Electricity is the power we need to see

I've been away. Not far away nor away-away. Just away.
Busy with life and the subtle impositions it has demanded.
My time has been spent doing things I would rather not do.
Work has caught up, as my time to do things has fled from me,
Wildly down into the drain.
There was no chance for me to grab hold, never mind grasp at it.
It's a rough tough, nitty gritty world that does not want to relinquish more hours in the day.
The sleep needed to get through this is never enough.
And bargaining for more hours in the day and calculating the amount of sleep needed to do everything just doesn't do enough.
Or even anything.
Prayers sent up and down the wave frequency don't seem to hit their target as deadlines move closer and that nasty cold developing in the back of the throat decides to go full throttle and attempt to viciously annihilate any chance of immunity there is.
And then, it's done. As soon as it started, for all the pain endured and pens thrown across the rooms and papers pushed off the desk to make more room, it's done.
And you breathe.

We won what we didn't lose.

Somewhere down the line, we lost ourselves. We lost our minds, our identities, our hopes, dreams, illusions, disillusions, and our false identities. What we found were acceptable replacements at the time, but nothing too permanent. We wanted proof that we could lose what we had, and find it again. Unwittingly, however, not only did we lose everything, but we gained none of which we had before. We found a new self and a new life. Never before did we think it was possible, but the things we lost were forgotten with time, and what we have gained became tattooed to our souls to forever remind us of whom or what we have and can become.

We realized that we aren’t bound by gravitational shackles in every aspect of our lives. 

Your body language is yelling.

Whenever I meet a new person, I typically tell them that I will eventually offend them. It’s not quite purposeful, but it isn’t always accidental, either. I will say something for shock value; how your body cringes and curls and how your eyes narrow at the words and dart away embarrassed or enraged. What I’m interested in is your reaction, how the sweat beads up on your brow as you realize that maybe no one should speak such words. You, the perfect little specimen who has unwittingly stepped into an awkward moment in which you are now forced to bear, are now subject to the scrutiny of my perceptive eyes as the little twinges in your left shoulder let me know I struck a nerve. Oh, it’s beautiful, how the body moves to react as you try to keep a straight face. But body language will forever say more than the movement of the tongue and lips that verbalize thoughts, and we are all prisoner of our body language.

What are the chances?

If lent is about fasting for holiness, what about those who are always fasting? Those who don’t have enough food to feed their children, never mind themselves. If they are Christian, then do they become less so? Do they go to hell for not being able to sacrifice anything they have because they already have next to nothing?

At it again

Dear Society,

Please stop with your pity, with your sympathy, with those sad eyes that don’t quite know what it’s like. We didn’t ask for it; in fact, it makes it harder to deal with. The sorry’s, the wow’s, the pats on the back, yeah, they don’t help. That doesn’t help us and to be honest, we don’t necessarily want help. We are quite capable of functioning, for the most part. The little hiccups in our functioning capacities make us who we are.

I will tell you what we want… or at least, what I want. First, cut the sympathy ploy. I don’t need to be reminded that I can’t always function at peak operating levels. Second, stop with the pats on the back. For some people, it’s a little jarring and not always appreciated. Third, empathy or understanding. We get it, you may not know what it’s like or maybe you do. We appreciate it when you relate to us somehow, just don’t do it in a sympathetic way. Sympathy is feeling bad, empathy is feeling the pain; I’m not talking about actually causing yourself the pain to relate to us, but to understand how we feel helps a lot more than a sorry. To quote Fight Club, “You’re sorry, I’m sorry, we’re all sorry.” Fourth, understand that we have good days, rough days, and don’t-you-dare days, too. But it’s a bit more extreme. It’s more like: Good hours, bad hours, and don’t-come-near-me hours. And sometimes, it goes down to mere minutes or seconds. That does not mean we are all bi-polar, but the little things can set us off quickly, especially if we have been a bout of whatever for a while now.

We do appreciate you, but you need to understand, just because we can’t function like you doesn’t mean we are completely broken and need saving. We are quite capable in our odd, sometimes backwards, and round-about ways. We know how to work around it and sometimes we need a crutch or a hug. Sometimes we just want to stop dealing with everyone and thing within a however many mile radius and at other times, we need to stop and ignore things for a bit. It’s not antisocial behavior or being hostile, it’s us dealing with a world that is extraordinary but overwhelming.

Thanks for listening,

Us. 

The one damn thing

Have you ever looked for a damn good excuse to not do something anymore?
Just one damn thing to let you quit with some dignity.
Yeah, I'm still looking for it.

You, Me, and the Edge of the Cliff

The exhilaration

Is breathtaking

Standing at the top

Just to have your feet

Fall out

The drop is the climax

Can you really see through

This mess?

Halfway through the fall

You forget that you’re dying

And think you’re actually flying

Gravity should have stopped you

But did it actually know

You were coming?

The end should have been the resolution

And just as the ground

Comes up rapidly to meet you

You catch yourself

At the top

Breathing

There's something about you

You were my everything. And you were my nothing. But most importantly, you were my something.

Side effects include punching someone in the face

Why do we have to pay so much money to be healthy? Side-effects include dizziness, emptier wallet, and moodier attitude. Warning: Medication may cause you to have worse symptoms than you had and more than you bargained for. Right, let me trade in a migraine and nausea for dizziness and excessive tiredness, because apparently manufactured problems are better than having your own natural ones. That makes perfect sense. 

What a fool

“Keep your thoughts to yourself,” the World once said. “No!” hollered back Life. “Please, don't start,” whispered the Heart feebly. “Don't make me separate you two” said the Brain. The Muscles just shook their head, “now the brain protects the heart, what a fool.”

This was a first

Today, something strange happened to me. You know how people say how they just woke up and  knew. Just freaking KNEW. I always just thought, "Well, la dee fucking dah. Congrats, you know what do with your life now." Or something along those lines.

Well, today, I woke up (naturally) and just knew. I knew I didn't want to do this anymore. For the past 8 years, I trained for Track and Field. I'm a thrower, I throw all those damn heavy-ass implements that could cause bodily harm if you were hit. Every Saturday during the season, I would wake up and go to a track meet. And today, just like the past 8 years, I woke up and went to a meet. But it was different this time. I wasn't trying to convince myself that I didn't care. I didn't have to; I legitimately didn't care.

I miss karate, I've been doing it since I was four (that's 16 years), and I miss going to the dojo every Saturday morning. I miss enjoying what I do. And I just knew that upon waking up this morning.

Perfection just means failure in the greatest of all ways

I have this idea of perfection that resembles the “All Paths to God” theory. If there is more than one path to God, and God is perfection, then there more than one path to perfection. Of course, there is a question of God’s existence, which means that there is a question of the existence of Perfection.