I love birthdays, I think they’re an amazing thing. I love getting congratulated with gifts and kind words for simply being alive for one more year, it’s fantastic. i’m not being sarcastic either, something that requires minimal work and great results is my kind of thing.

However, 19 is one of the most pointless ages ever; From like 1-12 you’re still super stoked on your birthday and invite friends over for cake and their parents buy you a present, 13 you get to see PG 13 movies, 16 you get to drive, 17 you get to see Rated R movies, 18 you get to do tons of shit, skip over 19, then you’re 20 and a grown ass person, no longer a teenager. 19 is like the end of an era, and it’s kind of a sad year.

Contrarily I suppose that’s an excuse to live it up, which is what I intend to do, but it’s still kind of nutty. So much shit had happened in the past 19 years - the Backstreet Boys, N*SYNC, Dreamstreet, and Spice Girls have all formed and broken up, Amy Winehouse released 2 hit records and died, Apple rose and fell with the death of it’s CEO, the world was rocked by 9/11, and so much other shit I can’t recall. In my personal life, people have come and gone and times have changed so much, but somehow every year I’m exactly where I need to be

With every year that passes, it fascinates me I’ve made it through another one. While i celebrate this event in such a fashion that makes me seem like I think I’m invincible, the truth is I’m celebrating the fact that I’m not. not only am I not dead, but I’m graced to be surrounded by the best people ever period always. 

So here’s to a new year, where I don’t feel any different, but fortunate to feel such.

So although my english teacher is pretty much a complete bore, the assignment we’re doing in the class is interesting - we set up a Wordpress, and instead of writing papers, we do weblogs. The first one was a prompt on beliefs:

1. I believe that society….

is not-so-slowly becoming more dependent on unimportant things and far less dependent on things that really matter

 2. What reasons can you think of to support your belief? 

The rappers who can make entire albums about their fast whips and racks on racks on racks. Teenagers who stand in line for hours and hours and even get stabbed to cop the new pair of J’s. College students who jeopardize their grades to work 40 hours a week and make tons of money. Young girls who wish more than anything that their love handles would disappear or young men who strain themselves flexing sculpted muscles they don’t have. Drugs or drinks being the only source of entertainment for groups of friends. Grandchildren unable to recite a good time or an old story their grandparents shared with them at their eulogy. Tweets upon tweets Christmas Day about how much people hate their parents for not getting them the iPhone.

 3. What evidence supports your reasons? 

The Racks, the Stabbings, and the Tweeting

 4. What have you read or heard that has influenced or shaped your belief?

Walking down the sidewalk, you’ll probably bump into tons of people whose heads are tilted over their smartphones as they cross the street, see womanly figures you wished you had, smell perfumes that are $200 for 4 ounces, and hear the roar of a sports car that probably cost more than a house. You’ll sit down and watch trashy reality television making teen mothers and New Jersey residents household names, only to be bombarded every 10 minutes by commercials telling you what phone you should have, how you should smell, how you should look, and what car you should drive

5. What have you seen or experienced that has influenced or shaped your belief? 

From personal experience. I’ve put insignificant things like work, money, body envy, technology and booze over my relationships with people and the appreciation of simple things in life

6. How have these experiences led you to your present position? 

My personal experience has led me to believe the folly in our current society. I realize that in small increments these flaws in society aren’t too bad, but the scale it’s reached is quite off-putting

 7. How does your belief affect the choices you make on a daily basis?

I try to accept society simply for what it is and not to dwell – dwelling on too much of anything is sort of a waste of time. I enjoy these so called ills in society, but I also remember to stay grounded and truly focus on those things that are the most important

….Although thoughts of being with you haunt me from time to time, I’ve gotten much better at fighting them. My naive skin is starting to shed and I’m learning to deal with these kindergarden crushes with greater ease, but it never really gets easier. All it makes me think is: what the fuck will I do if/when/however I fall in love? How will I handle myself when it comes to a screeching hault? But I think I’ll be okay after that, because I think what I fall in love with the most, so hopelessly, is not the man himself, but the concept of him. I love the perfect image the first few romantic gestures sketch up in my mind and the quirky yet charming etched lines that follow suit. But it’s like diving into a cold pond from 50 ft - the journey is thrilling, not quite knowing what’s going to happen, but the millisecond your phalanges hit that icy liquid, things become a lot less worth discovering. Oh wait, I missed a part.

