I've been convincing myself, that I'm worth while. Cause I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be.

If you weren't you, do you think that you would still like you? Do you think that you would want to be your own friend? Can you see you liking yourself? Sometimes I can't.

Everyone always tells us to "Be Yourself" How can we be ourselves when we aren't ever sure who we are? What am I supposed to do when every time I look in the mirror, I see someone different looking back? Who am I?

We are not defined by others. We are not personalities created by people in the world around us. 

"Do you think that if people knew how crazy you were no one would ever talk to you?"

I think I'm alive. I think that I'm dying. 

I've never felt so broken.

"I'm not sure if I'll make it out of this one alive"

As the cold creeps in, and the sun dims, what is it that we really long for? What is it that makes us remember why we want to be? What is it that lifts us and brings us to life?

Some days, there are no answers to this question. Some days, when all odds are in your favor, you'll still find a way to fail. How can you keep dreaming of a world full of color when there is nothing but gray inside of you?

Find yourself. Be yourself. That's what they say. Some days they are wrong. Some days there's no one too find or become. Some days it's too hard.

Today is one of those days.

"Don't forget to tell them about me, remind them I was once good"

The sound of a beating heart is a beautiful thing. It beats faster when things change or get exciting. Slower when sadness closes in from the corners of everything. 

Different people react different ways. Mine beats faster when I see her. Or hear her. Some peoples speed up because of pressure or stress. Some peoples slow down because of drugs or exhaustion.

Every day we wake up, get out of bed, and start again. What happens when we don't. What happens when that alarm clock never sounds or that sun doesn't peak over the mountain? What then? 

Have you done anything with your life? Who have you become? Did you change the life of a small boy or girl? Did you invent something that will never die? Or will you fade away without so much as a tear shed for you.

I don't know. But I do know one thing. That one day that heart beat will stop. Stress won't make it speed up anymore. No amount of drugs could ever slow it down. 

Did you do something with that heartbeat? You should.

Dear friend,

Im sorry that it's been so long since I wrote. Life has been busy. Lots to do, lots to see. It has been full of ups and downs. Like all lives are.

Today is not a good day. And it's still the morning. I'm afraid of losing her. I'm afraid that I won't be enough. That one day she'll decide that I'm not worth it. That she's still in love with someone else.

It hurts a lot today. Breathing, smiling, eating. It's all too hard. I woke up and felt sick. Sick to my stomach. I tried throwing up but there was nothing in me to come out. Even if I wanted to eat, I couldn't keep it down. I laid in the shower with the water so hot it burned me, until I couldn't feel anything anymore. 

What a remarkable concept. To not feel. To let go of all emotion and care. 

I hope that everything turns out okay. I hope that I'm the one. I hope that I can become someone worth being. Someone who is wanted and desired. Someone who is someone. Someone who is alive.

I promise I'll be better at writing friend. I hope you're well.

Love always,

Michael.

Sometimes it feels like the world is crumbling in front of your face. Like the paint on the canvas is running off; the door that you need is closing; the song that you play is ending. And there's nothing you can do about it. 

Sometimes we get so consumed by everything. Consumed by thought, sound, memory, light, dark. Everything we think we are and everything we think we know changes. Perspectives shift and the world gets darker. 

These are the moments I need you most.

I'm the worst person I've ever met

I'm afraid I've become my own worst enemy. I scare myself. I don't like myself. I'm not good for me.  

There's a moment of our lives where we become someone. We change from being a child to a human. We have personalities, likes, dislikes, problems. We become these things. We become who we are.

I've spent years staring into a broken mirror hoping to assemble the shattered parts of my soul, trying to find a reflection but seeing nothing but the jagged edges of the ruined glass. This is what I've become.

I walk down the street reading street signs, looking at cars, counting the clouds hoping to see myself somewhere. A nice man standing on the corner, laughing with friends, sharing a drink. But I'm not there. I'm here trapped within the four walls of my own mind. Sleeping. Dreaming. Losing. This is what I've become.

I spend most of my time searching. Searching a map written in words I don't understand. Fighting the urge to run, be gone, save the world from the troubles of me. Following paths leading everywhere and nowhere. Running in circles becoming nothing more than I was before. This is what I've become.

The map was lying. The corners not real. The mirror, still broken. But this is who I am. This is what I am. This is how I am. Fragments of a tortured past, and glimpses of a ruined future. 

This is me.

The rain washes away everything I hope not to be. The scars and bruises running off my skin like dirt off my hands. It washes away the pain and the sorrow. It starts over. 

