When you're depressed, you feel like you're in touch with everything...but really you're just hyper-aware of yourself, and the darkness that you feel surrounds you. Dramatic darkness, not peaceful darkness. You want your pain to be special. The pain of being lonely, the pain of failure, the pain of dealing with death. But your pain isn't special. A million people are going through your pain right now... your pain is important as a lesson, as a tool, but it is not something that makes YOU more important. Be at the level of humility. Understand your connectivity to the entire world, that we are all one, thus no part is better than the other.

Conversations with Eve

I seemed to live at the edge of distinction when I was younger. Like I was possibly moments from discovering a great talent within myself. Something that would make me special. I was smart as a child, but that intelligence seemed to fade, and later I waited for that moment to come, where I would suddenly become a great writer, artist, singer, thinker, student, or something. Anything. Where is that great idea? That great inspiration?? That moment of revelation where I create just one thing that I am truly proud of. Every poem, song, drawing, painting, etc. that I have created has at it's inception seemed decent or good, but within a few hours to a few days is just garbage and I think to myself how I wish I could do better. I feel like I have to
tap into something, and maybe something will come out. But I'm terribly worried that there simply is nothing there.

And I was so hoping I would grow out of thoughts like this.

Give me peace, self. Do I have to beg? Do i have to bribe you to let me live my life? How do I convince you to love me and to never hurt me again? How do I convinve you to trust me, self?? You do your part, and I'll do mine. You release that concept of Mara, of grapsing and wanting, and in turn, I will take you places you never thought you would go. Believe in me, and believe in us, and be free. Wake up one morning, stretch out your arms, our arms, and smile. Enter the day's consciousness with a smile, feeling happy to start another day. Let go of desire. Let go of fear. Understand impermanence. Understand what makes you, what makes us tick. I will keep us ticking, if you can only figure out how.

Does that sound like a deal, self?
I'll let you think about it for a while.

Burn marks

I find you at the edge of my disgust, my hatred, my disappointment, my pity. You who proved to me the core of humanity. You who proved that nothing is sacred. A cold eye, an unused heart, a forked tongue. This is what green and red looks like. When you're cornered, you will cry and be let go, and corner others instead. When you're in control, you'll look down on those outside your control. You'll spend your life hating others for what they have, and ignoring what you have to live in the cradle of envy. You will scorch a deep hole in the aura of the planet so everyone knows you here there.

I want your defeat, your reptenance, your sorrow, your regret, your concern, your sincerity, your heart to come undone and come back together like something real.

I want karma and justice to destroy your wall of cruelty and dishonesty. I want to feel no pity for you when it happens. I want to wake up with no memory of you, or how I spent the latter half of my life in search of your kindness, approval, and understanding.

I want apathy.

I have this line stuck in my head. Sometimes I think of a line from a poem that I haven't written yet, and I write one around it. Thus far, I can seem to think of anything but the line:

Without you I am nothing, but with you, less than that.

happiness

My nightmare is being in a dream that suddenly ends. Impermenance. My nightmare is happiness. If you never rise to the top, you can never fall.

Regret is suffocation. One day lost was a year. The series of months lost is my entire life, waving at me from the back of a car, driving into sunnier meadows. I've been here before, though last time the car was an older model and drove so fast and drove so far I hardly knew what was going on. It happened so fast before, there was no time to say goodbye. No time to say "don't forget that I love you." Only time to look around confused, breathing in the fumes. When you drive away this time there will be no time to say goodbye to the scarecrow on the side of the road, not when someone exciting is behind the wheel. You won't say goodbye this time, and I know you won't be back. But I'll sit here waiting on the side of the road, waiting for your return.