When walking through a gravesite, you forget that several feet under lies the body of a person you may or may not know.

I have a surname and plot number...

This could have been my family.

Maybe it is.
Maybe it was.

I don't feel worthy enough to sit in the grass before the tombstones.

To place my hands on the stones... they're so cold.

I've read the inscriptions.

Never forgotten by wife and son.
Faithful unto death, may he rest in peace.
A soldier of the great war.
Known unto God

Known unto God

Known unto God.

I have a surname and a plot number written in roman numerals, somebody tell me where I can find the plot under the number 30.

I ran through the gravesite only to find 29.

And I ran out of time.

So tell me where I can find him.

After all... an unknown family wrapped in a common surname is all I really know.

I wrote the date at the top of the page.

And nothing else.

I flew into this day from the second flight and stayed up the entire day.

And yet...

I wrote nothing.

So about an hour or so to go and not a moment of actual sleep to be had.

Surprising that I'm actually still very much awake and living as much as I am. So I guess it's just something about the flights that keep me forever awake. So now that the traveling is almost over, what am I supposed to do now?

Other than more waiting for the adventure that is the next 8 days. And sure, 1 hour isn't a long time on any given normal day. But this is a plane to Paris.

And time seems to pass slower on any plane. So I guess I'm just waiting out the next hour for now. Not much, but enough to drag out the rest of this flight.

Ugh. I do not like waiting. But what else is there to do? I guess there's only so much to do from here. So for right now, I'll get back to the writing when I'm in Paris.

Only because I'm tired of writing the same phrases page after page.

There's only so much I can write on this plane.

Seeing as we still have about 4-ish hours to go, I can only wonder what I can do in that time. 4 hours is enough time to watch a few good musicals. But I don't seem to have access to those at the moment.

So my best options are to write, sleep, or talk. But the latter doesn't seem all that successful at the moment. (The bachelor is definitely a distraction.)

So that's a bit nerve racking, but I'm managing.

Other than that, music therapy is seeming like a really good thing. And yet, I don't feel all that different going to Paris. I mean, things could have turned out differently for different reasons.

And that's just listing tons of possibilities taking everything into account. And sure, thing could've played out differently but this is what I've got. And honestly, I'm not complaining. I'm pretty okay with where I am and where I'm going.

I mean, I'm on my way to Paris. So why would I even think of being the one to complain?

This is gonna be a once in a lifetime thing. So taking everything into account, I should just enjoy it right?

I mean, that works for me.

To Paris!

In like 4 hours...

I can wait.

~April 6th, 2017~

Dear Yesterday,

Right now the panic is setting in to your body like the third wave of infection we didn't write poetry about. And let me tell you, the anxiety and stress with everything will subside throughout the flight.

Not a normal feeling of excitement or anything , but you feel the joy eventually. But for now, take my advice and relax a bit. Don't worry too much about what will happen once you get there.

Leave life in it's upside-down, unpredictable state. Give up some control.

I mean, I've forgotten what it's like to be above clouds. It seems so close to high haven and yet...

Still a long drop down.

And sure, I'm not really scared of falling from here. Just my thanatophobic tendencies. But in all honesty, I think I'm gonna be more scared of the people on this trip then the actual trip.

Only because of things like first impressions and my personal friend group staying together.

I can only hope that nothing goes wrong for us. And honestly, probably nothing will.

Optimism right?

You see,
I get it.
I get it when people say, "there's nothing too big that you can't handle," or,
"God will never put you through anything you can't handle", or,
"There's no obstacle too big. . ." yada yada *******.
I get it.
I get that it serves as a reminder to us that no matter what we face in life, we are already strong enough to overcome it.
It's true. I totally get it.

But that's *******.
Everything about those sayings and statements is *******.
I want people to look at my life—I want people to look at what I've gone through and say,
"How the **** did he do that??"
I want to look at my life,
And say,
"How the **** did I do that??"
I want to be able to say that life had me cornered, but I fought my way through.
I want to be able to say that life had me backed up, but I pushed back harder.
I want to be able to say that life knocked me down, but I got back up again, again, and again.
I want to be able to say that I conquered my mountains,
I conquered my Goliath's,
I conquered the very thing that I thought I was incapable of and unqualified of conquering.
I want to be able to say that I got through things that were BIGGER than me.
And I want to be able to say that life was pressing me,
But I got stronger.
I got better,
And I got smarter.
I want to be able to say that life dragged me to my breaking point,
But I pushed it to the next level—beyond my limits.
I don't want to say "nothing is too big"
Because to me that basically says that nothing I face is worthy of something—
That nothing I face will make me stronger,
Will make me better, and shape me into the person I am today.

Character is forged through the fire of life. And we can only see what we are made of when we take on a life that is bigger than ourselves.

I sat in this dark room
reloading the empty gun.

I gazed at it, ran my fingers across it,
reached for my target and fired!

But the page remained blank.
I had every intent, but no motive.

Because although I wanted you dead,
I refused to move on.

#Writer’sBlock
*Timelessessence