Cuts like Ice
It flows like ice through varicose veins.
Stings like jellyfish with lasting pain.
This blunt force trauma that feels so permanent.
Lacking love, grace, and time well spent.
My perspectives can change, so why can’t yours?
An oxymoron at best, but this is not my tour.
You should know by now that we all have a gut.
And feelings pour out of it like a clown or a klutz.
You can never feel what you can’t even perceive.
One feels nothing while the other one grieves.
They say we’re all connected like a commonwealth.
If that is the case, how can these feelings be stealth?
Can we genuinely grieve for the pain in their queue?
I can say it cuts through me. How about you?
Ever Glow
Evil walks these streets in the foggy, warm night
Snatching souls meticulously in a wretched, horrid plight
But the beaming light has no agenda, as it blasts through the air
While fear strikes stinging jabs at me as it beseeches to fight.
Why is it you crouch in these ghoulish shadows, I ponder
Pretending you’ve meandered into that great big yonder
While you watch and record every subtle breath I breathe
Arrogance, grasping at straws, as to what I am willing to squander.
In darkness you hide in the calmly disseminating steam
But I attentively perceive as you go to every extreme
You carefully observe me from a Hubble perspective
But so incredibly blinded you are to my hopes and dreams.
Have you heard of light? It’s what consumes the dark
It only grows more fierce with each cowardly bark
Like the wolf that keeps howling straight at the moon
I can only apprise that you conscientiously hark.
Shew shew shew, as you expeditiously go
With your passive negativity and darkness in tow
I’m not interested in your maniacal method of fear
So I’ll occupy this apex and let my light ever glow.
Veil of Disgrace
She visited my slumber and caused confusion.
I turned and whispered: This must be an illusion.
Thoughts abstracted and words turned to mush.
She sat there in silence, consumed by a hush.
This house unaccustomed felt so abstruse.
A sense of anxiety. The fear of abuse.
Their faces I knew, but their heartbeats were off.
What reality calls love, this dream called a scoff.
Her aura lorded over like stress to a soul.
The wall that obstructed might as well be a hole.
The wolf so robotic with expressionless face.
While she lie there motionless with a veil of disgrace.
I scurried to finish the art I was building.
But the problem endured. It felt so unyielding.
The pressure received from this groundless regime.
My mind hurt so bad as it ripped at the seams.
My bride pulled intently, as she’d had enough.
We’re blowing this joint. Start packing it up.
Time-thickened pain from a baffling theme.
A nightmarish feast on this subconscious dream.
Moon Zen
I have been to the moon.
That quiet, lonely place.
Where stillness and silence dominate.
I have processed the pain.
As overthinking took hold.
My heart in custody. No bail for my soul.
I have stood at the party.
While my mind knelt alone.
Down in a crater. My existence unknown.
My mind sent the riddles.
Which echoed like screams.
Through my every being. I was stuck in a dream.
My intuition blew the whistle.
And locked down the place.
Avoid all the others. Evade every face.
People need people.
But they forget us sometimes.
A shot through the heart. Such a shame. Such a crime.
But the moon offers light.
So I’ll go there again.
To process my peace. To recover my zen.
Societal Trope
Who are we that we can leave another person in anguish and despair, hurting?
Leave them broken and in shambles after they’ve plummeted from a great wall?
How do we turn our backs and focus our eyes elsewhere while their heart lies spurting?
Walk away proudly, thinking about our next endeavor as they lie forlorn and stupefied after the fall?
Do we really know that someone is hurting and helpless and offer not even a word?
Or double-back repeatedly to ensure they know they’ve not been abandoned or forgotten?
Do we not tend to our own needs so that we can heal? Is our heart and soul connection somehow this detached?
How can we let the wounds of others fester with excruciating pain while their perseverance turns rotten?
If what we are doing yields nothing, then what ARE we called to do and why are we here?
In war, do we leave our fatigued, wounded soldiers on the battlefield to die?
