I have to be honest. Its my imperative. I can't sit here and tell you that I dont still think about you. I do.

Sometimes, I write letters to you. I tell you things about my day and how I'm still struggling to like myself, ever so slightly. How I just want to hear how your doing, where ever you are, and how much I'm sorry

for being this way. In the end, I dont ever send them. I know I shouldn't. I know none of anything I have to say necessarily matters to you. Thats not your fault. I dont blame you for not caring. I wouldn't want to know me either.

Exlax for writers block.

If I could

I would take my words off the first crop from a peach tree
so I could make them taste sweeter than every other sentence you've heard.

See if I could,

I would make a language out of the leather that makes snares
so I could beat your ear drums
like Nick Cannon.

Yup, I said that.
That just happened.

If I could,

I would have a choreographer for my fingers
so my poetry could dance around your thoughts.
And do other cool shit I cant say.

If I could,

I would contract a German scientist
to turn my meanings into synthetic bubble gum.
So you could keep my words in your mouth longer.

If I could,

I would change all of Gucci Manes lyrics to
the sound of crack being made.

If I could,

I would wash my heart out with bleach to separate
your filthy memory from my definition of love.

If I could,

I would fast forward to a time when I know love personally.

If I could,

I would rewind back to when I didn't have to wonder if I love myself.

If I could,

I would pause












for a really long time just to fuck up my syntax.

If I could,

I would forgive Micheal Jordan for having so many mid life crisis's.
Its okay.
All the other numbers after 23 didn't matter.
Neither did the baseball bat.


If I could,

I would write poetry on the inside of every Chemistry textbook
so students dont need equations to know they matter.

If I could,

I would end this really creatively:


Two kids walk into a bar, the bar tender says

Can I really care?

I've come to the point in my life where I have very few cares. And its on purpose. I've spent most of my life worrying about everything from what people think of me, to what music I listen to, to when I would hit a growth spurt ( still waiting on that one). Its all a waste of fucking time. Worrying is just unneeded stress delivered in unnecessary daily doses. And it weighs down your insides and drags your chin to your chest and theres only so much of that you can do before you come to a split in the road that says

"keep going and you'll lose yourself, turn around and you might just remember who you were in the first place."

I'm getting better acquainted with who I was before all the chaos. It feels right. I can't help but think I'm still running from the harsh realities of what I've endured but at the same time, I feel like I'm just starting over. Like I've given myself a little bit of a blank slate. And its not one where I forget everything and change my style and my life completely, its one where I cut down all the distractions and exterior bullshit and just focus on the basics: myself . If I have to start at selfish, so be it. Its about time I start to figure out what I really like and what food I really want to eat when I go out and what I want to do instead of just doing everything anybody else wants to do or wants me to do. I'm done living for everyone else.

That being said, loneliness is still a son of bitch to try to cope with. I've gotten better though. Even though I miss having x, y, and z, I dont see females as a necessity or a status quo anymore, but more so just another worry to add to my list. To be bold face honest, girls fucking scare me. And not in that 'I dont want to approach a chick' reluctant type way, but more in that 'God damn you are way to intense and high maintenance ' type way. I mean, in all reality, relationships of any form take energy. And thought. And time. And now every time I see a girl I'm attracted to, I have this circus of thoughts shoot through my head-

- Can I really handle getting to know her?
- What if shes borderline retarded?
- What if shes more damaged than I am?
- Do I even want to know how damaged she is?
- Can I really care?

And the answer to most of those is fuck no.

Right now my life is in a very good space. I can't sit here and complain. I have a job. I've gained some pride and respect back for myself. For my purpose. I got my Lolla tickets (SWAAAAG!). I can't sit here and ask for anything more.

However, I dont know if I'd consider this satisfaction. How does that term work necessarily? Are we ever really satisfied? Do we know when were satisfied?

Rebirth

This week has been fucking swag. I wish I had a more articulate way of saying that but I dont. This sums it up. Plain and simple.

I got my dream job on Thursday. And no, I'm not cooking on TV or rapping or playing basketball. I'm changing lives. I want to say I told you so, but thats not necessary. I had faith in it all along. Fuck you if you didnt.

Sometimes, I question my path. On what steps I'm taking or not taking and where its all going to lead me. So far this year, I've gone from cage fighting, to being two feet away from enlisting, to being bit in the face by a dog, to depression and now, I'm in a class room. Thats right. A fucking class room. And guess who's doing the god damn teaching? Me. Yup. Mr. Tim is molding little people now for a living and I dont think I could be any happier with where life is right now.

I came into class around 11 on Friday. All the kids were describing each other, in positive, non confrontational ways. Then they all raised their hands and asked if they could describe the supervisors and myself. I didn't really know what to expect after one day with these guys.

They went down the line. The other supervisors aren't really too in touch with these kids as far as teaching life goes, but they are still amazing people. The guy next to me got chosen and they started yelling out characteristics.

"He's shy. But he's really nice."

"He's cool but he doesn't talk much. I think he's probably crazy outside of class."

Then the teacher up front asked them to comment on 'the new gentleman' (myself.) I was bombarded by voices.

