Replica Heart

  i wish my heart was cold as stone 

so i wouldn't feel a thing.

i wish i didn't have this heart so i

wouldn't feel the sting of 

the rain beating down on our 

packed up car.

i wished my heart was cold as stone but

i don't want to be anything

like the replica 

behind me.

we silently hoot and holler as we cross the line 

but really our hearts are 

full of pain we can't define.

everything seemed normal as we drove away 

that night as if all of our confusions

would be brought to the light.

i'd be able to stand strong and still 

as we leave you behind and i wouldn't 

feel so all alone.
but i have to remind my myself that
the arrived conclusion will 
only become an illusion.
the farther away we drive from you 

the more intense your gaze seems to be.

intense, but subtle,

silent as eyes.

little did we know that this quiet, scary

battle is something that we'd be fighting 
for the rest of our lives. 

i watch her as she carries the load

across the desolate and barren road.

her shoulders are heavy with the burden

of the past, and that being the 

realization that she was in love 

with only a mask.
as i watch, she tells me without any words

that the object of your affection was 

only in your reflection.

i want to say that i knew that 

was coming, that i didn't fall for your act

but i haven't known anything else

and i dread to say that for a fact.

You may like to think that i hate you

so that the sympathies are in your favor,

but if im honest,
i hate the person in the mirror  
for helplessly loving.

nothing. 
but a 
replica heart.

don't care cuz I'm trying to be human

Half of me is filled with
bursting words and half
of me is painfully reserved. I
yearn for time to myself yet I
crave to be around people. i want to
bring life, love, and passion into
everything i do yet im treated like i
don't know how to do that so i don't.
i want to check my hair in the mirror but
am scared of the pang i'll feel when i see my
guts and everything in me spilled
on my sleeve. do i look like the mess
that my life is? is it okay to look like this?
i crave the feeling of aliveness
but that calculus packet tells me otherwise and
so does that flow of trafficking
teenagers going the opposite way as me.
do I wear high school sickness on my sleeve?
i want to be heard but i act like i am
so therefore i never am,
i'm happy but there are times when inside
i feel heavy. i want to live in the trust
of my intuition yet i also want to
let people tell me what to do because
apparently thinking for yourself is too
much work for our wired brains.
we are complicated creatures.
Contradicting....very contradicting
i feel like a robot sometimes
because acting like one is easy.
especially when im tired. or when
my life at home takes priority over school.
just because we act like robots
doesn't mean we are them. sometimes
being a robot is what gets me through
the day. being human takes work.
being human means smiling, it
means crying, it beings making sense
or not making sense, it means being real,
it means bleeding in a society
that says the color red is too messy.
Being robots mean good ACT scores
late nights, and early mornings, AP
classes, college, knowing what your major is
and the like. In a society that says
these are more important
than stopping to breathe, who can blame me
or us or anyone for going robot on you?
Being human means going against the mainstream
and at the moment that controlling current is almost
right over my head.

Ps. I don't care if this doesn't make sense because im trying to be human

#DifferentDefinitionsOfDifferent

Here's what you fellows said when asked about what it means to be different:

"Eh, why?" 

               "What's it to you? Well, I think it just means to not care what others think. Or to be unique?"

"In trying to be different, one often ends up being like everyone else who is trying to be different. Being different means finding your own unique self, letting it shine and trusting that it is enough."

"It means to not be indifferent."

                                        "To be different means to not be the same. So if someone is "different", they are not the same as you. Often people are labeled "different" in a negative, stereotypical way, while differences can actually help you appreciate life with new perspectives."

                        "To be different: distinct or separate, not alike in emotion or type."

"Here's what first comes to my mind when I think of the word different: Displaying uniqueness, most often in a social setting; going behind or beyond what is commonly accepted as normal or average in society. Can have negative or positive connotations." 

                                               "Being HAPPY with who you ARE."

"Different to me means: Doing things (hobbies, jobs, desires) that others are not used to.....is that enough info?"

                          "For two people or things to be unalike or varying in nature, form, 

behavior, or quality."

                                       "To be different for me means to be yourself. No one else is like you. So being different means being true to yourself rather than trying to be like everyone else (and thus not being yourself)."