Then why, in this endless daily battle, do we leave our wounded to fend alone in hopes they’ll vanish?
Are we not able to shift the spotlight from ourselves to ensure that everyone thrives?
Can we not ascertain that they are not in need while we place our own crises on hold?
What are we that we can dine comfortably while others slowly starve or eat from the steaming trash?
Should we not exhaust our every resource to help our brothers and sisters from turning to mold?
Have we lost the essence of our very existence? Have we genuinely become so brash?
The church folk preach love while they watch these atrocities unfold from their couch, lifting not even a finger.
The secular crowd focuses on the Earth while ignoring the pain, smiling in their one way mirrors all the same, while they cope.
Here we are, all of my questions unanswered. Bound to this conveyor belt void of existence as we blindly loiter.
So, how do we mobilize hope? And how do we shed this addiction to comfort? “Love Your Neighbor”, it seems, is but a trope.
Come Cry With Me
Come cry with me
Let’s lose them all in another dimension
Let the tears crawl slowly, sensing uncertainty in a cold dark world
Avoiding eradication, like a spider on the wall.
Come cry with me
You’ll feel much better as our tears form a river
They’ll extricate and bring us warm hope
A refreshing freedom from this temporary fetter.
Come cry with me
You deserve this release as life deserves love
Let stress blast like rockets then float with impulse above
And leave you in peace as we’re left behind.
Come cry with me
Everyday if you will as your warm heart begs
I’ll commit to your accord, I’ll invest in your pain
If you’ll accept my deal all the same.
Come cry with me
Let’s paint this cold, grey world
Every color of the rainbow, as our brushes narrate
We’ll capture it on canvas, a magnificent day.
Come cry with me
You need not be afraid when the enemy appears
Raise your head slowly and rest your soul on a cloud
The pain’s gonna fade as it loses its faith.
Come cry with me
Our emotions so frail, our knees on the ground, can anyone tell
Their judgement so harsh, such piddling strife
With power, passion, peace, and poise, they’ll watch us prevail.
Clouds Behind the Moon
The little Martian men
Haven’t lost their way.
They’re simply on a journey
To a warmer place.
One small step for me
A giant leap for you.
This must be our undoing
Or a path to something new.
The clouds behind the moon
They hide from you and me.
They float along in silence
With tears to be set free.
So I tried this little something
I pictured my demise.
My heart then grew more humble
As I felt through different eyes.
Forceful Iniquity
Forceful iniquity
As you step on my land.
Thinking you own
What you don’t understand.
Sometimes a hero
Is a bit underrated.
By kings, even thieves
Or souls deeply jaded.
A future imperiled.
A past manipulated.
A present compounded.
And a pain-edge serrated.
Unfortunate plot
When intentions are pure.
Miserable company
Most burdensome tour.
Self-victimization
With unmitigated risk.
The world has gone crazy
And away with a whisk.
Reign of Error
When our beliefs and expectations influence our behavior at the subconscious level, we are enacting what is known as a self-fulfilling prophecy.
A more formal definition of self-fulfilling prophecy is: A false definition of the situation evoking a new behavior which makes the originally false conception come true.
Sometimes a belief brings about consequences that cause the reality to match the belief. Those at the center of a self-fulfilling prophecy don’t usually understand that their belief caused the consequences they expected or feared. When we believe something about others, we may act in ways that encourage them to confirm our assumptions, thus reinforcing our beliefs about them.
Self-fulfilling prophecies often manifest themselves within cycles. If the behavior is negative, then you have what is commonly referred to as a vicious cycle.
If you expect the battle to be insurmountable, you’ve met the enemy. It’s you.
– Khang Kijarro Nguyen
In communication, an example of a self-fulfilling prophecy is when someone thinks that communicating with someone is not something they can do or perhaps not worth it. By not communicating, they confuse the person or even push them away. This result brings them to the assumption that they were right… communication couldn’t work and didn’t work. Ultimately however, they created this illusion.
