No Backspace

I’m still alive. Whatever that means. I’ve typed, held the backspace until my ideas disappear, and typed again. Forcing the little caret back and forth across my screen in a futile manner, looking for some way to describe how I feel.

Been doing this for more than a year now. Not posted anything. Just typing and untyping. Made a promise to myself that no matter what I type today will be published. No undoing. No backspacing.

The most pressing thought in my mind at the moment is how opposing our minds can be. We can be sad without reason. As if the universe expects us to be happy without reason. We can love and hate in the same moment, both feelings having the same target. We can yearn for something and never take action. We can speak one thing and do another. We can wish for something for a lifetime — and when finally achieving that goal suddenly we don’t know how to react. We can be hurt by someone in a moment, take a moment to process the pain, then in the next moment deflect the hurt on someone else we love.

Do we have this disposition because we are constantly pretending? Are we hiding our true feelings because they are the little pieces of ourselves that this cruel reality cannot take away? And is that why we sometimes feel opposing currents, as if your real self feels disgust while your mask “feels” satisfaction?

I don’t have the answers. Just an observer’s notes. So many thoughts and words buzzing in my head that I want to explore, but none are concrete. “worth”, “happiness”, “meaning” are a few. Don’t know why my mind goes here and get’s stuck. But maybe my paper rantings will help get me out.

Thank you for reading and following along.

The Night I Became Alone

So it happened. Or rather, it finished. Tonight the last strained thread snapped and I watch as the heavy veil fell and reality set in.

This had been coming for years, and I knew that. A constant, nagging thought in the posterior regions of my brain grew like a tumor..becoming increasingly unbearable until confrontation was inevitable. My heart was not ready for what my eyes had to see; for what my mouth had to say; and worst of all what my ears had to hear. Oh the words….the damned, awful, evil, tortuous words. I would rather have been stricken deaf and blissful than blessed and devastated.

Tonight I lost my family. Tonight I became alone.

And even though I am typing these words, I cannot believe what I am writing. How can I? Rational thought governs belief, and this is not rational. For years I thought my heart was stone, yet now I know it was only glass. Not only my heart, but my reality shattered as a brittle pain of glass.

And the worst part–the absolute worst moment of it all was when I realized it was a choice. I could have embraced this new reality and continued as though the veil were still hanging. I could have kept the guise, furthered the ruse, continued the lie…I could have…but I couldn’t piece together the pieces of glass. I could never convince myself that this was real anymore. Nor could I convince myself that this was who I was anymore.

So I am throwing the pieces way. Tonight I became alone.

Battle Suits

When life is shaping up to be another day in Armageddon, I have different ways of preparing. There are the obvious preparations like eating healthy and dressing for the occasion; then there are the more obscure things like mental preparation and adorning your battle suit. Probably sounds silly, but over the years I have pieced together a “battle suit” that really helps when life becomes difficult. It’s also a staple for me…when my family, friends, or roomates see me in this suit they know to tread softly.

So what’s my battle suit? Bare feet, plain cargo shorts and bright Hawaiian shirt. If you were to see me sitting cross-legged somewhere..yup, that’s my battle stance. Silly and strange? Yes…but believe it or not it helps. On a mental level it helps to associate certain things with strength, so when the battle comes you will be more prepared.

Writing this post got me thinking–while the original title was “My Battle Suit”, I’m curious if others do something similar? Do you have a battle suit? Maybe a sentimental scarf, special shoes (girls, high-heels?), or actual plate armor?

I’d love to read what you think!


9 days  1 hour  24 minutes

I imagine myself as a frightened Donnie Darko. Sweet time falling as sand through my fingers–no matter how tight the fist is clenched–the sand continues to fall. And my knuckles are white.

My hands tremble as my mind searches for the proper words to type in anticipation of…this. A soul filled with despair. A soul filled with dread. A doomed soul.

Maybe the misgivings are minimized, perhaps the panic played down–but the conclusion is coming. The end which we see.

I agree with you, this makes no sense. It was no better in my head. But perhaps that’s the point..? A trail of breadcrumbs to the broken heart. The day which we are torn apart.


