Healthy Arguments

I argued with you all last night in my head. Tried to picture what you would say how it would sound. Funny thing about arguing with someone in your head, things always come out so perfectly. We always know just what to say.

Conversations are either as healthy as we want them to be or as unhealthy, it all depends on your perspective. But maybe there’s one thing we count on when we argue in our heads. We assume both people are listening equally.

In my head all of our arguments were perfect. In my head we fought in the healthiest possible way. Listening, absorbing. In my head we didn’t read so many things into tiny gestures, we just sat with what the other one was saying. We accepted it and tried to understand. We came up with strategies and solutions that would make both of us happy.

It’s such a shame it all remains just in my head.

Being Weird

Be weird.

Stay Weird. Shout weird. Tell everyone about your weird. Be open about your weird.

But only be YOUR level of weird. There’s no use in being someone else’s level of weird. That’s just as artificial as attempting to be whatever “normal” is.

You’re not them you’re you. and maybe you don’t know what or who “you” is right now, so experiment, explore, find out who that is. Be that. Embrace that.

I guarantee you there are more people than you will ever know who need to see your weird desperately. Who need to know that their weird is ok.

And you know what? It absolutely is.

Like a Sailboat

Stolen moments in stolen corners

stolen looks, fingers that hover.

No one can see, no one discovers

But no one is as blind as you are, you can’t even tell we’re trying to sail with a broken

rudder

and I’m just trying to steady the tiller.

In what direction should I steer her?

Still Crying

I’ve been writing since we met

Trying to find out what happened, piece together the why.

I’ve been crying since we met

Because everything that’s beautiful hurts

and lets face it, I’m an easy crier.

Don’t be fooled I’m not the victim, I’m the one who brought me here.

So I keep writing since you left. Trying to find the right direction. Wondering where the answer sits.

Writer’s Block

Maybe I’ve just stopped paying attention. That’s all writing really is. Paying attention. Watching the world work, in silence at first. I’ve seen artists do this too.

It’s funny how often we’re not considered the same. “A picture is worth 1,000 words”. And quite so. Any idiot with a keyboard, or even a pencil and paper can write a book if they like. But can any idiot paint a masterpiece, I wonder?

Talk is truly cheap after all. Just look at the price of the last book your purchased against that of the last painting. That is if you have ever purchased either.

Perhaps quantity wins out in the end. I would like to think the average person has more books than art. The truth is it’s more likely that most people don’t own very many of either. I hope I’m wrong in that.

I just need to pay more attention. To listen. To watch. To witness. And then just write it all down…