im still moving forward. The goals have changed. but its a forward motion. Im still standing, even though i didnt think i would breathe again.

When you give up your dream, you die.

minutes turn to hours

hours turn to days

days to months

months to years

Years that i have let my dreams slip through my fingers. Remember when we were young? and everything was possible. everything was gunna happen. We were going to conquer the world. Unfortunately, The older you get the bigger the world gets.

Its been an adventurous slip mind you. Its brought me to some interesting places. You see i'm not exactly the type to get homesick. I like to feel that turn over in my stomach, i like to feel the drop before i jump. Im ready for the wrong turn. its the stay that gets me.

Humans like it the way they have it. We dont want change. So if you can move yourself past the comfortable little niche you've created, let all your useless possessions go and get on with your sorry self, do so. I forget how useless my presence is here. I forget how short life is. I forget that if im not living and doing what i want today, and not tomorrow, I'm just wasting fucking time.

Once upon a time nobody gave a fuck...

I drive down a road made of water. Thick sheets of warm rain fall from above. I think to myself, nobody would believe this shit. Huge trees with multiple trunks hang, steaming in the tropical storm. Its branches sag over the water way, weeping into it. Large white birds expand their massive wings and take cover at the sound of the storm. I stand on the atlantic shore looking out into the sea. Im looking for an answer i doubt she will have for me. gust's of wind knock me backward, black clouds hang above, turning the sea into an angry grey. surfers run from their cars into the angry water, it swallows them, throws them, but this is all they know. this is surfing in Florida. hundreds of short choppy walls rise and break quickly on top of one another. i drop to my knees letting the coarse white sand run through my fingers. I try to see myself being here, living here, loving it, but i cant. I dig deep for a reason to stay, i want to stay. but all i've found was a deep sadness i've never felt. i guess its one of those things in life you'll never be able to explain. one of those epic life changing events you wish you could bottle up and take home. take home and show all the people close to you. But they'll never get it. No one will ever get it. So your stuck, alone and miserable in your silence.

Im stuck alone with coarse grains of sand, weeping willows, angry seas, and nothing but a salty taste left on my tongue.

rise.

I see a dark string with a glint of gold lay helpless and lifelessly at the bottom of my bag. Im looking at this bracelet and im trying to remember what it ment to me. The black string and the gold clover used to mean freedom, and life. It was a reminder that life is large, and open to whatever you might what to fit into it. it ment dancing like nobody was watching and crying like you cared. It ment speaking up and opening my eyes. It ment running with heart and soul. It ment loving with everything I had. It was my faith. My reminder that something good is on my side only if I wanted there to be.

Now im lost and there is no hiding it. Im searching for something, im stumbling in the dark. My eyes are wide shut, my mouth is sealed. I have no heart to pour out. I hold it all inside and Im about to burst with everything I’ve suppressed.

This world used to mean something so much different than it means to me now. I’ve brushed shoulders with a larger part of it, and all I want is more. I look around me and I cannot stand what I see. I cannot stand what Im surrounded by. I want a bigger piece of life, and if I don’t jump now I never will. We are all so scared of stepping out. Were all scared of leaving our comfortable little lives. People are so sick in there existence. They could grow up, go to school, pay loans, bills, and mortgages, get married, have children, grow old and die all in the same town. They “vacation”, they talk about politics and going green, they drive their electric cars. They send their children to the best schools, buy organic food, and go to the gym 3 times a week. They sit at their cubical answer phones, type up reports and fuck off. But do they ever wonder what the fuck their doing? I don’t know. Maybe that is for some people. Picket fences n’ shit. Giving up adventure and chance for comfort and community. And that’s fine. But I cant stay here and burn my soul with books and classrooms. I cant continue to run this race with no drive. I need to feel the sand between my toes, i need to feel the pain, the cold, the wind at my back, the dirt in my face. Everybody wants to be different but they just all end up doing the same shit. How do you escape and make it different? Its so simple, but know one will ever do it. you leave.

Youll never know until you jump.

I have one person holding me down to the ground. Otherwise I fear id float away. Id loose all human connection. You might find me 3 countries away amoungst a faceless crowd. A pulsing sweep of people thousands of miles away. Between rivers valleys, oceans, fields and hills. From castle towers to shantys. Id follow you to the end of the world. You’re my home, my heart, my soul. You may be the only one that’s believed. That’s pushed through. Persisted. With it all. My love for you goes beyond what I even know love is. I suppose you see life the way I see it. Coming out on top, valuing the freedom to be above the world. To see it from every angle.

