Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to. Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju.Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to. Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. 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Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to. Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju.Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to. Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju.Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju.

Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to. Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju.Earth to Juju. Earth to Juju.

She didn't want to write about herself. Her fingers hesitated above the keys. She felt a welling of anxiety in her chest as she brought them down to type it out: She didn't want to write about herself.
She typed it out, and she read it. With an exhale, she leaned back in her chair, eyes searching the room for something more comfortable to do. But there was nothing. Those first few sentences were her toes in the pool, and tentatively she slid her body into the water.

Her problem was an unusual one. Or maybe a very average one. That was the problem: everything she thought about; every little conundrum; was too damn grey.

She contemplated the very idea of what she was doing. She had a solid thought about it, but it fled her mind. Then it came back. String of consciousness, she thought. And she decided narrating her inner monologue was a fair idea. Fair, not good. Monologue, not dialogue. Why those things?

This was why she took such pleasure in tangible things- things she could hold in her hands. Though perhaps pleasure wasn't the best word. It was more of a desperate solace, rather than comfort. Needless to say, tactile things were real and objective. That's why she enjoyed her snakes. They were simple and pretty. Small, deliberate predators, elegant in design and execution. No need for love, or pondering. Just mice. The boa in her shirt stirred.

When will my fear of existence ever cease?

Ever since Emma left me... I haven't been the same. I was so naive back then; love-clouded and dilly-dallying my time away, since I had a lifetime to procrastinate.
I believed all the shit– You get married, happily-ever-after happens, you have kids, suddenly you're middle-aged with grey hair.
But it doesn't matter because you come home to a cozy suburban nest, greeted by your wife, whose mouth is lined from smiling. The house smells like carpet, lavender, chicken soup, and her. Always has. She tells you about her phone conversation with Sam she had that day– How he aced his biology exam. you both smile and settle into the evening together. You're old now, but it's okay, because you don't care anymore.

That never happened to me.
Here I am.
Old.
Greyed. Even my pubes are salted and peppered now.

My sons and I relate like chums. Our relationship goes way back, back in the day. I'm also a life coach to them. Perhaps a lender occasionally. My pupils check in periodically, and they try to avoid mentioning their mother.
We laugh and catch up, but at the end of the day, we all go home. They go to their friends and roommates in college, and I go to my empty house.

My house has no feminine touch anymore. I mean, it makes sense, and I do like it. But it feels like something's missing. I guess our mothers spoiled us for a certain type of cozy.
I can't bring myself to buy any stupid nick-knacks. Those ceramic owls are not fucking worth 8 bucks. But every time I reach for the remote, I can't help but notice how bare that damn side table looks. I'm still not ready for an owl yet, though.
I guess it's kind of like an expired bachelor pad, maybe? Something about that just doesn't sit right. It's weird like the cat lady house, sans cats. It's full when you look at it, but it's just off. You don't want to admit it's because she's alone. Something smells funny. In my case it isn't the litter box, but the lack of any sorts of fabricated smells, I suppose. No incense or perfume. No candles. I smell my TV, the carpet, and my kitchen smells like a popcorn microwave. the bathroom has an ever-so-faint piss odor because I hate cleaning the toilet rim. It's a little gross I guess. But no cake smells, or flower smells. No doilies either. Emma had those under some decorative goodies. They seemed useless, but I can't help but notice how blunt some objects look without them, now. She had a little one she insisted upon putting the remote on. My remote has no doily to snuggle up with. The only affection it gets is my hand.

Oh well, though. I'm just talking into the breeze. I should go to bed now.

Leaves scuttle by feet
Wind breathes its secrets
Go, stupid people

Eric, you finally did it. You really did it this time. You have reached new levels of unmotivation. Why aren't you suicidal? Because you're too damn lazy to kill yourself. Real special guy right here, everyone.

It's funny seeing how this shitty sea we call life tosses me wherever the fuck it wants. I'm pretty sure the ebb tide is pulling me from everything I've ever loved. Friends feel like memories right now, memories feel like they require too much thinking. I cling to my hobbies because they can be done on autopilot. Even writing this feels like too much work. My faith? I can't even begin to think about that right now. Just like I can't even begin to think about school, or money, or love, or motivation, or bathing. I wake up and focus on the stupid dog all day because she's a time drain, and not me.

