Reality
One Last Time ...
The Moon
(04. 05. 25)
The moon’s just hanging there tonight, pale and quiet, like it’s got nothing to say to you.
You stare at it, and wait for some kind of stir … I mean any kind of stir, really…
But it’s just a rock in the sky, and you’re just a guy who doesn’t feel things anymore.
It keeps coming back, but you wonder what it’s like to care that much about anything.
Deep down, you know it’s not the moon’s fault — it’s you, hollowed out, watching light that doesn’t touch you.
Rain or Shine
(03. 16. 25)
God’s up there today, I bet, flipping a coin or something — rain or sunshine … what’s it gonna be?
Maybe He’s tired of hearing me ask for sun when all I’ve gotten lately is gray.
I imagine him sitting on some big cloud, looking down, thinking …
“This one’s had enough storms, give him a break.”
Or maybe He knows I need the rain more … to wash out the big worries I still can’t shake.
Either way, I’m down here … waiting … staring at the sky … still hoping He picks what I can handle.
Imitation
(05. 26. 25)
Sometimes I wonder who I am, you know?
I don’t mean in that complicated, “what is the meaning of life” kind of way.
Just … who am I really? Or who do people think I am?
Because the other day, someone who’s known me for over 12 years looked me straight in the eye, and said, “I don’t know, Jo … I really don’t know you”.
I mean… she wasn’t wrong. People know my voice, some of my habits … my favorite songs … but not me.
It made me stop and think … if someone who’s been around that long doesn’t know me, then … who does?
And if they don’t … do I?
So, yeah … I wonder who I am.
Am I real? Or just an imitation …
And if I’m not myself, am I anyone at all?
Lemonade
(04. 02. 25)
You were like lemonade.
Tart, sweet — made my day better just by being there.
I loved how you could be sour one minute, then all soft and sugary the next.
Now you’re not here, and it’s like the pitcher’s empty.
And … I’ve got nothing left but a flat, sad taste in my mouth
I miss you so much… it stings.
Addiction
(08. 04. 25)
My hands are shaking again, and I can’t down a cup of water.
I …
I don’t know who I’m becoming.
The nights just pass. Mornings hurt.
I tell myself I’ll stop. I mean it… until I don’t.
Sometimes, I sit for hours, doing nothing, just listening to the noise in my head.
People talk to me like I’m still here, but I don’t really feel …
I miss mornings that don’t start with regret.
I miss me … but I don’t know how to get back.
Birthmarks
(09. 13. 25)
What happens when you cut away skin that has a birthmark?
Does it come back, or does it vanish completely?
What happens when childhood innocence is taken?
Does it ever return, or is it gone for good?
What happens when love is torn from us?
Does it find its way back, or does it only return as scar tissue?
What happens when trust is broken?
Can it be rebuilt firm again, or will the cracks always show?
No one really knows.
And… no one can tell why we do the things we do.
Reality
(09. 13. 25)
Reality, they say, is that which when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.
Perhaps.
Perhaps what we call ‘reality’ is itself an illusion threaded by memory, perception, and belief.
I mean… we see the world as our minds allow us, and probably not as it is.
Two people could share the same moment and walk away with different truths.
Which one is real? The moment itself, or the memory of it?
Think of time … seconds ticking on a clock, but only because we agree to measure them.
Think of money … just paper and numbers, yet it decides who eats and who starves.
Think of love … chemicals in the brain we mistake for feeling, or for imagination.
Maybe reality is only the illusion we have agreed upon — to name society, identity, normalcy.
But even these illusions have consequences… Hunger … Loneliness … Death.
Perhaps reality is not the absence of illusion, but rather the one illusion we can not escape.
Alone and cold again …
Second-Hand Happiness
(10. 23. 25)
When is the end of anything ever linear?
It’s never that simple.
Some people in this world have everything — not excess, maybe, but everything that matters … just enough to help them succeed.
Others have nothing.
And I start to wonder … if we all had enough, would happiness still be something we crave?
Some people live.
Some people exist in loops … working hard for second-hand happiness.
Thank you for reading.
A version of this story was first published on Medium
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Man, I absolutely love this piece. So good.