There are too many questions that exist in this world.
There is little trust and much pain.
We are so accustomed to doing what we always do.
The same mornings, afternoons and evenings.
Where is the adventure in that?

One day you're a kid running around in the backyard,
and then, all of a sudden you are grown.
You move out of your mother's house and fend for yourself.

Do you believe something just because it's all you know?
Do you strive for deeper meaning?
Or maybe knowing more is a dangerous thing.

Who will you live with one day, and where?
What will you believe?
How will you see the world?

Everything is just one big adventure.
We can't sit back in what makes us comfortable forever.
The day will come where we try something new, hear something new, see something new.
And will you allow yourself to branch away from what has always been home?

Don't step back.
Jump.

Sometimes I believe that I am crazy.
Not crazy in love, or crazy smart.
But downright, medication provoking insanity.

Questioning myself, back and forth.
There are two of me.
She smiles and does what she is told.
I break out of my close entrapment and let her see the real world.

The world that has no answers,
the world that has such strict boundaries on what is "normal."
What is normal?

They say that I can still be like them.
They say that medication will take me away,
and leave her by herself.
She is the real crazy one: the complacent conformist.

And so she smiles and keeps our mouth closed.

And she was glowing.
A freshly lit candle, building in its fiery strength.

And she was fearless.
Hanging from the bridge she had not yet crossed.

And she was joyful.
Happy.
Open.

Light as a cloud.
Her happiness had never been so loud.

Things could be so easy,
if we would let them be.

We could be much happier,
if we just let go.

Instead of saying,

no
no
know.

Just know.

The two sat together on the ripped pleather diner booth,
eating mashed corn meal and sipping luke warm tea.
Who were they?
Dencher paste and a floral dress.
What used to be, lingering in the past like a faded sepia photograph.
Two booths behind them sit another smitten pair,
eating hamburgers, fries and sharing a Butterfinger milkshake.
Who will they be?
Laced up boots and faded blue jeans.
What's ahead of them, a mystery wrapped in a paper box, laced with a bow.
A present.
Both pairs remain in the present,
frozen in time for only a short while.
The older couple waves to the younger couple as they leave.
"See you later Grandma," the young girl says with a knowing smile.