But Teacher, I Am Trying (My Best)

This is written as somewhat of a mission statement.
So, I will understand if you choose to abort this now.
Then again, this is not your mission.
Not by any means.
So in fairness . . .
Your participation is not necessary.

I offer this as a personal interference to which I am intercepting the off-putting ideas of self-doubt.
Therefore, do not give up.
If the word never is real then so is forever.

Safe to say that nothing is ever going to be the same.
Then again, nothing is ever the same because no two things are ever alike.
Nothing is ever completely identical.
Unless it’s been made that way. . .
And please, allow me to explain.

Same as no two fingerprints are the same, no experience will ever be like it was when we were younger.
Nothing is the same as when it was new or when we were kids.
Remember?
This is what it was like when seeing life for the first time.
Youth happens and youth only comes once
But in the same text, none of this means that you and I have to grow old.

No sunset will ever duplicate itself.
No. This will never happen.
Each sunrise and sunset has their own meaning.
And people are like this too.

And so, in the case of true beauty; the moon might look full, or the stars might twinkle in the same proximity, but new is new, life is life, and true love is true love.
Understand?
Lived experiences are lived experiences, and the moments that we share together will always be unique.
This will be the case until the day we die.
No one can change this.

Love does not exist in a vacuum and nor can life exist without the air we need to breathe.
The energy between us is living and breathing.
Our problems begin when we start to suffocate each other with doubts and fights and insults.
And this is when love dies or needs resuscitation.
So breathe . . .

Nothing is the same as it was, which is fine.
And again, I reassure you that yes, this is fine.
Absolutely
This is all part of a great or grand scheme.
The plot thickens, I understand.
But this is not literature.
This is life.
We are not a tragedy or star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet.
We are soulmates and connected by something far greater than anything we could possibly understand.

Allow yourself to turn.
Allow yourself the freedom to breathe.
Do this by any means necessary.
Please –
Breathe, even when breathing or moving seems unthinkable or impossible.
Breathe because I promise you, something golden is about to bloom on your horizon.

I swear.

Have you ever watched the sun come up?
I have.
And you have too.
I know this.
And we have watched the sunset too.

I have never seen anything this beautiful, —yet I am sure there are people around who would say, “If you’ve seen one sunset then you’ve seen them all.”
But I disagree.

The combinations of the clouds and the colors of dawn when the sun arrives or leaves are never exactly the same.
Nothing is ever the same as they were before.
And who says this has to be a bad thing?

The colors and the hues and the shades of how purple and orange fill the ruffles beneath the underbellies of the clouds are never quite alike. But we notice them.
or at least, we should . . .

Therefore, I say this fact only serves as proof that beauty is never quite the same.
And though we have changed; you and I remain unchangeable because although nothing is like it was, —the sun is still the sun, and the moon will always be the moon.
Life is life.
Soulmates are soulmates
And destiny and fate are always going to be undefeated.

I depend on this fact the same as I depend on the fact that you will always be you too to me.
I offer this because who you are is immeasurable to me.

I need you to realize something:
Only commercial beauty can be the same because commercial beauty is manufactured.
But this is something different.
The sky, the sun, and the clouds and the wind that blows are all unique factors that will never be the same again. And if one are the same, none will ever be the same at the same time.
And this too.
This is not a bad thing.
There are billions of people in this world, which means from any calculation, —the fact that we are still here, somehow, means that our infinite impossibilities have been defied by fate.
Ad to me, our beauty is bound for one purpose.

I cannot live the way I was, and I cannot die the way I am either.
I know this.
I am not interested in reprints of the original and nor will I entertain imposters who look similar, but in my heart, I know they are not the same.

 This is like buying a painting that has been remastered and reprinted.
Yet, the pain or the dignity it took to create this form of artwork is empty.
I know people who wear their fake Rolex watches.
And so do you
And the watches might look nice.
But fake is still fake.
Real is real.
And original is original.

I want the real thing.
I want the flow from an original beauty.
Nothing can be left to pretend anymore.

