Writing a story is sharing a story. Which is why I feel every human being should be comfortably able to write any story of any kind so that one can share whatever story they'd like to. Whether it be fiction or non-fiction we all feel like when we have a story to tell, it needs to be told or written, and and by the way, sharing a non-fictional one can be so therapeutic ... let me share that!

Can you imagine getting paid for listening to anyone that needs to do just that ... share a true story of whatever. ... I'm gonna look into becoming a talk therapist.

Even when you're sitting or standing still at home or anywhere that isn't a plane, train, or any other motor vehicle, bicycle, roller skate, or skateboard you're still moving from one spot towards another ... perpetually.

Time is just the Earth's spin and its orbit around the sun and its wobble. Our clocks and calendars are instruments that are in sync with these motions. But while falling through space we are getting old. That's our time. Getting old.

So in time (traveling through space) we slowly break down and die. That's what time is ... to me.

I know who I am

I ain't shit

I suck

All right, so what the fuck

Fuck all of yaw

Fuck my addiction

Fuck my anger

And fuck all of yaw again

This shit wack

Yaw all wack anyways

Why go back

Go back to that?!!?

Yaw clueless anyways

Clueless on all what YAW believe in

Go ahead and Believe in yaw self

And leave a nigga alone

I will forever be alone anyways.

We all are born alone and we all die alone.

Addiction. ... Addiction. It's a big word

It has a definition that weighs heavily.

Really heavy. Like really heavy.

And I have to hold it.

And I hold it on my shoulders like it's my fault.

While all of us humans are all addicted to something.

But if it's alcohol or illegal drugs.

Then something is really wrong.

When I go to the store.

I get lost in my mind.

And I don't know why.

Is it because I'm so caught up at home?

And I'm not alone mind you but still, feel alone.

And when I go outside I feel like more alive.

That's when that feeling of escape feels wrong.

That's when I begin to feel lost.

It feels like an escape from jail.

Am I wrong or is this actually normal?

And now I'm lost in thought.

Especially when heading back home comes with a twinge of pain.

Am I overreacting or like I feel is it something really real?

How far do I have to go to be alright

How far do I have to go to sleep good at night

I'm not too far I feel from where I'd like to be

But when I look afar still, as far as I can see

Nothing out there is reachable to me

But I continue forward though because I won't give up

I'll just suck it up and continue forward away from where I'm at

because I'm currently really unhappy of where I'm at

No matter how long it takes to get there I will keep trying

As far as that is I'm going to keep on walking and that is that

Alcohol. Not for the weak nor the lame but for the ones that need their feelings tamed.

It works as a crutch much too often and or as an ice-breaker among many other things.

I myself have gotten much too accustomed to it and I'm not sure if it's ravaging my insides already. But whatever I'll have another go at it. "Bartender, can I have another please?"

Oh to be able to tame life it would be nice

It's too crazy and loud full of nonsense and too damn proud

Always looking to stand out in a crowd always thinking it's right

It spoils your sleep at night and keeps your chest feeling tight

If only I can talk some sense to it, I would be alright

I would not cry myself to sleep so often, life would be so much more pleasant

I remember pooping on myself while waiting my turn to play pickup basketball at the courts in the projects of NYC the Bronx. It was really a fart that turned into a mini poop. I thought it was just gas that needed to be passed. I quickly noticed that what I pass wasn't just gas but a tiny turd. I was a young teenager and I just got to the court with friends and refuse to go back home to change my draws so I stayed the course because the turd wasn't much wet or soft even!

Back then I was still wearing briefs that wrapped around your legs tight, not like boxers, so the tiny turd stayed within. I patiently waited my turn and soon was able to play. By that time the turd cooled off and throughout the game, I played and the thing I will never forget was a tiny cold turd in my draws bouncing all in and around my underwear messing with my concentration. To this day on rare occasions I'll still pass more than just gas. Sorry.