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You came over, we ate leftovers and listened to my new Beach House vinyl. The news was on and we spoke for the muted subjects; “DAT FOX ATTACKED ME, I WAS LIKE FUCK YOU FOX!”. We laid in my comfy ass bed and watched The Graduate after I told you how awesome my dad said it was. Once it was over, we laid next to each other in bed listening to my Dr. Dog vinyl. Side 1 stopped but I was too cozy to flip it as we continued to talk about everything I wanted to hear and needed to know. I showed you my Pokemon cards and gave you one. Just before you left, you grabbed some cookies and gave me a footrub I joked about in a text message. We hugged and established our friendship, and I’m really okay with that. Sure I sort of wish it was more than that, but I like what we have. If when you are ready and I’ve moved on romantically, we’ll remain friends, but if I haven’t, well…. maybe, who knows.

While thousands of people will be honoring the thousands of veterans who fought for their country in foreign lands, I won’t be able to shake that stomach-churning feeling I experienced in that makeup isle of Target a year ago when we got that phone call about one veteran. A veteran not of war, but of a conjunction of so much more; A veteran of dimples that caved in every time that lavish smile was let off it’s leash, of many brewskis and shots of Irish whiskey swigged down in my living room alone, of too many moments helping out anyone and everyone whenever they needed it, and of so many moments I unfortunately was too far away in distance and age to truly soak up. It’s honestly difficult to write about the man I knew so little about, whose blissful existence on this Earth I took for granted. But he walks with other veterans, being introduced to me constantly with every story and every glimmer, every chuckle, every bittersweet smirk curling out the faces of those telling them. To me, Kylan seems more prevalent on this Earth than ever. And just like those veterans most will honor tomorrow, he will live on as a legend

I hate it. I don’t know if it’s always been such a difficult feat for me or if it’s just lately, but it’s the worst. It’s hard not to fall a little in love with every pretty boy who flashes a smile and it’s even harder to take that and know what to do next. Half of you is saying that you gotta make things happen while the other half is saying that if it’s suppose to happen it will. These two consciences sit on my shoulder like little pricks yelling their logical arguments in my ear and it drives me so mad to the point where i just walk away. The most i can muster out is a lingering smile, maybe even a name, but what can i do with that? not a damn thing

And getting a number or maybe a Facebook add is only the first hump to get over. Saying witty and charming things? I’m not sure I’m capable of such things. Every text or im or vocal conversation travels off my fingertips with a shudder of disgust and off my tongue with a pukey trail left behind. That’s seriously not who i am, i just cant be “sassy” with words

And even past the initial flirting… the first interaction with one another is positively devastating. I don’t think I could name one time where I haven’t stopped in the middle of a makeout session to lay down implied ground rules or break out in an unnecessary gigglefit

Of course, I guess it gets easier. You not only learn to navigate each other’s bodies, but your thoughts and words. You begin to understand what to say and what to do and know each other better. But how do you look at a person and know it’s even worth it? If they even want these things? If you even want these things..?

