Pretentious one 

It seems to me that Halloween isn’t just one day a year. Rather, it’s every day that people are happy and excited to pretend to be something that they are not; even at the cost of being fake. No matter what you try to hide, cover up, or erase, at the end of the day you can be sparing someone else, but your wrongdoings will still show; whether it be on your face, body, goals, finances, or the ability of obtaining things without sinning to have them.

Ever wonder why your conscious exists? The reason is because at one point in life you were told or taught to do better and to do right. And over time, you develop excuses to justify why it suits you to digress; because you know you’re ugly inside.. and they don’t create makeup to cover what’s on the inside.


The drummer

To my dear friend who misses her father deeply. Listen to your heart, he lives inside of you. (F.M.) 

If I close my eyes and stay very still, I can hear a drummer pounding a steady beat.

But once I get distracted it’s like I can’t hear it anymore.

I want to see the drummer it is so frustrating that I cannot, but I know it’s there. This is all too much. I can’t. I am leaving. I am going for a walk before I lose my mind.

I just need to think; I need to ponder clearly in solitude.

Counting my steps with one foot in front of the other; The drummer begins. The faster I go, the louder it gets. I just know I am getting closer. I must keep going.

I keep tripping over things that do not exist and stopping for things that should not have been in my way; and it is such a whirlwind of emotions because I can’t cry because I am angry; and I am angry because I am looking for the drummer; and I cannot find it.

Not once did it miss a beat. This is the creator of the rhythm that developed inside me and now I am lost. How can that be?

Anyway, I am out of breath. Let me sit down.

The drummer is tirelessly playing the beautiful melody but I am too tired and out of breath to realize what is happening.

At times I think I am crazy because my desire is to use openness as bait to gain love; and that if I exert positive energy, nothing bad will ever come. And so I believe that if I move faster towards the sound of the drum I will find it and that would be enough for me to not think of this bullshit we call life.

But it is not enough.

I have wasted so much time trying to find something that was inside of me the whole entire time.

The drummer is my father and he plays the beautiful sound that radiates from my chest. He gave me life and continues to give me purpose.

I need to stop being so selfish and appreciate that the music he created will forever be heard inside of me and anything I create from this point forward.

All I have to do is listen.



If you knew you were going to die, would you do things differently today?

Would you rather play mind games that make you think that you have enough time in a day to make 24 hours feel less like 1440 minutes? Either way, time won’t wait for you to figure it out because you lose time doing that as well.

You don’t have to understand what I’m saying. All I ask is that you feel what it feels like to feel feelings.

Your negative thoughts should never outnumber the grains of sand in the ocean. The same ocean you walk towards just to let your tears fall into the water, is the same one you could use to cleanse that which is your temple. Confusing isn’t it; but only if you lack intuitive perception.

How you perceive what I’m saying is how you’ll receive the message intended to distract you. In the two minutes it took you to read this, you’ve managed to forget all your worries and concentrate on the meaning of these words.

So I was thinking….If you knew you were going to die, would you do things differently today? Because guess what? We all are.

The man and his shovel

“I will live. I will love. I will die. Three things I am guaranteed. How I live, who I love and when I die will remain unknown. What I do know is that I refuse to let the man with the shovel take me down with him.”

I lost my smile the day that I met the man with a shovel in his hands. A shovel that he used to beat lies into my head and dig holes into my heart. I was so oblivious by the mask he had on his face. I always wondered why he was so resistant to making changes to his physical appearance but then it was clear to me that he was not ready to reveal his true being. That this mask felt safe to wear and he needed it to cover his face while he was digging with his shovel. There I was next to him through rain and shine falling quickly through the mud, not understanding what he is looking for and why he keeps digging so deep. A shadow cast over me and it was because were sinking into this hole that he dug. I was full of dirt, I could not see. There was no warmth, no light, just darkness and coldness. He was sweating profusely, breathing heavily and he kept a wicked smile on his face all the while. He said that his job was not done yet. How I wish he would have been done so we could get out of there and cleanse the dirt off of ourselves. But he always puts in a hard day’s work and seldom cared to cleanse. So I knew I was in this by myself. Then it hit me…He was not uplifting me but instead bringing me down; down into the grave that he had started digging for himself with the shovel that he had in his hands when I met him. Down into the dumps of turmoil, self-destruction, addiction, sinful self-indulgence, and slow lonely, painful death. So I learned never to judge a book by it’s cover. However, I had another take on the meaning. A cover is exactly what the word entails; something that hides or conceals what lies within. This man was my book. So in this book that I came across in the library of life, I misjudged him by his cover. I am almost done reading this book. I feel the end is near. I have my finger between the last two pages but I stop reading because I have too much dirt on my hands and I cannot even see the words. There is no sense in trying, it is already distorted.

