There will be days when I want to be alone more than I want your help.

Sometimes I won't even think I need you around. I won't want your help.

I don't do this to hurt you.
I know it does anyway.

Just..

Wait for me.
I'll come around when you aren't waiting on me.
Wait for me.

There will be days when the past and my depression will be taken out on you. And I won't be able to stop it. I'm sorry.

Lately I've been trying to avoid apologies. Mostly because I've heard too many of them over the months.

I've changed.
Accept it. Because it's fact.
I didn't want to change.
But what else was I supposed to do?
Losing one of you was bad enough.
And if you're not careful, you'll lose me.

So heed my advice.

Wait for me.
Don't ask me when I'll be there.

I know in another life I wouldn't tell you this.

But that was before everything changed.

I no longer feel guilty for leaving people to wait.
Only because other people don't feel remorse about what happened to me.

People left me to wait.
Wait for what?
Nothing.

People picked out and left.
Rightfully so.

So I leave people to wait...




See?
Until I feel guilty enough.
Until I feel the guilt that others couldn't feel for me.

I need expected them to.

You need to understand that I am a good person.
Despite what I will eventually say.

Despite what they will say...

I'm not a bad person.

At least, I hope not.

...Wait for me.
Please.

Shut up and listen to me.

I am, and always will be broken.
I've changed, everyone changes, that's life.
I am a cynical, overtired, crying mess and that is the most beautiful thing I can say about myself right now.

Classic, I know.

I can't love myself yet.
But I do not need to right now.

Let me feel this pain for what it is and let it drag me through the cement until I freeze in my despair.

I will come back when they drill me out of my shock.

But as for my presence, I left that at home.
And I left home with someone else, and someone else took home on a backpacking journey with "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey blasting through their senior year headphones.

I left home, and home left me, what is the difference? Can't you see I'm struggling to know where my home is.

I need to pick back up, and when I do home will come back to me.

Because shouldn't home be here?

Shouldn't I be here?

Home should be with me, I should be with me, I should BE, I should see the presence of God and be present in awe of that.

I should be home.

Home is with them, and they are not with me.

Home should be mine to have, and theirs to rent.

Home should be here.
Home is me.

Home is here.

HOME is HERE.

Home is here **** it.

HOME IS HERE!



Hip hop and punk rock played its way out of my playlist when they paid their last rent and left for a new house.

Home is empty.

The house is mine now.

Home is mine.
Home is me.

Home is here.

The Artist and a bottle

Saw him at the supermarket,
had seen him before
when he was a child, he bought two litre bottles
of plonk,
told him to buy a better quality wine,
he didn’t listen to me.
I shared a table with him and
a painter in the park,
they sat there drinking didn’t offer me any.
The artist, disturbed by our silence  
got up and began painting a tree,
red trunk, black leaves and something yellow in between,
I thought of the Belgian flag;
winter dark place, windy many canals, but the beer was good.
The artist, now famous, sold his tree moved
away and said deep things to magazines about art.
My childhood friend died; cancer it was said, but it could have
been the cheap wine.

Dream!!
Entered heaven
sat near the dark pool
waiting for her
she came
no human body
but
Only eyes and
checked my image in lake
just my eyes
Is there is
only soul can enter the heaven??
and
Is our eyes are our soul??