It seems that we are in the same boat. 

I’m fearful,

And you’re fearful.

Our futures both depend on a three hour spectacle.

But you seem strong

And I feel weak.

How do I become more like you?

How do I face the unknown so strongly?


It seems that storms are heading towards us.

The difficulty is increasing for me,

And the difficulty is increasing for you.

Tension is rising as we speak.

But you continue marching

As I fall to pressure.

How do I fight against the time?

How do I attack the rising waters?


It seems that neither of us are doing well.

I’m hanging on a thread,

And you’re hanging on a thread.

Can either of us work this out?

But you hold your head up

While mine sinks down.

How do you keep it together?

How do you handle reality?


It seems we are in the same boat.

I’m losing,

And you’re losing.

We are both facing failure. 

But you continue onward.

As this won’t define your life.

And I now continue onward,

This will not define my life.


Jumped too Fast

The forest was wide, and brimming with light behind every crevice in between the trees. The rustling wind cut through, taking the leaves from the ground up with it, and flew around the vast area. I, however, stood towards the edge of the plot. Just a few feet away was the drop-off, the place where the trees stopped growing and the grass turned to stones that stopped right above the gushing river below.

The river had been the subject of many stories that I had heard. It was a stream of dedication, a cascade of strength, an overflowing basin of heart. It was the goal I had set for myself, and I stood so close to it, so close to my new reality.


I knew that sound all too well.

“Trying to ruin my moment, aren’t you?” I said, clenching my hands into fists upon hearing another leaf snap.

“I’m here to warn you, actually.”

Not moving at all, I said, “Warn me of what? Your ridiculous amounts of apathy? I’m going, and you’re not stopping me this time.”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, your voice slightly louder than before.

“Too bad.”

I ran forward, towards the drop-off. Every step got me closer. I could begin to hear the water racing below. I was ready. I was ready for the moment I waited my entire life for.


You chased after me, but I jumped too fast into the surge of illness and misery. It was too late for me now. Time seemed to move in slow motion as I fell, never going fast enough. As I descended, I turned around, and that’s when I realized my mistake.

You weren’t who I thought you were. Continue reading “Jumped too Fast”

Café Monday

“What are you feeling right now?”

“Existential dread.”

I continued to stare down, watching your reflection through the glass of sweet tea that sat in front of me.

“C’mon,” you said, nudging my arm from across the table, “you’ll make it through.”

I stayed silent, without noise or motion.

“So it’s really that much, huh?”

I sighed in response.

“I see.” You paused. “Do you remember last spring at all? It was horrible for the both of us. I was caught up in that losing game, and you were caught up in that darned paper. You were so caught up in it, I thought you had lost it! You were completely absorbed in how much you hated that thing.”

“For good reason,” I replied, “it was three pages of torture.” I titled my head to your right, my gaze still locked of the tall glass of tea.

“Yeah, and look where you’re at now.”

I looked up, our eyes meeting.

“You’re still standing here, aren’t you?”

“Sitting, actually.”

You shook your head and let out a laugh as to tell me, ‘I knew what you meant.’ “Point still stands. You made it out then, you can make it out now.”

I smiled, sitting up straight. I took a sip from the sugar-loaded tea, leaning forward as I placed the glass back down. “Well, I guess I should go get started, huh?”

“Guess so.”

We picked ourselves up from off the café booths, and stepped out onto the hardwood floor.

“Thank you,” I said, turning to you as I took a step away from the table.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, flashing your signature smile that could light up an entire room.

Without any thought, I smiled back as we parted ways, not to see each other until next Monday. We were only apart for a few seconds, and yet I already couldn’t wait for next week. I hoped to be able to prove to you that I did make it through it all.

Memo from January 2017

I know what I want. I’m not aimlessly wandering, hoping to strike gold. I what I want, and I know that nothing else will suffice. I know my goal, and I have a desire to reach it.

I know what I want, but I can’t obtain it. I have no opportunities. Every open door leads to another grueling cycle of being stuck with something I don’t want until I finally abandon it. And as for the doors that are locked, I don’t know where they lead; I can’t break through them. The windows have been painted over and can’t be opened. I know what I want, but I have no paths.

I know what I want, but who would want me back? Who would listen to such pointless chatter? Who would dare support my messed up ideas? Who would be willing to give up so much of their time to me? And even if they would do all of that, compatibility would probably be absent.

I know what I want, but it’s out of stock. All that’s left is an empty shop.