Train wreck 

imageI have been waiting here for a while now for a train that seems like it is never coming. It gives me too much time to think. Looking at the tracks and seeing the marks left behind reminds me of the places I have been. Despite the chaos, I keep searching for something. Something to set my mind free. It makes me sad to know that a lot of people end their lives in the very place that I come to seek my transport into another realm of my existence. I am very tired. So many options, yet so little control over their outcome. Wishes blow into the wind. Tears wash away in the rain. When will the sun come out? I have been in these shadows way too long. As soon as this train comes I have to decide whether to jump into it or right in front of it. Instant gratification. I am still waiting. I have made my mind up and I know this is the way. I am ready but then an announcement comes over the loud speaker. It says that service has been cancelled due to a derailment. What could have happened?
It was not meant to be. It was not my time.  Maybe someone else beat me to it. Someone else had it worse than me.  My worries could not possibly supersede someone else’s expiration date. I am so blessed, which is what I should have realized before I allowed these crazy ideas to hijack my mind. Never again will I place myself in a situation where I think I could take matters into my own hands. Time will tell and heal me. This train wreck symbolizes my life in a sense that I must move forward despite what has been broken. I will just wear my experiences as these tracks wear their marks and keep pushing forward to my next destination. My purpose isn’t to try to make sense of it all, but rather it is to share my story along my journey.

Caged thoughts 

What if you wake up one day and realize that everything you have ever known was all a matter of you being brainwashed to think and believe a certain way…stripped from your individuality; may as well not even exist since the only thing you can control is your breathing. But then again, even your lungs are in a cage.


I die a little bit every day

Some find it hard to believe. Either way I manage to remain indifferent.” – Jessica Roman

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that I have experienced death so many times.

Life is only what happens to my soul once it rests.

Every breakup is a death. Every loss is a death. Every end of something is the death of what was.

How else would new things manifest into what is in the now? Our time here on earth is borrowed.  With knowing that, maybe we wouldn’t take our life for granted, considering how we only live once but we die so many times.

A little bit of me is lost every day until the day that the end of my being occurs. In the interim, what I do, what I create, who I hurt, who I love, and what I become, will all eventually die. Only my soul and legacy will live on.

So I must do the best that I can with what I’ve been given and make sure that I find purpose in its existence before it meets it death. If not, then since it is all a part of me then only I die a little bit every day.

Inner demons

When thoughts linger in my head, it’s almost as if time stands still for a moment just so I can waste space with distaste. Sometimes your inner voice needs to be told to shut up.


The day of my whole life

Was once day I thought I would never forget, and I never did.

I cannot say it was sunny because it was not.

I cannot say it was cold and moderate because it was not.

What I can say is……if it was either one of those the way I felt that day, anything more or less would have well been another day.

But it was not.

It was so much that day

So may emotions running through like, why me? Why now? Why ever? Was it meant to be? What is meant to be? Was it what was meant to happen to me?

To identify myself with what happened I refer to it as the thing that happened that day.

Will I ever see it for what it really is?

Am I in so deep in denial that I cannot accept reality for what it really is?

Because sooner or later some other thing will happen and, at that time I have to know what it is meant to be.

Can I avoid it? Can I run?

Can I duck and let it miss me?

What is it?

Can I see it?

Smell it?

Taste it?

Feel it?

Do you know when it will happen?

If you knew, would you tell me?

Maybe if I understood the lesson I would learn, I would have just shut up and listened.

They always tell me


I did not give you a chance before because I did not listen and because I did not listen, that is why that thing happened to me.

Yes, I know now.

That is why that thing happened to me.

Thank you for listening.

I figured it all out by myself.

Now I will be quiet so I can listen to you.

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