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December 14, 2015

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It’s around that time of year when everyone starts to get a little self-reflective. The holiday season is here and when people aren’t completely forgetting about any sort of manners or decency by acting like savages in the name of giving, they’re thinking about the things and people they have in their lives (sometimes in the form of anger, as it tends to be with families, but we’ll focus on the softer, kinder side of the holidays for now). Moreover than that, the new year is quickly approaching and, even though the flip of the calendar (I suppose a purchase or gift of a new one makes more sense here, though it kills the flow of the metaphor, so just go with me on this one) means nothing more than the just natural order of things (assuming you believe time is real and not just a human construct because of the brain’s limited memory, size and processing capabilities), we attribute rebirth and renewal to the emergence of a new year, in a season that’s usually wrought with death and stagnation (on an unrelated note, how bout this weather we’ve been having, huh? If climate change means an infinite autumn, then sign me up!)

Ok, enough asides (we’ll see about that), what I’m getting to is that the time has come for looking back upon our personal successes and failures in the previous year, and how we plan to improve ourselves in the upcoming one. It’s hard for me to look back on 2015 with anything but starry eyes; I’ve done a lot. But why revel in happiness when you can dwell on disappointment? A lot of change happened in 2015. I moved out of my family’s house for the first time ever, I boarded a plane for the first time in my life, I traveled to another country, I got married (in another country).

So yeah, to say it outright: 2015 was a banner year for me.

Other minor things of note: I wrote a bunch of stuff. I got published (at least online) a bunch. That should make me happy too but, it doesn’t, really…

Because even though people liked my writing enough to give me a chance, a lot of that didn’t last. Articles written and published have somehow disappeared from the world wide web, leaving behind only unedited and unfinalized drafts to showcase. Computer glitches left a hard-worked submission to be revoked from consideration, yet the notes on it still remained. The notes were middling at best: some people pointed out flaws I knew of, while others highlighted strengths I didn’t expect. Yet another reviewer ripped it to shreds with no remorse (whatever happened with emphasize the positive first? Geez), while another focused on only the negative, though my essay was their top pick (were the others really that bad?). Personal projects creaked to a halt. Many essays and articles were written and left in the cold to die. Promised funds were not transferred over pieces that did see the light of day. And at least one article was rewritten to a point where it wasn’t even recognizable. I’ve also been publicly humiliated about how bad and unfunny my writing is BY a head editor (I’ll decline to comment on whether or not those last two instances were in any way related).

So, suffice to say, this latter part of my writing year has had me pretty down in the dumps. I keep wanting to pick up my pen once more and give it another go. I keep wanting to submit to another writing contest. To reach out again to the magazine who has always held me in a fairly high regard and who has consistently been extraordinarily kind and complimentary of me and my writing. I want to go back to those stories I’ve left behind, the ones that deserve that extra attention, those final few lines. But I feel stuck. So like the other losers, I assume that the new year will, for some reason, bathe me in new opportunities, new projects and, most importantly, a renewed interest in things I’ve soured on.

In reality, it’s all me. All of that bad writerly shit that happened doesn’t have to follow me around like a black cloud. I can be that change. And I can start now—because fuck people’s expectations of a new year. Change can start mid-December because—well, why not? If I want it to, then so it shall be.

Sure, I have my resolutions of being better both in finance and in health, but I can start my creative ones now. Like, right now. Ok maybe a little later in the evening, but in the figurative sense of the word “now.” I can take those pitfalls, challenges, critiques (especially the critiques) and use them to improve my writing. I can take my discouragement and turn it into something worth writing about. I can stop being quiet and actually use words to express my discontent, instead of letting it fester inside me until it bubbles into depression or unjust rage. I can be better. My writing CAN be better, but it doesn’t mean it was bad to begin with. It’s time to channel the negativity into something productive. Maybe not positive, but productive.

And that’s my resolution, to just keep going. Do what I love even when it doesn’t love me back. And you should do the same.

(Also, in my head there was a whole part of this blog post that involved a quote/life tip from Nick Offerman, but in the end it didn’t quite fit into this particular piece. But I left the image of him in here anyway because I mean, look at that beautiful man.)

