"dear you"

dear christopher or christina,

i've always loved names with Christ in them. it's funny because i was never very religious, which you could've guessed by now, but the way the word "Christ" looked on a page was beautiful, i thought. i still do. it has an archaic feel to it; i always imagine it in faded script, the name of the Son of God who died for our sins. i guess i'm more religious now than i ever was or at least more aware of my sins.

the window in front of me is streaked with drops of rain and has been for the past three days. perhaps, that's why i'm writing now. because of the rain and how it reminds me of you.

"you." if i knew who you'd turn out to be or knew you were actually a "you" when i conceived you in my womb, then i imagine "you'd" be sitting on the empty blue, fabric couch in the living room, watching television drowning out the pitter, patter of rain drizzling the windows with your sitcoms, reality shows, or baseball games. or perhaps you'd be practicing an instrument. guitar. i like guys who play guitar. i also like girls who are musical. girls are better suited for the piano. my mother thought so too, or maybe she conditioned me to believe it by forcing me to take lessons. i can still remember being bent over the mahogany piano that my mother had bought brand new, stretching my little fingers as far as i could to hit the right notes at the right time to produce something mellifluous. but my best practices echoed through the air with cacophonous intensity into my mother's disappointed ears. i wouldn't have wanted that for you.

but who knows. you could've been talented. you could've been good at everything i was bad at. i didn't understand my mother's incessant nagging that i take up another instrument after i gave up on the piano. i was only nine years old, but mother panicked, afraid the window for discovering my talents was rapidly closing.

i tried my hand at stringed instruments: the violin, cello, even the harp. but i wasn't fit for music, so my mother imagined that i was harboring some secret artistic ability in my hands. so she hired an art tutor, a poor art school student, who would guide my left hand with hers to draw a fat elephant with cylindrical legs and feet, big, flappy ears, and a snake-like trunk. she hoped that by guiding my hands along, i'd learn to draw like her. her hands were like training wheels waiting to be taken off when i learned to balance the pencil by myself, drawing the same smooth curves, and shading in the dark and light lines of the elephant to show depth. i never did. i liked how easy it was to just let her guide my pencil and effortlessly produce such pretty drawings.   

i never did find my talent. but i found your father when i was 15, who last i heard was working as a mechanic back in our hometown. he was a handsome boy with light brown hair and green eyes, a high bridged nose and thin lips that he liked to constantly keep moist with his tongue. i called him by his middle name, Chris, even though everyone else called him by his first, Pete. that was special to me. he made me feel like the talent i didn't have. our relationship felt so natural. when he swept my hair back and told me he loved me, i wanted to give him everything. and i thought that it would be enough.

i thought that it would be enough that one, wet afternoon, he climbed up and through my window drenched in the summer downpour. as he looked at me with piercing, green eyes he told me that he wanted all of me and that he would make me feel special. because i was. peeling off his soaked shirt, i gave him my all.

his last words to me were, "i'll see you around." and he left, climbing out the same window that he had crept in through. the next few weeks were a blur of tears and confusion as i wondered where he had gone, why he hadn't bothered to talk to me since that rainy day. then the nausea came. and the vomiting. i had to look for him when i suspected that there was life inside of me. i even harbored a secret hope that this would yoke me and your father together. when i told him i was pregnant with you, he denied that you were his. he denied me and told me to stay away because he didn't know me. i should've known then. i should've known that you  weren't just a mistake. maybe you weren't his, but you were mine. 

but i was blind.

i didn't see you as anything, just a violation of me, not a part of me, so i let you go. i let you go before you took one breath and i let you go before i could know you.

i'm sorry.

even if i've said it a thousand times, it wouldn't be enough, but i need you to know that i am truly and completely sorry.

i'm sorry that you couldn't hear your name called by your own mother, that you never uttered any words, that you never fully came to be.

forgive me, please. i know i don't deserve it, but i need your forgiveness. i need you.

this apartment is empty without you. my closets overflow with pairs of designer shoes, my kitchen with pots and pans that i don't even use, my bedroom where i sleep alone. i wonder where all this time has gone and i wonder if the greatest punishment is having never gotten to have you or no longer having the opportunity to grow a life inside me. it seems that the window has closed.

i like to think that my greatest talent was yet to be discovered in your birth, in being a mother.

