part of me feels so ashamed
and I can see their faces now
corneas coated in pity
but they didn't expect anything else,
not really
it's never different,
it's just me
a sad exhale, it never changes
I'd stop trying if it meant
escaping their cassette-recording speeches and sorries
but part of me desperately wants,
aches to prove them wrong
that I'm not cursed
that it can be me
that I deserve it too

Knowledge only takes you so far;
Authenticity reveals your complexity,
Humility accepts your vulnerability,
Surrendering accepts the hand of the one
that is all things: knowledgeable, authentic, humble,
and submitted to the ultimate power in the universe.

The year Rose turned sixteen,
I was lost in the haze of my own life,
unaware of the world unfolding around me.
I saw her grow taller, her voice deepen,
but I failed to see the woman she was becoming.

With Daisy, at sixteen,
a whirlwind of energy and passion erupted –
a force of nature I couldn't contain or calm.
I saw her dreams taking flight,
but words of encouragement stuck in my throat.

Laurel, at sixteen,
was a quiet observer, a deep thinker –
intelligence and sensitivity shone bright.
Yet, I struggled to connect on her level,
to speak the language of her gentle heart.

And Lilly, sixteen –
a mirror image of her mother, Maggie's beauty –
reminded me of love I'd once held close.
I saw potential blooming, heart full of pride,
but past regrets silenced my voice.

As years passed, daughters blossomed –
each unique petal unfolding –
I witnessed accomplishments, struggles, and strength.
But pride and love remained unspoken –
hidden beneath fear of emotional reckoning.

Now, as life fades, I confront
missed years, words left unspoken,
love I failed to show – heavy regrets weigh.
Can Maggie and our daughters forgive
the father I should have been, the love I withheld?

To Maggie, My Love
In dying light, my heart sees clearly –
your patience, devotion, and gentle soul.
You nurtured our daughters through my haze,
loved them – and me – without condition.

Forgive my silence, my absent heart –
yours was the love that kept our family whole.
Take care of our girls, and know you were
my forever love – the one I should have held closer.

Act I: The Universe Breathes, and I Am an Afterthought

I arrived late to existence,
billions of years after the stars had their golden age.
Missed the Big Bang,
missed the Renaissance,
missed the time when love letters were written on paper,
instead of reducing feelings to keystrokes.

They handed me a body,
a mind that questions too much,
and a world obsessed with carving meaning out of chaos—
as if Sisyphus hadn’t already proven
we’re all just rolling boulders uphill,
pretending not to notice the futility.

Act II: The Weight of Knowing, the Lightness of Forgetting

Socrates said, “The only thing I know is that I know nothing.”
I read that at 3 a.m. and felt personally attacked.
Descartes told me, “I think, therefore I am,”
but some days, I think too much and forget how to be.

History is a carousel of déjà vu,
spinning the same tragedies on repeat.
Empires fall, currencies crash,
trends resurrect themselves like poorly buried ghosts.
The Greeks feared hubris,
the Romans feared the barbarians,
I fear how meaning crumbles when no one is left to remember.

Act III: Beyond Meaning, Beyond Regret

Maybe Dante was right—
hell isn’t fire, it’s bureaucracy.
Maybe we’re just modern Stoics in overpriced hoodies,
romanticizing the art of being okay with things we can’t change.

Maybe meaning isn’t found in grand gestures,
but in the quiet absurdity of it all—
in watching the sun rise like it’s not exhausted,
in laughing at a joke older than Shakespeare,
in knowing that despite wars, collapses, heartbreaks, and lost civilizations—
someone, somewhere, still bakes bread from scratch,
still hums a song they don’t remember the name of,
still chooses to keep going.

Final Scene: To Exist Is to Hesitate, and Yet—

Nietzsche said, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”
I’m still figuring out my why.
But in the meantime,
I’ll sip my coffee, watch the world spin,
and pretend I was always meant to be here.

Well, I guess we need
To send out the hounds.
For the crafty sheepdogs
To go pick out the bad actors
Hiding among the crowds.
Look over your shoulder,
There's that chill again,
The heat is rising
And you can feel something creeping.
Let it take you on,
Lest it take you over.
We've been
Building momentum,
Silently growing
Like a beautiful lotus
Or festering fungus.
It's just a matter of perspective,
It's only a matter of time.
Give in, or give up.
Fly if you will,
Fight if you think you must,
But listen to your neighbors.
Are you honest?
Are you trusting?
Are you nurturing?
Don't worry, don't stress out;
We're gonna figure each angle,
Lay out all the motives.
It's all there
On the internet,
And freely given!
You had a choice, you made a choice-
You dressed up the bed, now rest in it.

I like to sprinkle my likeness within my work,
Sometimes it's elusive or hidden.
Sometimes it is plainly written out
If you just read it from the right perspective.
A bird's eye view,
The lense of the cartographer,
The fun of the stenographer:
A wider & broader picture.

I’ll smile
For attention
And then **** it
Within seconds
Cause you’re dumb