Time Capsule

I would like to make a wish. I would like the UNIVERSE  to lean against the milky way one day and pry open my diary…and read each word I wrote, as I would have. I would like to see through the eyes of the UNIVERSE, the ways of the world. Perhaps he would be so kind as to commit my little words to his memory and long after I have passed, he would weep for me, and tell my grand children, centuries removed, that I once breathed the same air they do; that I once loved and I was loved right back. He must tell them of my lofty dreams and the insurmountable challenges I had to overcome.

Can I write my secrets on the palms of the UNIVERSE and then hide that evidence in the crevices of his soul? Can this UNIVERSE pass on a message to the future me? Can I please tell him that I am young and I am passionate in every sense of the word? Can he know this about me? Can he know?

I am happy when it rains because when that happens, my detractors see not the moisture that I offer to the dead in recompense.

Tell him that his blood will remember, so he shouldn’t worry. The past that I create with each stroke of my pen, it will remind him of me, because I am what he will grow up to be.

My words, I write, and send to the future me, in a time capsule, so that when in the future, when I have lost my way, the UNIVERSE  that has tasted my blood and is not stranger to my tears; the UNIVERSE that birthed me and nurtured me to the person I turned out to be, would with loving hand, show me the way back to the man I set out to be. A good man.

Chrysalis

Why can’t the damn world just shut down: pitch black darkness to engulf the world? I wouldn't want to hear a sound. I would wish muteness would strike the world and a chill to straighten everybody’s spines in trepidation. Wouldn’t that be splendid!

Finally after all this soul searching, I’d finally have peace of mind. I would come around to recharging the batteries of my brain and reboot my system so that I may work through whatever the hell’s made my life so complicated.

Then and then only would I hope to get rid of this nagging self-defeating urge to hurt myself. Or somebody else. Maybe then would I forgive myself for being soft in a hard world; weak in a man’s world.

I would love to purge myself of all this self-doubt, unconfidence and morbid almost-tangible nape raising fear of something as elusive as the air that I breathe~ MYSELF.

I delude myself that if I lived too long inside my brain, the whole world would give way to oblivion: that everybody would blur into the sunset. It would be me, myself and a lifetime of self-conceited indulgence. That would be splendid!