Unfitting Change

They don’t need it, so why should you? I don’t think there is anything more devastating than knowing your growing more into your own. It’s like uncharted territory when a new aspect of your self esteem develops and shines. Not that it’s a bad thing, but getting more in tune with self always turns someone off. Someone will take issue when you grow more into yourself. That is the blessing of wisdom, isn’t it? To know that your opinion of you matters more than others opinion about you; it’s a blessing wrapped up in a curse, I would say. Only because you don’t see the change right away, but you feel it in eerie, yet exciting kind of way.

It can be off-putting to stand up for yourself more than prying eyes are used to watching you do. Breaking out of a shell is always easier than cutting into one because you can’t glue back pieces already broken as if the pattern of the shatter wouldn’t be visible. To some, you may be doing “too much”  to encase a personality that is not yours, when in reality, you’re showing a side others have not seen before and are not ready to view. There is nothing worse to some than you acting well out of the stereotypes they have placed on you, unbeknownst to you. As if they want to resepect the person they say they grew into while holding you to a person you never were, by force. Meaning, they want you to celebrate they have developed and change but don’t honor the growth and change you are going through as well.
They’re not prepared to see you, you only know if you’re new self when you look back. Change is unfitting for those in which the clothes were not made for.  Change is what it always will be; a constant reminder of life.


The Wind

The shift in the wind was the worst I ever felt

the blow was hard and severe,

the ice stabbed where it didn’t melt
the face of the miles I went to find you

the miles I spent waiting, the trials I roo.


Lie times by any side that claims victory

after all, the victor gets to write history.

Times lie by the side that screamed in defeat.

After all, the loser is shamed by history.

What of the generations reeling after defeat?

it must be in their DNA

it must be

Dear Diary: Sensitive Brutes

There isn’t anything worse than an asshole who can’t take the heat of their cooking. What did this hardcore crybaby think, was going to happen? That, someone, wasn’t going to make their abstract insults as concrete reasons to issue a beat down either verbal or physical? Even the head Lion gets challenged once in a while. There is always an idyllic, younger lion looking to fight the ion which is that lion. The fights end the same; with the status quo maintained, or not.

Sensitive Brutes are the ones who can’t take what the give out, but dammit, they’re going to keep serving us dishes they did not help create. However, you’re still going to get detailed information as if they were in the food cellar thinking about ways to make food more iconic to everyone that ever locked eyes with them as the pull and muddle through their vast collection of alcoholic fruit punch. The only issue is they don’t know the name of the dish they’re campaigning as a heavenly treat. They assumed you were going to buy in and not ask questions about what they’re serving you.

Keep in mind, these delicate barbarians are sensible to their issues but not anyone else’s. They always have a rundown handy of everything everyone has ever done  (“good” or “bad”) that fits the narrative they want to frame about someone. If someone makes a Sensitive Brute feel insecure about their looks, they will, in turn, spread information for people to watch/listen for small buzzwords and mannerisms that can be interpreted just as the Sensitive Bute described it. Sensitive Brutes are quick to say “I told you that person is stuck up, look how they flip their hair” when in reality, the person is flipping their hair to get it out of the way. They keep tabs on everyone, but heaven forbid someone meets them at their game and pulls out their autobiography. The Sensitive Brute will be quick to tell everyone how much they’ve grown and seen as an exceptionally evolved form of themselves.

Finally, sensitive brutes are quick to remind you of the wrong someone did to you back in ’98, but they never remember the wrongs they did to you three minutes ago. Even if they suddenly burst out of their soap opera-like amnesia, they have great reasons for throwing you under the bus to protect themselves. These sob stories usually come off as them trying to “make a bounce back from trauma” but when you rip the emotionally charged words out of their speech. It’s nothing more than a hefty complaint of that one time they were held accountable for their crock of crap, and they’re still bitter about that till this day. Not to mention the isolation they felt when there was no Garden Gnome insight to lessen the blow for them or to take the blame. They’re always going to make it their mission to chop others down so no one will realize they’re miserable and want others to be miserable with them.

As long as a sensitive brute come off as more brutish than high-strung, none is the wiser. At least, according to them.

