Did you know I saw a razor blade
In the grass on my walk home today

And it made me stop mid-stride
Imagining what it would feel like
on the inside of my arm

Did you know, when I saw that story about
the pedestrian, the thought that went
through my head

That it could've been me instead
And I wouldn't much mind being dead

Did you know I would be the one
to flame out

There's no purpose in work and life
Nothing to care about

Did you know that after six months
apart and away

I still cry over our friendship,
our loss, nearly every day

You exist. You exist.
**** all them who says you don't.
Your identity is yours alone.
Believe. Believe in you, yourself.

Today, Catholics celebrate the Presentation of Mary (by her parents to the church). In the days of old, the church was the primary medium of education and, in some cases, parents would dedicate their first born to the church as a sort of tithe giving back to God in gratitude for the first fruits of their blessings.

When we are young our parents took us and presented us to the church, and we are placed in the care of wise men and women to be taught and brought up in the life and the way and the truth. This is in hopes that we would grow in wisdom and age and favor before both God and man. When we are a little older, we can choose to present ourselves before the Lord and confess by our lips and our actions that we believe and serve. We take ownership of our faith. It is not simply our parents' faith anymore.

The presentation is an offering, a sacrifice, a return in gratitude of blessings. Let us, then, come daily before the Lord Our God and present ourselves to Him, to thank Him, to offer Him all our joys and sorrows, blessings, temptations, work and play. Let us begin by presenting Him with our day.

What would happen if WE would rededicate our hearts, our days, and our lives to Christ our Lord? Doing it can't make things any worse than they are by not doing it. So why not give it a shot?

Kicked down.
Cold floor. Breath thinner than the air.
Get up.
Hands reach, no grip.
Alone, lost again.
Crying echoes back to silence.
Floods of tears—
no ark, no warmth, just noise.

Thrown down.
Fallen,
too many times.
Get up, try again.
But the hands,
they never pull me up.
Just flickers of light—
brief, empty.
Alone. Lost.
I shout, but no one hears.
A flood of tears,
they turn their backs.
Flee.
Craving warmth,
but it's just cold silence.

Craving safety, security.
A place to breathe.
But the love that’s offered,
it’s conditional.
Harsh words.
Poking, pain,
no softness.
Empty arms,
no warmth.
Alone again,
lost in the night.
I’m down here,
on the cold floor.
Don’t leave me here—
please.
Not again.
Afraid.
Empty.

A burden.
A disappointment.
That’s all I am.
A ghost, never seen,
only felt.
I love, yet all I get is hate.
Thrown back at me,
cold, sharp.
No warmth for the lost,
just more silence.
Another night on the floor,
cold,
alone.

The darkness is heavy.
I can’t rise.
Maybe this is where I belong,
buried beneath the weight.
The coldness, the grime.
No line thrown.
Alone, I sink deeper.
This feels like home—
empty, silent,
a place no one calls their own.
Another night,
heart breaking,
again.

I’m sorry.
For whatever I’ve done,
to push you away.
I can't believe it turned out like this.
Is this the end?
Another night,
more tears,
more silence.
I only wanted a place,
to belong,
to feel seen.
But I guess that’s too much to ask.