I am writer. I am an artist. A musician. A builder. A destroyer. I am a lover. A fighter. I will laugh until I cry, and cry until I laugh. I absolutely love the water, the rain, the most out of all the elements. Some would call me a hippie. I am a revolutionist. I always forgive and forget. I am a friend. I am a son. I am a nephew. I am a brother. I am someone who you can call in the dead of night with problems, and I’m there. I try not to judge people, I’m sorry if I do, nobody’s perfect. I am me. I am from the salt sea, Food-4-Less and Albertsons. I am from slamming doors, and broken wings. I am from Cottonwoods. From hundreds of sneezes, and itchy, red eyes. I am from Hazelnut coffee, drank at a young age.From milky opaqueness, to the slow burned crisp. I am from The Pepsi Can, and Glory Bee. From the yes ma’m and the no sir’s. I am from Oly J. and searching for my sister. Brinkley barking through the night, and the ghosts in my kitchen. I am from bitter cold Utah,and sweltering Arizona. Ornamental Oranges, and cotton wads.I’m from pessimism, From quiet ‘just go to beds…From fights on Christmas,and tears never to be sought. I am from family coming first, but never made a choice. I am from a silent past, where emotions speak louder than words.

There is a part of me that no one knows. The one who laughs too much, cries too much, and has a hard time having fun. The person, who can’t sleep, killed with thoughts. The me who loves far too much, and can’t bear the hatred that haunts my soul. I grit my teeth and barely make it through the day. I drag my self out of bed and pull on what clothes I’ve managed to wash. You can tear me down and slowly build me back up, only to tear me down once again. You can tell me you hate me and cry on my shoulder the next day. I am me and I am so sorry.

Throw anything at me.If it hurts I won’t show you. If I need you I won’t tell you. I’m so used to being an island. These walls are a part of me now, and nothing can get past them. I’m so close to breaking but I won’t be found in pieces, no one gets to see me cry. No one touches my heart. Have my body, have my time, have my constant thought.. But you’ll never have my heart, there’s too many secrets hidden away in there, too much aching and longing and far too much desire.I’m waiting for the fog to lift. I’m waiting for the phone call. I’m waiting for a savior.

You make me feel more beautiful than all the others did. The way you hold me and kiss my forehead before we fall asleep and how you gently touch my neck to wake me up. The way you never seem to need anything more than just this. But baby, you could have it all if you wanted. You could take my world and turn everything around and if I was left with nothing stable but to stare into your eyes, that would be okay with me. Because after this summer, everything changes, people leave and the sun stops shining so bright over us every day. Just knowing that I had you once is enough. And knowing that you had me. I know you have a heavy heart, I could feel it when we kissed.

Today I am learning that I can’t stay one step ahead of the pain forever. Reality hurts I’m so broken. I’m hardened, addicted and lost. I’m lonely and needy. I’m jealous and I’m angry. Calloused, offended, confused, obsessive, hurt and upset. I’m insecure. I’m jaded. I’m bitter, and I’m selfish. I can’t let people in, so I let them walk all over me. I’m never enough for the ones I so desperately want to be enough for. I’m retreated and I’m drawn-back. I get hurt too easily, and I never give myself the time to heal. I constantly feel guilty. From the moment I wake up to the moment I lay my head, I’m never good enough for me. Never skinny enough. Never pretty enough. Never together enough for me. I spend hours in a day dream that I know will never come to pass. I hide my pain, and only ever let it show around the wrong people. I’m desperate for love. Desperate for healing, for hope, for commitment and for restoration. I long for redemption.

I’m still not very good at liking what I see in the mirror every morning. I’m not very good at channeling my frustration into something worthwhile. I’m horrible at keeping my mind in the present. I love the wrong things far too much and don’t give enough time to the things I should. My heart still hurts, but not as much as it used to.

I always miss people. I always wish my apologies meant something. I still sometimes want to self-destruct and when it gets really bad I always know how to isolate myself for a while, but I wish I wasn’t like that.I wish I wasn’t so anxious about everything…

Freedom…More than anything, I want to be free. I want to hold back the hands that cut, unlock the prison doors, dance in the sun rise and swim in the waves. I want to scream truth louder than the lies, give the hungry, thirsty, homeless and poor everything they need to meet every single need they have and will have. I want to not be crippled by my past and shortcomings. I want to encourage rather than gossip. I want to bring healing. I want to comfort those who mourn. I want to proclaim victory. I want to lead the way to freedom. Where children can laugh and dance and be embraced by their parents. Where the poor are rich and the last are first. Where addictions are weak and chains are broken. Where the only blood that will be shed has shed and cheeks know not the touch of tears. Where hearts are confident in love and community thrives in fellowship. Where slavery is nonexistent. Freedom.

Sometimes I just need to walk around aimlessly by myself. But sometimes I stop, and I sit with my head in my hands and realize I dislike my own company more than what I was running from in the first place. And that’s the place where it hurts….