I Saw His Face

August 1st, 2017

After seeing your photo, I avoided the newsstand I loved so much for a week.

I didn’t even mean to look at you in the first place. I was passing through, and the picture just slipped by. It wasn’t the first time I saw it either; it lingered in the press for a couple of days. It just took me until then to scan it, and find the two identical numbers that signified it as being you.

It’s funny; you looked exactly how I imagined you. You had pale skin, dark eyes, and a slim, but not elongated, face. I’m sure if I looked a little harder, I could have found a couple of strands of deep brown hair on your head, too. By the point I acknowledged your features, however, I ran away from your photo and shut my eyes.

Closed off from seeing the world, I took a moment to breathe. As I sat in silence, I felt the general rush of heat that I felt upon discovering these types of things. It wasn’t attraction, I could never be attracted to someone like you, but it caused some sort of emotion. It was as if I didn’t want to know, but now I had to live with the information for the rest of my life anyway.

I honestly did wish your smiling face, looking up towards the sky, wasn’t stuck in my mind, but despite my wishes, it was. And with it being in my head, came the understanding of how it was so easy to forget where you’ve been in summers like these. I understood why some my age fawned over you, and while I’d like to admit I didn’t do so, your persistence in staying in my thoughts told me otherwise, even if it wasn’t the least bit romantic.

After Party

For a moment, everything seemed fine –– until she opened her eyes.

There was nothing but discarded wrappers and empty bottles in front of the girl. The air smelt of the expired food that sat on the coffee table, and of the spilt drinks that were seeping into the floor. The girl pushed herself up off the carpet enough to look to her left, which was just as much of a mess.

As consciousness kicked in, the girl started to shiver from the air conditioning that started blowing chilly air through the room. She pulled the denim jacket she had on closer to her body as she sat. Pulling her head up initiated a headache, causing the girl to fly back down to the ground, holding her head in pain. After a moment, she mustered up the strength to push herself back up.

“What happened last night?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

As her vision began to de-cloud, the girl looked around the room, searching for clues of what happened. She concluded she wasn’t alone, as someone’s entire outfit was thrown on the couch. Standing up on her knees, the girl examined the bottles covering the floor. The shapes, colors, and sizes of the bottles were different, but they all shared one thing in common; they were all once full of alcohol.

“Oh, finally, you’re awake.”

The girl turned around. Another woman stood there, her figure appearing tall, and her brown hair flaring out to reveal a face that was staring straight down.

“Red?” said the girl on the floor, recognizing the person who she called her sister.

“You got wasted off your *** on vodka last night.” Red seized the girl’s arm and pulled her up off the floor. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The girl followed her sister’s lead out of the house, taking one last glance at the destruction before walking outside.

A Dream that Never Was (Red Strings)

The last breeze of summer swept by as I entered the room. As I walked across the slick flooring, my gaze drifted to the distant mirror. However, I was not looking at myself; I was looking for someone else, someone following my path, watching my every move. As I continued to stare into the silver-coated glass, there was a shadow to my left, moving along the wall. I jerked my head around, but nothing was there.

I sighed, and began to walk further into the dim room, inspecting every surface. All of the stall doors were open, and each one appeared to be empty. I stopped right before the tiled wall forced me to, and stood still. As I stared straight ahead, I felt a chill run up from beneath me. The freeze-inducing air ran up my leg, and steadily moved up my body.

“Stop it!”

As I turned around, the iciness dissipated, leaving only a feeling of emptiness in its wake. I shifted myself to the left, moving my sights towards the metal dispensers mounted on the wall. Their stainless steel exteriors were spotless, showing a near-perfect reflection, minus the slight shifting of the image that tended to happen to metals of its kind. I glared at the reflection, my gaze tracing the shapes behind me, which were slowly starting to become human.

I stepped back. “No one is here, it’s just me,” I said. “It’s just me. Just me.”

I walked to the exit, breaking out into a run as I got closer to the door. I gripped the handle and pressed forward, sending myself out of the room. I stood straight as the door clicked behind me, taking in the sights of the airport around me. I looked around, my gaze jumping from each ray of light that shined down from the windowed ceiling. The place was vacant; not a single person was in sight.

I stepped forward. My feet fell out from underneath me, sending me tumbling as the floor fell to nothing. I came to a sudden halt as red strings gripped onto me, pulling my body every which way. Suspended in midair, I leaned my head backwards.

Our eyes locked.

It was over.

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