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I feel like I’ve been so far away lately. Distanced from my realities. Audienced in them. Cue laughter.

Hopeful the next episode will loop me into ‘previously on…’

It’s almost like being buzzed. You’re left on some worry free higher plane, looking down on those still living the real life.

I’m ready for the next season to start. Anxiously awaiting the build up to the finale. Desperately hoping for a renewal.


My life feels in constant motion. I’m not sure how long this will last or if it will ever end.

Motion as in chaos.

I’m making monumental decisions about my life. Where. When. What.

It must be done. Things are different now, though I’m holding on, and I must change with it.


For now my focus is the gym and hang-outs when I want to. You could say I’m hiding out but I feel focused. As much as possible when life feels so distracted and unrelenting. My break is books and keeping away from others.

This year is transitional and next year will be bigger. I see things ahead, on the horizon. Maybe to be expected by some but for me…it’s finally happening.


Unknown Want

Indecisively I sit. Crawling more like. Towards that light in the corner. There’s something hopeful about it. Hopeful it leads somewhere. Hopeful it can be anything.

Crawling disjointed. This is all so new. I was walking so long I’d forgotten how to crawl. Training wheels. Crawling feels more desirous. Your end destination more of a journey. An adventure. An accomplishment.

The light stares back at me. Barely. Squeezing my eyes to make sure what I see is real. The light. So dim. Crawling again, confused.

When did I start crawling? What is that light? It so barely glows I’m surprised I noticed it at all. I’d say it was calling to me but it’s reflectant glimmers barely whisper my name.

It seems so far away now. Is it really there? Like a galaxy spotted at side glance, who knows for certain it’s existence. Light please bring good fortune. After all crawling is so…unnatural now. Begging really. Pleading.

Not sure why I even care for this light. Long for it. Crave it’s explanation. But I do. So I’ll continue to crawl. Towards.

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.