The ancient ruins of my childhood present themselves as toy soldiers ready to wage war against my grown up mind.

I’d locked them away but here they stand prepared to fight a whole big war against me.

I am in no position to fight; for while they were busy planning, I was busied by foreign affairs.

There is a rebellion taking place within the jail cell of my mind. A mass collaboartion of the nerves, and I am unsure how to fight one’s self and win.

My father is a hard man to put into words. He is often a good man with a kind heart. Somedays though, he is sleepless and those are the days to let him be. The father of my childhood was always sleepless. His red eyes were always screaming even when his mouth was closed. They judged your every move and even the simplicity of making a peanut butter sandwich could be attacked at any moment. I walked quietly through the house at night in fear of meeting those red unrested eyes. Those sleepless eyes, awake when the world was silent, could so easily snap at you and make you disappear.

I remember when staying up all night was such a huge milestone. It was as if you could just stay up one whole day without sleeping at all you’d be transformed into this grown up version of yourself. You’d always make it until the sun came up and then everyone would begin to speak in little stringy sentences that would never be able to be recalled the next day. The next day the first person up would yell “We fell asleep!” and everyone would begin pointing the blame at somebody who was in charge of keeping them awake.

I can still recall this first night I spent in this town on a mattress on my living room floor. I stayed up all night and awoke with a feeling of adventure as I left the house to explore my new town. I was so free and ready to explore. I had my film camera in my hands and a new place to get lost in. Which is exactly what I did, got extremely lost and drank a terribly overpriced nauseating smoothy. I had to call my mother’s boyfriend to redirect me towards home. That night I moved into my room and I was scared of the change but more then being scared I was enthralled by it. I think I could spend my whole life with that kind of excitement. I would travel endlessly with no time to make problems anywhere I went. It would be purely cultural and fun. I could figuratively and literally spend my entire life running from everything that once kept me down and I wouldn’t regret it one bit.

I keep trying to write stuff but it’s all coming out very sassily and sarcastic. What’s up with that? I’m not sarcastic or sassy.

The whole idea of having a passion has become so obscured. These days you don’t just get to follow your interest and then maybe make it into a career. Instead the threat of a career is so much bigger than your undeveloped passion and it bullies you into perusing it as a life passion until you end up despising it. I think a passion is just something you like to do and whether it’s going to grow or shrink away shouldn’t matter at all. You could have a passion for eating apples covered in peanut butter but just because it’s your favorite snack it doesn’t mean you have to eat only apples covered in peanut butter for the rest of your life. I mean how boring would that be? You’d just end up hating your favorite snack but still continue to eat it because it was once your favorite.

// Why don’t we listen to our mothers?//

I don’t understand why no one ever listens to their mother’s advice. How many times has she told you to take an umbrella, wear a bigger coat, wear a scarf,or rain boots? You sigh and tell her you’ll be fine and then two hours later you’re being soaked by a downpour or your hands are too cold to function as hands anymore. Besides the weather advice, we also ignore any cooking, laundry, cleaning, wardrobe, or any other solutions to life’s tiny problems. Instead we just make their mistakes over and over again without even realizing that we’ve been told exactly how to handle those situations. We all pretend to be pioneers in a new land that we were unprepared for but really we just blatantly ignored the lessons.

// My most recent reoccurring nightmare: //

I am watching my four year old brother Noah and my mother calls me into her room. While she’s talking to me I begin to smell something strange after a couple moments I realize the smell is gas. Thinking I left the gas on I run into the kitchen. As I enter I see the open oven door, and then I see Noah sitting in the oven staring up at me with a big smile on his face. My first instinct is to get him out of the oven fast but as I grab him my mother screams, ‘WAIT!’ just as a spark of static electricity ripples across his sweat pants and a flash of orange fills the oven.

The next parts of my dream are his recovery; they are sparatic and out of order.

