So, What’s it Gonna Take?

I have experienced life after the severity of consequences. Then again, no one can pretend that this makes us special or more resilient than anyone else in the world. No one can say that they’ve never been to the crossroads or found themselves at the turning point.

Life is not specific nor am I so specific to anyone or anything. I am only me.
And I have learned this, repeatedly, which is important because people can often forget that ego is a killer, and to this I say to hell with it.
What has pride and ego done for anybody?
Or namely me. What have I done?
Please, someone tell me . . .
What’s become of me?
Because whatever the answer is, deep down, I know that I am capable of better.
Or so I hope.

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So, What’s it Gonna Take?

Love this life. Please.
Love it with all you can. Love this like it was your last hope and abandon all else that comes before you or gets in your way. Trust me or hear me.
Let this ring out like a plea from the bottom of my heart.
Risk everything. Risk it all. I swear.
Even if this means you will lose, or that you’ll lose it all.
Risk it anyway.

The hours can change and so can our fate.
The mood can change, and the weather can turn.
Anything can happen.
Anything at all.
So, please . . .
With all I have, I beg you.
Love this life.
Please.

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A Way to Stop, Drop, and Let Go

What are we? Or perhaps I should ask why are we the way we are?
Are we the body we live in? Are we the products of our environment?
Are we two kids who aged but never grew up?
I wonder.
Are we more than just living breathing things that walk and talk or think and feel?
I hope we are.
Is this a dream? If this is a dream, is there a way that we can change the plot?
Can we make a change to see something different or something new?
I think that would be nice.

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A Day Called Way Back When

I go back to that old idea that helps me decipher between me and myself or the madness of my ideas. Better yet, I go back to the method that helps me salvage myself and keeps me breathing.
So?
Let me leave this here.
Let me leave my words without thinking about them and let me let my thoughts take off from this point.

Let me confess my thoughts which are not so crazy, to say the least, but dreamy if anything. I am hopeful, or like the aspirations of youth, I view my dreams as my spirit that stems from the purity of heart.
I am opening this entry with hopes to make myself clear, or if not clear, at least not misunderstood or muddied like a lake disturbed by the unwanted footprint of dirty souls.

Therefore, I confess.

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A Day Called Way Back When

I don’t know how this goes. I don’t know how people connect or why out of the billions of people in this world, our life seems to overlap with certain people.
Like us, for example.
Think about the odds. Think about the math or the probability of meeting someone so special or out of this world. Somehow, out of more than 7 billion people on this planet, I am somehow fortunate to have met, or sat with someone like you, and shared a meal or a piece of time on this great place called Earth.

The world truly is a magical and cosmic place. The odds of meeting the people we have met are infinitely ongoing and elsewise, no matter what has happened, or if our paths align, separate, intersect, or run concurrently; I swear, the odds of this or the probability of us is beyond infinite.
Yet, we fail to realize the relevance or the importance of life. We fail to see the way we intertwine as people.

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A Day Called Way Back When

I still say that you have to let your hair down. You have to loosen your shoes every one in a while.
You have to let go. Understand?
I say that everyone needs to go crazy sometimes. I say that this is a right that no one can afford to forfeit.
Believe me.
You have to let yourself experience the rage and the rush and the absolute adrenaline that comes with the freedom that comes without concern or worry about the consequences.
Just live.
Just let yourself go.
Just for the moment.

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A Day Called Way Back When

I have these dreams which are always the same. I am in a small rowboat with The Old Man.
We are fishing in a lake.
I don’t know where we are. I can only assume that it is early in the morning.
The Old Man is quiet. And so am I.
Nothing is said.

I am not sure if I am a young boy in this dream. I do not know if I am grown, like I am now.
Either way –
I view him the same way as I always have.

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A Day Called Way Back When

I don’t know when it was that everything changed. Then again, like a child grows, or like anything else in this world, something small can grow pretty big.
And then one day, you look back.
You realize the world moved right beneath your feet. Or maybe you wake up to the idea that the world turned, and you failed to make a move. Hence, this leads us to the word, “regret.”

You look around and see . . .
The kids from our past have all grown older. Some of them have kids themselves, and some are doing well, some are less fortunate. I swear, it’s amazing to me.
The sudden awareness amazes me.
I am also amazed how the face of a clock stays the same, and time moves, but life is not the same anymore.
Nothing is.

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A Day Called Way Back When

I remember talking to a group of young people. This was something that happened after a classroom presentation. I was asked if it is painful to be me?
My answer is simple.
Is it painful to be anybody?

Am I so different?
Are you or is anyone else?

Everyone has their own crosses to bear. Everyone has their own version of what’s real to them or what isn’t.
Life is life.
We go, and we live, and we move around.

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