I Used to Sing (A simple Testimony)

In the shadowy fields of mind

Where nothing seems to bloom
There lies one individual
Whose laughter was consumed

This person was once brilliant
Aglow with vivid light
But wouldn't stand up for himself
When doubt put up a fight

"What caused this pain?" He wept one night
"I used to stand so tall
I used to sing so blissfully
But my heart won't sing at all"

Time kept going despite his pain
He didn't recognize
The years he simply let pass by
While darkness swelled inside

"There is no love for life." He said
While tears fell on his hands
Hands that had succored long ago
And helped his peers to stand

One night at last he could take no more
While sallow and distraught
He thought that he might end his life
But stopped at a simple thought

"My mother taught me long ago
Of a man who for me died
And only for my happiness
He had been crucified"

Then amid that shadowy field
A splendid sight erected
It was Christ upon His throne
Clearly resurrected

He realized then his pain was gone
And with an honest grin
He knew in Jesus misery
Could not abide therein

Dear Brain

Dear Brain,

Man. You're complex. But you intrigue me. I don't even know how to describe how I feel about you. I feel like I know how you work, but I don't at the same time. 

       I don't understand how you think or what your motives are. What the heck makes you tick? This is the only other thing I've decided about you besides the fact that you are remarkable: You're a worry-wart.

 Yes, I understand that you are just trying to do your job by keeping   me safe. You're always there (along with the Mother) to remind me to grab a jacket when it's cold or tell me when things are too hot. You're just a good protector for me, I guess. 

         But can I just say that there are times where I am perfectly fine? It's like I walk past someone that I appreciate and you immediately set off alarms inside me. What the heck, bro?

 You know what?! I just realized something: What's your deal with Heart? You guys never seem to get along. ALWAYS in CONFLICT. Heart tells me to smile and you tell me to keep walking. Yes, there is a lot of potential danger, but I can't help but wonder if you just have a grudge against Heart. 

           I just realized something again. I bet you trusted Heart. I know and understand that being safe and comfortable is important for you. It takes a lot for you to be willing to try something new...and Heart's all about new. 

 Now that I think about it, there have been plenty of times when we've (you've!) trusted Heart (which I KNOW is very difficult for you) and there may have been times when you felt betrayed or let down because her ideas didn't work. And we got hurt. Did you feel like a failure, Brain? 

  Anywho.

           I guess something else I'm trying to say is thanks. You do your job very well. You're very honorable, Brain, and I feel that you know a lot about me- probably more than I do, actually. But. Heart understands me. Can't you see how important it is for you two to work together?

 I know it probably seems like Heart's motives are to mess you up. But can I just say that that's not her job and she knows it? Her motives are not to destroy or hurt you, me, or anybody. I know that some of your motives (most of them are hidden, you turd) but your main motives are to make sure that I'm still breathing and functioning correctly, that I'm safe, and basically keep me alive. And the lengths you go to achieve that stump me!

  But guess what?!

        Heart's motives are to make sure that I STAY ALIVE TOO. Sometimes when you guys aren't working together we go into survival mode. And thats hard on me and Heart (and I'm sure you too whether you realize that or not). She really wants to make sure that I stay alive in a completely opposite way than you. You see? Your motives and jobs are so different and yet practically the same. Is this hard for you to understand, Brain? Am I loosing you? Basically, I know it seems like there is a lot of conflict, but you guys are really just meant to complement each other.

 Knowing you, you're probably reading this and laughing. But I think I taught you that one. My bad. Yeah this is probably cheesy or wonky or whatever and, yes, Heart did help me with this, but get over it because you kinda did too. You're practically writing a letter to yourself right now.

          But. If you get ANYTHING from this it would just be to keep calm and trust me and Heart. Brain, I understand you and I am sorry if I ever  hurt you, but I can promise you that if you do this you'll feel a whole lot better and whole lot more alive. Hats off to you my Brainiac!

              Love,

                   ME 

Crayons Make Me Miss Things

Some people refer to crayons as "Looking at the face of a dead friend." 
I don't like that. I'm not quite sure that I get it exactly, but in a way it sounds like they're scratching away the things that crayons represent. Does that mean that they've given up on creativity? Is creativity the face of a dead friend instead of an alive one? As if it would kill them to pick one up and imagine. 

When I look at crayons, well, first I just see crayons, but then once I get past the initial shock that I haven't picked one up in ages I see a lot of things. Memories. 

And I miss them. 

Here are some of the things that crayons make me miss:

-Well, I actually just miss the smell of them.

-Playing "House" or "Orphans" outside with my brothers and sister.

Or counting the amount of burrs in my hair when we were done.

-I miss sitting above the creek in my backyard, watching the dust and black marks from the trampoline wash away from my feet.

-The feeling of amazement when I discovered that there was such thing as a "crayon sharpener".

-I miss comparing my feet to my older brothers' after playing all day then seeing whose was the blackest. I usually lost even though I was the one who didn't have shoes. 

