Tears

Why do you cry I asked her. Her eyes already welling up with tears again. I take my hand and rub away some the damp sadness that's left on her soft face.

Seeing her cry like this kills me. Knowing that something said or some action has caused her to break down has the same affect on me. I feel totally crushed.

After she calmed down and told me what had happened, all I could do was hold her.

I told her the truth: there are no words of comfort I can say to make that thing undone. But I let her know that it'll all be ok, I m here to take care of her. That's all I ever really wanted.

We stayed there another moment as she wept into my t-shirt. I didn't mind.

Keep Calling

I v been called many things as of late. Writer. Poet. Artist. Photographer. That boy with the tattoos. That boy with the ears. The list goes on.

But all I ever really wanted to be called was only one thing: always yours.

Deep ressions

Some how during the night you got up to close the shades in your room. One would think, how sad, he went and made his room completely dark. But they don't know do they.

Seeing as the shades being closed means that at some point during the night you got up from bed and closed them. Which, aside from relieving yourself and getting the occasional glass of water, is the most moves you've made in the better part of a week.

That's the funny thing about bouts with depression. Small victories even in the sense of moving around are enough to perk you up just a tad.

Taking stock of the current scene that is this room, you see a bed, clothes, a television, and a few empty drinking glasses. The bed, which you are still currently laying in, is disheveled to say the least. The fitted sheet lost hold on the upper corners of the mattress somewhere around 72 hours ago. You Haven't really bothered to replace it. The covers themselves change position often. Never really returning to a place remotely considered exceptable. One or more of the pillows have been discarded to the floor.

The clothes pile consists of mostly dirty laundry. Recalling the last time they saw the inside of the washing machine is difficult at best. Worn once and then discarded. After a few days, you pick up that very same shirt, give it the "I'm gonna smell this and if it's not bad I'm gonna wear it" test.

The tv itself was unplugged days ago. Not really interested in what it had to tell you, you decided it's be better off without electricity. Besides, it was too bright in the middle of night if you left it on. Always blinded when you couldn't fall back asleep.

As for the empty glasses: they should be pretty self-explanatory. A few bottles of wine needed the company of good glassware. But now, all the wine has up and disappeared and the glasses serve no purpose. The thought of washing them has crossed your mind, but all things considered what's the point?

On top of the current situation, you've missed three days of work. Which, you don't really mind. But on the other hand you feel shitty for leaving your coworkers hanging. It's not their fault your sad or depressed or lazy or whateveritisyouthinkiswrong. They suffer your work load while you just lay about in your batcave of a room for days on end.

To put the cherry on top of this banana split, if you were to be asked why your so depressed, the only answer you could give them is: I don't know.

The list goes on and on, scan through the rolodex of past life scaring moments that you fake smiled your way through. Telling yourself, everything will be alright. It'll all work out.

But you know what you found out laying here all this time? That most of the time it won't be alright. It'll actually be completely fucked for a long time. There isn't a lie in the world you would believe in this instance to make everything ok. That's just how it is sometimes though, you get so sad so crushed that it all makes sense.

This is the cycle you deal with. Every so often you break down. Probably not the healthiest way to get through these things, but that's how it is. It all gets better in the end.

Once you do realize it will be ok, it will be alright, even as fucked as it could be; you'll make it out alive. Outta this bed. Outta these clothes. Outta these bottles. Outta this room.

Everything is alright, and you'll be ok.

Of Being Brave.

Time to dive head first into the cask again. A appointment later in the evening is calling for something of the red verity. Before it gets too late I stop by the local liquor store to obtain a bottle.

While Searching the racks upon racks of merlots and the Shiraz, I hear from the register near the front of the store a question. A simple can I help you find anything sort of question. I look up to give the generic no thank you quick response and small head shake. It only took a moment but I locked eyes with her, completely prepared to submit my answer.

The problem was locking eyes with her. A pair of the bluest eyes peering right at me. Almost right through me. I stammered out something weak. I lost all train of thought. Formulating a sentence in my head, I take my time just to take in as much of this person as I possible can. Her blondish hair cascading down to her exposed shoulders. Seeing as she was wearing a pink tank top, I could see her clavicle and where it intersected her neck line. Tiny freckles are misplaced around her cheek bones.

She must have caught on to what I was thinking because she smiled at me. Red handed. She knew what was running through my head I bet. What a fool I must look like.

Snatching up a random bottle of yellow tail, I make my way to counter. Not even bothering to look at what I actually picked up, I didn't really care at this point. Pulling my self together, I muster up my manly confidence. Why not? What's a boy got to lose?

I ask her if I can be frank with her, to which she smoothly responded with: you sure can sir. I tell her that she has the most amazingly beautiful blue eyes this young man has ever seen. I tell her that she took my breath away almost the moment I set eyes on her. I compliment her choice in style and ask what a pretty girl such as herself is doing in a place like this. All the general lines, nothing to creepy, however, altogether honest.

She tells me that shes only here for the summer visiting family, and she needed some spending cash. She then tells me I must be a brave boy for being a forward as I am. Then she kindly thanks me for all the compliments. I blush for the first time sense I can't remember when.

I apologize to her if I seem strange, but I had to let her know these things. As she rings me up and prints my receipt, she smiles again and laughs. She quickly flips the paper transaction over and jots something down. Another custom enters through door and asks for some help in collections room. She hands me my receipt, her finger rubs mine just a bit longer than unintentional contact. Leaving to attend to the other man, I unfold the message to see what she has scribbled.

