Leave it all behind

Beginnings and ends
cyclical, informing one another.

It's nice
           yet so redundant, repeating these words over and over. People wanting to find happiness, convincing themselves it's real.
Needing reasons to stay.

What's getting to me
[this time]
is the seeming quest for connection. Like being solitary
without dates and games of that nature is abhorred.

Maybe it means I'm [slightly?] unnatural
to not want that for now
foreseeable future.

And it doesn't really matter.
Spinning.

It'd be okay
if we were dizzy
getting ill from colors blurring
landscapes fade
eyes slide
in the spinning.

                                                                              Even now, I'm not ill.
                                                                              Just sick of it.

Maybe the lack of spinning sickness
means I've learned
                           something.

Let me place my feet on the ground,
pick a time
beginning or end
and run.

Too long

I know this is nothing;
words leaking out into the ether of ethernet connection
as if it matters.

But,
just maybe,
line breaks and no response
helps.

Graduated graduate
with no realistic stars to shoot for
and laughing as I wait
for them to fall on me.
                          [Right now, I'd be okay if they crushed me]

Hello, new beginning
of nothing. No assignments to keep me telling weeks apart.


I'll try to pick this back up
as something to do
         while waiting around for people living lives to want to connect
to the void of me
with no conversation or engagement with the world.

It just keeps spinning, wasting time and oxygen.

Think you're a poet?

Working with people leads to playing with laughter. Manipulating it.

Then you get used.

People are hateful and sometimes I hate being a person.

End of Semester

Masters work, watch them and they will show you the way.

But after grading (degrading) you.

I learned.

Mostly to see with the obscure. Mostly to remain with them

play with them.

But what of a proposal idea? Would it be too much?

Would it bother too many people to end up in a book?

And would it really matter.

My mental crazy is telling me that snow is abound. Maybe we should hibernate? (Only after the to-do list gets crossed off)

Amen

Life Happened

Been over a year. Sorry.

But life happened.

Professionalism was killed by sticks and the religious.

Then I went to Scotland.

Magic happened.

I am back. Scarred and ready for life's next turn

though if the scars show too much, I'll take some coffee.

Off to read more, because that is, as it has always been, pure happiness.

Down. Set. Run.

Hello again and a fancy meeting you here.

I'm still home, and life is still happening quickly.

Moving will take place soon, and goodbyes are forthcoming and make me cry (again).

I need to detach enough where tears are sparse, however the social being within a quiet shell pleas nightly for conversation at the minimum.

Tonight's words were good.

Let's start to measure out life not by coffeespoons, but by stories and words. Let's make our dreams matter more.

Reality isn't important. Facts will change, as will minds and hearts. But stories. Memories and the tales of our lives,
the one's in our minds,
will be the important ones.

Maybe if we swallowed our words we would become wiser, like brains, hearts, and eyes . What would you take back?
What would I?


Living some place new, without a known soul for 45 minutes close, will be awkward.

How do you meet people?

Do you have to be social with reality?

Will I ever stop asking questions? No.

Detachment and trying to connect is messing with my mind. If only there was a guidebook to living my own life, with a more interesting protagonist.
I miss the other characters constantly.

Professionalism

I am now employed. A productive member of society.
Hopefully, positive.

Less than 36 hours ago, I had no prospects.
Professional life was nothing and had no hope of going anywhere.
Let me work in service to make the past four years mean nothing.
Love life was a confusing heartbreak joke,
and probably still is, but let's add awkward to that.
My family and friends in the hometown were full of love
kind words, words of escapism.
My mental state is always one step away from going apeshitcrazy.

I will leave the room of dichotomy, which may help my headspace.
What is wrong with that term? No one seems to like it.
I will leave the house of walls whispering Angst, auf Deutsch, bitte.

Pack away the shit to deal with later, because reality is happening too quickly.
Contract.
Retirement.
Move.
Single?
Only 20.
Scream, please.
Excited? Nervous is the word of the day!

When were people able to read my thoughts?

I should hide my eyes and cover my mouth
because I don't understand this.
How to keep the light hearted allusions to other conversations had with other people away from the toxicity of relationships.
How can I be honest when I try to avoid stories and people tell me secrets of betrayal?

How to not cry when you are no longer able to fly to Neverland?