When I was a little boy biking through the lush greeneries of our local park,
I fell down and scraped my knee.
Tears in my eyes, with blood coming out of the tear on my leg, I came to my parents.
Their reaction at first was what I had expected. Shock and fear for their son’s well-being came to their faces, but after realizing I was mostly okay, they uttered a line I still remember quite clearly.

It went like this:

“At least it’s just a scratch.”

And so with that began a life of “at leasts” and compromise.

“At least you passed the test”
“At least you made it on time”
“At least you were only late to the first 30 minutes of the movie”
“At least you were able to cram your homework”
“At least you managed, somehow, some way”
“At least you didn’t die”
“At least you were given part of what you wanted”

Part of what I wanted.


Now, I’ve grown wise enough to know that you aren’t always going
To attain or achieve everything you desire.
But when life always sells you short, you lose hope

But the most cruel "at least" that life decided to bestow upon me was...

“At least…. You met her.”

Yup.

The compromise was I couldn’t have her
I couldn’t make her my home
Because she was never there to stay.
“At least, you met her”

It was a tragedy
But a part of her will always remain
Because that part of her, no matter how small
Somehow changed something in me-
And, dear god, I hope it’s for the better.

it's been 240 days

and, almost each of those
i spent talking to you
or even with you, at times

240 days
in those days
i gave you parts of myself
more than i had ever given anyone else
but now it seems
it was way more than what you deserved

240 days
and while you held
parts of me in your hands,
you never really realized
how lucky you were to have those

240 days
and you still can't give back
not even love in the romantic sense, no
but what i wanted the most
your trust

240 days
and in those, admittedly,
you've brought me to great highs
but most of the time
sunk me beyond reach of anyone else
and walked away as i wallowed
in my own despair

it's day 241
and i realized i had been
watering a garden in hopes
something would bloom
but now i see how this garden
only has dead plants in it

you were a cactus
you were beautiful in your own way
but when i got close and embraced you
you stabbed me, but i patiently waited
as i bled

but maybe, just maybe, i know better now
maybe there are other plants
actually worth my time.

i know you.*

i know how you looked at me the first time our eyes met
"what the hell does this guy want from me?"

i know you.

i know how what they called the "devil's hour" never feels like it because of your fruitless attempts to suppress your laughter when we're on the phone

i know you.

i know how happiness fills me when your fingers fill the gap in mine, or when your warmth permeates my very being.

and now i know how one letter can make *one heck of a difference

*i knew you.

everything was in its place in my nightly ritual
my room enveloped me with a feeling of security
i had episodes of my favorite show, ready to be played
and my favorite midnight treats all in a bucket

a well-deserved break from negativity, in the safety of my house
but i still felt empty.

see, the only way for me to really feel at home is to
open my closet, reach in its darkest corner
and grab for my only memory of you- a sweater
that's obviously seen better days
but it had your smell, your warmth
and finally, as i wrapped it around me,
i felt relieved.

and that's a problem.

never was i
going to be held by the throat
ever again,
played with a leash
like a mindless dog

i was wiser than that

but son, when love strikes
your supposed wisdom is met
and negated by
a dash of crazy
a hint of impulse
that, dear, oh dear
lead to
a multitude of reckless decisions.

but maybe that's the way
life's meant to be lived

take a risk

when i looked at what i had been writing
i came to the realization that
i had been trying, so desperately
to mask my insecurities and trials
with sweet poetry and prose

why do i still try to hide
what i feel, on this anonymous poetry account

this hiding has gone far beyond just the reaches of the internet
it has pervaded into each sector of my life

i. i hide from myself

i fool myself with forced optimism
and the mentality that
my wounds are nothing but shallow scratches
that, if it can't be healed with time, then
it can be healed with adjustment and moving on

ii. i hide from others

i pretend, that they, too are fooled
by my obvious act
as i push everyone away
with lies of
"i'm fine" and "i'm okay"

why can't i come out of hiding

You are an entity never meant to be bound to anyone or anything on this planet.

You were made to be free to accomplish feats not yet even recognized by man as possible.

And so, since I understand this now, these are what I *will and will not be.

1. No, I will not be your guard dog.

I will not investigate your every move, or gather information on the people that surround you. I will not tell you to not let yourself get influenced by these people, or stay away from these people, or to bond with these people. I believe in your ability to learn from your experiences with human beings- because these beings are infinitely complex and come in all shapes in sizes

2. No, I will not be your parent.

I won’t get mad if you come home at 4am, completely drunk off liquor, strobe lights and whatever the DJ’s playing. I won’t get worried if you aren’t answering your phone when you’re with your friends. I genuinely swear not to give you the parent-like reprimands you’ve heard enough of from your parents

3. No, I will not be your local priest.

I won’t condemn you for everything you have done. I won’t judge you for the mistakes you’ve made. I won’t blame you for being you- and not believing in the Ten Commandments, or questioning the scientific proof behind the Creation Story.

I will not hold you back. Live your life the way you want to live it, because you are limitless.

But yes, I will be your home.

I will welcome you home with a smile and open arms. I will take care of you when you’re down with a fever, or when you’ve had just too much to drink. I’ll listen to your stories and rants about your experiences and what you’ve learned. I’ll make you the best “hangover recovery” breakfast you’ve ever had in your whole life. I’ll gently brush your hair, and tell you you’re the most beautiful person in existence, inside and out.

I will be your resting place.

*I will accept you, and I will love you. Come home.