The Death Wish

“I no longer have a death wish.”

Time flew by so fast I could hear the wind scream through my ears. The wind embodied my inner being, creating a hurricane.

A hurricane of love, the wind of pain, a storm of bad news…but most importantly a hurricane that instead of throwing everything around in whatever way it so pleased, it put everything back into place.

“I no longer drive my car like I am waiting for the world to crash into me.”

“I no longer wake up every morning feeling like all I can see is black and white.”

Do we know how to be happy? People have been through such sadness in their lives and, for most, it is all they know. How do you walk around with sunshine when all you know is the clouds? How to you find the night sky beautiful when you were unable to see the stars for so long? Do the stars exist?

“I can see the stars, they are beautiful. Look at how beautiful they are, sweetheart. Look at how beautiful you are.”

I strive to be everything I can be. I strive to be the best version of myself. I want the world for the people I love.

“The other shoe didn’t drop yet. The other shoe is never going to drop.”

To look back on the many years before, I need all my fingers to count the amount of times I tried to vanish. The amount of times I have tried to slip away into a nothing because I thought something would come from the nothing. I thought the black would open up, the weight would be lifted. I thought by ending the cloud, my lungs would inflate again and I could feel. I hated everything about being alive, even the air seemed poisonous to me. I used to yell at the sky for days asking it why it had to shine? Why do you have to show me the light I could never reach?

“I love my life.”

“Everything is color again”

Black and white. White and black. Nothing. Into the nothing I fell, but a small hand reached out and caught me. It caught me before the world itself could swallow me whole.

“Is that what the sky looks like?”

I found the love of my life this year. I found her just as broken as I was. Peeling ourselves off the floor everyday to restore some type of survivable life. Here’s to 2018, to almost a year with my love, and to the end of another year. I know my worth. I know what I stand for.

This year taught me how to be happy. It taught me how to love myself and melted the cold ice bars I put around myself. It showed me that rain can be beautiful and the cold weather doesn’t matter. It showed me that true and pure love does exist, I just had to stop looking so damn hard.

“Look at the stars with me. Aren’t they beautiful? Can you see them with me? Look closer and you’ll see, look closer and you’ll see every star has your name on it.”

Let’s Stay Here Forever.

Remember when that person beat you down to the ground so low that you thought you would never regain consciousness again?

Remember when they broke you? When they spewed out fake love is if it were real? As if love was something they could use to get you to flatten yourself to the ground more.

Remember when you hated yourself for loving them back?

Remember the pain? The hatred? The depression?

Remember when they left you? Or when they finally forced you off the ledge you barely had the balance on in the first place, so you took the ledge away instead of searching for a nonexistent center?

Then it was over.

Aren’t you happy though? I mean to ask that in a very literal sense. Are you happy? When I sit and think about how much those past relationships hurt, I always end up back at this question. Am I happy? The answer now is yes. Then I think, “Was I happy then?” The truth is, no. I wasn’t happy in the relationship. A curtain of fake love was pushed over my eyes and all I could see was myself in the mirror of their mind.

I wasn’t good enough. But now? I AM good enough.

People are meant to destroy you. It’s the most honest thing I could say. Throughout the course of your life, people are going to kick you down. This is how society works. Think about it for a second with me, okay? Think about some relationship with someone (not only romantically) where one of you finally decided to walk away. Aren’t you happy it happened? Take out the loneliness and devastation you normally would be burdened with and focus on the mentality you have now.

You don’t have to be constantly walking as if someone is lighting a match underneath your toes everytime your foot hits the pavement. You don’t have to obsessively check your phone. You no longer have to make every single one of your decisions based on whether or not it would “make them mad.” You aren’t the carpet in the apartment anymore, instead, you’re raised to the ceiling. The world isn’t small. Your world isn’t small. Suddenly, you can breathe again. There is moving air. Fresh air. Beautiful non-abusive air.

