“Keep your friends close, and you enemies screaming in the grave.”
I can’t believe I let it get this down to the wire. My grades are pretty fucked, there’s one class that I need thay I’m not going to pass. Which means no more Navy. So my future is currently screwed, and there’s a chance they won’t take me back. If that bars me from the military or just the Navy, I’m not sure. Either way I don’t know what I’m going to do. I counted on this too much. Now that I have no contingency, and my recruiter isn’t giving me a straight answer, I cant make one. There’s no one to blame but myself. I’m sorry everyone.
“Don’t give a damn what people say.”
So tonight for dinner I wanted Jack in the Box, but my friends wanted Taco Bell, so we decided to do both. We went to Jack in the Box first, and the girl that took my order asked why I wanted and my friend said coke. She said that sounded good, but my friend said not the drink. She knew before he explained what he meant. We laughed it off, but as we were leaving we told her we were going to Taco Bell, she jokingly asked us for a Crunchwrap Supreme. We went to Taco Bell and asked our friend, an employee there, what to do. He said do it, so we went back to Jack in the Box. Walked inside and he yelled “Who ordered a Crunchwrap?”, she was so joy that we decided to do that, and apparently it was nicer than the 8 ball she got for her birthday. Then she said something about breakfast salsa, and he fuckin happily peeled out to grab some. He came back, then proceeded to order food.
So that’s the wonderful, back and forth story of how we feed a coked out girl.
“What a path to walk.”
I haven’t known you for long, but I know more about you than I do anyone else that I’ve felt this way about. When you asked me to hang out, I thought all day about it. When you showed up, I felt so nervous, that I was nearly incapable of opening the door. When we were walking to Target, and you grabbed my hand, words couldn’t express how happy I became. All I could muster was “So this is a date now?” I’m glad you said yes. I couldn’t believe that it was so easy to hold on to you and walk with you. That feeling was only surpassed the next night, sitting next to you at that Jazz concert when I got to see how at home you were. As the night progressed I found myself slumped next to you eating Jack in the Box tacos, I asked you to join me outside again, I knew what I was going to ask, but you had no idea. We talked, and I smoked, then I asked.
I walked inside a cigarette down, and a new love waiting to bloom.
“I never took you to be her.”
I went to that party to get out of the house, and probably get drunk. Both of which occurred but more happened. Which I wasn’t expecting at all. As the night progressed I realized that wherever I went, weather it be the garage to smoke, down stairs to make a drink, or the kitchen to find food. You made a habit to show up, then I realized that when you left, I did the same. We shared stories, drinks, and laughs together. Then I shared something with you that changed my night. A dance, when you said that you’ve never slow danced with anyone before, I was shocked. Then all that liquid courage reared it’s head, and I kindly asked if you would dance with me. So dance we did, first inside to Frank Sinatra, Then decided that there wasn’t enough room between the pool table and Quinn rolling around in a chair drinking. That we go outside, Quinn followed, I didn’t mind. We danced, and danced, and danced until that liquid courage came up once again, and I asked if I could kiss you. You obliged, and I, in thirty degree late November at 5 a.m., I felt warm, and more important, safe.
“You whisper words of a hell unknown.”
I’ve thought a lot about why I choose to fight. There’s more to it than just bettering myself, and for a stable career. I fight so others don’t have to, the families that have no clue what we go through to keep them safe. For the values that we hold dear. For a general sense of security. I fight for people that I haven’t met yet. I fight because I want to. This world needs to be safer, so that’s what I’ll do. One Tomahawk missile st a time.
“I’ve buried this, and it’s evident you won’t change.”
The poetry slam went a lot better than I thought it would. It also brought a better understanding of what happened to me as a child. I know that i can’t change it, but honestly I wouldn’t want to. I feel that I’m a better person because of it. Going through hell, makes you appreciate the little bits of heaven. Something as small as a smile, we take for granted. Asking someone “How are you today?” means a lot to me. My mother will never be sorry for what she did, but I don’t care. I don’t want people to be sorry for me, it makes me feel like I’m helpless. I’m not helpless, no one helped me through the pain. I mean I was helped, but after the fact. No one was there telling me it was going to be alright when my mom was actively beating me senseless. I got through that, alive. So please stop being sorry. Dealing with that isn’t easy, but telling a group of people that I’ve never met really helped clear the air. I physically felt lighter after. The knife was pulled out of my lung, and I can breathe.
“But it did.”
Why do I lose all courage? Is it just a lie? I’ve spent years reconstructing myself from the ground up. Am I the same scared insecure coward I loathed so passionately? I’ve faced my demons, towering and miniscule, I’ve stared Death in the face and told him to fuck off, I’ve admitted my faults, I’ve reversed years of torment. But I can’t look at my Angel and tell her that my heart swells at the sight of her? Have I spent too much time in the Inferno? Has my time with my demonic adversaries made me unworthy of angelic peace? How much of them rubbed off on me as I cut them down? I’ve met the puppeteer, and the ropes I hang from are made from Fear.
“I found myself at the roots of the elms, singing songs to the birds and wishing this day would never end.”
Effortless, it falls to perfection creating a framework for the crimson shade of innocence. The sapphire gems, that shape your outlook on the world, glisten in the mid-morning rays, melts my icy exterior. A gesture as sweet as vouvray, would be too small. Only grandeur flattery shall suffice. Any less, a crime. Our craft came to perfection while side by side. Feeling speechless in the presence of a goddess, fills me with shame. Why can’t I find the courage that’s kept me afloat?
“How can you look down on me, if I’m at the top?”
I’m sick of it all. I can’t stand waking up everyday just to deal with immature people. From my father to the kid who won’t shut up in the hall. I don’t want to feel like a whiney teenager, but I just want to be around people who don’t make me feel old. I used to find this shit funny, now I just want to sit down read and have coffee.
So the idea of my posts, the title will be the name of a song, the first line is a quote from that song, and then the corresponding stuff can be related to the content, or just something I like.