I've gotten used to sitting in my room.

A bright screen lighting up my face,

fingers typing at the speed of light,

reminiscing on all the things I used to feel.

Indeed, I want to say much more,

but . . .

there comes a point
where words
have served their deed.

Where there's not much more to say.
For what has been lived,
has
    been
          indulged,
              digested,
           ­      and passed through.

Go explore,
experience the unimaginable.
Then return to pump hearts full of:
        pain,
                  love,
                       ­    insight,
               and undetected truisms.

I wish life had an unspoken HIPAA policy.

What if one day
I disappeared,

Deleted my virtual existence,

Stopped seeing my regular friends,

Lost contact with all?

What if one day
I stopped wishing
For who I could one day be,

And instead,
Became that being?

What if one day
I turned off the world around me,

And did all the things I ever wished?

In a month I’d rid my old skin,
Sweat off my past disappointments,
Reminders of sin.

In a month my hair would grow
To lengths of which I myself paved,

In a month
My knowledge of
Culture ,
Academia,
and Myself,
Would expand.

But in that month
I’d lose my friends.
Hurt those who simply cared and wondered.

What would that make me?
Just as bad as those
Who urge me to disappear?

Or just as good as those
Who promote self-evaluation?

There is indeed a middle balance.
But that . . .
that's for the healthy-minded.