Christopher. Christina.


Love,

Mom

xxx

an O after our first date,

another O, maybe a X on a cheek after,

the latter depending on your comfort.

i don't want to force it. or force you.

i want to earn your X and swear an

oath to you, so that all our days

will be spent XOXOing in love

and intimacy to the glory of God.

why don't we seal our oath with an X?

i'm afraid that my XXX obsession will

rear its head to tempt me, to rip me from

from your O.

but i pray that God will change me, that i

will fight for you. the only XXX i want is

with you on our marriage bed. i want to

X you everywhere, my lips scaling every

inch of skin on your body, to O you in my

arms as you fall asleep. i hope these X's

and O's will be the overflow of love from

God to us and from us to our children.

i will keep these X's and O's to myself until

we are bound together and i pray that our lives

together will be like pi, 3.14..., and be filled with

endless

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOs...

roller coasters

"are you afraid of roller coasters?"

i am.

"why? you think you're going to fall off and die or something?"

maybe. that's part of the reason, i guess.

"well, it has happened, i'm sure. so that fear is validated, but the chances of that happening are slim to none."

to be honest, i don't know why i am scared of roller coasters. i'm not sure if it's a fear more than a dislike or even hatred for a roller coaster.

"elaborate."

well, a roller coaster is essentially a joy ride. people enjoy riding them, but some people hate them. and most of them are scared of falling off and dying, but i've ridden enough coasters to know that i don't like them. i don't like them because they're not fun at all. people that love them find them thrilling for different reasons. the screaming, the laughing, and the blood pumping through your veins faster than it normally would, but there's no real risk in a roller coaster.

"i mean there are risks in riding it like everything else. like riding a car is a risk, but it's not as fun as a roller coaster."

that's very true, but people ride the coaster for that risk. no one rides a car just for pleasure, it gets you places and the risk you take riding it is a risk you take because you have to. but people that ride roller coasters want to take the risk of riding a roller coaster because it's the closest you can get to almost dying.

"i think there are a lot of ways that you can almost die without riding a roller coaster."

right, like bungee jumping, sky diving. i'm not saying that people who ride roller coasters have a death wish, but they want to feel the thrill and climax of almost dying when they ride. it's evident in most roller coasters. they all have a big, slow climb up to a top of a peak and slowly go over that peak to drop hard and fast downwards. the anticipation of the climb and the slow agonizing tip over the edge until you plunge down into the depths.

"yeah, but that's part of the fun. it's like you think you might die, but you know you won't. there are a lot of people like you that think they're going to die, but they're not sure. that's why you're afraid."

maybe. but remember, it's more of a dislike for me than fear. my problem with roller coasters are that they're not what they appear to be.

"what do they appear to be?"

roller coasters market themselves as joy rides that feature big drops, sharp twists and turns, and super speeds in hopes that people will be full of fear, but at the same time full of courage to face it when they ride it.

"so?"

so, that's not real courage at all. it's a fake. a phony courage that's made up by a fake fear.

"what fake fear?"

the fake fear of death. roller coasters strike fear into a lot of people's hearts, but it's not a real fear at all because there's no real intended risk for those who are going to ride it. all roller coasters are designed to a tee to be the safest possible ride that people can enjoy. there's no risk of dying or falling off because they're designed to be that way.

"they'd be out of a job if they didn't."

yeah, but imagine a roller coaster with none of the safety precautions and all of the risks.

"no one would want to ride it."

most people wouldn't want to ride it because they would really be afraid. that fear that they thought they experienced before, when the roller coaster was safe, would be exposed for what it really is.