In education, when a teacher is given a high opinion of a student, they are more apt to give that student the energy and focus they need because they see them as a low-risk, high-reward endeavor. On the flip side, if a teacher has an expectation that a student is a troublemaker or more likely to fail, they may shy away from spending too much energy and focus on them, thus inadvertently giving that student a higher likelihood of failure. I’m not saying all teachers do this and when it does happen, they usually aren’t even aware it’s happening.
In interpersonal relationships, an example of a self-fulfilling prophecy is when someone forms an opinion that a person is a creeper or stalker. Next, they put this person under a microscope and in some cases even stalk the person whom they mistakenly perceive as being a stalker. Ultimately, they’ve convinced themselves that the person is a stalker so assuredly anything the person does, e.g. writing poetry, visiting a familiar restaurant, or shopping at a certain grocery store, is proof that they are a stalker. I’ve seen this happen to others and experienced it myself, as I was on the receiving end of a self-fulfilling prophecy, created by someone who refused to communicate and love.
The self-fulfilling prophecy is, in the beginning, a false definition of the situation, evoking a new behavior which makes the originally false conception come true. The specious validity of the self-fulfilling prophecy perpetuates a reign of error.
– Robert K. Merton
I can speak to these things from personal experience as others have self-fulfilled prophecies against me. Likewise, I have self-fulfilled prophecies against myself and others. We’ve all done this, yet many don’t even realize they have. It’s very dangerous, but I think the more we can introspect our motivations and feelings, the better chance we have at avoiding these types of things. I believe self-absorbed and narcissistic people are more prone to self-fulfilling prophecy because they believe they are never wrong, and their focus always starts with themselves.
I also believe if we are willing to communicate openly with others, then we are less likely to form misguided opinions and I believe this lowers the risk of self-fulfilling prophecy.
A major way we can fight negative self-fulfilling prophecy is to surround ourselves with positivity. That means we must turn off the news. We must free ourselves of people who mentally and emotionally take us to negative places. We must turn off music that depresses us. We must remove ourselves from social media and/or digital negativity. We must eat, sleep, and drink positive things. We need a daily routine that shuns negativity. We need healthy stress relief. Finally, we must allow the right people to enter and leave our life.
There is a science behind it and we must be intentional about it.
The Ink
The octopus emerges fluidly and slowly from a tiny crevice in the wavy ocean floor littered with sand. A beam of light powers its way down from the surface, illuminating anything in its path. Skeptical, the octopus treks cautiously and slowly through a clear, aqua-blue, salty water in search of purpose. As a defense mechanism, the octopus exudes a dark, milky ink-like substance from its glands as potential enemies approach. The ink disorients and subdues the senses of any creature nearby, allowing the octopus to continue its journey for purpose.
Guiding the octopus are eight long, flowing arms with suction cups beneath, each of which serves a different purpose. They all work harmoniously, but disparately in fulfilling the needs of the octopus. I like to refer to them as the Eight Arms of Ardor.
Arm 1, the Right Arm of Imagination, tells stories of intrigue and mystery, of joy and of pain. Each line, each turn, and each picture are part of a bigger story. It starts conversations. It tells each story through a riddle of sorts. It’s not always forthcoming with information and the picture is not always clear.
Next is Arm 2, the Left Arm of Ferocity, which protects those around it with intensity and flare. It knows they all deserve better. It offers rewards for courage and presents a path to freedom. It’s prepared to fight for continued life at all costs, even if that means bloodshed.
Continuing, Arm 3 is the Right Arm of Impetuous, which is impulsive and reacts on a whim. It’s addictive and a bit unhealthy. It attaches itself, like suction cups to whatever draws near, and it keeps coming back for more, with no end in sight.
Arm 4, the Left Arm of Exclusivity, embraces its individuality, its uniqueness. It mesmerizes with glowing visions never seen. It is the showman of the bunch and it understands its place. It knows it has great potential and star power.