 

 

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Zen Writer Challenge: 9.16.14

September 16, 2014

I’ve just downloaded a neat PC program called ZenWriter. I recommend it for anyone who wants an app that will help them totally zone out and zero-in on their writing. It provides a full-screen notepad with calm music and scenic backgrounds that help you block out any background noise that might interfere with your work.  I was busy editing a piece I had been working on, and I needed to step away from it, take a little break and just go into zen-mode. I figured it would provide the perfect space to just do some stream-of-consciousness-style writing based on some ideas I’ve had floating around in my head. Sometimes I come up with lines I’d love to write, but no story to build around them. I think this will be a great way to capture those thoughts as they occur and share what I’ve come up with: unedit, unrefined, just pure from my own zen.  I’m going to try to do these sporadically, but without any sort of time constraints. I challenge anyone who has this program, or just anyone who likes this idea, to do the same. Here’s my first one of, hopefully, a series.

 

My notebooks are graveyards of words. Unfinished stories left to wither away and die in pages forgotten by time. Ideas that were once so fruitful and full of possibilities have stopped producing fruits of wisdom, instead just collecting dust and grammatical mistakes. Why is it so hard to return to a work that’s gone untouched for so long? Is it because even though new ideas form, you can never quite recapture the emotions and creative surges felt at the time, and therefore can never have any soul left to pour into those words? I’m afraid that all of my works will never be done, because my body fills with creative energy in small spurts of time. I become to enraptured in the ideas of creating that I forget to do just that. I get too excited and must put my pen down to take some time to think, but it’s so tough to pick it up again after that because, by then, the feeling’s already gone.

Is it possible to have creative ADD?

What would be the knee-jerk chemical solution for that? Maybe whiskey will flow through my veins, through my blood, into my fingers and they’ll keep moving and moving and moving and moving the words and thoughts and ideas and notions escaping before I even have time to notice and give up on them.

I fear I’ve noticed them already

I’ve taken the time to read this. Reading has become the enemy of my writing. The more I read the more I hate the words I wrote and the more I want to stop. Maybe I’ll stop reading now and go at this blindly. Put this out there for someone to read and hate but not me–someone else’s hatred of my words bears more fruit than my own. Because if someone hates what I write they’ll be compelled to challenge it with the written word and a new conception of words and a birth of ideas will be formed. But my own hatred will just stall me.

And so more pieces of verse will lie in their coffins. Abandoned, neglected, abused.

But I want you to abuse my words. Abuse them and reuse them and confuse them.

Because if you do, I’ll have to challenge it. And write and write and write and write and write.

 

 

….I’ve stopped.

I’ve been pretty down on myself lately. In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t really been following up on my resolution to post fiction, non-fiction and poetry based on weekly writing prompts. That’s no one’s fault by my own. I’ve got writing prompts from weeks and months ago saved across multiple computers, email inboxes and USB drives. I return to them every now and again and—if I’m lucky—maybe add a sentence or two to each piece. If I let them go long enough with few enough paragraphs, I lose interest in where the piece was going, or forget the genius idea I had for it because I forgot to make note of it because didn’t have a pen on hand, or whatever. In the 21st Century Digital Age of iPhones and tablets and mind-to-walkman transmissions (that’s a thing, right?), I’m not even certain if that’s a viable excuse anymore. (EDIT: No, it’s not.)  In short, I’ve been coming up with more creative excuses to not read or write than creative words to pen on paper.

I recently read a wonderful post on Looking For Pemberley on writing even when you don’t feel like it by Miss E. And just a few minutes ago I read another excellent piece on continuing to write after your work has been rejected on The Rumpus. And I soaked in every word. “I get it…” I thought. “I sooo get it…” Especially in regards to Miss E’s post. I read it in the car on my iPhone, and just let the sentiment resonate with me. But what did I proactively DO after reading it? After reading it on this magical technological device where I can not only READ but also WRITE? Nothing. I did nothing. I thought about how true it was and how, no matter what, I must push through and write, but I only thought—I did not act.

I guess a big part of my problem is that I WANT to be writing. I want to be writing a lot, actually. I’m just NOT. I’m thinking A LOT but writing A LITTLE. And again, the only person to blame for that is myself. I’ve found myself in a rather strange predicament lately where I feel a bit unsettled and uncertain of some things in my life—nothing too earth-shattering, but enough to leave me feeling sufficiently… bummy. And I’ve been coming down pretty hard on myself and my place in the world because of that. My only resolution has been to do some things on my own accord—mainly get back to writing regularly. Finish pieces of prose I’ve been dying to finally cap off and edit. And read voraciously—finish the three books and zines I’ve started reading but can’t quite complete. Stop over-analyzing why I haven’t been able to finish them and just DO it instead.

