Just don't know

Oh ma, the feelings you push in and out of me.
Like waves they come. Soft and gentle, then rough and surging.
It scares me how delicate I am in your palm.
Like an ant you can direct me anywhere with the swipe of your hand.
I am trying to understand but all I hear is the infinite, so loud and yet no real sound.
This sound reverberates in my heart and it hurts to listen.
It tell me you must find out who you are.
It tells me to find my passion
Find love
Find solid ground
But how ma?
How?
I want to be in love with life. Free and beautiful and wonderful.
Do you hear me?
I don't want something
I want to be me.
Can you tell me who that is
Because I don't know anymore.
I just don't know.

So Simple

Yesturday I realized life is beautiful.
I slept in. I cleaned my home and was happy to do it. I went jogging along the park in the sun, the trees making little shutter speed shadows between the sky and me. I breathed in deeply and smiled up at the sun and just said thank you aloud, to someone but I don't even know who.
I took time on my meal and ate it on the porch steps.
I went on into the city filled to the brim with people on Canada Day. I met friends and talked about boys and school times.
I made hooting noises with the crowd as we stared in awe at the night fireworks.
So simple. Nothing big. But so beautiful because I was nowhere but right where I was. I was present. And I was so happy in the beauty of being saturated in that moment.
Why don't people do that more?

Sometimes you should listen to the lyrics

Nothing you can do that you can't be done
nothing you can sing that can't be sung
nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
it's easy

Nothing you can make that can't be made
no one you can save that can't be saved
nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time
it's easy

All you need is love. All you need is love. All you need is Love. Love.
Love is all you need.

The Unlucky Hand

Was looking through some of my old stuff, old photography projects, english essays, and the rare gem of stories I wrote for creative writing class. Found one and made me realize I really did love stories. I still do. Here it is....

The Unlucky Hand

“In a place like this, anything can happen at night,” I think to myself as the buttery sun melts into the horizon and the city lights become the night suns. Standing by our usual spot at the rundown convenience store I look at my companions and wonder whether we’ll go out for trouble tonight or wait around for it. What am I doing here? It’s not like these people are my friends. Well I wouldn’t call them friends, more like acquaintances of convenience. They are my safe keepers, my arms and fists when I need them. Tina is here tonight too which is unusual because Shane, the leader of our little grouping, usually keeps his merchandise at home. She’s pretty though, her tight turtleneck and leather skirt emphasizing the differences between a man and a woman. I guess Shane felt like parading her, a crown jewel in his little collection. She’s his to do with as he pleases, without question. None of us ever interrupt his side work, but that doesn’t mean we don’t look.

 I wish I was more attractive or at least impressive so she would look back. The only thing that even gives me confidence is the honorary leather jacket that rides on my back. Shane gave it to me on the 3 month mark of being in his “group”. Guess this thing is supposed to make me feel badass or tough, and I shift and pull at the black cloth. Nope, still feel stupid, and my tiny biceps barely fill the drooping arms, making me realize even more that I’m just a kid trying on grown up clothes. It’s just like when I was a kid, when my dad left for work and I would sneak into his room to try on his suits and slip into my potential. That’s when I believed in my father, when my family lived in a neighborhood with picket fences and potted flowers. That was before the night my dad said he was going to be home late when he meant never. Since then my life has become a domino game, first my mother trying out pills which made her happy, but apparently didn’t make her boss happy, which meant no job, which meant no money, which meant my life has dropped into this little world called the slums. I never really understood that saying “That’s life” until now. It’s the saying that you use when you have nothing.

I pick at my yellow nails, trying to get the crusty soil out from underneath, but it seems like even if you are clean, as soon as you step out into this neighborhood, the air itself will make you dirty again. That’s when I stopped bothering to stay clean, and not just physically. Luke, the dangerous one in our little group takes a drag on his smoke and blows it in my face. He chuckles and I pray those cancer sticks will kill him. He’s never liked me and he hates that Shane takes an interest in me, because before I was here he was his personal lapdog. Luke has more scars than a face and his eyes are so large and black they almost hypnotize you into fear. I always thought he looked like a cross between a Doberman and an anaconda. Personally I always wanted a Doberman dog, someone to depend on and yet still be equal with, sort of like a team. But after I saw the way Luke acted, lashing out even to his owner, I realized there is no such thing as loyalty, there is just self preservation. Luke kicks me in the leg hard; obviously bored and wanting to stir something up. Despite my small frame, I have a tall temper and I rise up, ready to finish what he started. Luke does the same, pleased he got the reaction he wanted. “Cool it both of you, or I’ll straighten you out.” Shane’s voice sounds like ice and we both know he means it. His face turn towards Luke and then me and we both sit back down, and even through his dark aviator shades I can still feel his stare.

I wish I was like Shane, subtly powerful and having that hold over anyone just by looking at them. But most of all I wish I had a beard like his. It isn’t so much a beard as rough stubble that continues from his sideburns down his chin. It made him look mature. Authoritative. I waited all during high school for puberty to kick in, for my chest to fill my shirts, for a time when I would need to shave, but it never happened. The only thing that did happen was I shot up like a string bean and my spaghetti strides widened. I was a regular geek; tall, lanky, and awkward. The kids in my prep school never let me forget it either. Whatever I didn’t need any of those jerks, I would take back my life and show them that I was dangerous enough to take away theirs. That’s what living in here did to you. You became bitter and angry and the only people you directed it towards were people who had something you didn’t.

