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[aspark95-blog]

If i were to write us a Tale

who knows if our heroes would prevail

if i were to sing you a tune

to point you out as my muse

if i were to take a drive

and somehow gained a way to stop time

if i found a way to feel complete

if i found another feeling for when our eyes meet

Timeless is the moment after I see those tears

Timeless if the escaping breath i was holding dear

Timeless is the truth to all that i remembered,

Timeless memories of sunsets forgotten and sunrises remembered

Timeless is the way i see you smile

and life snaps back into its brutal world after i can finally see

i fell in love for the way you smile

My truest love, The way you smile at me.

[aspark95-blog]

Born of 25 Years

Alas, this is not my birthday, no it was quite some time ago but in my experience the age doesn’t hit you until several weeks after the fact, time being a consistent progression in human sight. The inability that humanity possesses that I possess to understand where and what and why we are here, leads me to a dishonest understanding of why I am here. Instead it leads me to a finding about myself that I don't believe I ever really wanted to know. I am awful at so many things. Talking to people leads them to helping them understand what I see in them and what I believe about them and their contributions. I lack the ability to convince people of my true nature to help them stay wary of my impulse to follow baser instincts and do only that which gratifies me. And while i strive against my impulse as a good man should i can't help but feel as if all my striving is limited to the efforts of a useless man with a useless task that can never truly accomplish what he desires instead it is the task of the dead who simply do not know they are dead yet, but who am i to say what is truth and fiction, spending 25 years of my life on this earth and even conversing with those closest to me reminds me that nobodies version of history aligns the same without prior conversation, even my oldest of friends have fond memories of things i remember with horror, i do not know why i do or do not have friends, constantly afraid of the things they say behind my back constantly sure that all tolerate me for the simply need of polite courtesy i lose all hopes of respect or consistent companionship.

25 years after the tragic mistake of keeping me alive I look towards the future with a mixture of ambivalence and loathing. Who am I to contend with the great magnitude of the world? Who am I to fight and make war against all injustice? The concepts and camps and boxes we must check to be considered good people hurts my brain to comprehend for long periods. We can no longer abhor and openly speak out against what he hates, no, now I must align with everyone, take factions and take hard lines and hate everyone who is against that line, even though other points may prevail. 25 years later and the only thing i can say with confidence is that i am tired, exhausted of the life i am supposed to lead, working and bills and family and loved ones if i am lucky and death, the point of any of it is far beyond my genuine understand yet here i reside, lost to the truth that i once thought i had found. To be kind within ability, understanding within reason, and strong beyond measure. Funny that it took me 25 years to realize I should apply the first two to myself also. Time most certainly caught me unusually this year.