Then there is Arm 5, the Right Arm of Agony, which gets high from the pain and gains pleasure through repeated discomfort. It perseveres and grows through adversity. Like a phoenix it rises above the flames. It holds the pain and is willing to share the stinging, swelling, soreness, and sickness with anyone who dares approach.
Back to the left we have Arm 6, the Left Arm of Suppression, which covers all the scars with a mask of redirection. It conceals the pain and is glad to pretend that nothing ever happened, even to the point of self-absorption.
Next is Arm 7, the Right Arm of Memorialization, which commemorates a lost friend or loved one through words, symbols, pictures and subtle reminders, so they never fade from memory. It grabs hold and won’t let go. It clinches tight and never wants to forget. It preserves.
Finally, Arm 8, the Left Arm of Simulation falls in line with what all the other arms are doing. It falls victim to this copy-cat culture, which is void of originality and creativeness. It can be of use, but only if what its copying is useful.
The arms of the octopus are wondrous and work with each other in one beautiful aesthetic where form meets function. This creature is a combination of grace and savagery, dancing about through peaks and troughs, on upside down waves. Its stories carry pain, sadness, grief, and anger, while also providing comfort, elation, delight, and bliss. This creature is a beautiful work of art.
The Ink.
Sanguine Debt
The mosquitoes bound in a vanilla sky.
They lie in wait until day is nigh.
They’re drawn to my dermis and flowing sweat.
While concocting distortions of sanguine debt.
They show their weapon. I show my skin.
A look of warning. A maniacal grin.
They blindly stab and pierce my flesh.
A prick. A gushing. A blood red mess.
Bottoms up while they humor their purse.
Salivating lies for their insatiable thirst.
Then they withdraw with a brimming bladder.
And hide away like it never mattered.
Conflagrant Concept
High above. On angel’s wing he’ll soar.
When evil attacks. Like lion’s prowess, he’ll roar!
Send all you have. See his striations. Feel his flex.
Ice cold blood. Striking strength. Raging vex.
Atomic ferocity. Blazing desire. Flaming heart. Fiery eyes.
Where his calming presence is a beloved prize.
You’ve never faced a man of such likeness.
When darkness rushes he erupts with brightness.
The coward charges with an arrogant allegation.
But trembles with fear in ghastly vexation.
Wrinkled skin like a tenacious rhino.
The protection of armor adds an hoary glow.
With resolute endurance, this clash he’ll abhor.
High above. On angel’s wing he’ll soar.
Future Felt
The lines on my face are deep and winding canyons.
Which lead to a past of a million emotions.
A baron river that used to rage.
With depths unseen in an earthly ocean.
My eyes tell of a future not yet seen.
Where tears produce tears of their own.
Funerals, graves, and me walking away.
From everyone and everything, only after they’ve gone.
Gravity leaves my threadlike strands.
So they stand and float and face the sun.
Higher they reach with a sudden rush.
And in a single breathe they come undone.
My aching bones seem to foreshadow.
A physical pain that’s sure to increase.
But the emotional pain signals the end.
Of a future felt, but not seen in the least.
Time as an Ally
I hide away in this magical cave.
Where time stands still and I’m always brave.
A place of peace and energy saved.
No digital defecation or early graves.
An entrance marked by glowing light.
Fully accessible, but not clearly in sight.
A deep dive ascension feels so right.
In the heat of day or the calm of night.
But you won’t find it, it’s only for me.
And I don’t mean that as a selfish decree.
It’s just my spiritual realm where others can’t be.
Not physically, mentally, or for an indecent fee.
The thieving minotaurs simply can’t follow.
As I walk up the steps of my cave so hollow.
Certainly a fact that’s hard to swallow.
But there’s an abundance of mud if you choose to wallow.
Finally I’m in peace on this mossy bed.
Free of pain and absent of dread.
Thoughts now move freely through my head.
Void of pain with joy newly wed.