Im trying to not let you fall through my fingers.

vapor

a sociology class later and i see the deep, dingy, dark holes.

there scattered through my life like swiss cheese.

i see what I've done to not fill them. i see all the things iv never talked about that have made them deeper.

i see straight fucking through them. i can see the blood oozing in through the bottom.

is it possible the abnormalities i've felt my whole life aren't so abnormal. I live with these secrets, these pink elephants are coffee tables in my living room. they double as sofas for my guest's to sit on. and never till now, has it been so fucking clear. my problems, my anxiety. My longing and needing for everything thats not there.

my addictions, my infatuations, my desperation's.

but why now must they surface? why at this time in my life, when everything should sail by smoothly and effortlessly, after all this hard work, all i've fought, sweat, and bled for.

All i've endured, all i've fucking endured. i feel like i've been through so much shit. so much emotional stamina it has taken to get through my years. so much fighting, and struggling to keep my head above the water. And for awhile, i felt ok. i felt at peace. with myself. and my life.

and now this. this endless hole, the bottom falls out and its over.

and its true. as much as i don't want to believe it. i've always felt off. as a child. outcasted. spit out. wrong. bad. stupid. fat. ugly. there's been times, where things click for awhile. but its mostly been so sad. And i thought it was normal, something that would pass? get better? go away? but it just keeps drilling through. picking out the pieces it wants to hollow.

will i eventually dissipate into nothing?

Compos Sui

i often forget what im doing with myself. i forget who i am, i forget what i've accomplished, only to forget what i am capable of.

If there was ever a time in my life that i've been lost it would have to be now. my head spins, my heart sits cold and silent behind my ribs. there is no paint under my fingernails. my camera case holds four months worth of dust, grey and uninviting.
Yet my legs are sore, my back throbs. my hands pulse from my late night boxing sessions. red welts grace my elbows. Its the only thing that makes me feel alive and ready when running has not. my anguish rests inside two white gloves that wait for my blows of frustration into the humid night air. I sequence kicks and punches to a bag. our shadows stretch together, ghost like across the empty field lit only by private airport lights. My blows intesify as i think about every split i didnt meet on the track, i feel my anguish leave through poised shoulders, bent elbows and a perfect shot to the blue bag. My troubles spill out every pore. For a while ill feel mended, well, confident, sure.

I am the master of myself. My own director.

to overcome

its that wave of emptiness that washes over you. turning you over and holding you under its powerful grasp. But its so meaningless, this wave. You should be able to defeat it, and stand up. you should be able to breath, you are strong. this wave can not hold you under, today you will not drown. And now its all over, the pressure, the pain. All that it took to hold your self up, and not break down into pieces. All the things you've done to overcome. your legs are tired of kicking. your lungs are fragile porcelain structures. your hands shake with adrenaline. and your heart...

your heart feels as if its carefully been removed from your chest and opened for the world to see. But you don't care. because this is it. this is life. and you've defeated it.

push

i couldn't tell you what I'm doing here, or why i decided to make this move. being stuck i suppose. feeling out of options. for the sake of spontaneity. for the sake of my own sanity.

how ironic. now my sanity breaches the line of crazy. These flat stretches of Bentleys and Beamers, overdressed old people, and lifeless humid mid afternoons. Iguana's don't even lie lifelessly atop tree branches anymore.

I was cutting onions last night in my dark, empty apartment. Usually its the onion that makes you cry, it must have been the emptiness that finally got to me because i found my self on the floor, back against the ugly particle board cabinets, sobbing my heart out. For someone, anyone, to reach a hand out and tell me this wasn't a mistake. To tell me I'm only human. To tell me this life is meant for things like this. How else will you ever know what you really want out of it unless you have to sit in dark empty kitchens and cry everything you got left onto the hideous linoleum floor.

your that little thing busting your ass up hills, and down stretches on the 101. mastering the technique, of a wave, a race, a fucking sociology class. i wont stop until i get it right. even if that means making my way back to cali.

my hearts still a little broken, my confidence is still a little busted. but I'm still pushing hard.

everything works out in the end, and if it still hasn't worked out, then its not the end.