The Razor Spikes of Self-Doubt.

It's best not to question whether what you are doing is worth it, especially when you wonder if other people care about it.
But it is perhaps the driving question, the annoying kid in the back seat that asks, "are we there yet?" When the journey has just begun. That bit of self doubt that is the drop of poison in the wine.
So, do other people care what you do?
Short answer; no.
The long answer: They don't care what you do until you have done it. Even then most people are so wrapped up in their own affairs to care. Sometimes, depending on your relation to the person, they are so wrapped up in if you care or not to notice what you do. At least, that is the way it seems to go.
So no, people don't care right now. But that begs another question: WILL they care once it is done? There is no simple answer, because that is the nature of people; rogue variables in an evolving equation. The equation doesn't mean anything, until it is calculated in the moment and the result is apparent.
Such thoughts and worries, if left to their own wills, their own ideas, will prevent the greatest art, stop the most important journeys, and crush the most beautiful souls into dust. And no one will care about the loss of great art, or great knowledge, if they care at all. They will only care the price they have to pay.
At least, that is my assumption, based on a few scattered unscientific observations.
Alas, it is time to return you to your volatile dreaming world. Remember this: Be amazing, when the world tells you it doesn't matter. Be big, when the world thinks you are small. Be unpredictable, when a trap is laid for you. Most important of all: Imagine.

Mind Vomit I

Shoot me at the moon. If I don't get there, I'll just fall back to earth.
A view so high my perspective means nothing. The earth, just a beautiful backdrop for my peaceful decent.
Born again, falling anew, awake and alert for the first time in forever. Surely, it will not be the last. The Cycle of life compressed into a few passing moments.
The Earth, growing larger. Calling me back to it's embrace.
Closer and closer, slower and slower, I return. My decent all but stops. I alight on the soft grass, the gentle summer breeze tugging at the corners of my shirt, a child trying to show me someplace.

Cupid the Sniper

For the longest time, Cupid was the cherub of love. Forever young and forever playful and optimistic. But, no good deed goes unpunished.
Cupid started to age, slowly at first, when people blamed him for mismatches and mix-ups. When work picked up, Cupid couldn't keep up. He had to incorporate. His worker drones weren't too bright and errors and mistakes made business bad. He kept getting older.
One day, he decided to hang up his halo, his faithful bow and arrow. He found himself aging faster with no purpose. So his purpose, became revenge.
Mad in his age and current state of mind, he decided two arrows for two people was just a bad system. Why not two arrows for one person? Why not stash the other arrow and let the person go unmatched forever?
Cupid called up the gods, and said he wanted his old job back. No more corporation. Why should the entire world be punished because he is busy? Why let the world accept sub-par standards? The gods reluctantly agreed. A few were suspicious of his new enthusiasm. They did their best to keep track of him.
And so the bodies lined up. Cupid discovered that a few good and true matches could do more than any unmade matches. A missed arrow grazing the heart, combined with the view of true love, would drive most people insane.
In fact, it has. It has driven many men and women absolutely mad. Some kill themselves. Others wait around forever and do nothing. Most go mad and take things into their own hands.
Cupid smiles upon those crazy enough to actively seek out love. He prefers it that way actual. No match made in heaven, but can they really complain in this world of suffering and torment they build for themselves.
Cupid is young again, but not as young as he used to be. He is still insane and wants to see those curse his name tortured. So be careful when you curse his name, he might be close by, and will shoot you once, to drive you insane.

This Poem is Probably About YOU.

Always waiting for that one lucky break, always wanting one more chance, it's not my fault, those other people are to blame, feed my addiction and turn a blind eye, always waiting for that one lucky break...

And I say...No.

Defiance to a self-fulfilling prophecy, the courage to drop the ball and walk away. Let the cycle spiral to its inevitable end.

Pull the rope tighter, observe the inevitable fry and snap. A shovel to lay a foundation, used to dig a void into which to fall.

Every opportunity to succeed and still failure is the result. Such weak acts of “rebellion” only enslaved and encouraged the status quo!

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- Note - I did write this, with one person in mind. One and only one.

Puppets: Heroic and Villanous?

I direct your actions; I request and you gracefully oblige, my wonderful muse. My madness tears us together. Our love, the chains that bind and drive us apart.

I am enslaved to your expectations. I thirst for tears of happiness, and curse every disappointed sniff. I fall to you, and you throw my intentions to the flames.

