We live.
We hope to love.
We die.
When we die,
will this world end up being what we had hoped it would be?
I want to live.
But I need to figure out what that means first.
I've been taught to believe in God.
I think I do.
I haven't really figured out what God means though.
When I think about it now I suppose I might not.
I don't want to understand everything.
I try not to ask for much.
But there are some things I suppose I would like to understand.
Do I really need to spend my life trying,
so hard to please this unseen entity,
just to get to "eternal happiness"?
I'm tired of hearing the excuse,
"God would be angry with you"
just to get our children to treat each other with care and kindness.
I believe in faith,
I don't believe what it's turning into though.
I don't want to just have to believe in God.
I want to believe in this life.
I want to believe in the earth,
the sun,
the stars,
one another.
And when my time comes,
whenever that may be.
whether he is there or not,
I hope that I was the best person that I could be.
Because in the end,
we only have ourselves,
and I don't want to end up with a "me" that I can't live with,
because if eternal life does come after this.
I don't think I could survive.

This village of two hundred and fifty six people probably won’t ever be ready for you.
Your secret will haunt the community for as long as it takes them to pretend you don’t exist
At first people may scream and cry
Fathers will load their shotguns and little old ladies will lock their doors
Afraid that you are bold enough to profess your love for another man
But behind the bolted windows and petrified stares
Know that you are not alone
Supporters will come from the most unknown places
Someday we can hope this place will change
But that doesn’t mean you have to wait to be honest with yourself
This place will always be filled with gossip
Where news is spread between hair dryers at the local salon
And political conservatism is ten times bigger then the grocery store
In this small corner of the world, where kind words and friendly greetings are waiting on every street corner you will meet the disgusting face of hatred
But when hatred dies, love will come up from it’s ashes

One by one
I watch them fall
Slowly sinking into the inevitable.
And I wonder
When the moment will come
Where I am completely
Alone.

We sit in this room talking and laughing
No judgement, no secrets
And a large box of M & M's shared among friends
I cherish each word and every obnoxious chortle
Every anecdote, which fills this space
I cling to this moment and wish for it to endure
While we sit in our private sector of the world
Set aside from the foundation shattering headlines and news bulletins
We neglect the impending deadlines created by worldly demands
For a moment nothing on earth matters

Hiding my feelings is a craft I have mastered
Steering my emotions to make people believe what they are ready to assume
Concealing even the most basic instincts
Convincing myself it’s for the best
But when no one gets to know who you really are
Life can get awfully lonely
I’m going insane trying to maintain
The sideshow distracting people from seeing myself

How disgusting is this World we live in?
Because I know I am not the only person
Keeping their thoughts from the surface
I am not dark and twisted
I am just a person looking for love
From someone who loves me back
And I don’t want people to hoot and holler for me
I’m perfectly happy with no one giving a ****
Just don’t bring your picket signs into my personal life
Because I don’t protest your love for another
I’m not attempting to do anything radical
I’m not even trying to change the World
I just want to love a man
And not be ashamed to say it

The sun casts its miraculous glow onto the Earth
But what the sun illuminates in the day it abandons at night
With the coming of the sun we must also accept its absence
The cold chill of a dark night
As a massive shadow blankets the colorless sky
The beauty of the day forces us to recognize the cruelty of night

While many believe that darkness breeds fear
I am all too familiar with it
I attempt to cloak myself in the golden glow of sunshine
But as hard as I try to hide behind its beauty
The dark stain still bleeds through,
A part of me accustomed to the dark

And maybe I’m the only one who can see
Navigate my way through the pitch black
Because as hard as I try to cling to the beauty in this World
My heart understands darkness
Many times I’ve played naïve
Pretending life is always what we choose to display to the day

But I am always reminded of what I’ve seen in the dark.

I like to paint.
I like to paint stars.
I like to paint cats.
I like to paint words.
I like to paint life.
I suppose,
that's what it all is.
Everything I paint is life.
I'm not good at it.
It just helps me release.
Giving color to the sad,
blank,
lonely sheet of paper.
Painting everything I ever wanted to be.
When I was little,
I wanted to be a dinosaur.
Probably not the dinosaur you're thinking of.
I should be more specific.
I wanted to be Barney's wife.
Then one day I was told it would never happen.
I think that was the day I lost my color.
That was also the year I had heard,
for the first time,
Santa didn't exist.
I was 6.
Not even a decade old,
and here I am starting to learn the ugly truths of life.
I brushed it off,
and convinced myself they were lying.
He had to exist.
I needed him to exist.
To be honest though,
I remember that day.
Very vividly.
I went home and crawled into my bed and cried,
a lot.
I think that was the day I stopped believing in magic.
Then I grew up.
And realized a lot about this life.
If Santa didn't exist,
then how could God?
Was I being fed the same ******* about him,
as I was about the Tooth Fairy,
and Santa Claus,
and the Easter Bunny?
I mean *******,
we tell our kids not to lie,
yet we instill this false hope of magic in their heads.
Hoping one day they find out for themselves,
so we don't have to break it to them.
I wish I had just kept my mouth shut,
I wish I had never told anyone about my dreams
of being a big purple dinosaur.
Maybe then I wouldn't have to paint so much.
Because as much as I don't want to admit it,
the day we learn the truth about life,
is the day we are drained of our color,
and we turn into those,
blank,
lonely,
sad,
pieces of paper.
And there we will remain,
patiently waiting for some good news,
some color,
to fill our plain pages,
knowing deep down,
that happening,
is as likely as me growing up and marrying a big purple dinosaur.

I have met wonderful people
People who have shown me the secrets they know about how a life should be lived
And everyone’s got their own answers
To face the tests that come from each day of living
I have shown these people my solutions as well
But God passed a different exam to each person
Testing their will power, questioning their faith
And on the outside you can see the small struggles I’m facing
But a greater battle is waging beneath my thick flesh
I hide the fight I face each day
From the wandering eyes of strangers
And even some familiar faces may never see the darker side in me
Time and time again I deny the entirety of my existence
But as my bones lay exposed
And people see what I’m made of
Will they too deny that I exist?

Where do the dreams that aren't remembered go?
You know those dreams,
the ones that you wake up having a vague idea about,
yet you can't seem to remember it in its entirety.
Where do they go?
Do they go to dream purgatory,
because they weren't good enough to be remembered?
I guess the same goes for people.
All of those lost souls,
who never had anyone.
No one to care for them,
and no one to remember them.
It's my biggest fear.
Being forgettable.
The idea of living my entire life,
just to be forgotten when I die,
it terrifies me.
That isn't my only fear though,
I'm afraid of other things too,
like:
rejection,

                   society,

                                 my own reflection.
However,
next time I lay down to sleep,
I will try my hardest to remember those dreams,
because I know someday,
I will be one of them.
Sitting with the worry of
Being forgotten,
lonely,
orphaned.
Waiting patiently for the night to pass
and another opportunity to rise,
so that maybe this time,
I'll be good enough.
Memorable enough.