A list of answers and facts for questions no one asked, or wanted to know the answers to:

I was told in by my high school social teacher that people who have green as their favourite colour were the smartest kind of people, and I thanked my brain for choosing that colour to love.

Despite loving green, I know deep down that red is not only the most attractive colour to wear, but my track team always won the race when we wore it. Superstition or not, red is deadly hot attractive.

When asked if I am religious, I will say "yes". When asked if I have doubted that religion, I will say "Of course". Notice how one answer sounds more certain than the other.

When asked if I am single, I don't hesitate to say that I live in Singletown, Population: Me.

I was once at a show with my mother. Me, wearing my snapback and sweater as we walk in. We're sharing a table with an older man. He says, "I should tell you that a professor told me that wearing your hat backwards lowers your IQ by 20 and that wearing it sideways lowers it by 30". So I said, "Well, I'm glad I don't wear my hat sideways."

I may be stupid, but my favourite colour is green, so do not cross me.

When asked if I wished I was in a relationship, I will say...

I will say that I used to know the answer to that when falling in love was more of a luxury than a tragedy.

I have shaved my head twice. And cutting my hair has just become the main "solution" to making my showers shorter.

When asked if I have questioned my sexuality, I will say "Who hasn't?" and I will also say "You are lucky you're getting an answer out of me."

When asked if I'm going to take the blue pill or the red pill, you know I'm gonna ask for the green pill instead. Because what is smarter than a green matrix pill?! In your face Neo, Morpheus doesn't need you anymore.

I really love and hate telling my story. It's not because I hate myself, or I'm going to cry, or I just really hate telling people everything. I mean, sure those are all true, but it's mostly because I don't want to hurt people.

Every poem I write slowly becomes a poem about her.

When asked about her, I say...
She took the red pill.

Hoping... it made her more attractive.

My birthday comes in a little over 2 weeks and I think when people talk about birthdays, they are secretly talking about status in blocked hours.

Somewhere in that 24 hour block, a person was born, and that person was me. .....well Yay I guess.

I don't like my birthday. And the reasons for that, are more complicated than you think.

When I was 13, I was really into cupcake birthday cakes. I asked for one, every year, for a long time.

When I turned 15 and 16, my best friend baked me cupcakes and brought them to school for me, and I shared them with my peers. You see, I considered her my best friend, and I guess that's not enough to be the best friend.

It's like unrequited love if you put poisonous platonic friendship in my blood first.

When I turned 17, she did baked me my last set of cupcakes, but I no longer had a best friend. So I spent my birthday mentally by myself while my family sang otherwise.

And right now, I hate cupcakes, and superhero films because they remind me of her. But saying that is the weakest thing to do, since everything, reminds me of her.

I will never admit I loved her, the same way she will shamelessly say she never loved me. I can't hate her, but I can't see her without hating myself.

You know age, goes up, the same way sadness, goes down. Pulling you into another 24 hour block just so you can say.

"Hey. I made it another day."

I will admit that every day without her is another day without cupcakes, and another day without sugar is another day without happiness. And people may have asked me "How can you flip-flop between preferences like you're not the biggest homosexual in the closet." So when I tell people I'm straight, they tell me I'm not allowed to change my mind.

I loved her, but she left me and took all of my friends with her. And I thought that real friends wouldn't abandon me, but there is always time to be wrong. By the time my birthday comes, I'll be crying, and she doesn't even remember what day my birthday is on.

By the time I read this out loud, I will have been through this birthday, like a person walks through fire. Turning 16 is less about age, then it is about school, and turning 18, is less about the number, and more about becoming an adult. And no amount of adult can neutralize pain.

I have accepted the fact that no man will ever really want to marry me. And no Christian, will ever truly want to love me.
And if I am wrong, I will have to repeat this lost love forever dragging it out in my life.

And if I have kids one day, do you really think...

That I'm going to tell everyone if it's a boy or a girl...

By making blue or pink...

...cupcakes?

I have saved a grand total of 3 lives... maybe.

2 lives probably.

1 life definitely.

I have saved the same life multiple times. Once from suffocation, once in a runaway situation.

