Q: Why should I care for dance competitions or cupcakes or make-up or grades?**

A: Because otherwise, there is nothing to distract from the futility. Nothing to obscure the purposeless fatigue. No vines to ensnare your ankles. Nothing to bind you to the cold earth and spinning tides, becoming all too easy to unstrap your wings and run from the roof, no longer forced to fly.

Without the superficial, I would have already died.

When I bought food today, the guy behind the counter said,
"How's your weekend?" and "Have a good day, Nick."
My response was, "You as well." And I really meant it. I couldn't believe he read Nickolas on my I-card, assumed people call me Nick, (which they do), and called me Nick.
I left and I thought to myself, "I'm like him."
I love connecting with people. I want to not be afraid to talk personally with people who I don't know personally. I just want to dive in.
I want to read nametags and after the wonderful young lady at Starbucks gives me my change for my Grande Caramel Machiato, I'd say, "Thanks Sara. Have a great day". She might look at me and say "Thanks! You as well! :)" Or she might say, "Thanks...you too o_O"
Does it matter?
When you give someone your love, even if it's just a milliliter, especially if it's just a milliliter, do they have to like it? Do they have to reciprocate it?
Do those people who always smile and are full of love prefer their lovees to be put off by their kindness, making the lover superior because they have more love than the lovee could ever imagine?

It's just that love has to be selfish. There must be something to gain.
I love people and I never got out of that phase of when you're a child and you think everyone is perfect and they know what they're doing.

See, I cognitively now realize that people are just as lost as me, but emotionally, I feel that everyone else is on a level above me and I am a few levels down. In terms of how much love I deserve, how much attention I deserve.

I love seeing other people happy. But me? I could do without it. It's immaterial.

So when other people love, it's lovey love, it's happiness love, it's the love that's in the air, the love that makes you hold open doors, the love that makes you human.

When I love, it's the love that makes you write letters, the love that's begging for attention, looking for approval, trying to dominate others, trying to be human.

I want to be just like you. If I could treat myself how I treat you, I might be happier.

You can love something and not care about taking care of it. You can love something and let it go. You can love yourself and let yourself go.

It's really bad but I want to share this with others because my artwork might help someone someday and it helps me and that's cool, but knowing that everything I produce might someday make someone's life better even if it's just for one second, then it's worth it. It's extremely worth it.

So I want to be like that guy who works at that place. Someone who cares. And underneath all of that "I deserve way less than other people" emotional nonsense that plagues my neurons, I am.

clean laundry
the smell before rain
that feeling after rain
a fresh cup of coffee
a new box of crayola crayons
a bag of m&ms;
a used bookstore
fresh baked bread
a fluffy towel after a long shower
a sweets shop
a bouquet of flowers
getting in bed after a long day
the elephant room
crunching snow
birds in the morning
sunrise
sunset
stoplight kisses
foggy nights
a summer breeze
ocean waves
the quiet things
the blood in my veins
the sun
the moon
the stars
my love

Oh beautiful soul
Create worlds
Within yourself
So that you can see
You were made for
More than this one

~j.m.tamis

She loves puzzles, the nitty-gritty details, and the distinct pieces. She has completed one after another, and another, and another. Yet even after she's done, the complete frame did not make her happy. She's still sad, unfulfilled, incomplete.

*Little did she know, the missing piece is not from the puzzle. The greatest riddle is still herself.