The message is short. The message is direct. A telephone number and a sentence that reads: The store closes at 11, call me.....

The best advice I'll ever give.

There's gonna come a time in your life where your gonna stop yourself and say: Am I really doing the things I want to do?

You may not like the answer you know to be the honest truth, but you made your own bed didn't you.

Don't you compromise with a vice. Don't you ever dare tell yourself you'll start tomorrow.

Go. Get up. Do that thing you want to do the most right now. Start Today.

Take a picture. Write a song. Make a friend. Sing your heart out to a complete group of strangers. Fall in love.

You could have it all, everything you ever wanted, right now. Stop reading this. Close your laptop. Stop texting. Hang up the phone. Turn off the TV. Lock your door on the way out.

Cause when it's all said and done are you gonna wanna have your regrets in the company you keep at the end of the day, or the memory of being there when you realized what it's like to be alive?

Heat and The Madness

My feet are hanging off the bed again. The covers and sheets are askew, completely useless on a scorching night like tonight. It's long past midnight and it's still close to 90. I would trade this pillow and this box spring for a pool of water right now, anything cool and calm will do.

In between the tossing and turning, I lose all hope of rest. There's absolutely no chance of that tonight. The way sheets cling to any piece of exposed skin like a sort of weak glue hinders all form of comfort.

This heat wave has been relentless for the better part of two weeks now, and it shows no signs of letting up. I crawl out of bed to fetch a glass of water, juice, wine.... Anything that will cool me down! I beg for relief!

As I lumber about my room looking for something to cover myself with, I quit looking outright. I could careless at this point if anyone saw me in the bare, they would understand.

After retrieving a tall glass of water I find my way to the couch. In between surfing channels on late night TV, I nod off, truly exhausted. Thinking back now, I can't be sure if I was dreaming or if I was purely hallucinating from my heat delirium. Chasing a girl down a long hallway, she quickly turns to make sure I m keeping up with her.

I can hear Ambient sounds and music playing. The light is low in this forever hallway. Flashes of her face. She comes to a door and goes over the threshold. By the time I'm there, the door has closed and I m nervous about opening it. I reach for the knob only for the door to open before me.

Standing there she says, stay with me tonight. As she takes my hand, I turn to look back down the hall. I see nothing but the walls and I hear nothing but music I can't make out entirely. The light is weak, I can't see the end of the hall, it fades to black just a few feet beyond the threshold.

As the door closes and I hear is click, I wake up. Still couch bound. Still surrounded by heat. Confusion sets in as I reserve myself to analyzing my dream. What did it mean? What do they ever mean?

As I switch the TV off, the weather man is heard. "Another hot one out there for today, stay cool."

I m at my wits end weather man, I could use a break. So for my five day forecast, I respectfully request you make that dream happen. I don't ask much of you weather man, and you've always done well.

Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe we're all crazy. One thing is certain, it's only getting hotter, and it's only driving me closer to madness

thoughts of youknowwho

If i say something profound and charming, something totally honest and true, i d ask you to stay.

These nights here and there are strange. Strange places filled with strange people. I'm unsure who it trustworthy and faking. I m quite sure all these strangers are lying, just to make friends or to shake my hand for some stranger reasoning.

I keep looking for exits. I keep faking bathroom breaks. They keep coming though. "Oh! you can't leave sir!" "You can't go home now, its far too early!" I need to escape this mob. I need to be rescued.

I finally make my get away from this torture. Back to home. Back to my nights I know. I send the text that You answered promptly with "be right over." I wish I could tell you I cleaned my self up, changed my clothes and took off my socks, but I didn't. I couldn't do those things. Instead I wait patiently on my back stairs for you arrive. "You took your time" I tell her. Her eyes are hazy and tired, signs she was very much asleep before I texted her. "well, I didn't want you to think I was rushing over here boy." she said to me with a smile. "I like making you wait."

I m not sure how long we kissed for, but it was long enough for the bugs to notice we were there. Under a moonless sky we ran back to the house for safety.

Most of the clothing was off by the time we got to the bed. These things happen I suppose.

Afterwords, we chatted about how our days were. How many cups of coffee we drank, how many stories I told. Each topic was just a way of dodging the question that was on my mind from the start. The one I wanted to ask right from the get go.

You see, she was leaving. Moving far far away to start a new life with her boy, her real boy. I was nothing more than the other man. But it was all my fault from the start. It was also my fault that I fell in love. Which her leaving would be a problem for me you see. So I ask the question: "Is there anything I can do or say that can make you stay?"

She gave me reasons. All valid. All true. All of them I didn't want to hear. So I did the one thing I had to, I said "if i say something profound and charming, something totally honest and true, i d ask you to stay. Your the love of my life and all I want is to take care of you." Pausing slightly, not for effect but for formulating the words I was about to say. "I want you to be here with me, making art and cooking food, reading books and complimenting each other on our great taste in fashion." I told her everything. It was me at my most honest. It may have been me at my very best.

She left the other day. Moving on to bigger and better. My heart mended eventually. It's rough to think about, however, that I was in love. I'v never been in love before. I enjoyed it for sure, but It'll be hard to find someone else to feel the way I did with her.

So now I mingle with the strangers again. I still look for the exit. I still look for rescue. But what I look for most of all, is her.

If i say something profound and charming, something totally honest and true, i d ask you to stay. Just stay with me here. Everything's gonna be alright.