Rain, a poem of sorts.

When I kiss you, I taste the rain.
A thunderstorm rolling through the city.
There is lightning and the thunder.
There is the torrential downpour that accompanies the lights and sounds.
It’s a force of nature, sending those of us fleeing to the safety of indoors.
The trees drink of the rain.
The flowers sway in the wind.
Nature relishes in her own fury.
When I kiss you, I taste the rain.
Of gentle drizzles lightly covering the grass.
Of hail and wind. Of tornados, of hurricanes.
The flooding of rivers and creeks.
The puddles left on the side of the road.
When I kiss you, I taste the rain.


If you don’t have the time, I don’t have the patience.

Today is Christmas. Normally a fun filled Holiday with lots of laughter and quality time. Today just felt like it was filled with soul crushing loneliness. My father wasn’t able to have Christmas with us due to being in the hospital, so that made everything really hard. My mom is feeling it to. It just felt so lifeless this year. Uninspiring at all. This last month has just been a storm of shit.

At this point, I would usually be wishing for the New Year to quickly wipe this slate clean, but not this time. It’s taking me twenty-four years to realize that this is as good as it gets. People die, people break up, fights happen, money gets tight, work sucks, holidays are no longer the best thing ever. If anyone told me this is what growing up would be like, I would’ve stayed young forever. Peter Pan would’ve been my best friend.

I’m not sure I want another year of this lack luster life. I want to change. I NEED to change. I don’t want to make resolutions, those never stick. I want to make life changes. Travel has definitely got to be in this new plan. Maybe even a new state to live in and explore. Weight loss is always on my list for any major life changing plans. I want to write my book. I’ve started but haven’t picked it up since. That is something I need to actually sit down and do. I want to be a writer? Well then I need to write, no matter what.

So many things. So many questions I keep asking myself. I have no idea how to answer them. I don’t have patience for any of this. I like instant results, as I’ve been raised in a “give me it right now” society. If I could just stay focused and get one thing done at a time, that would be great.

I suppose we shall see.


Finding Neverland

There is one movie that I have watched over and over and that, without fail, has me weeping like a sad child. It’s like clockwork. I put on the movie and I’m fine, and then towards the end the tears begin to flow. I turn into this big, emotional ball of sadness when I watch it. I don’t understand it. No wait, I do.

The movie is Finding Neverland and I think the reason I always cry is because I feel like I will never find my own Neverland. I am being chased by ticking crocodiles and I’m not even close to being a part of one of the Lost Boys. The movie is fascinating for me, as a writer and just as an imaginative person. I can imagine that we all have our own version of Neverland. I am sure mine is filled with magic and fairies, mermaids and unicorns. Silly, I know, but full of wonder. A much better place than I live now.

I feel in this day and age that we, as people, have lost the magic we so desperately need. We’ve become so involved in social drama, gossip and unimportant bullshit that we rarely have the time to stop and smell the flowers. We should be exploring the forest, picnicking in the park, reading books and drawing pictures. We should be painting, speaking with strangers until they are no longer strangers, find new hobbies, meeting new people. There should be more love, less violence and hate. More movie nights, more building pillow and sheet forts in your bedrooms, and definitely more late night conversations.

I am guilty of falling into the human trap. The social media, the technology. I don’t go anywhere without my phone. I find myself too wrapped up in the digital world than in the real world. I am living my life through Tumblr, facebook and twitter. Conversations become broken because I must check my phone to check the latest bullshit someone has posted. I’m guilty. We all are. I am not sure about the rest of you, but I want to find my own Neverland. I want to travel, I want to write more. Less facebook, more actual books. I am so desperate with this need to find something more. To detach myself from certain things. I want more freedom. More exploration.

I am going to find Neverland. On my own.


So I am sure this is most likely a common problem for a lot of people, but my Wanderlust gets so bad sometimes that it makes me feel physically ill. I have massive panic attacks and I feel anxious and very trapped in one place. I am scared I am going to be stuck here. This isn’t where I want to be, but I am terrified of leaving everything I know behind. Packing up all my shit and leaving sounds wonderful but terribly frightening. The amount of fear I experience when I think about leaving the state just leaves me in a state of disarray.

What if I can’t find a job? What if I am stuck in some dead end job like the one I am in now? What if it’s the same shit, different place? Will I ever be satisfied? What if I can only afford some shitty apartment? The questions are endless. How do I even go about moving to another state?

This isn’t supposed to be this hard, right? Fuck that. It is. This is life. Everything is hard. That’s alright though, I am willing to work for it, if I can just get passed all of these damn insecurities. I will eventually surpass them. I have faith in myself. If I didn’t have faith in myself, I don’t think anyone else would.