Summer is nigh.

Love Yourself..Be Yourself

Why do people enjoy the new film, Frozen, sooo much? It sounds strange, but that petty thought has been nagging at my mind for a few weeks now. Yes, I have seen the movie–and truth be told it did not WOW me like so many others. With Disney movies in view, Frozen would be under other classics such as Lion King and Pirates of the Caribbean.

Then a simple thought popped in my mind: the songs. Whenever I hear about Frozen, I also hear about that (now) famous song: “Let It Go”. After musing for a few more moments..I drew up this question: “Do people like this movie because they have trouble letting go?” Casting social pretense over the shoulder and proudly marching into the world unedited can be a bold do people savor the thought of doing it themselves?

I do.

“Be Yourself”–we have become immune to this statement. Everyone says it!! Movies, posters, salesmen, mothers, fathers… No doubt you have heard this advice from another source.

Then why don’t we “let go” and “be ourselves”? Similar to the film, I believe it is fear. Fear that people won’t like us. Fear that we will hurt those nearest and dearest to us with the truth. Fear that we will feel exposed by “letting go”.

Those fears are real, folks. I feel them everyday.

But do you want to know the key to trumping fear? A good, hearty dose of (dare-I-say) LOVE. (I know one writer in particular who is laughing at me right now… -_- )

Such an easy solution! LOVE yourself. Accept that you are who you are. Stop trying to be someone else..then the world would be short one amazing person. :)

So I challenge you (and myself): First start loving yourself..and watch as it becomes easier to be yourself.

Nothing is Therapeutic

Have you ever found a secluded spot, perhaps some deep forest with nothing but rolling hills and evergreens for miles in every direction, and shouted your problems to the emptiness? Did you feel some great weight gradually lift from your mind as you shouted? Why is that? Because nothing is therapeutic.

Have you ever caught yourself staring off into space, your eyes unblinking and your mind completely blank? How many minutes ticked by while you were in this “stupor”? Did you feel more alive and renewed with vigor after this experience? Because nothing is therapeutic.

Have you ever left a room and sought a place of solitude because you couldn’t stand the noise anymore? Did the silence bring satisfaction and comfort, encouraging your soul to try again? Why is that? Because nothing is therapeutic.


In the emptiness of nature lies our nearest and dearest friend: the nothing. A hidden entity who watches over the nobody and lives in the nowhere. When we earnestly seek the wisdom and help of nothing, with lovely silence it will heal us. But beware–the therapy of nothing is a potent brew. Partake too deeply and you may find yourself doomed to drink a nobody headed nowhere.


Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.


-William Ernest Henley

Stupid Little Mind Games

Why do I play such stupid little mind games with people? What brings me pleasure brings them pain..and they assume directly that I am sadistic. So the conversation usually concludes with an empty apology.

Maybe the correct question is not “Why do I play such stupid little mind games…”, but “Why are people offended by my stupid little mind games?”


“Easy come, easy go.”
Mother always said so.
She would mutter things like that
While washing dishes and running the tap.

“An idle mind is where the devils play.”
“Watch what they do, not what they say.”
“We always fail where we do not try.”
“Be a man and don’t you cry!”

Then one humdrum afternoon
She had just finished with the vacuum..
When a tear rolled down her dusty cheek
And she muttered this to me:

“Some people will love you,
And some people will use you.
Be neither the coward nor the fool.”

The Chase

Don’t be fooled. Don’t let yourself be taken
By thoughts or false pretense.
For I am who I am–I cannot be someone else.

What I am is pale skin, warm flesh and blood;
My hair, brown. My teeth, white.
My face on Monday mornings–a sight.

But that’s what I am, so different from who..
Who am I? And who are you??
Like mass amnesia–we haven’t a clue.

Born groping for an answer,
To a question without name.
So we wonder about what’s round us, and shun the inner pain.

Like a puppy chasing its tail,
Or a detective on the case.
It doesn’t matter, it couldn’t matter.. All we are is a face.

So like a puppet, or a parrot..or any creature that repeats!
“I am who I am–” and who I am hates me.