Today after reading that wonderful post on the Rumpus, I decided to search in my backpack for my notebook instead of just numbing my mind with Facebook games (sorry, Disney’s City Girl!) and actually work on one of the six or seven pieces I’m “in the middle of.” And in my search, what do I find? Two notebooks, one novel and a Poets & Writers magazine. That’s not that bizarre, but it made me realize that I have the tools at my disposal, with me on my person, literally every day of the week. And what do I do? Let them sit in that dark knapsack waiting. Being unused. Adding weight to my back but very little else. I also found at least three different blue pens. Why so many? Because when I start writing something it bugs me if I start in one pen type/color and change to another. It also creates a good excuse for me to NOT write “Ugh, but I started this short story with a blue fountain pen—I can’t finish it with a black ballpoint!” (Again—creativity wasted on excuses and not on actual writing.) Well, I’ve got both blue and black fountain and ballpoint pens AND even some pencils on me right now, so that solves that tremendous dilemma.

What’s ironic is, now that my lunch break is winding down, I won’t have the actual time until after 5:00 PM to get back to writing with those utensils and those notebooks I found. But you know what? It’s ok. Because while it may seem like I instead decided to procrastinate by posting on here, I did it by writing. And that’s at least something. And hopefully a sign of good things to come.

Cheers, and keep those pens and pencils (or styluses and fingers!) working and your creative waters flowing.