Rocket Booster Blaze
My heart rages fiercely with fire.
All the power of rocket booster rush.
Gold rings form in a defensive stance.
Passion goes vertical in a contiguous crush.
Each breathe is a struggle as chest pounds profusely.
Vision intense, burns holes through the air.
Energy diffuses into frightened feelings.
The enemy is paralyzed by debilitating glare.
Let it fester to a nuclear juncture.
With overloading burn of a system’s core.
Blasting bright till there’s nothing but ashes.
Smoldering illumination till there’s nothing more.
So take the inferno and mold it like clay.
It’s the only option that keeps you free.
For the wolf is pacing and ready to strike.
But the engulfing blaze won’t pay the fee.
Subconscious Avarice
Sitting in this cave.
Flatline ringing in my ear.
Deranged propeller revolutions.
With a condescending sneer.
Purpose paused. Things to do.
This wall seems to come alive.
Dots begin to stop connecting.
As I’m thrust into a spiral dive.
Clutter takes over.
With caffeinated rage.
The perils of a concave hexagon.
Trapped, in this irregular cage.
Escape means nothing.
When the binding’s elastic.
Run a thousand miles.
Or do something drastic.
Society’s veil remains so burly.
With the capitalist lie distorted.
The rabbit wins the race.
Precious life becomes contorted.
So rinse, repeat, and iterate again.
We’re deep within this recursive dread.
Subconscious avarice of frightening proportions.
Toil till you bleed. For the beast must be fed!
Ignoble Oaf
We’re bad-asses until humility slams through the door, confusing our feelings, disarming our motivations, and electrocuting our souls. Arrogance grabs hold.
A sudden and overwhelming feeling of helplessness falls upon us, around us, and within us. The insecurities shoot through our bodies and our souls like rods of light, piercing us, paralyzing us, and stunning us. We shake, intensely, but only for a moment. This is shock.
We think back… looking, searching, begging for the pattern which led to this point. We’re unable to fully envision this complex picture, which brings in frustration and causes us to flounder as we fluctuate between reality and imagination. We reflect until we’re blue in the face.
We simply don’t want to accept the state to which reality has brought us. We reach for the delusion or misapprehension which our mind has painted so vividly for us, but we deny it. It can’t be true. Can it?
Eventually, we are forced to accept reality. We thought we were on top of the world, but now we realize that we are so incredibly fragile and we begin to cede control to that which shoves us into submission.
Finally, we realize that there was another course plotted for us. What we thought we knew. Where we thought we’d go. It was all just an illusion. The strings that bind us take control and we’re brought to our knees.
Humility, it seems, is a dominant master.
River of Regret
A river of regret rolls down her face.
As this crater of truth stands in the way.
Chest tightens up and breathing pronounced.
Beautiful colors now stifled in gray.
Years ago discernment was keen.
As she pointed to darkness which then became light.
Glowing brightly as she floated by.
Declining to recognize her celestial rite.
A compromise of self and a settlement of soul.
Disguised, as the goblin grips with fear.
Depicting rays of light and fields of gold.
Which quickly fade from the illusionist sneer.
Fast forward to many weeks passed.
Where incoherence majestically rules.
The vapors diffuse through body and soul.
Consequently revealing regretful stool.
What was once conceived as a priceless gem.
Now sorely misshapen in a hopeless case.
Perplexed and bewildered in muddling dispair.
A river of regret rolls down her face.
Too Easy
Over the years I’ve heard people say, “I don’t care”. A good friend recently told me that he didn’t care what people thought. I thought it was silly for someone of his intelligence to come across with such a myopic attitude, but OK, whatever. He said he liked people, he just didn’t care about their opinions. He’s a good friend and I get him. We just process differently. Another person told me they didn’t care about me or what I thought. Hmm, that’s pretty cold. My rebuttal… then why are you talking to me? If you literally do not care, then why in the world are you wasting one millisecond of your glorious life to show me ANY attention.
