I don’t have a license to drive anyone crazy — but I do have a mind
that keeps itself driven. Always on. Dreams at any given. And
I’ve felt the kind of love sickness that lingers too long — where
obsession is the disease of craving for something that was never really
yours to begin with. Envy stays green, growing tall like something
proud. But even weeds grow healthy, and we still call them plants,
right?

I’ve been tied to other people’s hopes — roped in by their strong
faith. "And I still try to believe." But saying that out loud feels like lying
to my own mouth. So I daydream in the interest of peace, trying not
to wake the ghouls I’ve tucked under my thoughts. I’ve had people
toss my advice like a smooth stone in their hand; pretending it’s
weightless, like their hands aren’t made of sand — like shallowness
could ever carry any real depth. But it just echoes the sea.

I always notice the ones who aren’t really seen. The unread...
The Blue and Grey ticks. While others get their messages read and
ignored, I’m just the message never opened. Still typing, still thinking
of the right words. I’ve come to represent the depressed, the lost, the young — the ones really trying to figure this **** out.

Pause yourself if you need to cuss, but I swear it’s not a curse to feel
like **** sometimes. It just means in that moment, you’re not feeling so clean. Not broken — just not fitting the costume.

Sometimes you just need one reason — just one — to feel like
yourself again. Not a version of you tailored to fit in. And that’s why
it suits me better not to force anything. So yeah, I wear shorts to
church — because life is too short, and I don’t see the point in
dressing up pain to make it feel prettier. Especially when it’s always
some casual man speaking formal hopes, trying to iron your sadness
into something presentable. As if comfort should only come with a
collar.

But I’m not here for that. I’m just here trying to feel real —
and maybe make peace with the parts of me that still feel unseen.

Under these words – under pressure;
a reflective gaze cast on restless skies, days
becoming mirrors to us all — shining back
fragments we try to ignore.

Thoughts over water, drowning away in
myself — no lifeboat in sight, just ripples
of casual doubts, and this casual self that suits
the occasion of standing on business — as if
duty could silence the tide within.

Later rehearsals play out in the theatre of trials —
where life keeps testing, and those falling in love
in public become gossip in the rain.
Soft, but heard. Brief, but echoing.

Give us a little space; space exists to be used —
lest we start to feel abused by presence that
doesn’t pause to respect the silence.

There’s always a clue to finding yourself —
often tucked inside those who build you up,
brick by spoken brick — sticking to your side,
a friendship made of genuine glue.

And its occupants; are the ones who don’t
overstay their worth, who know how to shape
time into a home away from home.
Not permanent, but warm. Not perfect, but safe.

To share tears like rivers drawing in and from
one another —currents of grief and grace,
there are gifts in that flow. So appreciate those
in your life who’ve been so current —both
present and moving, flowing with you instead
of watching you sink.

I believe in self-love.
I believe we shouldn’t depend on others for happiness.
But in the long run, we all need someone—
Someone who admires our efforts,
Someone who showers love and care,
Someone who stays loyal,
Someone who lifts us when we fall,
Someone to lean on—when self-care isn’t enough.

Is it too much to ask for just that?

Once,
the tree was only a whisper—
a dream cradled in the arms of soil.
A tiny seed, trembling,
yet daring to believe in sunlight.

Storms came early.
Winds screamed names it didn't understand.
But it stayed—
letting its roots sink deep
into the quiet ache of the earth.
The soil, ancient and tender,
carried centuries of silent sacrifices.
It held the tree like a promise
never meant to break.

Its branches stretched—
not for the sky,
but for something softer,
maybe hope.
Each knot in its wood,
a story of pain swallowed instead of spoken.
Each resin drip—
a memory stuck in the hollows of its chest.

Still, it stood.
Beasts circled.
Axes whispered through the leaves.
But the soil whispered louder—
“Grow. Even if it hurts.
Even if they try to break you.
Be so strong they forget how to cut you.”