Everyone is a different version of themselves to someone, remember?  Being a sensitive brute might work for some people because it works out for others. I have to ask myself if I am shut out from knowing the cry bully for who they are and cut short what I think they’re worth but at the same time. It’s what I see, and that thought can also be just me. I can be on an island with this.

You’d think it’s better to see the trees for the forest or the other way around. I’m not sure, how that saying works, but I like it because it’s mysterious and beautiful.


Save All Hope

Save all the hope of getting places with these little things that make you smile

send off the dreams of feeling like there is nothing else to believe in

but the lies of the wandering eye that keeps the focus lost on all amounts

toss busy hands in the air as sinful acts take place

in the space between seeing things and believing in dreams.

Dear Diary: They’re not ‘that’

We are all not of the same. I need to catch on to that concept, or at least remind myself to catch on. I always end up flat on my face when I feel The Garden Gnomes should give me the same treatment they do Gem. We are not the same, and they’re not going to see it as such, neither should I, but I keep telling myself short repeating this mistake. I stomp my feet and huff as if I assumed the body of another and demeaned my shadow stop getting all the better things in life while the flesh goes to waste with no reflection to help tell time.  I am learning the hard and easy way; no relationship is the same with others. Having common bonds with someone’s does not mean duplicity in shared experiences; People are going to share with you what they want to share with you, even if you think they’re doing too little or too much.

We all have a degree in which we share ourselves with people, it’s like playing pretend, but you can’t help it, it’s a constant side game in life. Think of a party with all versions of you invited, and there is a small group of different versions of you playing a board game quietly on the side. There was an article I passed by walking the social media streets that basically said, we see different versions of people as different people see different versions of us. I was not shocked by that. I didn’t know why that’s groundbreaking news nor why there had to be an article. I wonder if people recognize they’re not the same to everyone and everyone will not see them the same.

The unique thing about the human experience is we ’re going agree on general motions of life in society because that’s what happens when we have things in common with others. However, the tingle in the back of your head is unique when it comes to how specific scenarios elicit feelings and emotions.  Unless I stay just like I am in my entirety, jump inside your head to be you while still being me, I won’t know what is going on inside your head. We can do our best to describe how we are feeling, but the way we think about what we are describing is going to be different. For example, we agree on the definition of love and the characteristics of it, but the feelings love elicits in people are various.  We are a certain degree of something to different people, you can be the same to everyone and so different to everyone at the same time.

We all have chosen faces for different places. It makes for new rules of judgment when it comes to other people. Don’t you ever wonder why people are shocked when someone they, “thought they knew” does something they, “thought they would never do.”? There is ] an element of unwelcomed surprises when someone doesn’t live up to the standards we subconsciously hold them to. Even if the shock is good or bad, you always question your judge of character when someone throws you off the mark with who they are. These kinds of miscalculations always make space for you to have a talk with yourself if you’re too hard or too easy on people; and whether or not you’re going to have to shift your way of thinking about people.

I wonder if the way I see the world with the pleasures and pressures it has graciously bestowed upon me skewers my outlook I have on Gem. They’re my friend at times, and I feel guilty letting them go, but at the same time, I wonder if it’s jealousy because they get what they want in life and I don’t. I am upset they’re the mask is working for them, and mine is showing me in a harsher light than when I bought the damn thing. I was gawking at one of the Garden Gnomes reason with a person Gem offended a while ago. I was amazed at how different Garden Gnome described Gem to this person. As if Gem was a constant victim rather than this tough, in your face swanker I am always reminded of.  Garden Gnome was confessing to the person, Gem puts up a tough act, and they should leave well enough alone because the facade is all Gem has to make them feel like they have a place in this world. I thought that was so sad and pathetic at the same time. My heart broke for Gem in a way, but I was annoyed too.  I don’t think we should shed tears for sensitive brutes.

9:11 P.M.

I’m not worried by the things I’m not worried about

I’m tired to the fighting; I’m going out a lot.
“The fighting?” they asked, “Wait, you’re going through a lot?

The scars are thicker than what you see; I bury the truth in thoughts.