more beneficial there. At least then we wouldn’t have to listen to your pointless & irrelevant comments.

Here’s a rant I’d say if you were worth the breaths it would take to raise my voice to a volume that could penetrate your thick skull.

going through songs in attempt to create the ultimate playlist, i came across some mixtapes a friend had given me last fall. i’ve always referenced them according to their track number, failing to figure out the names and artists. tonight i decided to do so, and while listening more closely to the lyrics…i heard something i’d missed the million other times i’ve listened to the songs. i always pay attention to lyrics, but tonight, it was different; i heard something in those songs i failed to hear before.

at the time he had given me the mixes, we were together, though nothing was official according to society. and during those weeks, i always felt i was the one feeling more, wanting more, desiring him more than he desired me. 

now i’m not so sure.

attention all parents,

keep in mind that children are new to this thing we call “life”. think of all the times in a single day you think, “whoa, i had no idea…” think of all the things you still have left to learn. and how old are you?

how old is your child? don’t expect them to be perfect. don’t expect them to want to stand still for a picture. no one wants to stand still when you’re still entranced (as i wish i still was…) by running around, chasing bubbles. and sometimes, not even you want to eat healthy food…so don’t get mad at your kid for not wanting to either.

and when your child acts in a way that you don’t like, try to remember the last time you wanted to change your behavior because someone yelled in your face, embarrassed you, or threatened you. what makes you want to change your behavior? try that with your child.

you’re so blessed. be patient. your child is a reflection of you. if he/she doesn’t listen, you  might want to consider how often you do.

nobody who cares about anything worth caring about cares what car you’re going to buy. if ever you were conversing with a person whose smile grew larger & was suddenly sweeter when you said the word “caddy”, divorce this amigo. pronto.

don’t tell me that chivalry is not dead because you have plans to drive me to chicago & take me out for some fine seafood cuisine when i’ve been sick all week & you didn’t even once ask how i was feeling. fuck you. that’s not chivalry. that’s you making an excuse to open your mouth & brag about your obsession with things that i could not, even if i practiced, care less about. you’re pathetic. i’m not impressed.

so this last time i saw you was probably the last time i will have hung out with you. perhaps someday in the future i will be incredibly bored & in desperate need of a pair of ears in which to send messages of “grow up”, “shut up”, & “oh, wow, yeah? cool story, bro.” but let’s face it, that’s highly unlikely.

so, i guess this is goodbye.

so many sayings involve the word “habit”. typically the connotation is negative; for instance, “old habits die hard.”

but some habits are just really effective actions which have yet to be trumped & are therefore repeated. this action is of no consequence, & you wouldn’t set out on a mission to alter future decisions regarding it.

the same can be said for routines. some routines are fine. when there’s something that needs to be accomplished & you’ve discovered an extremely successful method of doing so, there’s no harm in continuing to employ it.

the only danger is closing your mind to other options. even when faced with a task you’ve successfully completed before, it is unwise to overlook other potential solutions, even if you’ve locked down a sure-to-be-safe way of achieving it.

that said…i must say, i’ve developed a few routines, and i’m not fond of the…almost lack of respect for the way i do things. i do them a certain way because i know it works really well for me. for me. for. me. maybe it doesn’t fit into your plan of life, but i’m 21 years deep into this life on earth, and thus far, doing things the way i am has proven to be the most enjoyable and effective.

& these routines are subject to change. hell, in two weeks the ones i have now will be as foreign as chemistry. they will soon become part of my past that my current self often has trouble understanding.

but until then, don’t rush me. if it’s saturday night & you want to start drinking at 7, go for it. chug, chug, chug. but that’s a recipe for disaster for this human. i know me. i know what works. lay. the. fuck. off. your inability to let it go was annoying.

with all my doors locked up tight.

i won’t be thinking about you, baby.

i’m in desperate need of a crowd whose weekends don’t revolve around alcohol & getting some.

instead let’s listen to music, color, & drink some coffee.

caffeine>alcohol any day of the week…including friday. saturday. sunday. thirsty thursday…wasted wednesday…tipsy tuesday…& mixed-drink-monday.

we’ll just drink coffee. or jamba juice, if we’re feeling crazy.

i’m gonna drown my sorrow in a bowl of cereal. cheers!