When I was younger I swear I never cried.

Today I feel impatient with life but ironically wish everything would slow down.

My stomach is in knots.

I often wonder if I met my 5 year old self what she would say. She might think I’m cool cause my hair is purple and I have piercings, but I know she would be upset with me because I was always too scared to do what I wanted.

Sometimes I wonder if my little me was more wise than i am now. She was probably more brave.

Brave is a word that I’ve never considered myself.

She wanted so badly to grow up. Everybody told her not to and that she wouldn’t like it and that’s why I think I hate it now. Everybody put so many negatives on growing up that I really just don’t want to do it.

It’s the inevitable things that scare me. The fact that we’re all born and expected to do great things, be great people. But we all get old and forget who our loved ones even are.

I’m scared of my parents dying. It’s a thought I’ve had since childhood especially sense my parents are older than my friends parents.

A lot of people say they aren’t afraid of death and most say that’s something they learned with age but I am so scared of it.

I try very hard to be the type to thrive and live in the moment, take what today gives me. Some days are easier than others.

It’s hard to live in the moment when I’m always comparing moments.

My family was having a celebration of something. I don't remember exactly what, but it was placed around summer time because we were all going to eat on the porch. I was standing at my kitchen window which faces the back yard. It's not much of a back yard it's mostly a small space of grass, and then a huge mountain filled with trees. As I'm looking I see a car come down the mountain which is incredibly odd because there's no way a regular old station wagon would be able to drive through those woods. I stare at the car in disbelief as it comes down the mountain and through my back yard. I notice it's an African American couple, and they stare at me until they drive down my yard and down my driveway. "Mom! dad! Did you guys see that? A car just came down the mountain!"

"That's weird." Mom says and Dad agrees, but no form of immediate action had taken place from this strange occurance.

We continue preparing for the meal, dicing fruits, peeling potatoes when again the very same car comes down the mountain! This time it is barreling down at full speed and just barely stops in time before crashing into my side deck.

"MOM! DAD! Those people are back! Dad do go find out what theyre doing!" By now my parents actually show they're interested and uncomfortable in this phenomenon. Dad goes outside for a few minutes and not long after he waves us both to come out. My parents and the African couple soon became friends and everybody was laughing together. "This is great!" I said. "I have to get my phone and take a picture, this is too funny!"

I walk into the house on a mission to find my phone. The only problem Is, I am finding almost hundreds of other phones but mine. Old flip phones, landline phones, IPhones. As I'm searching I feel as though I'm losing sobriety which causes me to feel frustrated because I'm so obsessed with trying to find my phone. I'm just getting more confused, more drunk. Slowly I lose consciousness, and just slowly, re-awaken in my bed in the basement. Worry strikes over me because I need to know why I fell asleep out of nowhere and I'm worried for my parents. I'm trying so hard to get up but I just can't. There were two friends next to me that definitely weren't there the night before and as my eyes dart across my room I see jars of salsa and my tv remote is chewed up. "Guys what happened, where did these come from?" Neither of them knew. "Guys I'm trying to get up but I just cant."

"Just wake yourself up, shake your body." They say, but it's not that easy. Eventually I'm capable of standing and as I do something comes over me. I'm so scared and I start screaming for mom and dad, running towards the living room. Dad's on the couch. "What do you need?"

"Where's mom!?"

"Upstairs"

I run towards the stairs but am unable to run up them. I'm stuck screaming for my mom and she comes out of her room at the top of the stairs in her pink robe. "What is it?" She's naively smiling at me. I continue screaming "MOM SOMETHINGS WRONG." As I'm saying these words a black mass flows from behind my mother's feet and grows behind her. I'm trying to warn her "MOM THERES SOMETHING BEHIND YOU" I try so hard to say but with every word the quieter my voice becomes and soon I realize the shadow behind mom starts mocking me. "Mom" I mouth without sound "mooom" the shadow figures nasty shatterd voice mimics. And again I feel drunk. Again I awaken in bed. I'm so scared and in a rush to see if everything is okay but Again, I can't move. I can see my room, my whole body is so tense trying to wake itself up. I'm trying so hard just to shake myself but I can't. I try yelling but I can't. Minutes later I'm finally completly awake.

"You can't cook." He says to me as he opens the fridge to grasp his leftover Chinese food from the night before.

"I can fucking cook!" I can feel my face getting red with anger as I say these words.

"You can't cook. What the fuck can you cook?" By this time he had already shoveled a fork full of cold rice in his mouth. "You don't even eat veggies how the fuck are you gunna cook!!! YouTube it!! Google it!!!"

The string that my anger had been holding on to had finally reached its last limit when again he asked "what the fuck can you cook?" and I could no longer contain myself.

"DICK. I cook DICK."

I go to church to rejuvenate the old feelings I use to get

To reconnect with those that I no longer really see

And to try and make my past life fit in with now

Instead I don't feel God

Instead the people I use to know are like strangers

Instead I feel like somebody sliced my life into different parts that can't be stitched together again

And it just makes me sad.

I visit school to feel the youth I once had

To catch up with familiar faces

And to pretend I somehow still live in this past world

Instead I feel old

Instead people are slowly forgetting me

Instead I know this world doesn't have room for me anymore

And it just makes me sad.

I didn't do the things I love

I got too scared

And I try to make up for it by watching others live their dreams

Instead i feel envy

Instead I place my face over theirs

Instead I feel regret

and it just makes me sad.

I message an old friend hoping time will somehow warp itself and we can relive our memories

Instead it's a quick conversation

Instead the truth is we are two completely different people than we use to be

Instead I'm just left feeling abandoned by time.....

Damn.

it just makes me sad.

Having a "peaceful" dream. Meaning a crazy, unnecessarily detailed, perhaps a little perverted or scary dream. Then the moment before opening the eyes, the dream still seems reality and maybe that's exciting, or just comforting. Either way it's different. Change is scary but so exciting. But SCARY. lay in the bed blanket between legs, arm under pillow, eyes open. Then close. Fall back asleep, or remain awake? Awake it seems. Replaying dreams in the head. Coffee. Can't stop thinking about coffee. And peeing.... take a bathroom break, brew coffee and wait for it to cool. In the jansport bag holds pencils and a sketchbook. Feeling inspired with a new mind on this new day. The butt is planted back in bed as the Spotify playlist is quietly narrating the stroke of the pencil. The plan for today attempting to enter through the head, but for now, this is it. Try and enjoy now. Don't count down the hours until work. Don't think ahead to five years from now. Sketch the feelings, fill them in, color them and make them shine. No more worries enter the head as it concentrates on this stupid masterpiece. Stupid, but WONDERFUL as it becomes a tap through the fingers in which the stress and worry slowly drain out from the body. Laugh a little at this art because it's such a dumb concept but maybe even a bit clever. Stare at it until it's no longer appealing. Finally time for the first sip of coffee. It has already gotten cold.

Glorious.

Systematically, automatically, manually, anually, once a year, fear, shed a tear, what that's wack that's weird, its what you hear. Walk, talk, rock with a sock, ......dog? Stop. (?) Wine, dine, time, with this dog of mine, you fucking DO that all the time. Time with time, the weddings in short time, tequila shots with lime, okay. Rocket, socket, pocket, its a key and locket, so that i can lock it. Wack