I began to wonder if anything was even real.
Are you real?
Am I?
Or, are these just words formed in a sentence to fit into a trained opinion of how life is supposed to be?
Or is this just how things go here?
Sometimes, I feel like I’m just a passenger in this place, down here on a circulating conveyor belt, which I call Project Earth.
Yearly Archives: 2020
The Farm: Dreams of a Young Man
People still amaze me. At least, I want them to. At least, I hope they will because above all I don’t ever want to lose my belief in amazement.
I want to be amazed because I still want to be surprised every once in a while. I want to be amazed and see new amazing things, which are not even so new at all.
Take a child for example. I want to see kids play, and I mean really play, not with a handheld device or something automated —instead, I want to watch a child play with a toy that actually needs human interaction.
I want to see kids in a playground, screaming as they slide down the slide or swing as high as they can on the swings. I want to see this and feel as if hope is still alive and not reprogrammed into an app on a cell phone.
Prose From The Advocate’s Side
It’s hard to see you this way, but hey, this is part of the game, right?
We signed up for this, remember?
There is me on my side and you on yours, which is not to say that you or I are against each other, because we’re not.
Not at all.
There is no line between; there’s just a wall you’ve built, which I understand because I have my own walls too.
We all do, as a matter of fact.
I spent most of my life trying to build mine, only now, to take them down.
This Is Why We Keep Going
I have a rejection email from a magazine submission. I rarely submit poetry and with work, life, education, and with my schedule being the way it is, I rarely send out poetry submissions at all.
However, the idea of rejection or that my submission was withdrawn stuck with me. First and foremost, they believed my submissions were fiction, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I make it a point that everything I write about is real or true —or at minimum, everything I write about is real or true to me.
There Will Always Be Us
There will always be something for us to remember. Whether the moment is small or quick or if the time is bigger than ever, there will always be something for us to remember.
I take this idea to heart. And you should too.
Live, Love, Laugh, and Learn
I sat in a classroom for 8-hours, learning about mental health with the main premise, based on a few different acronyms. One idea above all stood out to me. They called it the four L’s.
Two instructors alternated, subject by subject, which I thought was brilliant because their upbeat energy was enough to keep the classroom alive. They complimented each other very well and kept the information interesting, which is good because an 8-hour class is a long class to be in. All the while, both instructors stressed the four L’s, which are Live, Love, Laugh, and Learn.
It’s All In Your Head
I hate those words . . .
The problem is what if this is true? What if this is all in our head like everything else is? The fears and the doubts and especially insecurity are in hour head, which I get, and which is not to say that none of them are valid. Instead, I say everything is valid if we believe in it.
I say reality and belief is not always the same thing, which I get as well, which is why I ask the main question in the first place.
What if this is true?
What if all this is really in our head?
A Night In The Woods
We took the trail between the crevice of Eagle Rock and Limekilm Mountain and headed closer to the Ladentown and then over to the second reservoir. This is where we set up camp. The hike itself was several miles and the terrain went from mild to steep in different spots. It was summer and the winds were extremely warm. The trees were green and the air was sweet from the dew and the mountains. It was hot for sure but the climb was well worth it.
Continue readingIs It Time For A Drive?
I have this idea, which comes to me when the moments become too intense. I think of this when the anxiety builds up inside and next is the claustrophobic feeling that happens when you feel like you just can’t away from yourself.
Continue readingSessions From The Balcony: Dream Poetry
And then there was silence.
No words. No noise, nothing to say.
Just silence.
The Written Addiction 