today i had a super hard exam. don't wanna talk about that though, i wanna talk about the fun part.

for one part i had to write a short story about overcoming fear. or apologizing to a family member or meeting a friend. but i chose overcoming fear. i think. it could also be meeting a friend but i don't know. it wouldn't be about a very good friend. but not all friends are good ones.

i wrote about a black dog. it symbolized depression. i got this thought from reading about winston churchill. he had depression. he called it his black dog. the thought really struck a chord with me. i knew what he meant. it just made sense. i don't remember where i read about it though.

so i wrote about a black dog. and it was darkness. and i was running from it. but i couldn't escape it. even at home in my sleep, the black dog woke me up. the monster loomed outside during a storm. it scratched at my door. it wouldn't leave, and it looked bigger than ever, that night.

so i wrote about how i cried myself to sleep in the darkness. but then it was morning. and when i looked outside, the dog looked smaller than before. it was asleep at my doorstep. and while it wasn't gone, and never would be, the dog was quieted. at least for a while.

and in the light, i could see the dog was really brown.

i don't know if i wrote about overcoming fear or not. i think i wrote about overcoming depression. maybe that's just fear of the darkness though. or yourself. oh well. i liked the story whether i did it right or not. i think that's all that matters.

you do your best and you do what you want to do. if you do well or don't, everybody else can just suck it. as long as you find a way to turn the black dog brown, at the end of the day. whatever lets you sleep at night and brings the sun back up in the morning.

that's what really matters.

p.s. i also wrote a really good simile. it said, 'but when i saw the black dog, my fear was not lessened. if anything, it tripled, like the heads of a slain hydra.' it was all i could think of that tripled. but in the end, it was my favourite simile i ever wrote. it's funny how successful i am when i am limited. maybe you're like that too. maybe you should try it.

I have my moments but no one wants just moments.

They want magic and birthday cake - all the time.
I wish I could
I know how to fly airplanes, you could come here.
I know I am not all that great
But I am mostly quiet,
I am mostly still

hand creams
and lip chaps
body lotions
or sticks of gum

scars carved
and shot after shot
40s or 6 packs
or hairs and cuts

sleepless nights
and unending headaches
failed exams
or books read in an hour

unspoken words
and temper tantrums
teary phone calls
or songs blared at five in the am

misplaced anger
and lost socks
minutes wasted
or curtains shut

deleted text messages
and wheezing breaths
silent tears
or loads of laundry

lies spoken
and misplaced blame
trashed receipts
or lists never fully crossed off

memorized song lyrics
and painful cavities
roads repeatedly travelled
or late night showers

The smell like ripe watermelon
Or very stale bread, not yet moldy
Three hundred doves dying
Intoxicated and drowning in the deep end of every pool

Chlorinated, chlorination
Flightless owls boiled in giant pots
Stewed and pickled in jars without lids
Twenty rubber bands, talking all at once

Liquid poison, nameless faces
Racing images of colors swarming and lights slipping past
Literal and metaphorical spilling of the guts (to and on a man who isn’t there)
Bittersweet ale flows through the veins

Disappearing into oak and sweet whiskey
Put out like the white hot end of a cigarette
Graves of roses and broken wine glasses
Later haunted by a slurring ghost

Hey, remember those new year resolutions I made?

No?

Let me remind you:

1. Don't care too much.
2. Shut up.

Guess what? I know this probably doesn't sound too surprising, but I didn't keep either of them. Yay, new year's resolutions! Go me! I'm so fucking accomplished.

This year, I've been as caring and as loud as I've ever been. And it's only gotten me into shit.

Last year, I got in shit for not telling people how I feel, not telling them how much I'm struggling, not sharing with them what I think. This year, I am getting in shit for telling people how I feel, telling them how much I'm struggling, sharing with them what I think.

Talk about mixed messages. I guess people just don't want to hear the truth because they don't want their illusions destroyed.

Oh, but don't feel bad (I'm sure you didn't anyway), it's not about that. I deserved it, I'm sure, I know I can be an asshole. Blame my past, or don't, and just see straight through the image of the tortured soul. Underneath, I'm just a person like you, right? Of course you can talk to me the way you do, because you weren't there, you didn't feel what I did and you don't know what it's like to be me - which is, of course, how it should be. But when you hate me, anyway, I am never surprised.

I hate me, too.

Sometimes you can't hide behind the things that have happened to you, even when they consume you, even when there's no you left. Because nobody else can see that. They think I'm fine, they only help when I'm close to death. Nobody tries to prevent it, they only try to cure it when it's too late.

But this isn't about me. This is about something much, much bigger than me.

You'll see, soon enough.

Holy crap fucking finally I'm done that stupid essay

It's six days late and so I'm deducted 12%

But I don't fucking careeeee yay

Someone get me a fucking drink

Remember that if you ever need me, I'll be there in a heartbeat.

what
a
fucking
waste
of
words

i'm sick of being the fat friend.
there i fucking said it.

This, then, is the way that it rolls in my mouth, sickly sweet and rising from some wet stone in the chest. It settles in my cheeks. It’s at the sides of my tongue, tasting like metal and tea and I brush my teeth to try and get it out but it’s like a stain. It’s a personal betrayal, the way I give these people that I don’t know malicious intent. They don’t know what I’m doing. I pretend to be naive, I subvert it. I think I could be better.

Life is about getting up out of your chair and doing something. It is about doing nothing. Making a mess. Moving your hand and your body. Leaving a mark. It is about doing. Action. Finishing. Experimenting. Trying something. Immersing. It is about absurdity. A creation. Evidence that you exist. Using materials. Destruction. It is about fun. Doing the opposite. Breaking the rules. It is about ideas. Getting dirty. Making mistakes.

I'm asking you to make mistakes. Begging you. I feel like I'm the only one who knows how to do that anymore. I'm going to ask you to make a mark and it's going to be messy. Don't worry about that. That's the point.