But soon we're back to the ending. The part where everything's wrong and broken. Where I can't feel my finger tips. Where I forgot how to spell love. The end. "Such a disappointing finish" they tell me. "We came here for a show" they mumble. "Not me," I say "I came here to live. To be alive and to live." 

So we must live. I must live. And be alive. To try again, start over, reset. And I want to. But I can't. Silly boy, you really thought you could do this. Maybe I can. Maybe I can't. It doesn't matter. It's all the same.

Because at the end of the night im still too scared to turn out the light.

I need help.

I'm so tired of being broken.

I think a person can feel the specific point when it all starts to fall apart. As if you could look at it on a map and say, "look there it was." But you can't really touch it. You can revisit it, dream it, hope it. But it stays the same. The morning comes and it's time to get up. Nothing has changed. The smile you wear begins to wear you. You remember that moment. The one where it all crumbled.

It's like walking down a long dark road lit only by the shadows of a fragmented heart. As if you can look down a long tunnel and see what used to be, but just as quickly as it opens the tunnel is closed. Stuck haunted by a place that can't possibly exist anymore. This is me. I exist only in the realm of your mind. Out here, i'm nothing more then the sound of a cool breeze. A cool breeze picking up and carrying away the thoughts of how things should have been.

You cry out in fear, begging and pleading to feel. To feel something, something other than pain. To feel what it's like to laugh at a joke, or smile at a compliment. This is me. Reaching for the unsuspecting truth. Hoping and believing that one day it will all be okay. Hoping and believing that they were right all along. Hoping and believing that maybe, just maybe, I really am alive.

But the beautiful tragedy is this. There is a moment when you realize that you are nothing more than a thought. The world doesn't stop just because your world has. Just because you've fallen and failed doesn't mean the game was called off. It never ends. Don't you see, this is me. This is who i am and who i've become. This is me.

This is the end.

There are days where it all falls apart. There are weeks when there seems to be no end. There are months that feel like an eternity. 

Often times the world throws so many things at us. It forces on us the pains that can't be dulled by a pill or an ice pack. It brings to us the pains that can be healed by the magic of medicine. Life reaches into its bag of tricks and pulls out it all. All controversy. All opposition. All weakness. 

Today is one of those days. And I'm starting to wonder if maybe satan is real after all.

Do you know what I'm saying? Does it make any sense? That moment when the storm clears but the rain keeps on pouring. When the weight of your own feet makes it too hard to walk. Tied down by the cargo of everything from health to heart. The moments where your soul and your body cry out, screaming, "let me go"

Today is one of those days. And I'm starting to wonder if there is light at the end of the tunnel.

They wonder at you. They ask if you're doing okay, 'no I can't function' you think as you reply with smile "yes I'm fine." The smiles they help, the questions they hurt. And the pain in your side seems to scream in perfect rhythm. 

Today is one of those days. And I'm starting to wonder if I forgot how to breathe.

Do you think that someone can ever really escape from the walls? Break through the four cement barricades that stand in the way of becoming the worlds greatest? Do you think that walls truly crumble? Or do they just pretend to. Maybe for a moment. Maybe for a year. Can impenetrable silos really come down? Or are we trapped. Caught between who we are and who they want us to be.

I'm afraid that the world cant truly ever know who we are. We're the secrets that shouldn't be told. We're the fruit that's never quite ripe. We're the ones picked last on the team. We are you. We are the children that choose never to grow up. We're that small boy flying from window seals, chasing our shadows. We're the ones you forgot. You can't underestimate the power of us.

Every person comes to this earth to make their own decisions. Some with strengths, others with weaknesses. Searching in the dark crevices of our minds we all try and find who we really are. But you can't shape someone else. No matter how many times you mold the clay of your heart, if you don't do it for you, the foundation will crack. Become who you were meant to be. Do it for you. Don't do it for them. We can't do it for them. We can't become who you need us to be. We can only become who we need us to be. We need to be free.

"Life is not about finding yourself, it's about creating yourself"

When i wake up tomorrow i will still be me. You will still be you. The whispers seeping through the landscape of our minds will still find us. Causing our very memories to quake in the rush of the wind. Will i ever find peace? Or am i stuck. Stuck being told where to go and how to write a story.

But never forget. It's my story. It's your story. 

There is a certain peculiar feeling when one is trying. Trying to laugh. Trying to smile. Trying to breathe. It comes suddenly like a wave that surprises an unprepared tourist.