He is a couple years older and he is playing in the grass at a park when another child comes up to him and asks why his legs are different colors. Noah looks down at his feet and as he  says: ‘I was burned’ he looks up at me with his dark blue eyes.

Then he’s in the hospital his tiny charred feet being unwrapped as a nurse cleans his wounds. His eyes are drooping and his body doesn’t even reach the middle of the hospital bed. I leave the room.

I’m rolling him on the floor and ripping off his clothes to reveal the bright red blotched skin. He’s screaming and he won’t stop. We put him in a luke warm bath while we wait for the ambulance to arrive. He doesn’t stop screaming.

I wrote everything down and maybe I’ll post it or maybe I’ll print it out and delete the original. I don’t know what I’ll do with it, that’s not really the point anyway, the point is that it’s all down somewhere so it won’t be buzzing around in my head all the time. This way I can finally sleep again; this way I can move on.

// My head is all cloudy but it’s getting a lot clearer.//

Being lost isn’t about being found. It’s about what you discover along the way. I miss living in a place where you could walk down a dirt road that never ends.

I’ve decided to write everything down, so this will be my last post for as long as that takes. Which will be anywhere from a couple days to a couple months, then I’ll post what might be a long short story or maybe a book or maybe a bunch of crap but I guess we’ll see. I don’t think any of you tumblr followers will miss me much on your dash anyway, but that’s what I’ll be doing from now until I post my written thing. 

// I apologize for the corny post below//

I once wrote a lot of good things about you. But you just disappeared. It’s just hard to get used to. It doesn’t feel like I lost you, it’s more like you never existed at all. There’s proof everywhere that you were real but it’s not really proof at all. I miss you but in the same way someone misses a lost pair of jeans or a favorite sweater. One day you’re nice and cozy in your favorite pair of jeans and then a week later they’re just gone and you never see them again. You forget they were ever your favorite anything; you forget they ever really existed at all. I don’t want to forget though.

// This is what boys do to you: They make you write them corny ass letters and then they leave.//

These are the things you should know before you break my heart…. This is the corniest thing I have ever written and I’m only on the second line. Okay here goes nothing:

You should know that it’s okay to break someone’s heart and that it’s okay if you don’t love me the way you used to; it happens sometimes and it’s natural. You should be nice about it though and that’s really stupid to tell you because I know you are and always will be nice to me.

 You should also know that whenever I watch a “chick flick” with Jackie or my mom or whoever, when it’s over all I think about is you because there’s always these ideal guys and you’re kind of my ideal guy even when you piss me off and stuff.

 You should know that I kind of like all the things I hate about you, even the little stuff like when you bounce your leg and also the bigger stuff like how you have trouble answering yes or no questions and how you hate making decisions and all your mean jokes. You might be sure about dumping me after reading this paragraph but I’m trying to be truthful here.

 You should know that I’m having a really shitty time this year and I know it’s hard to deal with all the emotions, the neediness and everything. This really hard time will pass and the person that you loved, the one that was happy, well she’s in here somewhere and she’ll be back whether she’s with you or not. She’d really rather be with you though, but I mean there’s the Marylyn Monroe quote about not deserving someone at their best if you can’t handle them at their worst and I think it’s more than applicable. I can’t say that I don’t understand where you’re coming from though so don’t feel bad if you don’t want me at my worst.

 You should know that if you talk to me about problems you have with our relationship I will always do my best to mend them and if you’re honest about how you feel and it’s sort of mean I won’t get mad at you for it.

 You should know that if you do break my heart I will hate you more than I hate anyone else on planet earth because that’s just how it works and you shouldn’t question it. I will also probably choose to be friends with you even though I hate you and you shouldn’t question that either. It doesn’t make any sense to me either.

 Last but not least you should know that I love you and I might always love you even if you choose to break up with me, but the intensity will fade and so will the pain and I’ll be okay after a while so don’t worry too much.

 P.S. My breakfast got cold cause I was writing this instead of eating it. (My breakfast that is, not the note. Why would I eat a note?)