And yes, beauty is a challenge.
Of course it is.
Trust me because commercial beauty is easy but it fades or loses its style.
Classic beauty can never fade.
I know this because no matter how you age; I can say that I have known you long enough to say you are far more beautiful now than ever before. This grows and no, you are not the same
Nothing is . . .
But this does not mean that I do not believe you are the most beautiful girl in the world
because you are –

Remember something –
commercialized beauty is only a reprint of something that was designed rom purity but the art lost its genius one it was made to be remanufactured.
Fabricated beauty is great
And this is great until something “pretty” comes along.

I don’t want to be pretty.
I don’t want you to settle for pretty.
Being pretty is less than beautiful; and thus, your beauty would be diminished or minimized if you settled for something like this.

Settling for the wrong person is the same as how counterfeit money looks like it has value.
It looks like a money but it’s not worth the paper it is printed on.
Or like the Rolex and while the comparison of the original and the fake might look the same, only one of them has worth.
One is nonnegotiable.
The other is compromised and unworthy.
Do you understand?

And to be honest, I want to be worthy.
I want to have value.

I want to wake up and enjoy the fact that no two days will ever be the same.
And even more, I want to wake up with this realization and be excited that true beauty can never be duplicated or manufactured.
Nothing will ever be as good as our best day.
(until another best day comes along)
No one can ever match you.
And this is what makes you priceless.

I suppose this is why no two rainbows are ever the same.
But every rainbow is enough to make us look and stare and say aww that was beautiful. . .
And the same has to be said about sunsets.

I am not the same as I was.
I am different in so many ways.
I know.
It is said that all of our cells die and rejuvenate every seven years.
So, I am nothing like I was, this time seven years ago.
But to be honest, my memory serves differently.
I am nothing like I was this time last year either.

I remember beautiful things.
I remember beautiful times too, even if they were spent around ugly people.
And so, even ugliness can appear on different levels.

But to be clear, I have seen enough of the ugliness in people, —and to add more, it does not take any effort to see and notice the ugly truths around us.
They are far more transparent.

I’d rather save myself and look elsewhere.
Do you understand?

I would rather dismiss myself or choose to remove me from the background or the contrast between good and evil.
I have no other choice.
I have chosen to separate from so many things and no, this was not easy.
My choice is hard
But it is the only one that makes sense to me.

There are times when it seems as if I have become like an old recluse, —or I am like an old madman who decided to move away, like up in the mountains somewhere, to find dignity in my solitary confinement.
But no.
I chose to go away and to paint my empty canvases with words and dreams and recollections of sunrises that will never come again.
But new ones can come at any time

And sure, of course.
I know that no one will understand or see my bleeding heart and realize their background.
And perhaps no one cares and they would sooner step over me like a piece of unwanted newspaper.
I know that no one will understand my hopes that someday, my separation and my choices were loyal to one undeniable truth.

And that’s this:
I do have love.
I care deeply.

I want something that can never be duplicated or commercialized and what’s more; I want to feel better than just “okay.”
I want to be better than just “fine for now.”
I want my fear to subside.
I want my survival tactics and my guard to be comfortable enough to rest and allow us a truce.

I want to mean something.
I want to think and feel and be safe and confident in the fact that I am valid and that I am meaningful enough to be loved, adored, wanted, and cherished.

I want my reflection in the mirror to show me something other than my personal distortions or thinking errors, which have distorted my view for most of my life.

I might not be beautiful to everybody. Or even more, I might not be beautiful to anybody else.
And I might not be be beautiful to you or seen by the world the way I would like to be seen.
But maybe—

Hopefully—

Someday—

Who knows . . .

I want to be free before my time comes to an end and before my twilight takes me to the afterlife.
I want to be free from my misconceptions of ugly truth.
I want to be rid of the misperceptions of what beauty really is.
And I struggle because I am afraid that I will never be recognized or discovered by anyone ever again.

I am afraid that I will never be seen “for me” and thus, I will lose myself.
I am afraid to lose myself like countless other souls who lost to the belief that somehow, I have to sell myself to buy the freedom of being loved.

Never give yourself to something or someone unworthy of our attention.
I know this.
Never believe in the ugly lies because they break the laws of truth.
And the truth is if you are beautiful, then you are truly beautiful.
And so, nothing about you could ever be ugly
or average.

