The Old Man on Birch StreetThe first time I saw him he was sitting on an old metal bench along the sidewalk of Birch Street. I'll admit I was judgmental like everyone else. His face was thin and had quite defined cheekbones. His skin was wrinkled from old age and a rough life, I guessed. His eyes were grey, almost a faded blue, and hardened. He wore a pair of black pants that were too short on him, and so thin that I guessed his legs were numb from the cold. His tattered old coat also had holes and was probably older than the man himself. The man's nose was very defined; despite his ragged clothes, the man's facial structure made me think that he should be royalty.
It was beginning to snow again, and I was in a bad mood. Work was intense and I was sick of the snow. Being single and a young man of twenty-four, I was all-consumed with my job and, mostly, myself. I never had time to stop and talk with beggars on the street; well, I never made time all they ever wanted was money. And I had far more i
you're asking me.if you asked me who i am, i'd probably forget to tell you my name.you're asking me.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
instead i'd tell you that my eyes are blue and i'm shorter than most but taller than some. i'd tell you that i like walking better than driving because feeling the ground under my feet is somehow affirmation that i am alive and that i am connecting to something bigger than me. i'd tell you that i think the sky looks too big at night and not big enough in the morning. i'd probably explain that has something to do with the fact that i wake up with every intention of flying and go to sleep knowing my elbows haven't sprouted wings yet.
but don't worry, i'd say, because i'll wake up hopeful again tomorrow.
and if you were to wait around a little more, i might be persuaded to tell you i'd lost my mind seven years ago and would you be kind enough to help me look for it? i'd probably tell you about the boy with teardrop-eyes who chewed up my heart because he thought it'd be aspirin and was indignant when it burned a hole throug
i can't see the sky.i hate the word lonely.i can't see the sky.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
it dries out my mouth like i had tried to swallow tumbleweeds, it scratches the back of my throat like i'm trying to regurgitate memories from an empty stomach. it leaves me sitting in the middle of an empty room and wishing the ceiling would cave in because then at least i'd be able to watch the stars.
instead i'm just laying on top of the covers pretending to count them in the drywall and imagining what it would feel like to have your arm behind the curve in my neck. instead i'm closing my eyes and listening to the suction in my veins because i am hollow and caving in. i keep painting you with rich, lush adjectives, but you're just a cardboard pipe dream that falls flat and leaveleaveleaves me without air.
i keep spending my nights sketching your eyes on the ceiling, but i still can't see the moon.
and you know, i keep my hands busy during the day to ignore the faint shaking they do when i know they want to be holding yours. i keep my mouth talking to ignore t
my little heart of mine.dear little heart of mine,my little heart of mine.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i need you to be brave for me. i know you're trembling on wires and clacking against bird-bone ribs, but i need you to set your teeth and stiffen that upper lip. i know it's scary and we aren't getting any medals for courage any time soon, but i think if we both hold hands and close our eyes, we can get through this.
i need you to know though that this is probably going to hurt.
i'm not saying we'll be bleeding and gasping on the floor. i'm not saying we're going to lock the front gates and shut off the lights and fasten the shutters, but i can't lie to you and say we will be living in eternal sunshine. we won't.
we can't hide behind the wall forever though. if we want to get what we love to dream about, we're going to have to step in the frontline. we're going to have to brave the machine fire and remind ourselves that it's worth it. i promise you, it might be. it might be worth taking the bullet.
and it will be okay, because we aren't the type to simply bre
hello, beautiful.these are the times i will always remember:hello, beautiful.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
walking through crowded coffee shops to see you sitting in the corner, steaming cups on the table and bright eyes lighting up the room. hellos tripping over my tongue, shy glances and bitten lips, toes curling in my shoes. hearing your baritone voice for the first time, tying my lips into knots as i fumbled over the introductions.
sitting on my bed, shaking the walls with laughter, your arms holding me close into the curve of your body. driving with the windows down while holding hands, the wind painting butterflies on my neck.
not knowing a thing about you but wanting to pick up the candle and explore. finding the most breathtaking mosaics on hidden walls, you taking my hand and laying it against your scars. your trust that i wouldn't break them open, promises sealed with virgin lips.
i will remember the anxiety and the fears and the wonder. i will remember the dreaming and doubt and finding answers that only birthed more questions. i will r
the fear of falling.i'm living my life with fear bubbling up my throat.the fear of falling.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i'm guarding my heart with iron lace and gritted teeth because even the prospect of getting burned is enough to leave me on the porch. i'm trembling like autumn leaves, my spine cracking like an age-worn book, eroding at a hundred words a minute into a pile of rubble that is getting lost in the wind. i'm putting my toe in the water and easing around the edge, keeping my back to the wall and running like hell when i reach the exit.
because i'm pavlov's dog and when that bell strikes, i'm already diving for cover. because your eyes look like an earthquake and i only know one surefire way to avoid falling down the fault line. i can't get hurt if i never play the game, i can't get scarred if i never approach the flame. i'm tasting the arsenic with the tip of my tongue but i'm not able to brave downing the entire bottle. because i've been down this road before and left bloody footprints on my staggering way home. i've been at this cross po
we are a sunrise.we are no more than a softly whispered if.we are a sunrise.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
we are smoke rings in the dark, soap bubbles on the lip of the water. we are bright eyes and shy fingers touching through the veil of introductions. we are racing side by side down separate book aisles, not calling out to one another but comforted in the echo of each others' pulse. we are strangers who aren't strange to one another at all, promises scrawled in folded pieces of paper, slipped under door cracks in the middle of the night.
possibilities are glowing iridescent between us, eyes overbright as we dance circles around one another. we're shoved into rooms filtered with sundust, lips praying as palms, fingers caught into oil-dark curls and tracing faintly dimpled cheeks. futures are unwound on the spin of a syllable, one second breaking everything we thought we knew about how our lives would go.
whole existences are leaping forward from the shadows with the power of a freight train, knocking out everything we've ever known to be
can't wait forever.because, boy, you know im looking for you, but im not sure ill ever find you.can't wait forever.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
im spending my days watching the different eyes that go by but they all have the wrong angle or the wrong shape or theyre a little too gray instead of the blue that i know youll have. there are too many creases where theyve frowned too many times and are a touch too red from too much alcohol when i know youll have at least some idea of moderation. theyre all wrong because theyre not yours.
and im spending my nights listening to the different laughs riding the airwaves but theyre all the wrong pitch or on the wrong frequency or theyre a little too hoarse when i know youll be all smoke. theyre a little too strained because they dont find life funny at all and theyre a little too loud to cover the cheap tongue wagging behind them when i know youre nothing but genuine. theyre making my ears bleed list
letters to me.dear five-year-old-me,letters to me.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i hope you know that life is a gift. i hope that when you walk out on the back patio and see the hills and the deer and the creek you know that life is marvelous. i wish for you to run through the mud and roll around with your dog and climb up trees with bleeding knees. i hope for nothing more than for you to swing until your legs are tired from pumping and your hair is snarled in knots around your face.
and listen to me: i know it isnt always easy. i know that you cant eat american cheese because you were born with high-cholesterol, i know you have to share your room and your sister broke your favorite doll. and i know it hurts when they sell your horse, when your dog dies, when you move away from everything youve ever known.
but youre five, you're resilient.
life will continue to bless you.
i hope you know that you are beautiful. i hope that when you look in the mirror you dont lament over round c