Johnny nudges my arm and passes me the cigarette. Johnny is Shane’s “bookkeeper”; he does all the dealing and works out all the things Shane decides. He’s actually really smart; he even used to do AP physics and math, until one day some idiot made the mistake of calling him a nerd during class when Johnny had all the answers. Needless to say it took one stab with a pocket knife to put him in the hospital and Johnny out of school. Just like me he was dealt a shitty hand, but instead of folding he decided to work with the cards he was dealt. I suck on the glowing cigarette, my eyes fixated on the orange embers that advance towards me. I wonder if this is where I’ll be 10 years from now, still sitting in a shitty parking lot store, sucking in my death and waiting to take out my lost future on some poor lost person. Luke interrupts my thought as he looks appreciatively up the street and a wicked smile twitches his lips. “Nice ride,” he comments. I look up too. A sleek Mercedes Benz is cruising up the alleyway, and it looks as out of place as a gold watch on a homeless man. My thoughts boil and my anger surfaces to my skin, because this is car I should have had, the man driving should have been me. I glare at the man in the driver’s seat only to be surprised that his appearance does not match the lifestyle. He’s wearing a grey t-shirt over blue jeans and his face is shadowed with a day’s stubble. Either he’s the owner and hasn’t been home in awhile, or more likely, he stole it. Down the street, slowly trailing behind the car is a police cruiser, obviously having the same thoughts.

 “I think this guy is either lost or stupid. Either way lets relieve him of that toy.” Shane tells us. Luke eager as ever to do his bidding gets up with Johnny. But I stand up and hold my arm out, blocking them. “Wait!” I tell them. Shane turns to me his one eyebrow raised over his glasses. “Let’s let this one play out.” I say straight at him, never letting my eyes waver. “Listen to him Shane.” Tina says, and looks at me directly like she understands. Shane looks back and forth between me, Tina, the car, and the upcoming cruiser and it sinks in. He waves his hands to the guys to signal them to sit back down. Luke looks like a dog that’s just been told he can’t go out for his walk anymore. We all freeze and wait. The man parks his car by the curve and his eyes dart between us and the door of the store.  He gets out and heads towards the entrance, oblivious to his situation no doubt. The police man gets out as well; a pistol shaking in his hands as he nervously advances. Maybe this could get interesting.

“Hold it right there! Turn around and put your hands up.” The officer calls from a few feet away towards the man. The officer positions himself in a classic cop stance and holds his gun straight at him, although his hold is unsteady. The man turns slowly around and oddly enough when he sees the cop, looks relieved. That’s when what I thought would happen and what was happening meshed together as the man reached in his back pocket for his wallet and skittish hand of the cop became steady as the trigger was pulled. And just like the unpredictability of my life, this man who ever he was, was dealt the unlucky hand.

Or maybe for each other

I have this friend who is always letting me down. She's the type of wild child who's always getting trashed, changing boyfriends, and will bite your head off just five minutes after she says she loves you just by saying the wrong thing to her.

We went partying one night awhile back. She brought along her favourite boy toy of the night and because she was dancing with other boys he got jealous and like most testosterone filled idiots started a fight. He got kicked out of course and she went running after him. Little did I know since I had lost them in the crowd. The best part was she had my wallet and phone in her bag since we had combined them at the coat check. So there I was, at 3AM.  Stranded. With no money or phone and no where near home. Thank god my aunt lived liked 20 minutes away because I walked there and she gratefully let me stay overnight.

The next morning I called my MIA girlfriend, and it basically took everything in me not to scream, "What the fuck?"
She simply said she took a cab home after the whole ordeal even though she knew she had all my stuff. This was the part where I literally did say "WHAT THE FUCK!"

Now this is a pretty loud warning sign. Something that should say this person isn't good for you. In fact I got shit from my whole family after my Aunt let slip about my random overnight sleepover at 3 AM. They all said that girl is bad news. Bad friend. Bad Bad Bad.

The honest thing is, she's just lost. She's not a bad person she just reacts more violently and more drastically because she is more sensitive and feels the world more intensely then everyone else allows themselves to.

The truth is though I love her. She is extreme. And so am I. We are both lost souls. We don't have those things that make people love you. We are not talented, or driven, or beautiful, or rich.

We are just people. Bare and lost in this crazy forest of unknown paths.

I love all the people like her and me. I love you because I know what it is like to long to have identity, or be going somewhere on purpose, but you trapped in where you are. And it painful to know you are still there.

I love you whoever you are who feels like you need a career or something or someone to be noticeable. I understand this world is hard, and usually hard on the heart, but I feel like if I won't give up on her, despite that she hurts me, maybe someone will do the same for you. Or for me. Or maybe for each other.

How is there anything wrong with that?

I will jump in. 


The best thing to do is just choose something, whether it is right or wrong, fully dedicate yourself.


I love how simple that one line has helped me so much. I  have kept myself wondering and postponing my life because I was too worried to make a decision. What career...music or writing? music or writing? 


I realize now after that one little line in Charity's email, that it doesn't matter, I will choose one and just go for it. I will not fear if it is the good or bad decision because either way I am fulfilling a passion. And how is there anything wrong with that?

I miss nothing. And I miss everything. I miss being careless. Fearless. Staying out into the night and never wanting to settle down. Telling myself what I want to be when I grow up and believing it would be possible. Giving charm bracelets to my friends because I loved them so much I wanted people to see.

Why do I feel so much like a child now that I am an adult? Immature. Insecure. And afraid of crowds, even when I know everyone at a party. I am so sick of writing sad things. But it is like a black weight tied around my ankles and hooked into my chest. A treasure box filled with lead.

I don't want to fade. Or lose me in this void of nothing. I am like a water-colour painting, the colour spread so thin and the vibrance diluting with age.

I want to be satisfied with who I am and not care if I am alone. I want to be excited about the future and fold away the past. I am scared no will read this. No one will feel this imprint of this longing in the footprints of their own heart. I don't want to fade. Or wear out. Or disappear. I call out into this abyss and I hear nothing. And that scares me