"which is..."

nothing. it's nothing, but take away the safety, make the most dangerous roller coaster and some people would ride it. they would ride it with real fear, but real courage and if they survived they'd experience a thrill and joy that no other roller coaster could give them.

"so you don't like roller coasters because they're not really dangerous?"

i don't like them because what roller coasters really are are fake joy rides for fake people who think they harbor a real courage and conquering spirit when it's really just a glorified test drive. roller coasters are an equivocated contortion of safe danger.

"so i'm riding this one alone."

i'll ride with you, but don't expect me to scream.

paper

people throw it away, some recycle, some keep papers to remember or document or perhaps for sentimental value, but at the end of the day it's still paper. thinly, cheaply produced paper only as good as the writing that's on it. some words are holier than others. some words are meant to entertain or to inform, but they are only temporary. there are timeless classics, however. books. the Holy Bible. original manuscripts, maybe. first editions. of course now everything is digital. digitally archived, saved, published, retweeted, blogged, posted. some will defend paperbacks and hardbacks against kindles. but the only thing that matters are the words on the page and as i was looking through the pages and pages of random Christmas and birthday cards, elementary school achievement certificates, college essays, and interesting newspaper bits i thought were interesting, i found that i couldn't bring myself to throw away certain bits of paper.

the ticket stubs to The Dark Knight in Imax, which i saw twice.

a piece of construction paper with random bits of encouragement written by my classmates during my freshmen year of college, whom i really didn't know at the time.

cards that my grandfather had hand drawn on pictures of birds and other creatures.

at the same time, i found it really easy to throw away other papers that had no meaning to me now.

bank statements, random notes of encouragement from people that i served with at a retreat, none of whom i really talk to now. certificates of achievements from elementary school, what achievements? i don't know.

there's so much paper in this world, let alone my room, and i wonder what the point of it all is.

my friend wes was cleaning out his old room, which he just moved back into, and all of these bits and pieces of paper, photos, memories were being resurrected for a moment before being tossed to never be thought about or looked at again.

i'll look back again someday and look at all these papers that i have accumulated over the years and wonder why i've kept them. why i've held onto these things that don't have the same meaning as it once did. maybe i'll look back on these blog posts and wonder if they've all been a waste of digital space. it makes me want to matter. not me, but my words. not the words itself, but what they're about, who they point to. will i point to Jesus and the Kingdom or myself and how great i am, i was, i used to be. what will the value of these words be?

will these words be remembered? will they encourage? will they help at all? or will it all be tossed into a fire, ink fading, creases crumbling, paper to ashes.

the tree of life

i've just come back from an abstract night. i decided to wash out the filth transformers 3 that infected my eyes and brain with a thinking movie, the tree of life. i bought the ticket an hour before showing, so i walked over to best buy, used their bathroom, and bought the king of limbs for $6 to listen to on the ride home. i walked into the theater expecting no one to be there, but there was an older asian couple sitting, talking, eating popcorn. i sat down in the 3rd row, dead center, best seat in the house, at least to me and began to ponder about my own life. my sins, my need for Christ, how i've been dealing with my problems and how i've been stuck in this rut of sin, confess, sin, cry out, sin, etc. as i thought, more and more people started walking in and i couldn't help but notice the kind of people that walked in. another couple walked in, younger, white, and seemed to enjoy kissing each other. a father and son walked in, talking about the film they were about to watch, enjoying one another's company and this time they had together as father and son. some other couples walked in, a group of middle aged friends, a group of high school/college friends, a group of girls who kept whispering and giggling, tempting me to turn around and to tell them to shut up (i didn't).

the movie started and although i knew that the visuals would be good, i didn't realize how beautiful each shot would be. every scene had a sense of elevation, a sense of awe and wonder invoked by the camera angles. the scenes with the actors were so natural and intimate, the camera was almost like a spirit or ghost in which we could peer into the lives of these characters. but the tree of life went beyond these characters' stories, it went into our own lives and how every person, action, and event shapes who we are.

