“I lost touch with the world around me – gone unnoticed by that which surrounds me, but I must find the presence of that which grounds me if I am to once again grasp onto everything I lost touch with.”

I carry on knowing that when I deteriorate, my body will be a museum of all I can do and all that hindered me.

It’s really hard to grow up wanting to provide people with resources and support and realizing that while I can and will do that – I also need more than I thought I would.

The thought of you having to try hurts because it feels like you should have known to let me go before you grabbed ahold.

Tell me I’m sun-kissed, but you burn my skin. And you already told me, I was paper thin.

They hit like waves, the memories of those old summer days. Memories you’d have thought to erase, but they crash ashore without haste.

I write poems of the past; they reveal the reasons we didn’t last.

My body is a field site of muscle memory and weathered bones.

I can’t take it all in or else I’ll grow cold when the heat already escapes my fingers and toes.

I wish you could feel it when it’s dark at night, and I think of you when I pass the streetlights. But I know you feel the care without me being there.

Healing means looking within when you want to move on. Healing means letting go when your grip is too tight.

When you write me into your story, don’t set my end in stone. Feel free to let me go. I’d like to join your story, but remember I have my own.

I want to tell them how tired I am because I don’t think it shows. But maybe it’s the same for them – all strangers to the weight each of us carries. So alone, we carry these loads.

Reading has always been my sweetest escape, but I write to convey that which I want to escape or what scares me to say, even if it’s something positive.

We’re so distant, words can’t save us.

It takes less for me to be impacted, for my state of being to worsen.

You wonder why you didn’t do it sooner – why you didn’t clear your mind when the clouds loomed.

How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone.

I have lost friends, some by death, others by sheer inability to cross the street.

I was in misery, and misery is the state of every soul overcome by friendship with mortal things and lacerated when they are lost.

A businessman cannot force you to buy his product; if he makes a mistake, he suffers the consequences; if he fails, he takes the loss. If bureaucrat makes a mistake, you suffer the consequences; if he fails, he passes the loss on to you.

Some lose yet gain, others gain and yet lose.

I am not the man I used to be.

Regarding the fitness craze: America has lost its soul; now it’s trying to save its body.

There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.