I have saved myself numerous times. Twice from suicide... almost. And countless times over from personal trauma and pain.

I think I like pain too much. Yeah, I think I like pain a lot.
I think I like pain because it makes me feel human.

Because if I'm suffering, then the body is working, and if the body is working, nothing is wrong on the outside.

And by outside, I simply mean, the side that people ignore the easiest.

So when I get no reaction from anyone, it's okay. I know what it's like to get ******* over every day by everyone.

It's cool. No big deal.

I like weapons way too much, I like really cool blades and badass guns that for some reason are attached to electric guitars.

I'm a martial arts teacher. Which means that I am responsible for teaching young lives to survive until they are old lives.

I've never had to bare scars on my forearms. But I would like to bare tattoos... but only if you'll sign it with:

"Remember when I was here? Because I don't".

Hahaha... You're funny like that.

You seem to like knives too, you've made my back a knife block out of my back. You like to cook, don't you? Slice me up like one of your best works of art and I will scream how genius you are.

No.

There is no more room for me on a plate for you to serve up!

I...

I would constantly wash dishes after cooking in class. And I would always make sure I picked up some of your plates if I could because doing good things in secret was the closest I ever got to you.

And you went and replaced me with a seemingly nicer, shorter, pretty blonde who was everything that I was... but more

But it killed me that she wasn't me. Or maybe that I wasn't her.

Because she matters to you and that just cuts me up. One day I'll brandish a pocketknife with your name on it.

And every time I want to **** myself over what happened, I have to remember that no matter how many knives are in my back...

I have to keep this one in my pocket.

When I leave this world...

Stencil graffiti on my gravestone. There is no greater way to tell that people have touched your life unless a mark was made in reflection of it. I will personally see to it that the words etched into my gravestone are "Permission Granted".

When I leave this world, know that I did panic in my last moments. I am a thanatophobic which means I am both afraid of death and dying and always running away from it. So watching doctor shows and cop reruns with my family seem a little less comforting.

When I leave this world, plant the brightest, most purple orchids you can find around the patch of land I own that is my gravesite. I don't even like the colour purple that much, but when I googled the top 10 most beautiful flowers, number one was roses and that is too **** fancy for my dead punk body.

When I leave this world, pray for the sky to cry rain enough for all of you. I was not famous enough for people around the world to cry over me, but rain is as close as it gets.

When I leave this stupid world, make sure people knew I was also pretty stupid. I once told my mom that I realized "Hey water isn't blue... it's clear!!". I clearly didn't drink enough water as a child.

When I leave this world, hang a sandwich board on my gravestone that reads "I will continue to sell lemonade as long as the world keeps giving me lemons."

When I leave this disastrous world, publish everything wrong about me, and then make a sequel containing only things I said about myself during my worst hours. Compare the two and decided for yourself if the way we judge ourselves is too much to argue over.

When I leave this world and Sara is still out of the city, tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I don't want her to dig. Tell her that I wanted to talk to her so badly, but I was always scared of interrupting, or being an inconvenience, or dying suddenly without her knowing. Tell her that I wanted her to remember me so well that she knows exactly what our last conversation was about. That she won't have to dig for answers...ever.

I dug myself into a grave I do not need others to dig for my past.

Death is never one to discriminate against anyone. But it is selfish, it takes, never gives, and is always consistent when giving the final sentence for everything we do wrong.

I will constantly run from it, and it will always get me.

When I leave this world, and if you're there, tag my gravestone. I get to say that I was here... you might as well tell me that you were also here.

1.  Dust is constant. It is a symbol of time telling you that either something needs to be cleaned, or you need to take a picture.
There will never be complete cleanliness so when people say "cleanliness is close to Godliness" promptly hand over an invitation to have dinner at your dusty house. And then show those people where you pray. Notice that sacred space has dust.

2. Chairs are complicated. They can have 4 legs, 5 legs, no legs, wheels on their legs. Chairs are such a wild forever changing species that we don't really have a good concept of what a chair is. Which begs the question, what is true chairness? Plato believed that somewhere somehow there is a perfect concept of such things. Which begs the question, what is it to be truly human? From where I stand, we all wear skin, breathe air, and hate high school anyway.