I know what I want in life, you know? I know what will make me feel alive, what will bring me joy and make me feel useful. Life is one giant project with a due date that's too easy to procrastinate on.

But as with every project I seem to encounter in life, I don't know where to begin. I can see the end painting. but I don't know what medium to use. Or where to paint it. Or what to start painting with.

I don't know what job I want. I don't know who I want to spend my life with. I don't know where I want to live. All I know is that I want to be there for a few people. I want my friends to stick by me. But I want to be there and willing to die for that nuclear family.

I’ve spent countless hours trying to
justify.
Wasted some good time wondering why.
Pondering what made you change your mind,
and whether it’s fair to say you’ve been unkind.

But I got some peace knowing
It’s a common trouble of youth,
And my feelings towards you won’t

Always be so uncouth.

No one ever learns what they need
‘til it’s lost.
And I suppose it’s a blessing

To be spared that cost.

Was it that my motivation came too late?
Or maybe I’m just a hopeless puppet of fate?

I don’t like knowing it’s done.

At least what little was there was lived in my head,
and fun.
Now I know next time you’re in my life
To give it a go before it passes me by.

I pray that it may be less of a loss and more relief.
Let yourself take comfort for I've finally found my sleep.
A time has come where there is nothing left to be,
A conscience softly drifting and a soul has been released.
You feel respect must be payed and your heart is torn.
But let me decompose, I've been well-used and worn.

When you lay me down,
I hope for celebration, and not sorrow.
I have said my goodbye, but for you there's still tomorrow.
Do not waste your kind tears on my fading memory.
The past has been forgotten by the universe, like me.

When they lay me down,
Give thanks that I had life.
And then give thanks again,
For you still have yours.

I think I have found the answer to life. It is "gray".

I find myself lonely these days. I always identified as an introvert. 5 years ago I would tell you I hate parties, I don't like meeting new people, and I would prefer to be at home on the weekend. But now it seems to have changed. I often seek the companionship of my acquaintances these days.

I have come to appreciate the value and necessity of my fellow people. How important it is to have community. It has truly improved my depression.

But I still feel lonely. I'm more of an adult than ever. I don't have anybody I love to be an emotional support these days, not like I used to. There is no best friend to vent to. No boy to tell my insecurities to. No parents of mine or my friends to readily get advice from. No girls to dish out the deets to. My daily victories are often enjoyed in the silence of my car, alone.

I end up fanning out my affections for people, giving a little bit here and there. It does feel good, but isn't the same.
I guess I kind of understand why many people are chronically in relationships, now. Once you bond with someone in that way, you always miss it, even if slightly, and never enough to settle. It's a special type of affirmation and happiness.

It's a tough pill to swallow, but having it and then losing it makes living without it all the better for personal growth.

I wish I knew when I started to somehow become more social but more reclusive. I don't share nearly as much with others as I used to. I feel like details of my life are a burden. I used to get excited to tell people all about my day. But then I started to slowly share less, figure: "that's not really necessary..."; Assume that sharing an insecurity is feeding an insecurity; figured I shouldn't annoy people because they often don't care.
Now I wonder if people are supposed to care, and I shouldn't cater to carelessness.

Who knows.

Who are you? I don't understand you at all, Emma.You're gone. You got the kids. Can we leave it at that? I don't want to know anything about your life, so please stop meddling with mine. Stop leaning in my doorway and checking up on my progress with that smile. It throws me off.
Seriously. What the hell do you think I'm going to do? Push out my chair and leap up with a chipper grin to tell you about all the happy shit that's going on in my life? No. you know full well as soon as I turn my head and see your smile, all I can see is your goddamned smile. the same one that used to crack at my jokes and tell me I was everything to you.
Fuck your smile. If you cared about me at all (which you don't, so I suppose this all makes sense), you would just disappear and stay gone, be nothing but a fairytale I hear from the boys.

Peer over the edge, but do not fall.
The last words spoken to them all.
Every single one fell over the ledge,
Bloodfall sprinkled the little hedge.

.

