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.


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.

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