the visuals are amazing, the acting is great, but this film will divide audiences. i know that most people that i know would hate this movie. "nothing happened," "what just happened," "this movie sucks," "i don't get it" are all responses that i would expect to hear and i would disagree because most people walk in with a certain expectation and when the film doesn't meet that expectation, it's all downhill from there. i walked in expecting a visually compelling film that dared to ask and answer life's hardest questions: "what's the meaning of it all?" "is there a God?" "why do people die?"

the film doesn't answer these questions definitively and i don't think anyone was expecting it to, but at times the film does drag on and seems out of focus. it seems to tackle too much and answer too little. at worst, the tree of life seems like sequences of abstractions and existentialism, but at best, the tree of life seems to have glimmers of hope, redemption, and the power of unfailing love.

during the film, i witnessed some people getting up and leaving. i was trying to be patient with the film and with the group of girls behind me who kept whispering and giggling. but i know that the tree of life has something for everyone. that somehow that we are connected with one another, that God has created us for relationship and fellowship, that as we were watching this film, we, as an audience, were connected on a deeper, human level. that like the characters in the film, we have known pain, love, rebellion, and forgiveness.

to those who want to watch this film, or are at least willing to, i would say this: be patient and don't be quick to anger. the film is far from perfect, but it dares to be great and perhaps some will dare to say that it is.

how about that novel you've been working on...

so how about it?

i don't know.

i don't know why i can't seem to focus. i want to do so many things, but i can't seem to be disciplined enough or self-controlled to complete anything.

this is due to my lack of patience.

impatient to work hard, impatient to go through the stress, impatient to sit down and think.

like guns n roses, i could use a little patience.

1 + 1 = 1

little successes

little accomplishments are like little medals. they make us feel like we're worth something. like we did something productive or useful with our time, our lives.

like this blog post for instant. when i hit that orange "Publish Post" button, i feel a tiny hand pat me on the back, my ego saying "way to go," or "that's right, dun. word is born." my ego switches back and forth between a 1950s Beaver Cleaver type of character and a 1990s rapper from QB.

blog posts are one of many things that make us feel good about ourselves. i started eating Greek yogurt, which has way more protein than Go-Gurt. is it as fun to eat as Go-Gurt? no, but i do feel better after i work out because i know that my biceps are that much closer to Arnold's (like Terminator Arnold, not former Governor/adulterer Arnold).

we do little things like this all the time. i chose diet instead of regular, i didn't eat that chicken tender that fell on the floor, i held open a door for somebody when they were kind of far behind me, i read a chapter of a book today, ok it was a graphic novel, but i took extra time to appreciate the artwork.

are these little successes bad? in a way. you're tooting your mini-horn a lot. and many toots equal a big toot, which leads to tooting your pants, and an awkward walk back to your house to clean up your tooting mess.

what's the point?

you're not really getting anything done. in the giant picture of things, you choosing to dwell on these small successes are making you complacent towards the race you're running. i'm a Christian, so i'm running towards the finish line to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant." others are running towards success as an author, or as a chef, or as a good businessman, or a good parent, or student, etc.

we all have to keep our eyes on the goal. or else we'll forget why we're running in the first place and settle for cheap gold wrapped chocolate medals instead of the real thing. we don't want to be those people who decided to veer from the path because they saw a nice patch of grass and said, "this is good enough for me." we want to keep running until we see the finish and the reward that comes with it, whatever it may be.

little successes aren't always bad. maybe you read a chapter of a real book and it inspired to you to write your own story. maybe eating broccoli instead of cheese fries was a step forward in reaching your target weight, that's great. but let's not dwell on these things and see them as the real prize. let's see these little successes for what they really are. steps towards the real, true success that we are trying to reach. and in Christ, it's been accomplished, we just have to get there by His grace.

caught up

i think i get caught up in my fantasies too much. i enjoy thinking and imagining what i'm going to do and how i'm going to be so much better when the end results of those actions culminate in my being instead of actually doing them.

