Dreaming of December


Let me find my pick-me-up,

And let’s call it our friend.

We’ll share it together,

Dream of December;

Watch our worries blend.




I met this guy a few weeks ago.

He was so perceptive and kind.

I didn’t know him then,

And it’s a perplexing matter with men.

Never had I met someone so interesting and outgoing.

He painted my future and aspirations;

He knew where I stood before I learned how to walk.

I think people like that change people like me.

They see a world of opportunities that I can’t seem to see.

It was a chance encounter,

That I remember so clearly,

Because I held onto his words so dearly.

It hit my like a hurricane;

Hit me like a storm.

And now I’m faced with a new set of norms.

I won’t hang onto the person,

Or idealize the setting.

I’ll cling to what was said,

Because I was hungry,

And now I am fed.

Last Night


This night is our last,
And we should go out with a blast,
But we’re out of bullets, you see,
So it all comes down to me.

I heard the cock,
And felt the power.
Empty, this glock,
Fell down from our tower.

The night is still young,
But I’m calling it quits.
This tune has been outrageously sung,
It’s driving me out of my wits.

Inspired Journal


I called it quits with daily journals awhile back ago. But my friend Ruben reminded me how important such journals are. I knew that people read them, but I didn’t think anyone was truly inspired by them. It’s not that I believed my writing was horrid or anything. I just didn’t think they carried much significance past my own little realm. So, with much thought, I figured I’d start writing journals again. I won’t number them because there might be days where I don’t write any. I hope to gain something that I had lost somewhere along the way. But in the mean time, I hope I inspire some of you.

Topic: Why do you write?
I write because it makes me happy; it brings me clarity. There is a peace of mind that comes from writing as well. I can write and essay and feel as though my thoughts are focused. I can scribble a poem and feel as though my mind has met something entirely abstract but nonetheless exciting. Writing is a way of being for me. To write is to breathe, and to breathe is to be able to write. I love to write screenplays if an idea comes to mind, and I like to write poems whenever inspiration strikes. Sometimes I have to force myself to wrire, but sometimes I have to force myself to stop. Today is one of those days.

It Hit Me Now


It’s hit me now.
Mouth agape, ushering a wow.
Not a regretful one at that,
But one that leaves me perplexed just at,
Where it is we stand.

I liked where it was going.
There was a thrill in never knowing.
But know I need to know.
Will this stream come to flow,
Or will a dam obstruct it so.
Nothing has yet been planned.

I’d love to go with the wind,
Find myself out.
Undo what’s been pinned;
Know without a doubt.

I want the excitement that I took as my own.
I have my own questions whose answers go unknown.
I don’t know what it is I’m asking though.
I just don’t want to hear another no.

Journal #67 – Right Back at Ya


Topic: Name a compassionate way you’ve supported a friend recently. Then write down how you can do the same for yourself.

I listened to what my friend had to say about her current situation with a certain someone. I heard her out, and gave her the best advice that I could think of. I did what I could under the circumstances placed upon me.

Was it the right advice? I have no idea; I hope so. That’s all your friends really can do when it comes to addressing your own problems involving unfamiliar components. They can hear you out, listen to what you have to say, try to understand where you’re coming from as well as your feelings, and then give advice if they feel like advice can be given.

That’s the defining thing about friendship; you just have to be there, whenever needed, and be glad to offer an ear, a shoulder, and your time. That’s what I try to do for all of my friends. Sometimes there are people who find it hard to keep up with you or simply forget or don’t realize its importance. Those are the people one usually let’s go of, or addresses right out in the open. It’s not always their fault, but it doesn’t make it necessarily okay.

I could do the same thing to myself, as I had done for my friend. I could sit myself down, and reflect on my own situation. I could ask myself the hard questions, and listen to what my mind has to say. The difficult part is finding which advice is best to give. I’m sure there will be a million different words of advice. I’d tell myself what I feel I need to hear. Then I’ll stay there along the sideline, and see where that advice takes me.