Will Smith once told Charlie Rose a story about a brick wall his father made him build - how he looked at the blank space overwhelmingly, but learned to focus on one brick at a time, and eventually a wall appeared. Now this too could be the case for my situation, but I just don’t have any damn bricks to pick up

“When we look back at the Constitution our fore fathers scribbled up all those years ago, what do we see? The right of justice, that people should be treated fairly when distributing the correction of wrongs and injuries; equality in politics, economy and society, not to be looked down upon in any aspect; the demand of truth from our government; and let us forget not the right to life, to liberties like personal freedom and the right to participate in the government, and to pursue happiness while not infringing on the rights of others. Although some people might not agree with everything they wrote, maybe wanting to redraft it entirely, I don’t blame them. And a famous yet ridiculous cartoon theme song asks a head-thumping question: where are those good old fashion values, on which we used to rely? Let us not forget that core value defining us from our European brotheran –popular sovereignty. The citizens, yes you and me. We are collectively the sovereign of the state and hold ultimate authority. With this in mind, think about the majority of Americans who believe cannabis should be legalized to execute the life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness our fore fathers dreamed for us.”

people i don’t even know, something just happens inside of me. for a few minutes i’m obsessed over them - what their life was like, who they were, what they did. and most of them look so happy, having the time of their lives, coming so close to huge milestones. i look at how they died and how common it was and how that could happen to me, it just hasn’t. i look around and see people older than them walking around with so much more life jam packed in them, it just doesn’t seem fair, it never seems fair

i remember 4 years ago this kid at my school died just a few months before graduation. i never met him and i don’t even remember his name, but he still sticks with me. i just wonder what he was feeling. there were a few facebook posts about this girl who was driving on the highway and crashed. i didn’t know she existed and i looked on her tumblr and saw her and her boyfriend were about to celebrate their 11 months

i can never truly wrap my head around death, i never truly accept it when it happens, and if stranger’s deaths affect me this much, i can’t imagine how much someone close to me would

When I first opened my letter from VCU, I knew somewhere in the back of my mind what it was going to say. For some reason, I could feel it in my gut. Every ounce of hope I had fought against it, and their battle raged inside of my stomach as I scanned the first line slowly. Then - “regret”. I fell to the floor, but at first I couldn’t even cry. It was this weird paralyzing feeling, like something was hoping it wasn’t real, that my brain didn’t register it because it couldn’t possibly do it. But after a few seconds, I realized what had happened. Tears streamed from my eyes and thoughts of failure and worthlessness through my brain. I’ve never felt that pathetic and beat down in my entire life.

All I could think is what am i going to do? In that moment, I had never felt so lost. It’s hands down the worst feeling I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Practically every moment of the past few years relied on this moment. I felt like such an idiot because I strutted around like I was already going to VCU. I was just so sure of everything.

Even though I know people are going to say “Keep pursuing art!”, I just don’t want to. I’m so sick of it beating my emotions black and blue. This is far from the first time I haven’t been good enough - I know that has self-pity connotations, which it did before, but now I’m just stating a fact. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just making it up as I go along. If you told me to vector something, etc, I don’t know what to tell you. Plus, art school is sculpting and drawing and painting - I have no desire to do that. Going into all this I figure I’d get through it and do what I really want, but I just don’t think it’d be worth it. And there’s a lot of hipster douches in Richmond.

Even before I got this letter, I was having my doubts. I’m not ready to live away from my parents or live with a stranger or walk the streets of Richmond by myself. The whole thing absolutely terrified me, but once again, I figured I’d get over it. What I was even more afraid of is going up there and hating it. Just like today, I would have no idea what I would do.

So if you asked me a year ago, 3 months ago, a day ago, or when I was lying on my kitchen floor this afternoon what I would do if I didn’t get into VCU, fuck college in general, I would have no idea what to tell you. I would probably say something along the lines of huddling up in the fetal position for a few days and my world coming to an end. But honestly, after a hour and some change of crying, it’s the beginning of a whole new one.

