The Word

Loving a soul with a broken smile is almost as endearing as it is difficult; a great success at the end of a very bumpy road. We are the tired, hopeless romantics, searching for a feeling that at most times, seems like it's not there. I see this a lot more than I think I ever had before lately, watching them smile and laugh back at you as their insides crumble like ruined empires. These are the world's best people though, the leftovers of the beautiful and damned, the hardest to be with but the fiercest type of loyalty alive. It is that strange feeling of feeling left by the world stemming because someone who was once the world to them, left long ago. Feeling like dying and actually being dead inside are two entirely different sort of experiences, one of them is easier to come back from. When you feel like you're dying, it is because you are. You're in a steadfast decline towards a place there is no coming back from but it is possible to be stopped. It is not easy, bu

You know something odd that I have seemed to notice the more time I grow into sobriety? The way that people define themselves, how they portray that image they are attempting to convey to the world while hiding the identity being pushed down inside. For a super obvious example, the guy in high school that beats the shit out of feminine males and openly gay people while deep down harboring an intense sexual attraction to fellow males but his daddy's a man's man and that shit doesn't fly in the south. Like I said, an obvious example, but that way you can pick up what I'm putting down. I mean that's not to say I never noticed it before, like somehow in the 24/7 stupor that was a decade of my life, I just missed all these signs, I did them too. My favorite thing was going to a bar I didn't normally frequent and lay out an entire life that wasn't mine, just one that I dreamed of and the people always seemed to believe whatever I told them because why wouldn'

Ah, good God is it weird to be back here, back to, well, i guess where it all began. This tiny little cubicle hole in the corner of the inter-web, The Word; a dismal diatribe of whining and pitiful melancholy. Got to love it, huh? No, no i know, you don't, nobody does and i get that. But fuck it, it's something to do right? I originally started this blog as a way to reach out, chat and banter with readers and fellow writers all around this dying blue ball and for the most part, it actually worked! Thank you to my folks in Singapore by the way for buying my last two books, it's great to see some love more than 3,000 miles away still going strong. To the rest of the readers, i mean i feel like i cannot thank you enough. So, this is sort of like a newer version of old me, still a little bitter and i'll always enjoy discord and mayhem, almost like that should have been somewhere in my name (thanks mom) but at the same time, not the same Jekyll and Hyde guy from before.