Maybe if I keep this up I’ll be prepared for it all. Maybe if I prepare for all of the worst it won’t be so bad when they happen.

It’s maybe this, maybe that…it’s hard to keep track.

You tell me everything will be fine and that in time I’ll believe you; but can that really be true?

I’m so jaded by what’s real and what isn’t, that pretending you’re a dream and I’ll wake up is the easiest explanation.

Bring me back, reality; therefore I won’t fear the dream. I’m constantly battling the fantasy of fairytale.


Beer Me my Baggage

Children. Spawn. Minnies. They have one-upped me yet again. Or have cause for me to be jealous.


adolescent, anklebiter, babe, baby, bairn, bambino, brat, cherub, chick, cub, descendant, dickens, imp, infant, innocent, issue, juvenile, kid, kiddie, lamb, little angel, little darling, little doll, little one, minor, mite, moppet, neonate, nestling, newborn, nipper, nursling, offspring, preteen, progeny, pubescent, shaver, small fry, sprout, squirt, stripling, suckling, tadpole, teen, teenager, teenybopper, toddler, tot, tyke, urchin, whippersnapper, young one, youngster, youth

The blinding light that is realization and responsibility to my own-self is closing me off. The catastrophe that is worry and expectation is like the calm before the storm. Here I am preemptively calling out to my soon-to-be disabilities.

Traveling with a carry-on? Yes. Because I’m sure some of my over-stuffed baggage will get lost along the way. My carry-on will be a good indicator as to what all that was about, quantifying my baggage in a mere hallucinative mirage. It’s there but not. Desperately clinging to what is within the confines of the zippers and protective layers. Without that baggage I am what? Memories forgotten. Experiences once pronounced as unforgettable are nothing but recollection.


noun things that encumber one’s freedom, progress, development, or adaptability; impediments: intellectual baggage that keeps one from thinking clearly; neurotic conflicts that arise from struggling with too much emotional baggage.

The “children” have it right. The no fear. The innocence. They have the ability to stumble, fall, bleed, band-aid and move forward. Forward to stumble, fall, bleed and band-aid all over again.

Riddle me this: After falling off a horse one is supposed to pick oneself up and get back on. What if said horse than tramples rider into an almost comatose state, life trickling, then kisses said rider on the cheek. Are you ready for more?

Guess that wasn’t a riddle.

Oh Minnies of society, infect upon me your ways.