I am not talking about being “single and ready to mingle,” either. Everything in life that happened, everything that has ever left you heartbroken, everything that has shattered you into 5 million pieces and leaving you with a stomach fuller than the empty pill bottle sitting next to you, carved you. You. This beautiful and scarred tree. It carved you to be able to truly love someone.

I really believe this. I really believe in love now. We did it. We finally did it. We found our true love, our one and only. And isn’t that perfect enough in itself? Doesn’t it make the years of torture worth it? To be able to finally stand on your own damn feet, intertwine your hand with hers, and say, “We made it through. This is what love feels like, this is what home feels like. Let’s stay here forever, baby.”


I’m no expert on love.
I can’t become a professor of love and give you
detailed power points on the definitive meanings.
I can’t give you the textbook answers and highlight
paragraphs that can make the immense feeling make sense.

I just know that it feels like the forgotten sun.
Like when the sun comes out and warms your bones,
a shield melting around your heart.
Like when you wake up in the morning with a smile instead
of lonely tears.
A giant breath of crisp air
Air that flows through your lungs cold
and comes out hot.
Air that is so light, you feel like you are flying.

Love comes when you stop searching for it.
When you stop looking in every treetop
and down every rabbit hole.
When you stop condemning the world for giving
you anything but perfection.
Love finds you when you’ve given up on its very being.
When you’ve reached your wit’s end.
When you’ve begun to believe you don’t even want its gift

Love is also imperfectly beautiful. An anecdote for other people’s poisons. Like there’s someone with the right anecdote in their heart to stop the poison flowing through your veins. But that’s why some relationships don’t work. You both have to have the right anecdote for each other. Otherwise, one person continues to live their lives with poison filling their veins while the other is healing. One grows stronger as you grow weaker. I think that’s why some relationships can end up being so toxic. You don’t realize how weak you are getting because the other person is strongly attached to your heart. They keep you healthy enough where your blood will still be pumping, but your soul will start to die until it becomes no more. You don’t recognize how shaky your hands are getting or how fuzzy the world seems to slowly become. The world feels like it’s caving in, but their body is keeping it from collapsing.


Finding someone that also fights your poison, is a gift. Someone that doesn’t just want to have your heart, but to hold it with such care and protection. Someone who treasures your mind, body, and soul in a way that isn’t degrading but uplifting. With every heartbeat, you both grow stronger together. You hold equal weight. You help the other walk when the world becomes too heavy. They help the crashing waves of anxiety calm in your mind.

I found my love.

I found her when I didn’t expect it. I found her when I STOPPED searching endlessly for someone. She found me when her heart was finally open. When she realized that she still had poison running through her. She become strong after someone made her weak. After someone took almost all of her anecdote, just to push themselves up to the next tier.

There was still some left for me. It’s now a never-ending flow of love and understanding.

Love is always beautiful. The word is often overused in today’s society that it has begun to lose the meaning. True love? Unadulterated and pure love? You don’t find it every day.

I am lucky to have someone that knows what love is.
I am lucky to be alive.
I am lucky to live every day with her.

I’m no expert on love, but if I had to write a book on it

your name would fill all the pages.

The Hands Of Time

The hands of time. Think about how much influence they have on everyone’s life. You depend on the time to know when to go to work, say goodnight, eat dinner, etc.

One more tick, you might be late.
One less tick, one less moment of your life.

The more time that passes, the older you get. The closer you get to your goal. The closer you are to improve your life.
Everything in our lives is so intently focused on time.

I’m calling on everyone to let the strain of time slip. Open your fist just a little wider and let the grains of sand flow through your fingers.

Time is only there to structure our lives, not rule them.

What time is it? When do we have to be there? What is the normal time frame for this step? How much time is left? How much of our lives do we have left? What has time taken away from us?

Love is strong enough to overpower bullshit societal norms.

I never thought I would live past 20. Not because I have a disease that would eventually choke me off, but because I never thought I would allow myself to live.