i fantasize about writing a script and having that script sold, filmed, winning awards, being called the best written script of all time, getting a piece of the multi-million dollar pie, and living off one success the rest of my life. being known as the guy who wrote the Academy Award winning "insert future film title."

but i get caught up in that and i'd rather just sit thinking about how i'm going to do this and do that, how i'm going to be better at this, improve in that, take time to learn this, and the list goes on. sometimes i feel a panic that i'm not going to do what i always dreamed of doing, which should make me work harder at something, but whenever i have that pressure to achieve, i just shut down.

it's weird.

basketball players dream of making that game winning shot, being like mj.

mma fighters all want to be the best. to win that belt, to be champion. bj penn said, "I just want to be the best ever. Is that too much to ask?"

every kid out there has some kind of pipe dream of being the best in everything, but as you get older, you realize that you can only choose one thing and there's a big chance that you won't be the best in it.

but they all try. we all try. some fail trying to learn the basics. some give up under the high demands of practicing their craft. some fail trying to reach the top and losing to better competition. some just crumble under the pressure of not being good enough and constant failures.

i think most of us can say that we all failed at something at some point, but very few of us can say, "yeah, i'm the best." a lot of us, including myself, just throw in the towel. i think i throw in the towel before i even try.

i just look at my failures or look at the task in front of me and say, "wow, i can't do it." that's something i need to really look at in myself and convince myself to just try, but at the same time, i think that there's a beauty in simple Gospel truth in these everyday challenges. the truth is that some or most of us won't be able to do it, many of us won't be the best. and some people go into depression or they go and work harder, but i don't believe the solution to it all is to "just keep going, or keep pressing on" because sometimes no matter how hard you push, you won't be able to move a brick wall.

i find that once the pressure is off, once the whole label or title of wanting to be the best is out and when the burden is lifted off your shoulders, you are truly free to be the best. it's a weird thing. once the pressure is off, i find myself wanting to actually do the things i want, to follow through on some things that i find challenging or difficult. and that's what Christ did for me.

instead of trying to keep the rules and be the best Christian i could be, i found that i was more of a lawbreaker, a worse person, and that i was failing constantly. it wasn't until i heard the Gospel of trusting in Christ's finished work on the cross and His resurrection that i felt that i was truly free to be me. and not just that. He freed me to do my best for His glory.

we all get caught up in something, in trying to be the best or at least imagining so without any follow through because we're afraid of failing and rightfully so. we will fail, but in Him we find all we need. we find that we can't do it and that's great. He can do it and then we can be free to do our best.

1 + 1 = 1

waiting

i used to believe waiting was the best part. the anticipation of a moment. the chills or tingles or adrenaline pumping through your veins because what you were waiting for was finally about to arrive. it's not the goal, but the journey that matters.

well, yes and no.

i used to love the waiting because you had something to be excited about. you looked forward for who knows how long for the last (supposedly) post-mortem Tupac album to drop. for the last Harry Potter movie to come out (please J.K., just one more book). for the latest iPhone, the five v-necks you ordered from gap in different shades of gray, the 12 books you ordered separately on Amazon Prime so you could open each package like a giddy 10 year old girl on Christmas morning. sure, we look forward to reading these books, seeing the movie, listening to the album, wearing the v-necks, playing Angry Birds on the iPhone, but at the same time, a little part of us is disappointed after we experience these things. why?

because it's over.

no more anticipation, no more excitement. why do shopaholics keep shopping? they think that one scarf or blouse or handbag will really complete their wardrobe, but then it's all over when they purchase it. they don't get that same feeling when they first saw that piece of clothing. they don't feel that same excitement from first purchasing that item when they continue to wear it. maybe that's why a lot of dudes throw away their first wives when they see a better and younger version of their wives. wasn't the initial excitement of starting a relationship or even just waiting for the right girl to come along, the most thrilling and heart pumping anticipation that a guy has felt?