Blast from the Past

November 28, 2012

Hello, people of the internet! It’s been a while, but I’m here for your blog-viewing pleasure once again. Crazy weather out there, amiright? Fortunately, I’ve been spared any bad damage from both the hurricane and the Nor’easter (I live on the East Coast). Unfortunately, I can’t use either of those as an excuse for why I haven’t been writing as much as I should have been. Ok, wait, I can come up with an excuse, here it goes: I wanted to write a lot this past month, but because of the storms I got super lethargic and decided to just be immobile in my bed, eating leftover Halloween candy and watching marathons of 30 Rock and Law & Order: SVU on Netflix. Ok, that’s not really an excuse, that’s just the God’s honest truth. But, I will say that I’ve learned something from this: leftover Twizzlers really aren’t all that bad. Sure, they’re stale and tougher to eat, but they still taste pretty damn good.
Anyway, I hope everyone out there, especially on the East Coast, has been staying safe, warm, and dry. And if you are, I hope that you’re doing everything within your means to help out with those who aren’t as lucky. It’s tough out there for a lot of people, but if you have even any inkling of ability to help in any capacity, it doesn’t hurt. We’re all here for each other, and as long as we remember that, we can make it easier to weather any storm–figuratively and literally.
Ok, so I got a little mushy there, but the message still rings true. And now to the point of this entry: this year I’ve finally decided to participate in NaNoWriMo. (So the procrastinating on writing has hit me even harder than usual–woowee!) But it’s a really interesting venture and I hope to at very least make some progress in my work. I usually stick to writing short stories and non-fiction, so this is a challenge for me. I’ve decided to amp up the challenge aspect a bit even more by writing a YA novel. I have a ton of ideas, it’s just now down to the point of getting them all out eloquently and really visualizing how I imagine it all playing out. I’ve been reading through on all of the amazingly helpful and handy info and hints on the NaNoWriMo website and a few have really helped me flesh out my main character and her life.
Basically, it’s through the eyes/mind of a socially awkward high school Freshman, who has difficulty making friends. One of the writing exercises I came across was to have a journal in which you write in the voice of your character. I decided that was perfect, and resurrected my old Xanga for just that purpose. Then I realized, while I’m there, maybe I should go back years and years ago and take a look at what I was writing when I was a socially awkward 15-16 year old, to get an even firmer grasp on how my character views the world.
Oh, boy, did I find a treasure chest of awkward embarrassing gold. Allow me, in one of possibly many posts, to introduce you to 15 year old, high school sophomore Jamie. I briefly have alluded to her in a prior post, but in this you’ll get to the heart of the seedy world that was my online journal and all of the deep, dark, personal secrets kept there for random online people to see.
So, without further ado……
saturday, august 16, 2003
anywho, thursday night was the big blackout–that wasn’t fun. but yesterday was pretty cool. first, the power came back on at our house at 7:45 am–so i was extremely happy lol. then i went 2 cc w/ my mommy. we went at 11:30 and there was like, no one there lol. and i bought the movie “the ref” which made me very happy. i’m sorry but i think denis leary is sexy . there’s something about the whole attitude/leather jacket thing that attracts me to him lol. plus he’s really funny.anywho, i’ll write more later. now i hafta tape denis leary’s roast, and go in the other room and try 2 see some of the beginning of snl, since it’s the one w/ brittany murphey and adam sandler sings the chanukah song part 3 in the beginning–ahh adam sandler, my love . oh well even if i can’t see it i taped it the last time it was on anyway lol. well, that’s all for now–buh bye.
What 15 year old girl in the year 2003 DIDN’T have crushes on either Denis Leary or Adam Sandler? Oh, all the 15 year old girls, you say? Oh. Anywho…. Oh, I should also mention that “cc” = “Cross County,” a local outdoor mall. At this same exact time countless other teenagers, most of which were my peers and the like, were at the same mall–except hanging out behind the movie theater drinking, smoking weed and doing ecstasy  I took pleasure in going out with my “mommy” to Sam Goody. I felt bad ass roaming the aisles, looking for  the new Las Ketchup CD. Then I’d go over to Suncoast and stare at the VHS section for what seemed like hours, before finally ending up in the YA section of Waldenbooks. How I miss those rebellious years.
friday, august 22, 2003ehh…today was pretty boring. i slept like, almost the whole day lol. oooh but i asked larry to be my fake fiance!!! we’re gonna get married in vegas in one of those elvis chapels on april 5th!! lol and katie’s gonna be my maid of honor. i always wanted to pretend i had a fiance lol. i’m such a dork. ttyl. ~jamie
Larry & I stopped talking not long after this took place. Not for any reason other than we weren’t actually friends to begin with. He was the friend of my friend’s boyfriend at the time. They also broke up not long after this, putting the nail in our fake-engagement coffin. I think I was supposed to be “set up” with this Larry fellow, but I didn’t actually know much about him or what he looked like, and I never really left my house outside on my own anyway.  I’ve seen him a few times working in the grooming station at PetSmart. He has no clue who I am, which is probably for the best so he can judge me just as a stranger staring through the glass pane at all of the cute puppies who are not mine since I don’t even have a pet, as opposed to judging me as the girl who lost all of her faculties after her fake fiance stopped talking to her (I think there’s a series of ABC Family movies on that topic.)
tuesday, august 19, 2003omg today i bought the ice age dvd…dude i thought that movie was gonna be really funny…it made me cry!!! the baby’s mom and the mammoth’s family, and diego , dude that was not cool!! i was sitting there bawling. i hate crying during movies lol. and i bought the dvd to see the behind the scenes stuff, so i could see denis leary–and they only showed him for like 1 minute!!!!! loland i looked all over sam goody again for the comedy section, and they definitley got rid of it. where the comedy cds were is all techno crap now. techno????? who the hell buys techno cds??? lol. anyway i hope fye still has their comedy section. even though it’s kinda expensive there i don’t care lol.what’s up with that ataris song? “boys of summer” or whatever. am i the only person who doesn’t like it?? lol they play it everywhere and it really annoys me. oooh i wanna try to make a cool neopets guild layout. hehe neopets…i’m such a dork lol. well, that’s all for now. i’m out.ok i just re-read this and i really have to stop saying “dude” before i annoy myself lol.~jamie

I still don’t like that Ataris cover. And I still say “dude” too much.

friday, august 29, 2003 
i’ve got bangs again! well sort of, they’re kinda half bangs, lol. anyway, when they’re not fixed up and stuff they get kinda weird but that’s ok b/c i can just clip them back. yah. well…that’s my big update for today lol. now i’m going to eat my hot apple pie, listen to the radio, and wait for someone to come on lol. oooh yay the colin quinn forum is back up–woop woop!!! ttyl  ~jamie

“yay the Colin Quinn forum is back up.” Also, I still have messed up bangs. Except now they’re messed up cuz I clumsily took a kitchen scissor to them on Halloween. Which sounds more like something that should have happened then, not now.