After years of knowing exactly what I’m going to do and where I’m going to go and being so sure of everything, I like not knowing. Even though I’m not too sure where I’m going or what I’m going to do, I know I’ll be okay. I’m smart enough and I can write, so I’ll probably do that and maybe freelance on the side. Plus, this happened for a reason, everything does. It has to, or else life would just suck too much. Everything happens so you can realize life isn’t always so peachy fucking keen. Things happen so you can stop lying to yourself with denial and empty promises you made when you were 10 and realize how you really feel right now. Things happen so you learn what you need because no matter how badly your mother wishes you could, you can’t always get what you want. Things happen after things after things after things to show you through all that remorse and happiness, the doubt and hope, the acceptance and dreaming a little bigger, that everything will be alright after all.

i have in so many ways. i’ve cut my hair and let it grown then cut it and let it grow again, i’ve ridded of old clothes and got new things. but amongst all of those things, i’ve become far more open to things - more accepting of my friends and their habits, even accepted such on various occasions (maybe or maybe not happening right now). more welcoming of my relationship status or weight, no matter what it is. more alive by facing tragedy and all those all around “growing up” frustations.

i’m constantly growing and changing - weather it be maturity, intelligence, or physicality - and in the past year i’ve become so much more open to accepting who i am 

My life has become a sort of drinking game. Not the kind your parents play with their expensive beers they take a swig of every time Obama mentions the health care plan, but the kind college kids play with their cheap vodka they throw back everytime a boxer gets a hit in.

Every morning that begins with me slapping the snooze button at 5AM, take a shot. Every time I have to rebutton my shirt or retie my tie, take a shot. Every traffic jam I slam down my horn or yell profanities at the drivers in front of me, take a shot. Every time I loose a deal and get yelled at by my boss – well, you know what to do.

If you’re not feeling good yet, you haven’t been paying attention.

Every night I walk through the door, I rip off my tie and unbutton my top button. I pour a glass of Jack Daniels and see what’s on TV. For every local news story that involves someone getting robbed or killed, I take a shot. For every episode of Law and Order that mentions a girl getting raped, I take a shot. For every line of dialogue on CSI that mentions semen residue, I take a shot, and find myself looking at an empty glass.

I turn the TV off and get up to refill my drink. As the glass is filling up, my mind is filling up with thoughts of her - her big blue eyes, long brown hair, porcelain skin, endless curves, soft lips – and then I take a shot. As I drag myself back to the couch, I wonder how she’s doing now; if she’s settled down, had some kids she might cart around in a silver minivan – to soccer, karate, ballet; wherever their hearts desire. As I lift my glass to my lips, I envision her bouncing waves tied up in a ponytail while she scrubs the dishes, and her husband coming home from work, putting down his briefcase, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her check. And then I take a shot.

If you’re not slurring your words yet, then you’ve made a few mistakes.

I think about where I would have been if I had stayed. Probably at my mediocre agency in a small office with no windows making half of what I do now. As I kick my business socks up on my coffee table and sink further back into the couch, I start thinking, why does a job title determine how high up you are in the world anyway? Why does a salary determine how wealthy you are?

I think about the first time that I saw her, when she served me my latte and shot me that 100-watt smile of hers. Oh, I felt higher than ever before. As I twirl my glass I think about holding her hand, running my fingers though her hair, pressing my lips against hers. My god, I felt wealthier than any salary could ever make me. And then I take a shot

If you’re not blurting out your deepest secrets by now, you’re in denial.

I sink deeper into my couch as I look around my living room at the priceless paintings hanging on the walls and the black plasma television resting on its cherry wood stand and realize I’m the poorest man in the world. I take a shot and not only realize I’ve hit rock bottom in my life, but I’ve also hit the bottom of my glass. I bring the glass down from my face as I realize I’ve become nothing more than the art on the walls, the TV on its stand… the gun in my top drawer.

If you’re not holding the bar to keep you up straight, then there’s still hope for you.

My eyes open wide as my epiphany jolts energy into my legs that clumsily carry the rest of my body to my bedroom. As I fumble through my dresser drawer, I think about sitting on the couch with her watching cheesy movies and sitcoms. As my blurry eyes meet with the shiny 9MM, I think about her messy face when I looked across the dinner table. As my shaky hands grasp the weapon, I think about holding her body in bed and never wanting to let go. As I lift the barrel to my temple, I think about the foreign countries we never went to, the furniture we disagreed on, the children we never had.