But not every root finds water.
Not every seed feels sun.
Some trees grow in shadows so deep
they start thinking darkness is home.

Some fall.
Not from weakness,
but from carrying too much silence.

And when all that’s left
is a stump in the clearing—
they call it the end.
But beneath the surface,
the roots still hum.
They remember.
They ache.
They whisper the moments
when the tree wanted to give in—
but didn't.
Not yet.

Because it thought of the soil.
The quiet hands that held it.
The love that never asked to be seen,
but was always there.

It wanted to stay.
It truly did.
But sometimes, the rain never comes.
And sometimes,
the weight of invisible pain
is heavier than a storm.

And still—
even as it fell,
it thought:
If I leave,
what will happen to the soil?
Will it blame itself
for a drought it couldn’t stop?

Because trees don’t just die.
Sometimes,
they break their own hearts
to keep from breaking their roots.

Something is wrong,
but I can’t pinpoint it.

Something is rotten,
but nobody notices it.

Someone is struggling,
but nobody cares.

Someone is dying,
but it doesn’t matter.

Someday, living is an easy task.
Someday isn’t.

But as usual, nobody cares.

You have to live with it.
You have to grow up.
You have to tolerate it.

Because it is what other people do.
So you have to do it too.

The pretenders will see right through you, but that’s okay because you’ll see right through them too.

You just have to keep going.
And you gonna be okay.
You going to make it to another day
eventually.

Sometimes I love my reflection.  
Other times, he's just a bad friend—fixing his lips like he's about to interrupt me before I get my thought out good.  
When I stop speaking, so does he.  
What do you expect? He's me. ****.  
In truth, the bills are paid, and all current business is handled. But something is missing. It’s obvious. He just looks and shakes his head—my reflection.  
I'd be lying if I said I didn't care.  
I've gotten used to the silence that follows me. It's peaceful.  
When I make it home after a long day, if I touch something, I know where it is.  
If I cook something, I know there's more, even if I don't eat it all.  
He sits back and watches all of this.  
My reflection. Half the time, I pay him no mind. Sometimes, it's better that way.  

But sometimes, I wouldn't mind a bit of noise

i believe it was a tuesday morning!
i remember i had a reason to wake up -
to squeeze the last bit of toothpaste
from the tube.
to get right back in the ******* loop.

i believe i caught a glimpse of a child
through the foggy bathroom mirror,
laced with my minty breath.
it felt strange...
i took offense at his looks,
the way he eyed me down.
in his defense though,
i had caught him with his guards down.

he didn't say much,
not that he did anyway.
just nodded softly at me,
whispered almost,
'alright! guess i'll be going then...'
with a flicker of a smile
never to be seen again.

i believed at the time it was best for him
to not see the light on my face go dim
didn't realize then i'd pay such a solemn price;
as I let him go, not thinking twice.

i believe it came quite naturally to me -
finding good reasons not to be.
that day, i found yet another;
it was just enough to help me see -
the error of my ways...
like a rat in a maze, how i end up
reliving the worst of my days.

i still believe i could turn things around.
give the kid a reason to be proud.
i'd whisper softly into the foggy bathroom mirror,
'we're ok, little buddy...
everything's going to be ok!'
i believe i could get him to say,
'alright... i'll stay!'

You've got this, don't give up the fight,

Keep pushing forward, shine with all your light.

Believe in yourself, you're strong and bright,

Your dreams are near, just hold on tight.

Don't let fears stop you, face them with cheer,

You'll overcome, and banish all fear.

Take small steps, keep moving ahead,

Success awaits, in every step you've said.

You're amazing, unique and bold,

Your future's bright, your story's yet untold.

Get up, stand tall, and shine,

Believe in yourself, you're divine.

You're special, one of a kind,

Make your mark, leave your shine.

Be brave, take the first step too,

And watch your dreams come true

Don't give up, keep moving ahead,

You'll reach your dreams, and succeed instead.