saturday, august 30, 2003
I got “two if by sea” on dvd today!!! woop woop!! lol despite what people have said, i liked it. i dunno i’mweird. i think denis looked soo hot in it lol. and sandra bullock is my favorite actress. oooh speaking of him, i mentioned about his celebrity hat trick event thing to my grandma…and she was like, seriously considering ways for me to go. i love my grammy!! but i’ll probably end up not going though . but if i did that would be so freakin cool.yah i didn’t see the whole vmas yet. but i saw the ending twice, which is ok since that was when sandler was on (hysterical) and the metallica performance when they played all the classic mtv songs. that was really cool. that whole britney/madonna/christina thing was soooo nasty. i didn’t even see it but the pictures alone are just….ugh. and she’s like, old enough to be their mom. sick.but it’s not even “shocking” anymore. they’re just doing anything to get attention. they’ve gone so over the line, what’s left? the only way what britney and christina do could be considered “shocking” is if they did just the opposite. and actually stayed fully clothed through a whole performance. or be really shocking and like, i dunno, have a duet and wear amish type clothes and sing air supply or something.now that would be good quality entertainment. i’d watch that lol.or the most shocking thing of all: stay fully clothed and actually show talent. that would be very jaw-dropping.well, that’s all for now. ttyl~jamie.
I can’t believe there was ever a time in my life where I said that something Metallica did was “cool,” but here it is–and in writing, nonetheless. Then again, this was from the same girl who searched tirelessly for one of the worst movies ever made, and then actually “enjoyed” it. Also my little cultural rant at the end is pretty intense. Kind of wrong on a lot of levels, but you still have to love the veracity of it! (I was very passionate about keeping things child-friendly. I once told a classmate that he must not love Jesus if he likes Marilyn Manson. At the same time I was also actively participating on the Cringe Humor forums. I was a girl of complex standards and ideologies, something I still pride myself on to this day.
time jump!
saturday, february 14, 2004

lets see, nuthin too interesting has been happening today. umm i attempted to make a valentine cake for my family. that failed miserably. it was fine until i had to put the eggs in. i put one egg in, and everything was fine. then when i tried to crack open the other egg, it wasn’t like, opening lol. then it cracked open a little bit, and it like oozed out (from the top i might add) all black and blue and bubbly. i almost vomited it was so nasty. and the smell was soooo horrible. luckily, it didn’t get in the batter, however some of it may have dripped in. the batter didn’t smell that good, so i wasn’t sure if any of that satanic egg got in, or the batter itself was just bad. anywho, my grandpa flushed the batter down the toilet and threw the garbage with the evil egg in it in the incinerator,so no one got any cake, obviously lol, and all of my mixing went to waste. oh well, maybe some other time. it was gonna have pink icing and i had that stuff where you can write stuff and make designs too . whatever maybe i’ll make it tomorrow, as long as i buy eggs that aren’t spawns of hell and batter that’s not possibly rotten. ooh, and on another note: i have no school next week!!!!! yayness!!!!!!!!! k, that’s it for now. buh bye. jamie

This is what happens when you’re 16 and you  have no Valentines nor any prospect of a Valentine. You make cakes for your family that are really just for yourself, then end up sacrificing a tiny baby chicken in the process. Oh, I remember this event clearly, and that’s something I didn’t include in the entry: when I initially saw that blue bubbly stuff, I immediately thought it was a baby bird’s brains and freaked out as well as almost started crying. I guess I didn’t want anyone who read my Xanga (two of my friends) to think I was that uncool. This was when I started transitioning into being a bit more witty and funny in my journal, but I’ll spare you those entries. Mainly so you don’t see how much more interesting I was then than I am now.
But basically, I could go back and comment on my old journal entries forever. So, I’m probably not going to base my character off myself entirely (are teenage girls into Colin Quinn? Do you think they’d relate?) but at least I know where I’m going with my character now. And no, she won’t be saying “dude” all that much…

Edit: Ok, so I had the idea brewing for this post for a while now, if you couldn’t tell. I started writing it about 3 or 4 weeks ago, but a couple of events stopped me from writing altogether for a short while. I recently had some self-reflection kinda thing going on and reading through all of this made me aware of some things about myself.

Despite all the awkwardness, childishness, silliness, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I remember at the time wishing I were “edgier” had more guys around and did cooler stuff. I remember being 16 and reading other girls’  livejournals, deadjournals, and xangas and just envying how much more interesting their lives were. Drugs, sex, alcohol, parties, mischief… it all intrigued me though I knew I myself would never be that girl. I’d lament then, and again later, at how little life experiences I had and then eventually wonder–how could I possibly be a writer while I never myself tried anything that most “writers” had tried and experienced? It took a while before I realized that I’d be fine doing what I’d been doing all along, writing a mix of what I know as well as what I’ve learned and picked up from others. Remembering every story told to me, every journal surreptitiously read, every AIM away message, every overheard school locker conversation. I keep all of that in mind, and keep my in-brain knowledge base forever expanding with every new person I meet and story I read.