3. Appreciate your couch. I realized this at a young age when I figured out that dying means, never seeing a couch again.

4. The bed is not sacred. It is not a stronghold or sanctuary. It is the place you go when you are either done or satisfied with the world.

5. Windows are the windows of your house. It doesn't sound as good as eyes being the window to your soul but my point still stands. The windows are beautiful. And snowflakes freezing on them is a captured moment of nature being transparent.

6. Take a painting class. Learn how to make art on a canvas and hang that **** up. Buy a painting for no other reason other than that it costs more than $50. Travel and bring back a print and frame it. Learn to cross-stitch and hang that up too. The walls may change colour from time to time, but at least hang something on them.

7. Look for imperfection. When I was a kid I took a pencil and wrote in jagged penmanship "The end" at the bottom of my staircase. My mother, of course, scolded me for writing on the house, but for whatever reason, she kept the phrase there. Maybe because I knew the end had to be somewhere and I might as well end in the home I started in.

8. Buy refrigerator magnets that teach kids the alphabet. Organize them so that reading a message in the morning makes breakfast seem a little more inviting. And as a firm believer that breakfast is not a necessary meal, I too, need something in the morning to make me feel less alone.

9. Fill one closet with cleaning supplies. We may never get to the end of many tasks, but we can clean this house. Clean the cupboards, wash the windows, sweep the floor, write on the walls, just so you can erase it. And when you finish cleaning, and you bring all of your supplies to that closet, organize your closet. Notice that there is a small amount of dust on the shelves of the closet.

10. Work around the house, big or small, is never completely over.

I've said this so many times to so many different people.

I have been told this phrase by maybe 4 of those people.

2 of which for sure don't miss me anymore.

1 I'm not sure of, and the other does miss me.

But it was out of desperation, and bad decisions, so that one doesn't really count...

I miss you.
I miss you.


I miss you...

I'm so... so...

sorry.

Hey...

Yeah, okay I get it this is weird.
I'm talking to you from the past and you don't even exist yet.
So...

Needless to say, you will not be reading this for a long time.

Maybe this won't even make it to you.

But these words will hold anyway. They always do.

My dear son...

You will try to fight authority every day. And when you are young, that authority will be me. Whether it be toddler tantrums or hurtful words firing from your jaw, it will be directed at me until you are old enough to realize that when you stop fighting with me, I will teach you how to fight the correct way.

Yes my son, I do intend to teach you to fight.

I learned how to fight when I was 10, and I haven't stopped because you will learn how much I fought to bring you into the world.

And I don't mean the physical labour. But the guilt.
I've always wanted a son more than a daughter because I didn't want your possible sister to be too much like me.

But maybe you too will be so much like your mother.

My dear boy, take care of your sisters and brothers and maybe the dog if you bug me enough to buy one. Your smile should be enough to bring me joy, not because I might see myself or your father in your eyes, but I can see that you do indeed look with want, desire, and the utmost joy.

My son...

You are one of the only things in this world that I will be able to call solely mine, you are my blood, and you are my legacy, but you are my son so please, tell me anything.

Or tell me everything. Or tell me nothing, but show me everything.

Your dreams, your passions. I hope you get a job young, and learn to hate it. I also hope you get a job that you love but have to leave eventually.

My boy, not all things last forever. Learn this now before it is written on your skin like a tolerable tattoo that seems faded, but you always know what it says.

My son...

Treat your lover well.
I will come to protect you from everything, but love is a curse in its own league so be careful.

Be safe.

Do not resort to physical aggression against them EVER I have taught you better than to do such things.

You have only learnt to fight so that you never have to use it for such things.

Be smart, be kind, be gentle to your lover.

If they ever hurt you, or threaten to do such things, tell me and I will go **** them.

They say the best contraception back in the old days was fathers with shotguns.

But your mother is a lethal weapon unlike any other. Your father knows this well, it's one of the many reasons we found each other.

My son, love is a complicated thing. And if you find yourself alone at an older age, find someplace to store your love.

Whether it be your job, or a child. Be happy my son.

Of the many things I have to say to you...

I wish you happiness.

My son...


*My son