So much to do, nothing I want to. This mug has me buzzing out of my skin and minutes passing like hours. Nostalgia is a bitch.

My hands are filled with opposing forces and I can feel my wingspan widening. I'm in love, I'll scream, but you'll remind me that I can never be fully happy if you're not. Have you been selfless for me recently? Have I been for you? I think we both know the answers and we're ashamed to face the shambles behind us. You see yourself as three miles down down the road, and no matter how fast I run, you never lose the energy to move at the same pace. I just wish you'd turn around and cut the distance in half. My legs are aching. Carry me. You're not supposed to be my subject.

Participation.

Our grandparents were lying about their ages to fight for our country at 17. Our parents were self-sufficient at 18.

Forgive me if I have no sympathy when you tell me that you're just not ready to grow up yet.

Lives change and so do people; this doesn't mean we should stall the here and now. Your strengths now are the definition of a generation, a largely untapped well of capability. It doesn't mean you should sit back and wait for the rest of your life; it means you should search for it. Doing what you love now means understanding what you'll love tomorrow. Moving, losing, failing, falling. Do better. Try again. I've never known a path to be perfectly straight.

We're a product of the trophies we received just for showing up. Why cross the street on my own when someone's dying to hold my hand?

Where patriotism is a dying ideal and God is a dictionary definition, we look our five-year-old selves in the face and ask them who will be the leaders of their tomorrow. Everyone has a crisis and a cause worth their sole focus. Meaning has tunnel vision and cross hairs set on one. We're a network of tunnels and the maze is growing unnavigable. Who will take their eye off the lens? Who will see a world instead a being?

It's perfectly imperfect and it's ours to pioneer. We can each blaze a trail and burn down everything beautiful, or we can get our hands dirty and build a legacy. Nothing is insignificant. No one is insignificant. I don't believe that all we can do is try. I believe that all we can do is never stop trying.

Growing up doesn't mean growing old.

It's easy to be a troubled writer; it's far more difficult to be a happy one.

This is the place I need to be. Nothing matters to me anymore in this curriculum state of mind. I could take on the world tomorrow fully equipped, and I could lose, but the result would be all mine. I've earned this life I've yet to live. I'm eager now to simply live it.

The things I need are far from the usual. I need my guardian and that which makes him weak. I need my livelihood, and those who make me certain in my path. I need my guidepost. How unfortunate that 80% of my heart lies 60 miles removed. It's for them that I remain grounded; it's for them that I brave face the "See you soon" mentality. My days and weeks are devoted to the days and weeks where you can be my life once again.

December's so cold, but my baited anticipation is enough to light it brighter than any front lawn. I feel its effects now, even as I run under sunlight.

Nothing can take me hostage when it's near.

Adjustment.

I need the release that came just three hours ago. Turning corners, flying past others. This is when I feel alive now. This is when I escape all responsibility.

But this mode can only be stretched for so long without question marked eyebrows and fatigue. I work my way up to more and more of my getaway; after all, my standby is far from productive in the most literal of ways. Staring at screen. Controlling still life. Willing myself through it.

Newborn self-sufficiency is enduring a series of tiny heartbreaks. One bag doesn't seal- from perfectly fine to waste. So I settle for what's leftover and one day away from sour, already too busy with stress to enjoy the experience. I'm wound up. My muscles ache for pavement and my ears for a soft swish. This caffeine IV makes me buzz out of my skin, and I want on my feet. I want to adjust. But for now, if I can't, I want the breeze.

If only it was acceptable to crawl into mommy's lap and lull to my favorite lullaby, to clean out of joy and eat for pleasure. I've always been so anxious to grow up, ever blind to the generous hand that held me. I can't speak the language. I pine for knowledge as some sense of regularity. Academics, I know. Real life, I'm an infant.

Familiar faces keep me calm, but my stress lashes out from my tongue. There was a time when I thought you needed me, but now it seems a relative term. I can be trusted with every inch of your life; I'm not qualified to play judge. Trust is releasing the child locks and inviting me to be your passenger again.

I always thought bouncing around had readied me for it all, but now I sit exposed, admitting that even I have to adjust sometimes. My eyes will fix soon, my hands will steady. My famous lists will prevail and I'll do it all with a genuine smile. Waiting is the hardest part, but I can see the line's end. I'm fast approaching, and my head ceases pounding just at the thought.

Sit back and enjoy your guilty pleasure. There's a reason to smile even when you're completely off center.

Nightly Thought- Trust.

You make me sick, but you're still a beautiful writer.

You were the lucky ones, the ones I never knew. The two. Save a spot for me, and I'll be anxiously awaiting the sight of our reflections lining up. You're the combinations I've only mused about.

I could spend the same words on you every day if they let me relive the moments they fail to describe. A heart of gold, a war torn vessel- I wish I had so much more to remember.