but we get caught up in waiting. we want to wait again. after we achieve a goal, we want to achieve better, which isn't bad in some situations. you wrote a novel and you want to write a better one, sure, go for it. you want to be healthier and eat organic. expensive, but sure man, knock yourself out eating steroid free meat. but obviously, in other delicate situations, we can't always just go for another goal because we miss the excitement and thrill of the chase. most obvious example?

brett favre.

yes, the man will be a hall of famer. yes, he's had a great career, even has a ring to show for it. yeah, it would've been cool for him to win a ring before he retired and he tried. but he might have overstayed his welcome because let's face it. he didn't say that he wanted to stay to win a ring. mike bibby and juwan howard are still in the nba and on the heat because they want to win a ring. noble. terrible players, but i can still applaud their efforts while bibby misses open 3's and howard stands around in the paint intimidating no one. favre stayed because of the thrill. yeah the ring would've been cool, but favre even said in a documentary that followed him when he won his first and last superbowl ring in the '90s that he was sad because it was all over.

all of the regular season games to get them to their initial goal: the playoffs. then came the playoffs with higher stakes, win or go home, and finally they made it to the big game with the chance to win it all. to be the best in the nfl. all of that drama, the sweat, tears, the frustration, the practices, the interceptions, the touchdown celebrations, the winning field goals, the last minute drive to the endzone. all of that gone. over.

and favre wanted that again. not so much with the goal of winning it all again, but to experience that journey to win it all again.

same with us. we enjoy the anticipation and are disappointed when it's over. that's why there are sequels. we want it to continue. we want to wait again.

but after spending 5 years at a college and now having to really think about what to do with the rest of this earthly life, i can say that waiting isn't it. it is about the goal and actually reaching it. sure, the journey is important. it'll test our patience and we'll have good times and bad. God will change and mold us according to His will and the journey can definitely be part of that. but God didn't send Christ to die and rise again, so we could just anticipate His Kingdom come. His Kingdom will come and we wait for it to be established. the sooner, the better. we want to have glorified, resurrected bodies and to worship God forever, and to live life as He created us to. it's not about waiting. it's about the end that will bring about a new beginning. it's the end that will bring about eternity. where we will no longer wait, but enjoy what we have waited for. except this time we will be truly happy, excited, and thrilled, even more so than what we anticipated here on earth.

so i will continue to wait.

but i know i must pursue as well. and maybe that's something better left off for another post...

i've done wrong.

post op

whats up to all my loyal followers out there. basically sam and maybe wes if i'm lucky. i don't think i have very many people that read this blog. i hear tumblr is all the rage; wordpress might even be a better choice; hell xanga might even make a comeback. but anyway i got back from the doctor's today after having surgery this past tuesday and things are looking up...

for a while, actually maybe a little bit even now, i felt that God just didn't care. i had this disc herniation for a long time as my doctor implied today, to which i neither confirmed or denied due to insurance purposes, but i've had it for a long time and with it, i've had doubts.

i had doubts about whether God loved me and i had doubts about my own salvation and after all the bitching and the moaning about my back and not being able to work out, i did see some bright spots. these may not seem like bright spots, but areas that had light shed on them by God's grace, which humbled me. i realized i put a lot of emphasis on my physical appearance and took a lot of pride in the way people saw me. after working out and gaining some muscle, i felt untouchable and very cocky, so i believe that this injury humbled me. God broke that idol of pride and self-image i had been worshiping. but i continued to worship it because i refused to acknowledge the God who loved me and died for me. my depraved heart still desired to worship the false hope of getting better and going back to my idolatrous ways. i was a mess. i tried to find joy in lust, in a relationship, in anything but what i truly needed: the Gospel.

it wasn't what i needed, it was Who i needed. i needed Jesus and i still need Him and will always need Him. i distanced myself from Him because i associated Him with emotion, with happiness, but i never felt that way and i wouldn't for a long time. i didn't want to set myself up for disappointment as if i could truly be disappointed with the Almighty Father. but that's what i did. i distanced myself, i needed to seek Him, and i tried to, but i gave up easily because what i wanted wasn't going to come easy.