We are each others puppets, pulling each others strings. Cutting control, waiting for the other to collapse on the stage, useless and abandoned. Insane love is the fuel behind our loving duels to the last bitter triumph.

I cut my own strings. I stand on my own and smile, shaking under the weight of my own decisions. I free you. But you are still bound by your own intentions. Cry all you want my puppet, I can't cut you from your own strings.

I am a reality altering entity, stronger than any drug, more addictive than any thought, more frightening than any nightmare, more lovely than a thousand summer days, and more discordant than the crash of a thousand minds, arguing for dominance. More beautiful, in thought, action, and word, than any hypnotic poet.

Rant in F Sharp.

So it all occurred to me when I was hanging out with friends, and one brought up a time when I ran after a girl and asked her if I looked like Jesus.

After such a harsh look and question, I left. My world shattered. But that's ok. Why? Because I learned a valuable lesson. Or maybe I over-learned it.

I thought about various women in my life who at, one time or another, I would have romanced, and would have pursued a relationship. Needless to say, we are still friends, and I'm not sure any of them know my past feelings.

I have a friend, who believes in building a friendship then moving into a relationship. I do believe I've tried that once. Undeniably, that was my longest lasting relationship.

I've also tried the other side: moving right into a relationship. Undeniably, the shortest relationships.

Back to the Jesus thing. I realize, I'm a strange human. And arguably, the people who like me most, are those who take time to get to know me. But now comes the harsh side. After a while of talking and getting to know me, many (if not all) people do not feel it is worth ruining a perfectly good friendship by moving into a relationship. Why ruin a friendship for something more?

The problem: I'm weird, I'm awkward, and it takes people time to adjust for me. Too long, and I'm relegated to the "good friend" bin. Too short, and it's just another broken relationship, or not even that. Used then tossed. Just another face.

People have told me, for so long, "Don't worry, you'll find someone amazing." But I have to say, the more I hear it, the less I believe it. The more I hear it, the more I feel myself breaking down slowly inside. I'm headed for a full breakdown. But not today.

To protect myself, I have to pretend I'm very alone in this world. I have to pretend I'm ok with this. I have to pretend it doesn't bother me that I'm a very broken human, who has trouble interacting with strangers, a human who doesn't always know when to shut up, or when to talk, or what to say.

Am I Ok? Not really. But that's ok, right? Not really. But we can pretend it does, just a little longer. I feel myself breaking down, but that is ok. Because there is beauty in a breakdown.

Apologies I

I'm sorry I fooled myself into thinking I loved you.
I'm sorry for breaking your heart by falling for someone else.
I'm sorry for changing and growing as a human being.

I'm sorry I couldn't live up to your standards, expectations, or fantasies.
I'm sorry I numbed you to the point you had to hurt yourself to feel anything.
I'm sorry I tried to live up to your expectations, only to fall from tiredness.
I'm sorry you had to blame everything on me.

I'm sorry I actually loved you.
I'm sorry I actually cared.
I'm sorry I criticized when you asked for my honesty.
I'm sorry you didn't want to hear my opinion.
I'm sorry I let you think I didn't love you.

I'm sorry I was desperate for attention.
I'm sorry I was just a one night fling.
I'm sorry I reacted badly.
I'm sorry I'm a better person now.
I'm sorry you don't recognize me.

I'm sorry I let you fall in a pit.
I'm sorry I let you pull me in after you.
I'm sorry you believed I was wonderful.
I'm sorry you hated my friends.
I'm sorry I wouldn't tolerate the abuse any longer.
I'm sorry I let you let yourself think you could love again.

I'm sorry but I was drunk.
I'm sorry that it didn't fade faster.
I'm sorry I'm interesting to you.
I'm sorry I was hurt when I learned I was just another mark on the wall.
I'm sorry I never thought of us as more than friends with benefits.
I'm sorry I left at the wrong time.
I'm sorry I need my own space.

I'm sorry I can spot a train-wreck.
That's just waiting to happen.
I'm sorry I didn't text you back
But then again I had my reasons
I'm sorry I can think of better things to do than spend a night,
With drunken people, who I hardly know.
I'm sorry I can think of better people to spend my time with,
To whom I'm more than a friend of convenience.
I'm sorry your priorities are pussy, alcohol,
Then "friends" then me.
I'm sorry I'm not blind enough to stay around
When it's clear, if I do, it just might kill me.
I'm sorry I pity you
Because I've lost all respect
I'm sorry I can't care anymore,
Let it be my final regret.

Because I'm not sorry anymore.