I find myself dreaming, longing for those that have braved the cliffs I can't. I know you'll catch me, but my instincts beg to differ. Break me down to my bare bones, until all that's left of me is swept over carelessly. Show me what it is to just be.

I just trust that this is the answer and let the questions slip away. After all, time has a definition like everything else.

Nightly Thought- Unnecessary Risk.

How could anyone gamble with something as precious as life?

I understand we all do it from time to time- stupid dares, drinking, smoking, eating too much, sleeping too little- but these behaviors slowly wear at us. Usually, something inside us kicks in when we know we've gone too far, and we make a change to preserve ourselves. Sometimes, we're not that strong, and the people we love have to lead us to this realization. This, I understand. It can be grueling and difficult and far from preferable, but it's active. It's realizing that something has to change.

I'll never understand the extreme risk takers, not when it comes to life. I can't feel anything but concern. Is one moment worth losing a lifetime?

Tonight I drove home behind a drunk driver. They sped on the dark two lane road, drifting over the center line then overcorrecting to the gravel of the road's edge.

I wanted to catch up to them. I wanted to get them off the road. I wanted to pull them from their seat and scream in their face just what their joyride could cost.

Is it worth living with the guilt of another life lost at your hands? Is it worth your family burying their child? I wish everyone could realize just how mortal they are. Every living person should wake up in the morning and taste their first breath, because this life is fleeting, and it needs no help from us to hurry along.

Don't gamble with something you can't win back. Somebody loves you too much to lose you.

I Just Miss You.

I may not be strong enough to face this. Absence is denial.

Truth is, my masochism is flaring up. I can't listen to anything but my old favorites; nothing but my old favorites remind me of you. Thinking about you hurts more now. You're a stranger, and you know nothing about my life. I know nothing about yours.

Everyone gets sick of the same songs on repeat in my car. They're the only way I really remember you.

I never thought our worlds would matter. You were my guarantee, my light when I thought I was nothing. The future was set, and we'd be little old ladies with a penchant for insanity. We've earned it, after all.

Who gets the best of you? I remember when it was me.

I can't even make this into something eloquent. I can't vary my sentences, piece together a mental picture. I'm afraid to use my strengths because I'm afraid I can't be anything I used to be. I'm afraid I'm too far gone. I'm afraid you're even farther gone.

Sometimes I hurt and you're the only one I want to talk to, but I'm afraid you won't respond, won't have time. Do you think my lack of haze prevents me from understanding? Do you think I'd ever judge you? Worry is a far cry from looking down. Worry and missing you to death. I've lost you to something, and I have no idea what. Chances are, neither do you.

I don't know what to say because I don't know where you are. I don't know what you did yesterday, the last time you slept too much to avoid so much. I don't know the last time you remembered him and cried.

Remember what we said? Halves of a whole? Well I'm living proof that my half of the brain is suffering without you. It's not the same. It hasn't been for a long time.

I feel nothing short of pathetic.

To put it simply, I miss you more than I've ever let on.

Heart Rate.

I forget how to purge; my mind was sanctuary. Now the music's blowing speakers and my ears can't shake the ringing.

This body shakes behind hands that can barely cling to my long lost friend. There's so much to worry about when you forget how to let go. Where will I go? What is perfection? I scarcely close my eyes for fear of the other side. I haven't sorted this out in so long that the paths are covered in leaves. I'll do my best to trample them under my unsteady feet.

I look in your eyes and I see a ticking time bomb. Your therapy is my catalyst, and I spend my ride squeezing the blood flow from my extremities. I can't expedite my troubles to the common sources of fog. Too often I pray for a clear mind to further overcast my vision.

You're my light source. Living in a clear mind, prone to worry, but blissfully youthful in the best way imaginable. So I strike when I'm fighting for air, and turn my fear to anger. I'd lose my mind without your sun. Shine like I aim to. Shine because you mean it.

Overcast, overcast, overcast. Calm before the storm. Your fuse is running short and I can see the spark igniting. I ask the same question far too often for fear it'll come true. It's wrong to beg that it won't be you, but I do it as often as I think to.

You trouble my mind, but I let it. I trouble my mind because I have a sickness. Every writer's dream. Yet I threw away my favorite ear when it overcame me most. I'd do anything not to admit this fuel. This is the last thing I want to spend my words on. I hate the way my breath catches in my throat. I hate believing in mortality. I have so many questions and the most trustworthy answer, but my ears are still ringing. You're shouting at me but it can't break through.

So here I am, breaking my lungs to scream to you. Letting my own ears remember my voice. I'm not a tower of strength, and my mind won't do the trick. But you can. A secret let out, two understanding ears, and an admission of weakness. I am not anxiety. I can always be who I am in the sunshine.

Home again.

This mind is a frantic place to be.