It’s almost hysterical to me, if not extremely sad (seriously), when someone tries to impress upon me their intentionality of not caring. The thing is, it’s weak. It’s weak in the sense that “not caring” is just too easy. It takes no energy. This is certainly debatable, especially for a feeler like me with whom caring is a natural tendency, but as I think about it more, it still takes energy to care, in my opinion.
The thing is, I don’t always care what people think, but I don’t feel the need to exude this pithy, sometimes arrogant, opinion upon them. It’s rude, it’s weak, it’s (a bit) cold, and anyone can do it. Congratulations to them for not caring. I want them to try caring for a person when they (themselves) have absolutely no binding to that person’s judgement, then tell me how much they don’t care. You see, it’s easy to “not care” when someone feels like there is nothing in it for them, but the moment they need something, all of the sudden caring is a real thing. All of the sudden it means something to them. They flip.
I also don’t remember a time when caring hurt someone. It’s a low risk, high reward emotion that requires zero human interaction. Caring is inside us, which is what makes it real. The moment it’s put into action, it’s something else, but caring dwells within our souls, in the spiritual realm.
It’s very hard for me to express what I’m thinking sometimes, so if you are reading this and you are confused as to the point I’m trying to get across, let me just say this: If you don’t care and have no desire to care, that is fine. If that is your personality, that is legit. I buy that. But… don’t act like “not caring” is some great thing you’ve worked hard at or some fascinating feat you’ve achieved, because I don’t buy it and neither do a lot of other people. It’s just too easy. I’m sorry, but I’m not impressed.
I know only a very small number of people will relate to what I’m saying. Others may simply disagree. Some will likely be utterly confused. That’s fine. LOL. My hope is it will open up a new vantage point where you can at least consider another perspective. That’s really how most of my writings are intended anyway.
The Furry
The furry searches for food.
But finds nothing in this baron place.
All dried up. Not a nibble around.
Heart now beating at a snail’s pace.
She stumbles upon mysterious eyes.
But so inviting in this wretched realm.
Do you have food she cries aloud.
Emotions build to a sudden whelm!
Now full and resting, she loses the frown.
That has plagued her since that point in time.
When instincts took hold and wouldn’t let go.
And survival became an uphill climb.
But the wolf lurks with an oppressing vigil.
And seizes the joy from this furry soul.
You mustn’t eat or accept relief.
Are these strangers not merely disguising trolls?
So lessons learned and instruction clear.
We must tread lightly in this theater of pain.
But what else can I do but loiter near.
And keep watch for terror, as I stroke my mane.
The Goblin
The goblin pops up from a nowhere place.
Always in dark and absent of grace.
Lurking in a shadow, until dark becomes light.
The corner now empty as day defeats night.
Are you afraid of the goblin guy?
With eyes so red, they’ll make you cry.
With that chin and that mouth and those hairy ears.
Claws extended and teeth that bring fear.
I’m not afraid of this goblin dude.
Or any member of his distorted brood.
He takes his plague wherever he goes.
And forces infection through his nasty nose.
Your delight is his displeasure.
The goblin’s disdain cannot be measured.
You have but one option in this merciless fight.
Defeat this darkness with remarkable light.
Eyes Fighting Blear
Have you ever seen the rain.
Fall from the sky.
It hits your face.
Or floats on by.
Time slows down.
A backdrop of gray.
A quick, brisk breeze.
On a humid day.
A metamorphosis.
Rain becomes tears.
A blink and a splash.
Eyes fighting blear.
Now you walk.
Cold and wet.
Each step a splash.
A warming sweat.
Sound is silent.
Light now dark.
A faint vibration.
Your beating heart.
Exaggerated Sense
I’ve been around for a while and if there’s one thing that has become abundantly clear to me it’s that people are self-absorbed and many of them portray narcissistic behavior. I know “narcissistic” is a strong word, but Merriam-Webster actually has a strong definition for this strong word – extremely self-centered with an exaggerated sense of self-importance. I love that definition because it ties narcissism to self-absorption in a clear and powerful way.
