Doggy Day Afternoon

So while sitting on the edge of my wall, trying to pump the brakes on my emotions. A crooked smile creases my face with thoughts that can old be resolved in action. There is nothing like having a doggy day late afternoon with your mind caught in the crosshairs of chaos. It feels like an orchestrated symphony of nothingness. Two days ago was my birthday- now three days, and I took stock of the people who have treated me like shit and the ones I have axed out. I felt proud of my achievement seeing as I used to be Jim Carrey's character in the movie, "Yes Man." (You should see it.). I am not typically given to lengthy explanations about the emotional trauma the actions of people who supposedly love me have caused. Naturally, forgiveness is my first point of action but that ship has sailed. With all little over half a decade to mid-life crisis- the voldemort of life for men- the erosion of my resolve is,  "at my age, I should not give a shit about how people feel". This is affirmative for me as a person whose entire existence until recently has been naivete, and always thinking that people deserve second chances. Well, and again, let me state for the record that if you are messing up after 28 years of existence then you don't deserve a second chance, Your bare ass needs to be kicked to the curb on a rainy day in the pit of winter in Iceland, or maybe  drop into an active volcano. #meekbelike Niggas aint loyal.

I have lost friends I do not miss, and axed confidants with relief. Second chances may be an attribute of the strong but doing the same thing and expecting different results is lunacy. Accept it. Know well.

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Dear January, 

It's a pallid afternoon, and I have attacked with great resolution the matter, and, consummating my resolve with the fact: she is wheeling my heart away. The avenues of my emotions are numerous and strange, but my thoughts betray me with the hope I crave as the thoughts creep in like the monsters. My first encounter with her was nothing short of odd. I heard her mocking laugh, behind me on two occasions, both were followed by silly comments. I am not given to long bouts of depression, and I have had my meagre share of unkind truth. In my younger days, I thought of myself as a sunny day on the beach, which was as true as a river in the sky. It occasionally lifted my spirits and dissipated the walls that shelled me from the sinister comments about how I looked. As the months unfolded, an unusual friendship found us, and sent us on a journey. Now I am falling for her. Her absence lately has shuddered my heart into questions of her return. Dear January, I miss her smile, and the butterflies that have always reminded me of the unkind truth- as much as my heart will offer her a place which she may kindly and gently refuse, it will continue to with the motion of the constellations. Don't tell me you love me if you cannot even have me. I can only wait so long