10 years ago, I attempted suicide. On a summer night in 2008, my parents drove me from the house where I was raised to the emergency room in an effort to save the life of their 21-year-old son. My action was built on several years of mental turmoil and anguish, of unchecked thoughts and words … More Surviving Suicide: What I’ve Learned After 10 Years
You’ll reach a point where you cannot blame your mistakes on your parents’. In the early years of your second decade, you’d determined they were the reason you wore a hero’s mask over your villain face and fought for both sides. A double life, your father called it. When you were alone you spat at … More Forgiveness.
The falsities I signify as memories lie in stacked planes, pierced by a needle, threaded taut at the most peculiar points; each day is an involuntary setting off of previously lived remembrances, bounded in touchstones I’ve symbolically mythologized in my psyche. One past moment bounds into another: full submersion in a wormhole of past occurring … More Memory Wormhole (An Opening)
“I am the place in which something has occurred.” — Claude Lévi–Strauss What is here labelled as “something,” must be aggrandized. “Something” is too broad a descriptor. So, is it more direct to say I am the place in which many a thing has happened? Is this a better means of explaining in a single … More The Sieve Bored Holier
Where is the worth in waiting? I have been locked in stasis, hungry for change (as I’ve come to define waiting), but cannot find all that much to value there. Be present. Instead of expelling your desire waiting for summer, embrace winter. Summer will come regardless. Don’t just give up on what you can accomplish … More Laughter Saves Lives
You lay down, out of doors, your back on a grassy bed. You are surrounded by tall trees. You have your eyes open, aimed skyward. No one is around. You wait for it. You listen. Before long, you become aware of a warm, static humming originating from the recess of your mind. Concentrating on the … More An Overcrowded Consciousness
At the end of the driveway, out of reach from the parental sensor light, the car off save for its accessorized music maker, two adolescents conversed. “Maybe I wasn’t driving at all. Maybe the roads were actually operating as treadmills and they moved under us. We remained stationary. We didn’t really just drive there, the … More Here Has Been Us
“Go on, cry your salty tears into my wounds. Cut me down with your words and hide the tools to build me again. Just know there is a place you cannot reach, a place your neglectfulness turns to a stockpile of resentment. Know that room is almost full.” – from a page in Luke Jacobi’s … More Kay Jones