I stare out into a Bob Ross painted sky, drifting in and out of a black and white dream
Watching colors fade away and appear as I open my eyes, the scenes played out in front of me challenge my beliefs
I get lost in the shadows of an evil that seems to dwell, it's trapped too deep inside me to hope for anything
Like a movie playing, I can't seem to tell, which character is the most related to me
I'm an on and off switch trapped in a tornado warning of emotions I can't begin to understand
Stuck between two paralleling lines I can no longer command
I couldn't tell you how fast I'm going or if I'm even really here
And as the paint drys on my life, an unfinished product is my only fear

The oppression hangs stiff and unrelenting
And the sincerity comes off too awkward and from left field
I just want to move, but all I can accomplish are twitches in different directions
You're talking at me, not with me
And I'm close to fabricating an elaborate story to put you in shut down mode so that I can continue on my day
I don't care about your message
I'm not buying your book, I'm not reading your pamphlet, and I'm not joining your group.
I'm eating a ******* burrito, and that's IT.

Sometimes I hold a dead phone to my face so I don't look crazy as I talk to myself.

Once when I was young,* I was told you could swing so high you'd be able to just *fly away.  

   I learned early on
               That not everything we're told is true
               The fantastical can sometimes amount to a pile of plastic bags scattered in the wind
                    The end isn't always happy and there's not always closure
      Punctuations are more often question marks than definitive periods
                And looking for a definite explanation took prevalence over allowing our imaginations to fill in the blanks.
         Play time was replaced with study time,
             And before we knew it, it was time for work
                      We strayed from the playgrounds of our youth,
      Never returning to the top of the slide, we'd hit the ground a bit too hard to keep the enchantment of seemingly endless possibilities going
                                              Carriages became pumpkins long before midnight,
              And the school bell rang before we could finish our fun
                       But to tell the truth, sometimes,
     When everyone else has gone inside, back to the real world, full of logic and banalities,
         I sit on the old swingset kicking my feet
    Hoping it will let me *soar

Don't categorize yourself with someone else, don't lump yourself into a specific type. One similarity does not a commonality make. A million and one people may all have done what you've done or felt what you've felt but that does not breed you together into one common group or make their goals yours or your goals something they have any possibility of reaching. It may sound cliche but you are the only you, no one else could be you or truly understand everything you've ever felt to the core of your being since you've become you. And this you, the one you stare at every day in the mirror, is not the you you've always been and is certainly not the you you'll always be. You are continually changing and becoming more than you've ever been before. If you keep trying and doing and working towards something, anything that's better than what you are right now then you've already surpassed every category, type or group that you lumped yourself into. You are not a category. You are not what anyone else thinks you are. You are what you try to become, what you hope to become, what you've always dreamed you'd become.

Sometimes
Life keeps moving when you're trying so hard to hold still.
Roll with the punches, make changes, do something to better yourself
Or *simply fade away.
There's more out there,
There's undiscovered emotions and ideas that could broaden your horizons wider than the most beautiful sunset that you may never even see because you were too set in your ways to go outside your comfortable little box and really SEE the world.

*The choice is yours.

Muhammad Ali died on the third.
Kimbo Slice died yesterday.*

    If one thing is now clear, it's that life doesn't appreciate those who are strong enough to fight back.