I'd always loved the way your black hair touched the tip of your ears so barely,
and you'd brush it out of those big brown eyes that sparkled in the sun.
You may not have had the smile of a model,
but it was my favorite sight that I could think of.
And the way you touched me, not even provocatively,
but the way our fingers intertwined,
the way you'd put your hands on my face
or the back of my neck
when we kissed.
Oh my, you kissed like it was the only thing keeping you to this earth;
so addicting,
so refreshing;
so eager
yet so patient.
And maybe the thing I loved the most
was the way you would let me call you
Nickolas.

But that summer we spent was frozen over
and buried by the lovers you've had in your bed
since our times.
Drugs and *** became your passion,
while mine became crying in my room,
and burning my skin.
You shaved off your hair, your eyes are so dull.
She traces lines on your body that I once drew.
But I see the way you kiss her and it's not the same,
I remember the way you looked at me
the last time we talked.
The way you hugged me when I was on the verge of breaking down,
in the middle of the cafeteria.
Maybe our time together was not in vain,
maybe we'll be together,
in another life.
But then again I could be wrong, for when I called you Nickolas;
you flatly replied,
"It's Nick."

I'm a nice person to talk to. I respect everyone and everything. May don't like being in a room with three or more people, makes me feel trapped. Got no enemies, just friends, or I don't know if you can even call them friends, their people I know but don't talk to.

I will try tell you people a bit about me and area. I live in Canada, Saskatchewan. In a reserve called James Smith, this is home in this village. Not much to do here. I got both my parents, but my dad wants to run away from us, he's stuck in a old folks home for the old and disabled, my dad aint that old. He needs one of his daughters with him, I'm the only one that's still young and free, the other two sisters of mine they're struggling for a home for their little families. I  love my dad for who he is, don't get to see him much though. My mum, i ran away from her once or more. I'm mum's babygirl, I dont think I will leave her again cause it hurted the both of us. Theres just something different between my mum and I. She knows I love her though, she's just as bored as I am.

My two sisters, they both live in this village, Genevieve is having a rough time with her boyfriend, at least she won't ever leave her two kids, Dante and Danica. Not much to say about Gen, she is the oldest, she's a good sister. She bites sometimes, nibbles on my nerves. Ha!

Cassandra, my sister she has two sons, Jathan and Nickolas, she's going to school. She's trying to move away from our village and get a life, I might seem funny saying it that way" get a life" but foreal people here don't do anything cause most of them quit school and got no carreer, just cheap jobs that's something though.

My little brother Joey, I try look out for him, only bro I got. There's two ways to say Moostoos, there's Moostoos and mostos. Moostoos is my dad's last name, and mostos stands for cow in Cree. I'm 100% Cree, full blooded First Nations Cree Indian. Being native is like we can live on welfare and get a lot free. I'm only living on welfare cause I'm stuck till I graduate so if I want to get out of here I got to finish school, nother two and a half years till then.

My past bothers me a whole lot, but I am managing it, people thought I lost my mind when I went suicidal a few times. I will be ok. I tell everybody to be ok. My family knows I'm shy, I'm not afraid, I'm just not use to being around loud people. I love to laugh and smile a lot, it hides my sadness, depression and all that. I nearly forgot what its like to laugh hard, I got no one to laugh with and be weird, just my sister Gen, but I rarely see her.

My goal is to be around people more often, made that up as I am thinking of random stuff I like about this place. Pp.s I really really have a big heart for animals. I try my hardest to sound like I care about other people, I must seem very nice.

Got to love art, books, and poetry. Only if I was as good as you's at poetry and stuff. So have yourself a good day or night. Take Care out their. Ta ta!

When I bought food today, the guy behind the counter said,
"How's your weekend?" and "Have a good day, Nick."
My response was, "You as well." And I really meant it. I couldn't believe he read Nickolas on my I-card, assumed people call me Nick, (which they do), and called me Nick.
I left and I thought to myself, "I'm like him."
I love connecting with people. I want to not be afraid to talk personally with people who I don't know personally. I just want to dive in.
I want to read nametags and after the wonderful young lady at Starbucks gives me my change for my Grande Caramel Machiato, I'd say, "Thanks Sara. Have a great day". She might look at me and say "Thanks! You as well! :)" Or she might say, "Thanks...you too o_O"
Does it matter?
When you give someone your love, even if it's just a milliliter, especially if it's just a milliliter, do they have to like it? Do they have to reciprocate it?
Do those people who always smile and are full of love prefer their lovees to be put off by their kindness, making the lover superior because they have more love than the lovee could ever imagine?

It's just that love has to be selfish. There must be something to gain.
I love people and I never got out of that phase of when you're a child and you think everyone is perfect and they know what they're doing.

See, I cognitively now realize that people are just as lost as me, but emotionally, I feel that everyone else is on a level above me and I am a few levels down. In terms of how much love I deserve, how much attention I deserve.

I love seeing other people happy. But me? I could do without it. It's immaterial.

So when other people love, it's lovey love, it's happiness love, it's the love that's in the air, the love that makes you hold open doors, the love that makes you human.

When I love, it's the love that makes you write letters, the love that's begging for attention, looking for approval, trying to dominate others, trying to be human.

I want to be just like you. If I could treat myself how I treat you, I might be happier.

You can love something and not care about taking care of it. You can love something and let it go. You can love yourself and let yourself go.

It's really bad but I want to share this with others because my artwork might help someone someday and it helps me and that's cool, but knowing that everything I produce might someday make someone's life better even if it's just for one second, then it's worth it. It's extremely worth it.

So I want to be like that guy who works at that place. Someone who cares. And underneath all of that "I deserve way less than other people" emotional nonsense that plagues my neurons, I am.

Macabre Hell Aviv is a
very fitting name for a
blood libel soccer club.

Next match is moved
from Istanbul to Paris,
(2nd largest Jew pop)

Death to the Arabs is a
lawful chant in France,
not so much in Turkey.

Emmanuelle Macaroni is
attending, avec Baguette,
in her cheese cloth Hijab.

Nickolas Star*cosy and
Karla Brown<•>eye are
bringing their Karcher™.

Not so sure if there may
be any "Pied Noirs" but,
will Zidane be present ?









Ps

Israel is not in Europe,
so why are they allowed
in Eurovision & UEFA?

Ps x 2

Pied Noir is the term for
children of white French
born in Algeria, as Camus.