I know this is cliche, but people literally think the world is here, people are here, animals are here, [whatever] is here to serve them, to literally ensure that their comfort and their happiness is top priority, and if things don’t go their way then they go on the prowl. How do I know this? Because I see it everyday and even more so, I feel it! These people seek out victims. I’ve been a victim of this preposterous behavior more than I care to express, on numerous occasions. Self-absorption offers an arduous challenge for someone who is naturally and deliberately empathetic.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re not that important in the big scheme of things and neither am I. I wish things were different, but they’re not. Sorry, I didn’t make the rules. When self-absorbed people feel this reality, it makes them feel very helpless. I’m not going to go “all biblical” on you here, but that’s where my mind is.
Self-absorption offers an arduous challenge for someone who is naturally and deliberately empathetic.
On the flip side, these same people will treat you like a dog and not blink an eye. As I’ve written about previously, I know we all have different pasts and experiences that shape us, but you’ll have an impossible mission selling that to me as an excuse. I simply do not accept it. When I hear people use their past as an excuse, I feel for them, I honestly do. I can’t not feel for them, but I too have had terrible, honestly unspeakable, things happen to me, things that are completely out of my control. I’ve been attacked throughout my life in a plethora of ways, yet I refuse to allow these things to control me to the point where I treat people like dogs.
People have even said to me, “Matt, you’re at a huge advantage because you’re naturally a nice person. Not everyone processes like you.” The truth is I have to work extremely hard at being empathetic to people. It doesn’t come for free. Let me repeat. It doesn’t come for free! I have skin ripping, head crushing battles with myself over this matter. It is taxing, but we cannot give in to the temptation of making everything about us. It’s not about us. It’s about them, about “others”.
Take a long look in the mirror today. You are awesome! You are an incredible being, but so are billions of other people. You should stop looking at yourself and your greatness so much and start realizing that we’re all in this together and other people are great too and have so much to offer and some of them need you to not make it all about you for a change. Guess what else, you can learn things from other people. There’s nothing more valuable than gaining an additional vantage point (i.e. perspective). Perhaps if people tried this simple exercise, they wouldn’t be so miserable and might actually contribute to society instead of tainting it with self-absorption and narcissism.
Other people are great too and have so much to offer and some of them need you to not make it all about you for a change.
Can you say to someone, “You’re not the victim”? No. I do not believe anyone can say this because they simply do not know. The narcissist says, “I’m the victim!”, because they do not see beyond the outer wall of their bubble. So, how can you become a person who is not self-absorbed? It’s simple. Do something unselfish for someone. Do something that gains you absolutely nothing. In fact, maybe even do something that puts you in a bit of discomfort and isn’t convenient (for you). Travel a long distance or cancel a meeting. Skip a meal. Start by doing this once a month. Then, work up to once a week, and so on. You literally have nothing to lose.
Liberation awaits you with open arms. It calls to you, “Let Go! Let go of you! Look at them! Come to me! Be free!” Do you want to be free, free of yourself? Think of the all the pressures you would release. Think of the lives you could change. I don’t mean to end this like a sermon, but take that first step today. Try it, then try it again.
You will not regret it.
Foggy Night
Wandering late.
Under street lights.
Feel the calm. Feel the cool.
No one else in sight.
All of the sudden the light goes out.
So, I approach with doubt.
“It must be me”, I think to myself.
Not enough moisture in this thirsty drought.
I walk in the shadows. I walk alone.
On concrete, pavement, or even stone.
They see me out and wonder why.
For solitude. To be on my own.
A cool breeze blows.
The summer heat shows.
No mercy on me.
As the foggy air glows.
I walk here and there.
I wander everywhere.
Just returning the stress.
To the summer night air.
I blaze the night.
With all my might.
Gears sync tightly.
Not a soul in sight.