after the surgery, i realize that i need Him and there is nothing else. whatever i end up doing or whether i make a full recovery or not, i need to worship Him because He has been good to me. He died for me, He loved me, and i want to rejoice. so this is my post op repentance of sorts, i just pray that it will be a repentance of action and not of words. thanks for all who have prayed for me. God bless you. God bless you who desire to know Him and God bless those who don't, may He mercifully open your eyes.

idolatry

forgive me, Lord. i thought that by believing in the rightness of doctrine that i was safe.

so instead of lovingly correcting or pointing out mistakes for Your sake and the sake of Your Church, i took joy in ridiculing those who were wrong.

i forgot, i refused to believe that the Scriptures pointed to You. instead of rejoicing in the person of Jesus Christ, i rejoiced in my knowledge. instead of loving my brothers and sisters, i judged them as inferior. instead of praying that they would turn to You and do everything for Your glory, i delighted in their mistakes, in the lack of insight because i was lacking. i was missing.

i replaced You with words on a page. i replaced You with knowledge. i replaced the joy of my salvation for vainglory. i'm sorry. please, forgive me. there is You and only You matter.

force of habit

i have no love in my heart

so i will force it.

i will force myself to do loving things,

to have loving thoughts, to be as lovely

as i can be.

maybe one day, i won't have to force

myself anymore and i'll find that the

love in my heart flows out naturally

like a spring of water.

i hope that one day that these habits

will become the real thing and that i won't

be a horrible person anymore with a

horrible heart. until then,

i will try to make myself love.

hypocrite

i do what i hate.

would i do something that i hate?

i wouldn't.

then i must love what i do, but i always regret it after.

am i still a hypocrite?

images

people fall in love with images. when i give you roses, you'll take a snapshot of a moment and use it to define me. when i raise my voice and lose you for a second, you'll take a picture of me, and use it against me when you begin to weigh your options. i wonder how many images you will take of me. i wonder which of them will tip the scales, either in my favor or our end. i hope you will see that i am not just one or many images of one kind, but that i am all of them. romantic and all. anger and all. kisses on the forehead and all. the silent treatment and all. sins and all. the bad images will always outweigh the good and you will look for others, who only show you their best side, you will choose to see their best side and ignore the bad because you find comfort in knowing that at least those images won't be of me.

workshop

i liked the details

because they were

detaily.

i liked the story

because you

told one.

i liked the voice

because you

spoke.

i thought you used

i too much.

i thought the story

wasn't good.

i thought the voice

was inconsistent.

i didn't like it.

i think i'm a liar.

opinions

they don't matter.

you miss running. you miss feeling the ground under your feet as you sprint across a field exhibiting your youth and promise. you feel like a Greek god, an Olympic runner pacing to receive the prize. you miss feeling invincible in the gym. potential to be unleashed with hard work and dedication. you miss the hope of sculpting a body of granite out of what is now a body of dough.

you cling to your pride in hopes of having it all back again, of regaining your former glory.

but you may not. you may have to deal with this pain the rest of your life. all your hopes are in the resurrection, but you're not sure that you will be resurrected into eternal life or eternal damnation.

now as the days go by, you contemplate the future. success or failure awaits. the only contentment you have is in your fantasies of fame or glory or love.

all you have are doubts. i wish you would be sure of something.

romance

her hair flows down like a water fall

his hard body meets her soft skin

their bodies fit together like a puzzle

he traces the curvature of her body

with his finger

she rests her head on his abs and sighs,

we read those words and fall down

we crave to live these scenes out

like we are the perfect stars that

act it out, like we are the fantasies

that others will dream of

we do our best to recreate these

moments in real life, but we can

never capture the feelings that

captured us in the first place

so we hold on to these fantasies

hoping that they will come

true one day,

he wakes up next to her

she wakes up next to him

he goes to blow his nose in

the bathroom

she needs to pee

he's hungry and she wants to

shower. he opens his mouth

to say something and she

comments on the weather

both wonder where to go next from here.