Anyone in Denver, Colorado looking for a roommate? Any jobs available? I have years of retail and customer service experience.

Bubble baths and nights alone.

I find myself in immense fear of being alone, but really I shouldn’t be afraid. If it’s meant to happen, it will be inevitable. That’s the brilliance of life. You can fight it, you can run from it, you can even alter it but eventually everything will fall into it’s rightful place. I’m just here to ride out the storm and hope for calmer waters. I’ll face monsters in these treacherous waters but I will not be defeated. I can not be defeated.

There are a lot of things I need to change. There are a lot of things I need to focus on. My writing being one of them. How will I ever write my book if I don’t sit down and try? I can complain and bitch and blame everything for my lack of focus, but at the end of the day I am the only one ruining my focus. I am my own worst enemy, my harshest critic, my own demon. I need to learn to fight harder and not things get the best of me. My demons don’t deserve the best of me. Only I deserve the best of me.

All the answers are in front of me, only they don’t look like answers at all. They all look like problems that I must sort through and figure out. It’s a step by step process that I have to complete. I’ll eventually get the hang of it.

Sometimes it’s critical that I remove myself from everyone. My mind gets clouded and I can’t think straight. It’s not for lack of wanting company or friendship, it’s wanting to escape the fog.

I just want to emerge a better person.

Midnight secrets

I find myself at a point of destruction. Do I crash and burn or fight and survive? Sometimes it seems all to easy to give up. After all, I’d rather crash than fight.

There is a character I invented a long time ago. His name was Zaki. I say was because never again will I use him in anything. I became attached to him. Some of you will never understand a writers relationship with their characters, so it’s ok.

He was a piece of me that I didn’t even realize I created. He was an out loud person. Someone who spoke their mind freely. He was dirty and perverted, always centered on the sexual aspect, never on love. Is easier to be sexually involved rather than emotionally. He drank to fill a null and void in his life and he was careless and reckless with his life.

This may not be me exactly, but I poured my heart and soul into this character and made him real in my mind. He was the male version of me.

I hate that. I hate that I take parts of myself and give it to this imaginary people on pages. I hate that my mind and my souls gets to live in these characters who have lives I’d love to live.

I often wonder what it would be like if I could be one of my characters. I’d be prettier. I’d be skinnier. I’d love more freely. I’d travel. I’d be what I wanted to be.

Then I realize something.

I can be all that I want to be. I have control over all of that. I can work harder to be smaller. I could take a little extra time to look pretty. I could let people get a little close to me. I could save money and take more trips. Only, it’s easier to just write other peoples lives instead of my own.

To be honest, I don’t really know where I was going with this. I think I just needed to get some things out of my mind. My head has been hurting a lot lately. Maybe too many pent up thoughts?

Titles are over rated anyway

I spend my days thinking of all the ways I can escape the current life I am living in. I always hear ‘if you don’t like something, fix it or change it.’ It’s a constant preaching that I experience. How does one go about changing everything if they are so unsure about all that they do? Tell me, please. I really would love to know. I’ve been searching and have yet to figure anything out. 

We all are now aware that I want to be a writer. It’s the only thing I think I am even remotely good at. I’ve thought about pursuing an education in Zoology. I’ve always liked animals better than people. Plus, I’d love to work with predators, since some of the people I know are scarier in mindset than Tigers or Wolves. Don’t take offense to that. I’m only giving you the reverence some of you deserve. 

I’ve even thought about becoming a psychiatrist or psychologist. I would love to sit on a soft, plushy chair with a notebook and listen to someone spill their guts for me. I hear the crazy rate for that career is kind of high. I’m already crazy enough, listening day in and day out to someones problems might drive me to actual insanity. The field still fascinates me. 

So I find myself still stuck in a dead end job after six years of slaving away for a company who is probably going to hell when it’s all said and done. I have other skills. I could do other jobs, I am just comfortable in what I do. I feel safe. I am terrified to take a jump into something different. I literally get so nervous when I even think about leaving my job. What if I fail? I shouldn’t be this scared, right? I’m just being silly, right?

I’m twenty-four years old and I am so done with everything. I don’t have a backup plan. I don’t even have a current plan. I should probably form some kind of plan, don’t you think? Where do I go from here? I’ll be twenty-five in five months and I have yet to do anything mildly important with my life. I want to be free, I want to be adventurous. I want to quit my job, pack up my shit and leave, but that only happens in books and movies. It isn’t real and in this economy it is virtually impossible.

So until I grow some courage, I’ll stay in my unhappy state and keep pouring my woes into my work. 

Easy is Over Done.