Change yourself,
do what you like.
You'll always just be
the same old Mike.

Be what you will
your actions are past
no one can judge you
memories won't last

I know you think
they're too strong to forget
but I know you enough
to know you regret

Regret is a tool
used to make better a man
so don't tempt forgetfulness
You are you. So stand.

Nor does anyone, at this point, know who he or she is.

We all compare ourselves to an ideal image of ourselves
kept captive against our irises
by our eyelids

This is why
I'm stuck
in a broiling ocean
of self-discovery

No different from the experiences of others, all flailing and trying to stay afloat around me,
but just as tragic.
We do not pity one another.

We fight harder to earn the freedom that will allow us
to help others out of the water
when we in turn are strong enough

I'll hold back my longing to quote Shakespeare's sagacity here
and instead apologize,
though I know not what for.

The world is indeed cold and unforgiving.

It is how we forge our way through hoping for the best
that makes us
who we are.

No one really understands how strong they are until they feel pain.
Pain brought on by others, sure.
But pain brought on by oneself.
Ink by ink and bone by bone,
We write our own rifles
To shoot our penned images down with.

Don't feel as if you are alone.
How many views do you have?
How many witnesses are there
To your black stained suffering
That could turn to red any moment?

Who knows.
I know.

I know the silence a written page can scream
Louder than any thoughts and any people.

Just know that no matter the lack of comments
No matter the absence of physicality to hear you
Your pain
Is being read.

It hurts.
You know what I mean.
Like ripping off a bandaid-
Except this one is a mountain high
And firmaments long.
And one thread at a time,
It pulls at my heart and shreds it
With the recollections
Of ideas, loves, memories
We were ready to create
And share.
Is it the end?
You seem to think so.
But is it wrong of me to hope
That this adhesive strip
Pulls up not disgust and forgetfulness
But hope?

This is life.

How we get though it

is how we will become

stronger

...and now I just feel guilty....

Now I feel guilty.

I'm having trouble wording everything right now, I'm sorry.

No, YOU'RE my life.

There's just so much...so much else people expect from me.

My parents, my friends, my teachers, colleges.

Juggling it will be hard....and I want to make sure you get the attention you deserve.

And I'm just saying, it won't be easy.

*Can't promise things won't be broken, but I swear that I'll never leave.

I get busy.

I have a hard work ethic, and while it may be a curse for people I care about, it's not for me.

Working makes me very happy...

...so do you. But Life likes being lived in quarantines, and I'm not going to break walls between regions just to let them collide.

Too messy.