-The feeling of triumph when I got new hand-me-downs.

-I miss watching my fingernail slide through a crayon to create all those little curly things. Then feeling awesome when I could actually draw something with the shavings.

-And I also just miss not being afraid to pick up a crayon and draw. Create.

Anyways, thinking about crayons makes me miss a lot of things. 

But I think what I'm really longing for is the memory of everything small that happened to me seemed to be such a triumph. I don't really miss being a child. I just miss that mindset. Having no limitations, besides snakes, and the basement. And occasionally E.T. and Gollum. 

Now the limitations are endless!
I think when people say that they miss childhood, thats what they're really missing. Having no limitations. Yeah, there are things like having to eat your vegetables or time out and things, but that was it! Life was so simple back then. And we can probably be that way again if we allow ourselves to get outside our comfort zones. Sometimes letting yourself experiment and have fun is scary, but being a kid is simple. All you have to do is celebrate and love the little things that make you happy. 
I don't know. This could all be a bunch of wonky-ness, but I guess if you take anything from this it would be that we shouldn't just sit by and miss being a kid again. We should just do it haha. Let yourself have fun! And I don't know what else to say so....yeah haha.

That is the End of my shpeel ;)

An Ordinary Introduction

So, first off, before I say anything else, let me just say this: I am SCARED. 

I am terrified. I have so much freedom. I am nervous because this blog is giving me the chance to be the person that I was never allowed to be. I can free myself from the shackles of my brain. I have the chance to spill my guts and say anything that I want. I have the chance to be honest. I have the chance to be real. Someone totally new.

And I'm freaked out. 

What if this post has good potential, but because of my ADHD brain, I was blind to it? What if I miss all of my chances to be great? 

I have the chance to show the world who I am in a safe environment, so why can't I? I have the chance to be someone who isn't their trials. To be someone who won't have too many toxic "could've's and should've's" later on in their life. I have the chance to change.

                                                        Dang. I have a lot of freedom.

In fact, I feel like I have too much of it. So much of it that my "highschool-infected" brain can't think of a dang inspiring word to say. So I won't. Imma just be myself here, K? There is too much weight on the word inspiring. Too much weight on the desire to be outstanding.

It's almost like because I was given this liberty, my mind didn't know what to do with it and started hooking on to paralyzing words. Words that say "You are inadequate." You'll be rejected. You'll be judged. You don't know a freaking thing about blogs. You won't go out with a bang. You can't write!

Why is it that this freedom now feels paralyzing? 

Along with these stinky words were emotions and desires that were good. I want to change! I want my blog to bring others happiness! I want to show others that being unique doesn't mean you have to be different, or stand out, it just means being you and acting true to your nature. And, man. I want this to be an example of what real freedom looks like.

Remember how at the beginning I told you I was scared? It was also because I wanted to be extraordinary. And I also kinda felt like I had to be in order for this Intro to be even be awknowledged. I didn't want to take the risk of creating something that I knew was going to be flawed. All I could think was:

This needs to be Different. Unique.

These words that should be positive--Extraordinary, Unique, Different--were paralyzing. Daunting. You wanna know why? I was putting too much weight on them. Like if I am anything BUT that then I suck and my blog is wonky. And that thought kinda-sorta froze me in my tracks.

Maybe this pressure is just me. Me and my fierce desire to not be just another student. Just another ID number or just another pen name. 

Man. My mind is all over the place. 

Anywho, but to me, the definition of unique is just being you. And I am ordinary. So maybe it's okay that I am just another human in a big school. It's okay if this isn't extraordinary. Its okay ok if it seems a little boring--and if it truly is, get over it because I'm still learning. I'm new at this. 

Eh, I don't know.

Anyways, if you could get one clear message from all my wonky-ness, it would be that you know that I am ordinary. And I understand. I am not shallow and I crave deep-ness. 

My desire is just so that when people read this they'll feel like someone understands. Thats all it is. Heck, I'm human and this little post was scary for me. Hopefully you know that I hope we're all in the same boat. Hopefully you know that I understand that if you were feeling scared when you first started, or skeptical, or anything negative, someone felt exactly like how you did. I don't know. I kinda want to encourage you to take a freaky risk. Then celebrate no matter the cost. Hey, and maybe, hopefully, because of this, you realized you aren't alone. 

p.s. Oh, and because this was supposed to be an introduction to me (even though it really is if you 

look at it closely) I'll just say my name. 

I am Ricochet Greyson. And I am an ordinary human.