Never –

Perhaps my lonesome rambles are not matched with the popular forms of art, poetry, and prose.
Okay
And maybe this is too emotional.
Okay
Maybe this is too personal.
Maybe this is why I will always be damned by the critics and kicked aside by the literary world.
Or maybe I a crazy, like a mad on in the psyche ward who likes the window of his door at the passing doctors who wrote him off, long ago.
Okay then.
So be it.

Maybe no one will ever love my writing
But let me ask, what the fuck do they know about my art?
What does anyone know about me?

What would anyone know about waking up when the world is too heavy?
|No one knows how it’s been to wake up to a world without you in it.
But I know.

Or how this –
How about making your way regardless of how the sunlight burns because the brightness is a reminder of an inner darkness?
Does anyone understand this?
Or what about how the brightness of laughter burns when struck with the purity of light?
I call this the emotional alcohol o the skinned knees of a kid wo lost to the bullies.
Or even better, what would anyone know about the way symphonies sound to me?

Or like Beethoven
He heard music when he was deaf.
And this is like me in some ways.
I am listening and hearing the sound of keys typing, fast and angry, —and to me, this is the same as violins introducing the strength of an orchestra.
And dammit all because to me: I say Fuck it!
This is my Heaven.
And you are my Angel!
Fuck it all . . .
No amount of ugly facts can change this truth
(like it or not)

I understand the choice of the recluse.
I know why people choose to go away.
However, I refuse to limit my view or resign from my life because there are so many things I have yet to see.

And will I see them?
Maybe . . .
Will I be alone?
Maybe.

Will my love come back to me?
Maybe.
Maybe not.

Either way, I want to realize that the sun is on its way.
And I know all about the worries from the weatherman.
I know all about the snowstorm and how something bad is on its way.

So?

There is beauty in snowfall and warmth in winter.
I have to see it this way.
I have no choice because anything else is just . . . unattractive.

I have to see that love resolves and reforms and reshapes itself and that this is life and life is still moving.
The world is still turning.
And no, I have no time for easy settlements or substitute beauties.
To hell with the fake Rolexes
I have no time for anything that looks similar or appears close.

I refuse to fill myself with counterfeit options, just to fill a void or beat the feelings of being alone.
This would only make someone “pretty”
I want beautiful
(Don’t you?)

I have broken away from the normal everyday thing to find one special victory.
This is the victory that comes when I stand and see my reflection in your eyes.

I choose to stay as I am until I recognize my reflection shows that I am not only worthy, but beautiful.

And am I beautiful?
Am I ugly? or how about hideous?
I don’t know—hence, this is why I chose my separation.
Therefore, my journey to find this will all be revealed.

And last, but least of all least –
Does anyone know what I think or feel?
Does anybody know what touch feels like from my fingertips?
No.
Do people assume?
All the time . . .
But no one knows.

I have to say this out loud, even though no one is around to hear this but you and I. And even still, you are only here in my heart and soul because otherwise, I am alone.
And perhaps this might be terminal.
Only time will tell.



The type of beauty I seek is unique and natural.
This is natural and flawed but you or “she” is flawless to me.

Perfect.
And I love her body.
I love her curves,
I love how she smiles too.
And I love the way she laughs.

I love the sound of her voice or how she approaches and comes close to me.
I see her in my dreams or as I once wrote to you a long ago; I see her in my dreams and on the movie screens, behind the walls of my eyelids.

I’m not tough.
And maybe I never will be.
I am not strong.
yet, I have survived
(Somehow)

I am only me.
Faults and all.

I know that no matter how we try and remodel ourselves or change our lives, yesterday will always be compartmentalized as yesterday.
Therefore, nothing will ever appear to us the same way.

I say this to you because no one you love can be duplicated or substituted. And I love you.
I really do love you.

And if this means that I am to be without you,
then my love will be without you.
This is beyond me/

Just know that our experience is not limited to the typical paradigm of the past, present, or future.
And as for now, the sunrise came and went.

Nothing will ever be the same again.
I know
But that doesn’t have to mean a bad thing
Also, there’s truth that nothing will ever be as good as today, until tomorrow, that is.

One day, you and I will arrive

I promise.
We will let bygones be bygones as soon as we realize that yesterday is gone.
And this will be true for the rest of our lives.
All we have
is now!

 I love you