Darling, I want to make you happy, but I see a more powerful force than me, something very appealing wrapped in torment. I’m sorry. I wish I could make this easy for you. I know it’s difficult. I have faith you will overcome the torment. How could you not? You have overcome so many things before.

I want you to see that you’re worth more than this. You’re worth honesty, respect, consideration, love, and caring. You are worth everything that you are. People are worth what they are.

When I look at you, I see something worth being vulnerable for, someone worth taking risk over. You’re worth risking my sanity.

This is not an easy road. Part of what makes life grand is traveling awful roads. Awful roads shape our shoes, define us, and we grow. Grow to the stars.


Dear most people,

I want to see things clearly, like a child does, with full wonder. Imagine bricks and mud as art, something worth considering – and reconsidering with amazement. We build bricks from mud – small chunks for towers. Beautiful towers. Like glamorous wealthy carried by unsightly weak, the sweaty landscaper.

I want to question simple things. Things rarely questioned. More perspective. Am I na├»ve? Or should I trust social preferences? I’ll be the judge. However, the more I judge, the less clear everything becomes.

Why not you? What are you frightened of? What could it possibly take from you? I will not outcast you, but I’m not everything.

But neither are they. That’s my point.


I’m slow dynamite – what I am.

Hard drops falling and I’m below – looking upward.
They fill my eyes and mouth – open.
Remember traveling though the rain? – together – palms pressed.
Wet cloth against my skin – pressed and clinging.
Although warm – and lights burning deeply - eyes.
Simplicity – what I found.

Energy raging. Filling myself from my toes - to head.
I’m brimming now – ready for exertion – to jolt and pound.
My muscles clench – enjoyable – rowdy –fantastic word –rowdy.
Igniting dynamite – only constant – slow dynamite.
I’m slow dynamite – what I am.


Here. here. here. Here here hear hear hear.
BEAUTIFUL beautiful. Beauty
Touch....... touch and and


glob of grayish paint

I had an epiphany. Logically I can justify an entirely material world, a material brain, hard determinism, and the importance of being objective. Maybe this is correct. However, intuitively, I don’t know if it’s that simple. I feel communication happening on a deeper level that perhaps cannot be faked or explained. Maybe we cannot effectively communicate clearly if we pretend to have an attitude we do not. Perhaps our intuition of liars and cheats is often correct and based on a feeling. Can I tell if authenticity is there with or without logical explanation (body language, tone, word choice)? My intuitiveness questions my previous deep beliefs. But would that truly comfort me? Because, I still cannot know. Why pretend? This is a new perspective. I wish to approach life from that side of the spectrum now. Why focus so heavily in defining ourselves? Does our need to define ourselves come from our need to gain a perceived power over our environment? Or am I falling into my logic trap? There are always more colors we can see, more values to understand, and more values to be discarded. Through time will I become numb to this? More pain? More pleasure? I will live 5 lives with my time here. Or will my life blend into a giant glob of grayish paint?


Individualism is for cynics.

I wish my father would start living. He wastes time. Every month he pushes, resentment builds. I refuse to carry the weight. But, he deserves more. How he gives and where he is from astonishes. He has shown me how external influences make a necessary difference. We CAN pick each other up. When we believe in each other, we can more easily believe in ourselves. We are all springboards. We are all gymnasts. Why not work together? Individualism is for cynics.