And her smile, her 100-watt smile. It lit up her entire porcelain face and made her blue eyes shine even brighter. I think about looking at that face, higher and richer than you could even fathom. I think about looking at that face and feeling like a person, with blood and love running through me. Now, as dark whiskey and apathy pulse through my veins, I’m nothing more than the paintings hanging on my walls, the plasma TV in my living room, the gun in my hand.

And then, I took a shot.

I like to think I’m a pretty civil person, one who’s able to look past the mistakes people have made because I know they’re better than that. Being one who’s made plenty of mistakes myself; I’m just doing what I’d want someone to do for me. Especially with people I’ve know for years, who I’ve seen the good, the bad and the ugly in. when they infuriate me to that point where I feel the need to kick them out of my life indefinitely, i think how much good outweighs this one thing they did, no matter how terrible it might be. I’m in no place to judge them, and even if I was I wouldn’t, I’m no better than them

And neither are you. I have no fucking clue where you think you get off pinning something against me that not only happened over a year ago, but I was honest and apologized for. I know it was a big mistake, and while i wouldn’t say I regret it, i am sorry I did it. And so I did tell you a few months later, but what could I do? You were both my friends, my good friends, and even though what he did was wrong, it wasn’t my place.

Furthermore, you did the exact thing you’re accusing me of - letting love tear a friendship apart. All those times he complained about it i defended you and told him as long as you’re happy, everything’s fine.

All that isn’t even the worst. I had no idea you felt this way until i got a phone call from someone else telling me how you felt. You didn’t even have the decency or enough respect for me to tell me to my face what a shitty friend I am. This isn’t the first time someone else had to tell me how you feel, and I can’t really say I’m shocked; I’m just kind of disappointed and sick of trying so hard.

And now you’re family canceled on our little Christmas party, conveniently enough, proving furthermore you will never be woman enough to talk things out, and i quite frankly could give two fucks.

I hate these nights when I’m lying in bed and all I want is someone right next to me. These nights when any progress I’ve made to disregard my own stereotypical ideas of loneliness and obsession seem to digress. These nights when all I want to do is call someone and say things I’ll regret, but I have no one to talk to. These nights where the only thing I can do is lie in bed and want things I can’t have

As I got ready for the day, I looked in my closet and I wasn’t too sure what to wear. I wasn’t too sure if I’d be able to find everything I wanted to at at Target today; I wanted to look for some boots or a new sweater, but I wasn’t too sure if they’d have a good selection

As me and my mom were looking at the makeup, I wasn’t too sure if I should buy some more nail polish or what color eyeshadow to get. My mother’s phone rang, and I wasn’t too sure why my nagging cousin was calling my mother. She always has some kind of issue going on, but we wern’t too sure what it was this time. Probably some more boy drama, so we ignored it.

As we went down the isles, I wasn’t too sure what moisterizer I should’ve gotten - the bargain brand or the usual. The phone rang again, and I wasn’t too sure why my uncle called right after my cousin, but I was sure my mom would pick up this time. I wasn’t too sure why her face dropped or why she began yelling “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” and pacing nervously around the shopping cart, but I was sure it was something bad.

As she told me my cousin died, I wasn’t too sure what to think. I thought about how young he was - only 23. i remembered writing about when he had his heart attack in my diary when I was 9 or 10; I don’t think I even spelled his name right in the entry. I wasn’t too sure what the last thing I said to him was or when I would’ve ever seen him again. I thought about how we’re never going to see him at family reunions and new years, or how they were suppose to come down for Thanksgiving but we decided against it, or how my family’s flight down from California served an entirely new purpose they never would’ve imagined.

As we hurried to the car to hide from the strangers, I wasn’t too sure what they thought of us. I sat in the passenger’s seat and looked up at a couple arguing, but I wasn’t too sure if what they were bickering about, but compared to this it didn’t mattered. In that moment nothing else mattered. I can’t be too sure how hard this is hitting everyone or when the funeral is or why this happened. I can’t even be too sure how I feel.

I can’t be too sure of anything anymore