You’re right about me tearing myself apart
I tear myself apart. I do it a lot.
Like the tissues that I pull apart in my hand while I cry in unison with my mother in her arms because neither of us can take the fact that I can’t keep myself together.
Like the skin on my hands and knees when I’m out with my friends acting like fools in the street.
What do you expect—we’re still just kids.
It’s what kids do.
Whether it’s hearts, society, or the walls we’ve built around ourselves, we
tear things apart.

I myself cannot change the position of the heavens; it is a task a bit too taxing for a creature bound by the confines of its own mind. But in the confines of my own mind I can change. By changing my direction- my point of view- to the heavens may I ever change their position. Don’t believe I have contradicted myself. You see, in this change of perception comes a steering wheel on the runaway-vehicle-like facade of life. Changing our perception can change the position of the moon and stars for the better or worse and who controls that is simply the beholder of this knowledge. I am at the helm of my life’s ship and with the willpower to survive, I will change my perception to horizons enamored with success.

I think
The best metaphor for you
Is my little Honda that barely functions.
I poured time and money
Oil and sweat and passion
Into machinery nearly as old as i am
Just to get it to run.
Every time it breaks down
I instantly show up ready to fix it,
Pouring all my energy into it.
The thing is,
I spend more energy on it
Than the amount of joy or convenience it ever gives back.
We have a few good times every once in a while.
But then it’s another broken valve.
Another communication
vehicular breakdown.

-C.R.H. 3:03p.m. 2/27/15