"Let me in", the vixen pleads.
Her black eyes shine like onyx beads.
And with a flick of her tail she wins your heart.
With pointed ears, velvet fur, and a purr, she plays the part.
She licks your hand and pads right in, her tufted rear brushes your shin.
Her onyx gaze looks sweetly around, her little rump plops to the ground.
And with a flick of her tail she wins your heart.
Suddenly she's back up with a start.
Then she pleads: "Let me out!"

.


Eric wished to drink some tea.
So he invited company.
His guests arrived, his water hot.
He sat them down, and poured a pot.
Afternoon passed and evening came,
And the guests would leave all the same.

The fool was stupid. He could not navigate his own mind. Ankle deep in cess, he pressed his wet hand against his forehead and peered out over the vast waste of moisture. With his muddied palm pressed against his furrowed brow, he peered for so long, with such determination, that when he pulled his hand away and relaxed his face, the mud cracked and dropped lightly to the murk in which he stood.
Lifting one of his feet gingerly, he leaned forward to take a step, and collapsed into the swill. Floundering, he sputtered some of the foul liquid in a panic as he noticed wriggling shadows moving all around him.
"Leeches!" His voice echoed, but they were tadpoles. They would metamorphose into frogs, eventually.
The fool did not bother himself with this realization, however. He was on his feet in haste, splashing the water and scattering the tadpoles. His clothes now slopped over his body. He again pressed his hand to his brow, and surveyed the expanse, convinced his appearance of thought would soon yield an answer. Grey drops of water fell from him and danced into the marsh, echoing.

God always brings me a reality check when things get bad. Lately, I had been so desolate and empty feeling. I thought I was broken and unable to relate to people on a personal level. I was looking into going to counseling for my intimacy problems (for lack of a better term.). I felt like I had been spoiled by my last relationship. People were distant, unattainable, undesirable, not worth it. I felt such an overbearing apathy that life seemed pointless
Then I got a break. A small one, sure, but a break nonetheless. It restored that excitement and vigor I had felt previously. The excitement of a new person. this time I understood it might not work, and really took that to heart. And it didn't work out. I cried a little. I'm sad. But I'm happy. I'm grateful that I was given this reality check that I still have emotions, and anything can happen when you least expect it.

No one really thinks of tears as a good thing. Many people shy away from the belief in something where the believer could describe their happiest moments as ones in which they're crying. Crying isn't a sign of sadness so much as it is just a sign of emotion. Raw emotion and cleansing. Tears have been proven to remove toxins, lower stress levels, elevate one's mood, and release emotions. Bottling up and denying weakness is not healthy. Crying is a form of natural release, just like exercising or using the bathroom! People cry due to sadness, yes, but they also cry due to happiness and relief. Sometimes tears of sadness let the floodgates open, and in the clarity and shamelessness of it all, you're able to feel the happiness and humbleness they bring.

When my last relationship ended, I felt stuck. I tried to distract myself from it. I tried not to tear up, because a boy shouldn't make you cry. I felt angry. People told me he wasn't worth crying over. I should be focusing on God and not him. after that, a new idea came to me. Maybe God wanted me to just let it all out, and that was how to get over it. So I played an album we had listened to together, I played the song I heard on the radio when I first knew we had something real, I played all the songs that made me think of him and depressed me. I played them in the car, and I would bawl almost daily. I just listened to them and would cruise and tell myself how I'd been wronged. I kept this to myself, and prayed. It helped a lot. It helped me get over it much faster than I could have otherwise. Tears are good.

No one has to know you're crying. It's between you and God. So let the tears fall. you'll feel better after, I promise.