I’m glad I didn’t have a lot of those experiences because if I did… I don’t know where I’d be right now. I’ m by no means trying to paint myself as a perfect person here, and more so than that I’m not trying to make villains out of anyone based on the choices they’ve made. But I am happy with the choices I have made, even if I thought I’d never say that. When you look around you and realize that you’re in the middle of a waste(d)land, with so few people boasting any sort of promising futures because of decisions they made in high school, it hurts. To see people who you knew could have been great if maybe they just never gave up the fight. And, the worst, people whose past choices and actions have contributed in taking their lives from them years down the line, when they were just starting to figure things out.

This isn’t an anti-drugs PSA. Nor an anti-alcohol PSA. Hell, it’s not even an anti-bad decisions PSA. Screw it, we all make ’em. It’s not a PSA for anything–I’m no good at telling others what to do. But I do believe that there’s merit in revisiting the past from time to time, even if it’s only to mock it. Retracing your steps and seeing what led you to where you are today; whether it’s for a do-over, or to be grateful.  And there’s nothing wrong with taking in the experiences of all those around you. When their stories are ended, someone’s gotta be there to put all the pages together.

Sometimes the people who made the hairiest choices and decisions will create the most beautiful words and images ever known. Sometimes it’s that girl who sat at her computer, trolling comedy message boards and eating one too many McDonald’s Hot Apple Pies (that’s a story for another time). Who knows? But if there’s a story you want to tell, yours or someone else’s, don’t be afraid to go for it; sometimes it’s all we have.

And if anyone else’s looking for good material to write about an awkward, goofy teenage girl, I’m more than willing to share embarrassing journal entries from yesteryear at any given time. Maybe I can even dig up some pictures to accompany them…

PS: If you are participating in NaNoWriMo–friend me! I know there’s only like, 3 days left in the month but there’s always enough time for friendship! Also, with that last tiny bit of rainbowponymush you’re completely allowed to strangle me 🙂

untitled [so far…]

November 10, 2010

We fell in love on the 12th of December, and our relationship was drunk. It’s the only way to describe it. Not love drunk. Just plain drunk. We met at a dive bar in the Bowery. It wasn’t a “love at first sight” sort of thing. No locking eyes from across the crowded room. No hands reaching for the same glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and feeling that jolt of passionate love-energy. We met when I bumped into him as I was exiting the men’s restroom. He dropped his Pabst Blue Ribbon and I spilled my Genesee Cream Ale on him. After the initial annoyance subsided, we both took a glimpse at the cheap booze that was lost in the bathroom-door battle and we smiled. No, it wasn’t us locking eyes that started our subsequent love affair; it was us locking eyes on our cans of cheap beer. It was the similitude of our lives…

 

A little something that just came to me now. I don’t know where it’s going, or what I plan on doing with it. But I figured I’d post the bare bones here. We’ll see where it takes me… 🙂

Long Lost.

September 29, 2010

These streets could lead to anywhere

There are road signs down everywhere;

And the remnants of the storm lead to where it begins

Hazy memories of the past and long forgotten sins.

A passing phase, a long lost trend.

Where does memory begin and nostalgia end?

A laughter shared not long ago.

A smile from someone I no longer know.

Don’t look back in anger, but not everything’s not perfect as it seemed.

Did you realize that your past was not as you dreamed?

You grip tightly as your memory fades.

But you’re slipping; wasting your life away,

On old trends, lost friends and everything you’ve ever loved.

These roads are filled with bumps and holes

Reminders of unrealized dreams and forgotten souls;

and all those you left behind, you never cared.

And all those you despise for not being around when you need them there.

A fast-paced life, a forgotten strife

When did you forget yourself?

A hatred shared not long ago,

A smile from someone I wish I didn’t know.

Don’t look back in anger, but not everything’s not perfect as it seemed.

Did you realize that your past was not as you dreamed?

You grip tightly as your memory fades.

But you’re slipping; wasting your life away,

On old friends, dead ends and everything you’ve ever RUINED.