Time allows us to look into the past, but also to dwell on it. You can be with someone for years and think to yourself, “This is it. This is best I’ll ever get.” And then you find someone else who makes the sun shine on a rainy day. Someone who makes you smile every time they say, “I love you.” Someone who sees you for who you are and doesn’t judge you for who you aren’t. Within those months, you can feel more love than you’ve ever known. You wake up next to the love of your life and there’s nothing else you need. You make coffee in the mornings. You spend every night in each other’s arms.

We almost died many times in our lives. We almost vanished, never to meet, never to experience this.

What if we would’ve known? What if we would’ve been able to see that our lives would meet here? If we only would’ve known that one day pain wouldn’t be all we knew. What if?

We made it up the steps in our lives and now we can finally let that painful breath of air out we didn’t know we were holding. We can finally learn something other than pain.

Where is the Blood?

I just want to write.

I had a panic attack today.


I’ve been staring at this pathetic blank screen for a good hour now. Covered in invisible words, in nothing I want to say, blanketed with anxiety and insecurities. Maybe if I keep typing, my mind will finally make love with my hands. There is a sexy and dirty love affair between everything I want to say and everything I shouldn’t.

Right now, I need my words to speak pain. Not beauty. Not happiness. My god, why can’t I fucking find them? The tightness in my chest won’t go away until I bleed all over this canvas, but everything is drained out of me. I need a damn transfusion. There is only so much bleeding one can do before they collapse into themselves, riddled with exhaustion and faces turning paler than the new snow.

I had a panic attack today and, with tears running down my face, all I can think about is how lucky I am? What the fuck? How does that even make sense?

I suddenly found beauty? I want to speak pain right now. I want to throw up all over my keyboard. Make my words sink into souls of those who read them.

Afterall though, to slander beauty with sadness would be the sickest of crimes.


Yes. I am Dropping Out. Here’s Why.

Yes. You heard that right. For those of you that keep taunting me and telling me how you think I should live my life, here you go.

I don’t need to explain my actions to anyone, but for the sole purpose of protecting my own sanity I will here. Bottom line if I hear one more person tell me that I need a degree to be successful, happy, fulfilled, *insert more annoying things here, I might lose my mind.