I hear the sound of the melody playing far in the background. Someone searching for the right keys, grasping the ivories for how could they ever let go? Pleading with each black and white key, hoping to be carved perfectly like a fallen tree into a perfect beam. Searching for what is really meant to be.

The sun shines as i search for your face. It doesn't take long for me to find it. I see it everywhere. I see it in everyone. The stranger who opens the door. The actress who smiles and bites her lip. Your sweet sister who hugged me tight just like you used to. Your loving father who asked me how i am. Your touch is everywhere. Your eyes searching me out in the night. The tragedy is, that it's not you. When i see them i think of you. When i see them i find you. But you're lost just as fast.

"Come on skinny love just last the year."

Just last the year. Or maybe just last the day. "Keep your chin up" they say. "Don't forget to smile" they shout as i run out the door. "You'll be okay" they remind me. But the truth is, just because the sun rises, doesn't mean we do. Just because the sky brightens, doesn't mean we can. Just because you're okay, doesn't mean we are. Often you forget. Not all wounds heal.

Sometimes I hear the chuckle of the wind. The sound as it slips between branches, causing them to creak and to moan. They're okay. The sky leans down and smiles and the sun softly kisses my cheek.

It's not so bad.

I wake in the shadow of the afternoon sun. Wearing sheets for my clothes as i roll out of bed. The teapot is whistling. I find your remnant in the kitchen, frying eggs the way i like them the most. Pouring a small glass of juice knowing that more must come. You kissed me good morning, if there was such a thing.

It's not so bad.

The cold floor is barren without you. The curtains stay closed, and the front door locked. There's a knock there this time, but it's not who i thought. Just a man from the city. I can't remember if i checked the mail yesterday. I did.

It's not so bad.

It's really not so bad. Not while i sleep. Not while i dream. The bad part is waking up. To find that half of the bed is still cold. The pillow left with no indent where your head would go. Sometimes i wonder if there will ever be an indent again.
So what do i do? "We fall asleep only in hopes of dreaming, that everything would be like it was before." So i sleep. Maybe for a day, maybe forever. The place where i feel safe. The place where i'm home. The place where the hole doesn't seem quite so big.

It's not so bad.

Try again tomorrow.

The wind shutters past the entrance to my heart. 
                         Unlocking the cage containing the password to the soul. 
                                                       Out seeps the stolen whisper, 


                                    "I'm yours..."

How could anyone possibly understand? Unless it happens to you. Do not misunderstand me, it could happen to you. It could happen to anyone. But I hope it doesn't.

The search for gold ends with one swift swing of the sky, falling and turning. Blinding those who forgot that today was that day. Up, down, inside or out its all the same. The same four walls that control my thoughts. You can't find me here. I'm hidden in plain sight. Waiting. Hoping. Yearning.

The smell of the oven wakes me. I remember now. The touch of your hand and the joy of the smile. It's not the same. The colors have faded and the shadows are dark. With the whisper pressed silently underneath my tongue it escapes. You already knew. 

Within the corners of my very own brain the answer comes quick. There's only one thing to do when the monsters come out. If you don't hide they'll never stop looking. You'll be safe soon. But not yet. The clock still ticks and consumes the time left on my skin.

It could happen to anyone you know. But it didn't happen to anyone. It happened to me. Come find me, I beg.

The stars fall from the sky like a scream seeping through my teeth. The wind burns as it scorches the growing flames and I stand by. Watching and wondering as everything i thought I knew comes crashing down. Was it even mine to hold?

This is not a love story.

As I walk to the door the smiles overwhelm me. Who could possibly find such a happy occasion?

The sound of a breaking heart rings in my ears. I look around. No one else can hear it. Like a river of freezing rain it soaks through my shirt. It seeps to my bones, solidifying the small drops left from an unmistakeable regret.

This is not a love song.

I lay down to sleep and find myself awake in a world that I couldn't possibly remember. The trees painted blue and the sky shining a nostalgic cream. It feels like home but looks like a story. The piano plays it self while I try to hum along. I lost the beat. I lost the answer. The sand feels warm between my toes while the water runs through my hair.

This is not a love poem.

I let go. As I longed to hold on tighter and tighter, I loosened my grip. I watched the fall. I felt the fall. In my organs, in my mind. I looked on as if it never happened. I tried to forget. But it did happen. It's still here. I'm still here. My heart is still here. As I stare into the cream colored sky, it beats again. For the first time in a long time. A sound comes out. Somewhere between pain and pleasure it cries for release. But it's too late. It's stopped again.

This is not a love story.