mornings are torturesque

this is the only blog i ever made so far....check it out please. I have a lot of stuff written that has the same vibe if anybody likes it. thanx for reading it!


after waking up bright and early with no place to go for the last several days/nights I have been presented with the opportunity to do a fair amount of internal evaluation. A truly unique type of evaluation mind you, do to the fact that when one is awoken from slumber at 4am the brain is still rising from the abyss of dreams and has not yet been able to put up its ramparts and walls for the long grueling day of self-doubt and random but generous mental assaults from the general populace and various loved ones.

It is at this magical time before the red sun rises that one can attack ones self with full force. Truly holding nothing back, shredding through the memories of your mind to find that event..that truly life changing event, that made you the foul, wretched, husk of a person you now are. Now is the time! Shred the memories like a child decimates a gift on Christmas. No regard for the love and subtle craftsmanship in the wrapping. No regard for the way you tried to remember it, no regard for thousands of times you played it back in your mind trying to convince yourself there was nothing you could do, how it wasnt your fault. Just tear until you find that one gift that one memory that will make everything ok, put everything in order again and give yourself an excuse for what you are.

Currently I am up to my neck in the contrasting packaging of my memories both good and bad. Reflective silver paper that shines like a young childs eyes holds a memory of you opening your heart to a summer crush only to have it violently slammed shut with malice and glee. The traditional red and green wrapped box with a hallmark bow on top holds a memory of the time you knew the answer to the question in class but for some reason were to timid to open your mouth, to afraid to make yourself heard.

A plane black box, no bow, no frills, no ribbon, holds the memory of being on your back in the dirt, eyes full of tears, and your brother picking you off the ground and walking you and your bike back to your mother. The crumpled brown bag with your name scribbled in black marker on it sits in the middle of a room in your mind, it coddles the night when you kissed her and knew in that second that nothing would ever be as pure and true as that moment ever again.

It is at this magical time now as the purple sun sets that one can stop tearing and start connecting, for sleep is once again near and the mind is ready to descend back into the abyss of dreams. Bring all the fragments of hope, failure, love, jealousy and all hidden things in boxes on the endless shelves of your mind together for a final concrete answer.

After awakening and once again falling into slumber, repeating the cycle over and over again I have only come to two concrete answers and neither solved my discontent. Yet here they are for your own personal gain. Memories we dont like, the ones that have left scars and crushed dreams are the ones we take the most care to wrap beautifully and hide well. Memories we like and that keep us going need not bows, ribbons or shiny metallic paper for they shine brightly enough on there own and need no care or tending just acceptance.

I am glad my birthday and Christmas only come once a year.