My decisions are my own. I am a huge believer in leaving something if it doesn’t make you happy. You hate your job? Leave. You aren’t happy in a relationship? Fix the reasons why or leave. You hate your parents? Walk away. You hate the city you live in? Time to pack your bags and move. You hate your body? Work on it. You hate your hair? Change it. There is no reason to sacrifice something so precious as the idea of happiness because society tells you “this is how it should be done.” You should do what you know can ultimately lead you to a sense of being happy and content. 
I am leaving college. Slowly phasing out. Not only because the whole education system is built on bullshit and too much money, but because I simply can not sacrifice my mental well-being anymore. This isn’t to say that I couldn’t handle college. I can. I am just choosing to stop this endless cycle of turmoil with myself so I can ultimately live the kind of life I want to live.
I have found that I don’t need much to find that sense of content we all search endlessly for. In fact, the way I have been living my life since last summer had made me become more of myself than anything. I want to live a simple life. I hate complication. Thinking about working at a job that I have to be at 9-5 everyday slaving away to earn a paycheck makes me want hide inside my own skin. I am too free of a spirit to tie down within the confines of society. You can not mold me into the pretty perfect image you want because I am not your toy.
Survival. That has different meanings to different people. To survive, to live, to breathe. Every soul has it’s own personal definition of what these things mean. I only need the basics. Happiness/being content can come in many shapes and sizes. Why are we all striving so hard to look past what sparks our passion? Why are so many college students sitting in class right now wishing they were somewhere else completely? Because your parents told you so? Because society told you so? Who told you that you need this degree to have worth? Why the fuck can’t you look away and say “you know what, fuck this. This is not what I want at all.” then turn around and walk out. Maybe different upbringings produce different kinds of mental strength, but jesus people.
I am done with the mental breakdowns. I am done with feeling like I am not good enough at anything. I am done with the rejections. I am done with the all-nighters trying to cram for something that I won’t remember in a few weeks anyway. I am done crying myself to sleep. The nightmares, the panic attacks, the stress, the constant worrying about my future…I am done with all of it. I am on a quest to take a step back and just fucking live for once in my life. Stop worrying about every little thing. Stop worrying about how this one thing could ruin this other thing down the road. I want to do, say, feel what I want. I want to do what I want with my body anywhere I please.
Find happiness in other things. I know with depression having a hayday within my mind today, it is hard to see the good. I know that sometimes the clouds are so thick that even thinking about looking through them is the most exhausting part of living. I also know that it is there. There is a reason I am here. That reason isn’t to go college. I always thought it was. That I have to aspire to change the world. I thought I needed a big fancy lifestyle. The truth is, that is so far from what I ever wanted. I am here to live a life. My life. This life. I am done ruining the best years with bullshit. I know where I can find my happiness. I have two great jobs. I have another job that isn’t the greatest, but still slightly enjoy. I have good friends. I have a pretty amazing girlfriend. I have manageable finances. Things are good.
Wow. What a statement. I typed that and instantly I felt goosebumps travel from my arms down my spine. Things are good. When was the last time I said that? When was the last time I could even sit here and talk about happiness?
Things are good.
I’m sorry if my choices disappoint anyone in my life. I am not sorry, however, for finally following my gut. For finally tuning my ear and making my brain and heart agree. I will not apologize. Why should I? People should be happy for me. People should be happy that I am FINALLY doing something for myself.
I am not a pretty machine in your assembly line.
Fuck society and it’s rules. A degree is just a piece of paper to me. Show me who you are by letting your passion shine through your eyes. Show me who are by the way you talk. I want to know what you love and what you hate. I don’t want to know about physics. I want to know your soul. You don’t need a degree for that.
I don’t really owe anyone an explanation. But there you have it.

Why Do I Run?

Up until me being the age of 18, I was never athletic. I would only run if someone or something was chasing me. I participated in softball and volleyball, loving every minute of it. But I never found a deep personal need for it.  I scoffed at people who were always posting about running and sports and how they saved their lives. I thought, how the hell does breaking a sweat and hurting muscles save a life?

Reality flipped for me this year. I became someone I never imagined myself being. I didn’t become someone bad, I became someone who knew themselves. My life took a turn from getting better to worse and everything around me is currently crashing while I sit back and watch. The amount of chaos in my life has increased and the amount of effort I was putting out to control it was sky rocketing. I relapsed into bad habits of drinking, smoking, hurting myself, and not eating. I thought that was the only way to cope. I became my father. I adopted his habits, and abandoned the good ones I had developed.

It is surprising what one person will do impulsively and in the moment and be able to step through a door to a new beginning. For me that is running. I had a split moment of clarity and through the motivation of someone in my life, I got up and ran. I was so pent up with emotion, I ran 5 miles at 2:00am without stopping once. Granted, I can’t do that again yet, no matter how hard I tried to. The feeling I had afterwards was unspeakable. I felt happy again. It sounds weird. I just ran 5 miles. I was tired, cold, sweaty, and sore, but I was happy. Running is my new control. Through my insomnia and caffeine addiction, I have found I have been passing out on a regular basis. But, running had helped improve my ability to control my actions.

The act of control is something I have always deeply craved. This is a healthy outlet for me. I can run how far I want and how fast. If I have the feeling of needed to feel pain again, I can run until I pass out if I choose. If I feel like relapsing, I go run instead. In fact, I have set the goal of doing a half marathon (13.1 Miles) by the end of the summer. I am not saying I am a fantastic runner. I am slow. I don’t have good breathing techniques. I can’t run long. But I can run. I can have control, and that is the most comforting thing I have had in a long time. Now I am the one who makes deep posts about running. Running has truly saved my life and saved me from my darkest moments. “Running is the greatest metaphor for life. Because you get out of it what you put into it.”