She brushed her teeth, had a glass of water, and took her nightly dose of pills.

She laid down in her bed, folded the covers, and closed her eyes.

She didn’t dream, she didn’t think, she didn’t desire.

She woke, drank coffee, and got in the car.

She was robotic, she was lifeless, and she was carefree.

She sounds like me.

I see myself wearing a very funky scarf in a stylish cafe, smoking a cigarette and reading a pamphlet to the newest art showing that month.

I see myself in a modern minimalist apartment cooking rice and listening to acid jazz.

Painting on a balcony in a Paris loft with flowers running down the sides of it.

Sporting a fashionable trench coat and beanie in a London subway station buying a bottle of Irish Creme Liquor.

Holding his hand in the morning sun.

A live jazz concert with lights dimmed down low.

In a crowded office hurrying to write my column before the newspaper’s deadline.

Diagnosing the cause of death for Human #xxxxxxxxx while intricately studying the ventricles.

Human intelligence collector for the United States Army with a Sade CD in my uniform.

Lawyer in a court wearing an ugly suit with great shoes, engulfed in manilla folders.

Culinary Arts expert on a drive to a wine tasting convention.

Chopping wood for the fireplace in my cabin far away in the Carpathian Mountains.

Dreaming.

Living.

Loving.

Indeed, 10 years is quite the while.

Oh the curiosity.

While listening to this beautiful song that I grew up to, I am inspired, I have had a bad day, and I feel like frankly, I have had a bad month.

Money is low, opportunity inexistent, hope is helplessly chocking on fear, and then it hits me.

I grab a dollar from my wallet, a plain piece of white paper, a classic black sharpie marker, tape, and scissors.

All while, still listening quite loudly to “Break Free” by Queen.

I set up my utensils, this will be brilliant.

Tape the dollar to the piece of paper.

And write:

“When all hope is lost… I will spend this.”

Note the exact date and time.

 I feel free of fear, of doubt, of stress, of any of these constraining feelings.

My only thought: “It is what it is, and if the time does come for me to spend this I will know I tried my best.”

Some may say I am cheesy, or laugh at me for actually believing in something, but since then my life has been as carefree as possible. 

Whether it was the song, or just the utter need to rebel against my fears, I did break free that night and said “You know what world, fuck you. I will make it in this world whether you like it or not.”

The paper is taped to my mirror in my room, and it reminds me every day I wake up that everything will be okay, I will make something of my life, with or without money, I will do it.

We drift as the wind upon untouched leaves, not to wonder in our fellowship, but in all else shall we find our true breath.

You and I true, not a dream, but a happening of miracles, we rise.

Close thy eyes, open thy palms, feel the water flow, the blood blow, the winter speak, and the summer weep.

One we shall be, one in unity, one in difference, one in reverence.

Her eyes reflect him, her lips fitting to his, his belief, his faith, his everything.

Manage these hardships that face our standing, our living, our wanting, small fingertips encounter his tough skin.

Without words, they tell a thousand stories, soft piano music in background, their souls melt one into another, all is perfect, in song and in life.

Her eyes close as her lips only slightly make contact with his, the skin trembling as his hands embrace her ever so lightly, as the sound of rivers flowing through lands untouched she gives herself to him, vulnerable forever to his light.

Rays of sunlight enrich their bodies as one lay next to other, a love uncontrollable, unstoppable, incomprehensible.

Dismay fills her every vein, as she opens her eyes.

The night sheds it darkness upon her, like the fall slowly sheds its green to grey.

Utter sadness overwhelms the soul, as realization of the beautiful dream enters her thoughts, untrue, just dreamt.

Falling asleep once more, her heart breaks piece by piece, day by day, alone she is once more, the soul consumes itself until it shall have no turning back.

No death can be this horrid, the soul cries out for mercy, for release.

Soon it shall consume no more.

Diminishing soul of my being, redeem yourself once more, hope is on the way.

Is this a rant? Yes. It fucking is.

Dont like it? Dont read it.

I suppose there are certain moments in life when you exagerate with feelings and feel like the whole world is against you.

This just might be one of those moments.

I could be in a room full of people tomorrow and still feel like I am the only one there.

I would probably light a ciggarette and hope the feeling passes, but that no longer works for me.

Staring into emptyness sure feels like the new feeling I am having.

A councelor asked me what I want from life, what I want to do.

I couldnt answer that then, but now I think I can. I think being the key word there.

I want to fall in love, or at least have someone to hold at night, sure it might not be some fairytale, but I would prefer that rather than staring at the four white walls that surround me and sighing as if everything might actually be alright.

You could say I am a ticking bomb, that would be a very true statement.

I am not sure if I am a land mine, or just some weapon of mass destruction.

My stomach hurts like hell, and yes, that was completely random.

My writing? Brilliant? No. It is not. It is just here, and I will keep telling myself that someone might actually like what I am putting on here.

People are beautiful when they smile, I tend to really like that, especially if its sunny outside, nothing is more beautiful.

My clock says its 2:47, but its actually 3:47, and every time I remember its wrong, I feel like I lost an hour of my life in a second.

I keep trying to figure out if I am a normal person, or just completely insane, its not going so well.

In this kind of situation a person, any person, might say some fake crap like:

“Everything happens for a reason.” or maybe even “Dont worry, be happy.”

Please.

Are you kidding me? Why the hell are we on this planet anyway? God? Buddha? 

I could care less right now who and what, but why is quite important. Or maybe it isnt, I dont know, all I know is that if I wasnt here writing this crap, I would be much better, and I am 100% sure that didnt make any sense, but for once, I really could care less.

I have always strived for perfection, this is me giving up.

Make-up, designer hand bags, cool jeans, whatever.

I just want to wake up in the morning next to someone who can adore me for, well, normally I would insert some romantic thing like my eyes, or something of that nature, but right now, I prefer leaving it that way. 

I just want to wake up in the morning next to someone who can adore me for.

That is good, I am content with that sentence, possibly even happy.

Possibly.

There are exactly 577,000,000 results for the word “human” on google.

I would guess I am human #577,000,001, and as I sit here and yawn, I find that humans are so overrated.

Intelligent? Inventive? Interesting?

Please.

You have got to be kidding me.

We are so messed up.

I would normally put in the “F-word” in the above sentence, but I suppose that at some point my mother will read this.

We really are messed up though.

You know it, I know it, everybody knows it.

I am sorry if I was never the kind of child you wanted, but I’m trying.

I could say I know what I want from this life, but to be incredibly sincere, I dont.

The car in the garage is yellow.

And my life sucks. 

I suppose those two sentences go well.

For now.