Eric, you love so incompetently. With two left feet your heart does beat. You're very confused, and it's okay. No one knows what they are doing. I know you're rejecting that statement, but listen, other people pretend they know what they're doing. You fail obviously due to your frankness.
This transparency is not a bad thing.
You went through a period of time, in which, I believe you had your heart broken for the first time. Don't reject that one, either. It sounds cheesy, but you know it's true. You can now relate to a multitude of things you were unable to before. This isn't entirely good, but it's not entirely bad, either.
Anyways, this period of time has also left you stronger. I don't believe you will be putting up with as much junk from people anymore. Now you know to wait. That isn't the most important lesson you took away from it, though. I think your new-found ability to simply hesitate, and understand that something may not happen, and understand that if it's meant to happen, it will, is what is profound. You're second-guessing again. You're telling yourself that this is a conclusion many people have reached, that it isn't special. It IS special. Don't listen to that bullshit voice. It's special because it is a vast discovery in the universe of you. You now feel it, understand it viscerally. It's no longer advice from a friend. You know it, now.
Eric, I love you. You're loveable. It takes a while. But it will happen. The universe will align one day, and set in motion a series of events in which you will begin a journey of knowing someone. You've done it before successfully. Remember that. But this time will be different. You know how.
Relax. There are people in this world who love you right now, and there are people who will love you in the future. God loves you, too. You have more love than you need. It's a gift.
I tell you to keep cool. But you know, you don't have to keep so cool. Don't expect things to work out with this new person. We both know you're fully aware of this having an absolutely equal chance of being nothing, but keep at it anyways. There is no harm in what you're currently doing. Please don't make the mistakes you made last time. I love you and don't want to see you hurt like that again. Keep at it. Be yourself. Don't play a game. Know when to quit (Eric, you know what I'm talking about. Don't date people you're incompatible with, beliefs-wise. Has that ever worked out for you? No. It brought you stress.). I'll be honest, Eric, I have a voice in me telling me you will have to quit this one. But love out of it, anyways. there's another voice saying you won't. so let God take it in his hands. One awesome thing about this life of ours is that he's your co-pilot. If you lose control, he's always going to be there to back you up.

you know what else, Eric? I know your chest is sinking thinking about this not working out. Hah! So early, too. Good job getting rid of that "emotionally dead" bullshit. Anyways, it's okay if it doesn't amount to anything! That's what's so fucking awesome about this. If it doesn't work out, it's because there's something better in store. Literally, Eric, your only job is to keep doing what you're doing (enjoying life), and just wait. Waiting is such an easy task, my friend. All God needs you to do is recognise when it's not the right time, and simply move along.

I love you, Eric. You need to hear that from me more often. I'm sorry I'm your worst critic.

Lately, I question my life and I have to wonder how things would play out if I said goodbye to religion.
Now, I am a Theist, and I always will be. I can't accept the idea that matter came from nothing, and there have been times in my life that I swear to God, he was intervening. But it's the religion that gets to me. I love Jesus, but why did he die for my sins like he did? Why did he have to? Why would God require sacrifices? Why am I held responsible for those sins? Why would God allow an infinite hell for finite sins? Why are victimless things, such as homosexuality, sinful?
It makes sense from a sociological standpoint how religion would benefit people. Creating a religion gets people to do things that you can't get them to do. If you tell them the almighty God says this is the best way to do something, it motivates them more than you telling them, because you are not powerful to them.
One of the biggest factors that causes me to hesitate on changing my ideology is my fear. If I say Jesus is not my savior, I am not a Christian. According to my fellow believers, I am no longer one of them, and am going to burn in hell. That is a special kind of deep rejection. However, it is a necessary one to acknowledge. Why should this fear dictate my faith?
It is an understood concept that the simplest solution is most often the truth. I feel like making this religion make sense requires extra steps and exceptions. I feel like I have to twist my natural inclinations in order to make it work.
I wish I could just pick and choose. But I know I can't, and this brings me a great sense of unrest. It is highly plausible that the bible is untrue and true in some areas. Which are which?
Perhaps I will use the bible as a source for promoting true love. Perhaps I will just have faith in Jesus and say he is the son of God, because he said he was. If I choose this stance, however, it is a personal choice, and I don't really believe I have an obligation (or right) to evangelize it.

Oh, Eric, prince of the mundane. How fanciful one finds one's self! This volatile ride riddles one insufferably insane sometimes. The peaks of peril have proved unworth the lengthy bouts of boredom and banality. Boundless! It truly is. A whisper of inspiration will infiltrate my mind only briefly before fluttering away again.

You were such a waste of time. I feel like a fool for being strung along. but oh well.

There are two pains:
One of what was,
and it's cousin,
what never was.

There is the pain
of fools, who
misunderstand,
and that of the wise,
who understand.