" Powerful!"

" Inspiring and fearless!"

Then the kid who I had broke down into tears the day before looked back at me, put his hands on his head and said

"He's... wow. I really dont know what else to say, just wow man!"

I smiled.

Kids are my life. They mean everything to me. For every time I felt like giving up, these kids have already shown me 50 reasons why its a good thing I kept going. I am thankful for breath. For waking up and seeing another day. And even though I've slipped up and fallen down more times than I can count,

its time for my rebirth. I'm taking over. One mind at a time.

Do


not

get

in

my

way.

Sideliner

I like when people tell me who I am. Its amusing. Its 2 dimensional and dry and shows me that they dont have a god damn clue what I'm really about. It makes me question what the phrase "know someone" really entails. Do we ever really know someone? Or do we just sum them up into a little sentence ?

Dont shove me into a shadow. Dont forget that once upon a time, you were standing in my shoes. 5, 10 years ago when you were trying to touch the moon and all anyone could look at was your flaws, you were right here. I'm no different. I am not a sentence.

Some days, it may be hard for me to see that I'm special. Or that tomorrows going to be any better than today or yesterday. But deep down inside, underneath all these fucked up issues and insecurities, there's a god damn storm. And I dont know where its going to take me and who's going to be around to witness it but its going to be epic. It wont show up on doplar. You wont be able to hide and seek shelter. But I am formally letting you know

right now

its coming.

fuckers.

No matter how many times you tell me who I am, I will continue to be me. And that is undefinable. Untouchable. Dont fuck with me.

Imagine for a second

Life seems really durable sometimes. Like we can place it in our pockets, drop it where ever, and some how- still end up being okay at that destination. We'll still have breath. Our feet. We'll still have enough energy to wake up and do it all over again. Even if on most days, it seems like things couldn't get any better or any worse or any more complicated or crazy or confusing, life always has a unique way of showing us that it'll keep going

as long as we do. Beat up, heartbroken, tossed around and forgotten, we will continue to wake up.

A close friend of mine came back from Afghanistan this week. Its been nice catching up where we left off, going out and getting stupid with everybody. Always a good time. But the other night, as all of us were sitting out back watching the sun rise with our drinks, one of my boys asked if we had heard about Justin.

"You guys heard what happened right?"

"No, what do you mean?"

"Yeah, last week he got hit by a drunk driver. He died man."

Even though I didn't know him too well, that didn't take away from the fact that someone who we graduated with and played basketball with and walked the halls with is gone. Knowing the person doesn't change that feeling. It feels like loosing a piece of home. Like not being in control.

Life isn't always insured by breath and feet. After all, most of the time we are just not in control of what happens today. And that can be scary, but more importantly

this should show us that we need to appreciate the moment we are in. Good or bad.

Hanging out with my old family from growing up is always good. Just to see them and talk about where we've been and what we've seen and everything thats happened between now and then. Some things change. Some people change. But I realized that our demeanor with each other hasn't shifted a bit.

We still talk shit. Make fun of each other. Throw each other around and call each other faggots. As much as I love these individuals, theres something about that that just doesn't make sense to me.

Imagine for a second that another conversation wont happen. Another drink or moment with someone isn't possible. Not because you wont call someone back or you dont feel like hanging out with them today, but because they're gone. Thats always a possibility right? Theres nothing that says any one of us is going to make it out of today or tomorrow or next week. Nothing. As durable as life can seem, theres always those external forces that come into play. Disease, age, simply driving home from work... nothing says the people who you're close with wont fall victim to some bad shit. Now imagine for a second that the last thing you said to someone, whether it was last night or two years ago,

was making fun of them. You would have some major regrets right? You'd try your hardest to think back on good times and I'm sure you'd have plenty of them to focus on, but that last conversation would be extremely haunting. You'd wish you said something else, done something else, called the person back or gave them a hug. Anything but hurt their feelings and make them feel like you dont care.

My point is this: friendship is valuable. In every way. Theres not many things on this planet that can amount to or make up for a friend. Friendship is kind. It's helpful. It's necessary. Its not something you should have regrets about. Its not something you should neglect or abuse or hurt.

So be nice to each other. For fucks sake, be nice to your damn friends. There is no written code that says your friends have to be your friends. And underneath all this macho, "I'm not as gay as you" bullshit... you love your friends. You'd be shattered to lose them. I know I would.

I'm trying to practice being nicer to myself, as well as to the people I know. Kindness is the one thing that should be cooler than skinny jeans and v necks. It should be protocol for life. And its something I need to get more familiar with. I've gone through most of my life being a piece of shit. An angry, unappreciative piece of shit and I'm sick of it. It's done nothing for me. Its made people not like me and judge me and I'd rather be remembered as the nice kid who you played sports with and kept you company than that one kid who you just talked shit to.

So take down those walls. Show the people you care about... that you fucking care. It doesn't matter what kind of homophobic fears you have against showing your true feelings. This has nothing to do with your sexuality. It has everything to do with happiness. With life. With friendship and with your friends remembering you as someone

who fucking mattered.