How can this be it?
Wasn't there a talk of the promised land?
Where we could all be free,
running across the fabled white sand.

Here I am waiting for the day to come,
The day that will shine so bright.
And from the damp and cold corner,
I will walk into the light.

Everyone’s getting covid. It’s become serious.
And pretty much everyone here is triple vaxxed.
1 in 17 at Yale have it now. One of my roommates got it.
I’m hoping I get it - if I get it - before finals.
‘cause I doubt Yale professors would give extensions.
“You’re dying? Did you not read the syllabus? NO extensions”

“What were you like as a kid?“ He asked.
Umm, “naïve..,” “boyish.. obsessive.” I answered, thoughtfully.
And how would you describe yourself now? He follows-up.
Umm, “less naïve..” “boyish.. obsessive.,” we laughed.

2006: Taylor Swift releases her first album. I was three years old.
I grew up with her - every breakup, every turns-out-gay boyfriend.
She’s brilliant - don’t get me wrong - no doubt in the universe,
but she’s not the underdog any more - not an outsider - she’s FAB rich, royalty, no, better than royalty. And she has the Taylor army.
Why is she always threatening physical violence?
Taylor is candid, she’s gay and straight, she’s republican, rageful, ****** and complex and I want to believe she actually ran someone down aka a Gatsby
She’s the Alexander Pope of our generation.
I’m just questioning the Taylor Swift breakup-industrial-complex.

Is Pete Davidson hot? I can’t decide.
He looks sort of gangly and awkward.
He’s dating Kim Kardashian.
I mean it’s not like Kanye is hot.
She’s obviously not looking for THAT.

this must be
the correct train
there was not
another option
it was waiting
on the expected platform
it departed
at the expected time
and it headed
in the expected direction

despite all of that
i remain on edge
at every juncture
of the journey
every announcement
sets me on edge
every stop
sees me checking
double-checking
that this is
the anticipated station
that i am on course

even when assured
of heading the right way
there is no relaxation
instead
I’ll countdown each station
yet to be visited
before reaching
that final destination
as each station is passed
another count is completed;
numbering one stop less
than the previous

and yet still
i will lose track
of where i am
and how far remains
of my journey
panic will set in
blinded by doubts
and undue regrets
i will question
it all

How do I pull myself out
when I am buried
6ft under

-em vidar

What does it mean to take a chance?
What does it mean to make a change?
What does it mean to be strange,
and why is it so scary?
"Where should I go? What should I do?"
"How should I know? I'm not you."
So many questions. So little time.
I guess the good thing is,
you get to decide the answers

before, questions lingered in the air.
weary eyed nights were spent
stuffing yourself into a small box
for someone who only took you
on long, winding, painful paths
where the ends were shrouded
by looming trees and bushes.

now, the air is blissfully clear.
someone smiles when you stretch.
they walk right alongside you.
there may be darkness along the way,
but they will hold your hand through it.
the end of this path is straight ahead -
bright, expansive, and fruitful.

why is the voice of all
my disappointments;
louder than the cheers of all
my success;
and why I do I have to constantly
search for happiness,
yet easily be found depressed?

You built the walls
to keep yourself safe.
But the question isn't
"will they come down."
The question is
will you LET them fall on top of you,
or MAKE them fall next to you?