Life

Social Life + Work + Stubborn = Life (Short Essay)

Folder: 
Short Essays

People think I’m crazy when I have two jobs, and think that it is wrong of me to take a day off from my full time job. That it is all on me that I do this and all. But in reality, they do not understand the truth. 

 

People are always judging the book cover rather then the contents. They do not understand what really happens within the book chapters or the story. 

 

Reason I work a lot is because if I stay home, I will fall asleep all day. I understand for some that is not a bad problem; but for others it is.  And since living alone, boredom gets to me bad. Yea, i could go “out” and unborn me... but to where? Mall...been there. Movies...been there. Parks....yes & no (especially not when it is cold out).  

What other people do not understand, is that I have anxiety (and some depression)... so going out is a challenge for me as well. Which is why I rather work then to going out out. With this “mental” issue, if I were to stay home...then I’d nap all day. Which I do not want to get into that habit again (used to take 3 hour naps).

 

Social gatherings? Yea, I could do that as well. But when you are an adult in my age (sector), it is harder to make new friends as well. Yea, there are social media gatherings for meet-ups... which I used to do when Yahoo! Chat was still a thing. But it was a struggle for me. 

 

Part of the issues was growing up when friends (so I thought they were) didn’t want to meet up/hang out because I lived “too far away”...yep, I was told this once (when I was a teen in HS) or they went away for the weekend or “their” idea was better, but not mine (and in college). So a lot of the times I gave up hanging out with people even though I still want to. Now most are either too busy or I am too busy or something is up (not that it is a bad thing, but I respect those who have families). 

As we grow older, our “friend group” gets smaller than from when we were kids. Which is why I have Facebook, Instagram, etc... to keep in touch with some friends; even if I don’t hang out with them since they are indeed too far. And even then, unknown if we would though due to different schedules. 

 

Just trying to explain to love ones or friends all this....I know they are there for me. But to what end? Do I need to quit a job to see them? Do I need to move on? I’m not much of reading books, because I will fall asleep (always have); my anxiety hits each time I want to “go out” and explore new places & ideas and laziness hits me. So, I rather work sometimes rather then be bored all the time. 

And then I re-question life and the cycle goes around again. I question:

 

Who am I? Why am I here? Who are we? Who are they? What do you want? 

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Gracefully

A lake walk, 
in the forest of limbs. 

Like the blind man said, 
I can hear the truth. 

It was more of a ritual 
to sit in intense moonlight 
when seagulls were stealing the sky… 

And you will belong- 
to the darkness, of unknowing- 
self. 

Knowing the inevitable end, 
that will come, uninvited.

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I Don't Need A Better Day (after Neil Hilborn)

Folder: 
2018

I don’t need a better day

I need better fingers

to twist it and turn the smoke into art

I need to push the bitter out of my mouth.

 

I don’t need a better day

I need a better mind

I need a safe view where I don’t have to duck the bullets

where I can see the whole sky full of nothing I’m missing.

 

I don’t need a better hand

I need a better head

to hold you like you want

to make everything I’ve broken

whole again.

 

I don’t need a different way to love you

I need to wrap it around the words I say

like forever isn’t quite half the time I want here.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/4/18

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How long before I discover I hold my life in my hands

Folder: 
2018

All the arms just push me out

There aren’t locks but the doors stay shut

I have no hands

I have no voice

I can’t open the silence

 

and even when I can

I spend much too long picking apart these lightning fires

I have a word a touch a home

for a moment

then I’m lost again.

 

Sometimes

Once

I found myself

driving

(scary, I know)

but really I am starting to understand why when I got into this box of metal

my mother always wanted me to tell her when I got somewhere safe

because sometimes once I realized

I hold my life in my hands

 

It would take no hesitation

to let go

to pull the wheel to the side

if I wanted

it could be over before I tell you the punchline

maybe I would be better at being alone if I had let go all those times.

But the thing is

I don’t want to.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 8/20/18

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The Odyssey

Folder: 
Love

Every tear I cried helped you sail farther away

Every breath I sighed filled your wings to fly

You mastered the wind and waves to leave me

You cried as the storms only pushed you along

 

And then You, that magnetizing, gravitating whirlpool

Leading men down to watery graves

Pulling the breath from many men's lips

And crushing them in your depths

 

It was difficult for me to lose you

I heard your siren's call

But I stuffed my ears and tied myself up

I knew you had nothing but death

 

Lastly to you, I won't say that there isn't beauty in your suffering

Only that those of us who can see it are pretty messed up

Trying desperately to find a silver lining in a thundercloud

A refreshing sea-breeze in a hurricane

 

Like the aurora borealis

Or the spritely fox-fire

You're a natural mystery

Filled with hidden meanings

 

My muses

My fates

My inspirations

I gave you all my everything

And you each of you left me wanting

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ON OTHER'S SHOULDERS

He cannot answer how tall he is

no matter how much we implore me…

for he proudly stand on the shoulders 

 

of all those who came before him.


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Hopeless Idiot takes Philadelphia

Confused,

Is how I came to you,

as an 18 year old,

and I imagine it's how I'll leave,

 

I,

hold no grudge,

Because you have taught me,

All there is to teach,

a young man,

 

You,

stood by me,

As choas,

buried my curly head beneath currents,

no one could see,

 

At,

depths noone,

could ever hope to reach,

 

You,

stood agast,

As I stumbled,

ass backward,

Into the stupidest things,

 

I've,

Ever said,

 

to the kindest women,

I'd ever meet,

 

You,

laugh with me, astonished,

As my dull gaze,

tries to make sense of a world,

That is honestly not that fucking complicated,

 

You,

watch my shoulders ache,

my checks flare,

As I internalized the latest,

grave injustice placed upon me (sad),

 

You watch me miss that doctors appointment again.

 

And,

You.

Like everyone else,

Wonder,

Why the hell do I tolerate this idiot?

 

But you do,

And it shatters me with warmth.

 

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A FLOWER

I was admiring a lovely flower, it was inspiring because of o it's elegant power, it's magnificent design and this is how it was defined in my mind.

 

Such a lovely flower born of a beautiful but harsh planet, to be empowered not taken for granted.

 

A gorgeous Rose, splendidly clothed, wonderful wit, bright, sunlit, just plane exquisite.

 

Decendent of a special seed, revered, envied by haughty weeds, only out to do dirty deeds. By putting on a false face in an attempt to invade your space because your very essence they want to erase and take your place.

 

They see your physique slender, sleek then notice you're meek so they think you're weak, so to speak.

 

But through the rain, through the storms even as the buggers swarm they wonder how you are able to remain such a gracious art form

 

When in full bloom you light up th the entire room and take away the gloom, making the weeds fume but they can only assume.

 

As your wonderful shades cascade, I must concur they are all different but beautiful colors.

 

While styling and profiling it's amazing how you keep 'em smiling and the way you react not with unkindness but with tact, I'd say you're quite abstract. 

 

Which makes the haughty weeds scoff saying you're a bit of a show off. Nevertheless in your glamorous dress you're just picturesque and that's without a doubt but wait a minute, Just who or what am I writing about?

 

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My Truce

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Without trying to become 
an avenger, 
you were trying to find the― 
joy of primitive faith. 

The dignity of terror has 
to be modified. 
You were now afraid of― 
yourself in the crowd. 

This thing had a dark tone, when 
you cross the street. 
Underneath, the seed vessels of 
past pain, were ready to split open. 

The bandits wait on the line 
of control. The shock 
comes out in open. Society is 
generous, accepts your blood.

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