there’s some guy on an acoustic guitar. two daughters screaming. a guy trying his hardest to make this a real life. and me…in the middle of all of it.

i’ve been gone awhile and i’ve been thinking about home. not as much as usual. more like looking for excuses to not go home. not because i’m running. but because i like to run. i want to run through every great city ten times over and ten times more. i’d like to run through the halls of my high school but i left on bad terms and don’t think they’d be excited to have me back.

this is my life. i’m 26 years old. i have no direction other than alcohol fueled good times. the way the wind tastes in omaha and the friends that i’ve made along the way.

i’m proud of where i am. i accept what i cannot change and i keep going on good faith that someday i will find what i’m looking for.

me and joe. this is where we are and this is what we do. we were born like this. two people surrounded by a city but so alone in ourselves. connected still to relationships passed because when you’re always on the move it’s hard to move on.

so i’m still here. still doing this. still looking for it.

i’m not a high school geometry teacher. i’m not a rocket scientist. i’m myself. i’m not a fucking lawyer. i’m not a doctor. policemen. or millionaire. i’m myself.

and i’m proud of that.

so until i find it.

i’ll be looking. i’ll be trying. i’ll be breathing and doing this life the best way i know how. by doing what i want.

if you don’t want it. maybe i’ll take it. but if you don’t want it. don’t keep it.

sell it. give it. pass it along. but don’t keep it if you don’t want it.

i was running free. i still am. resilient young and brave. be not afraid.

i’m made of gold.

this is where i am and this is where i’ll be. i’m so happy to just be me.

i’m made of gold.

i wrote this book. and i’m sorry i’m leaving. but i’m more sorry that i had to fall in love with you now. i’ll be a gone a little while. we’ve got postcards and islands and beaches in our dreams.

i could hold your hand on a mountain in the alps.

nah. i’d probably get too cold. plus the mittens would be in the way.

we could fly around the world at a pace as slow or fast as we wanted to with a ticket that day or a lifetime away. 6 numbers could do it for us. 6 numbers could change our lives. the way we drive. and maybe for once i’d have more than 2 pairs of jeans.

wouldn’t that be nice?

i’m leaving soon. i’ve been missing you. i’ll be missing you. but i’ll be cheating too.

you see darling there’s quite a few things. it’s the concrete. the cheap life. the all night drives and the sunsets eyes that you can’t understand and i can’t leave alone. when i’m home i’m yours.

when i’m on the road. i’m hers.

you have to learn how to share for now or just walk away for now. expect a postcard when i can afford it. expect a call when i’m not sleeping. i’ll keep you updated on everything.

i’m sorry.

i’m leaving.

another afternoon with nothing good to do. i woke up a little before 11. i laid in bed until 12. around 13 o’clock i got up. i might have eaten something. oh yes. i remembers. i have old fashioned pepperoni pizza from the previous nights father and son “bonding”. i’ve wondered about aging for awhile. am i too old to do the things i do? do i need to get serious? what’s the average age for a human being to stop acting like i do. get an apartment. have a steady job. and. settle down? i don’t know. i don’t really think there’s answers to this kind of stuff.

my dad is terribly sick. he’s getting old. is he going to die soon? do i have to inherit this can and live in it because if i don’t i’ll feel guilty because he’s actually worked hard all of his life and if i sell this thing and move out there’s not proof of a stanley ever being here? that’s heavy man.

we’re all just memories in the end. someone could find our picture in a thrift shop and wonder who we were. who loved us. and. who we belonged to. fuck it. why am i thinking so hard about this. all i wanted was the picture frame.

i have felt the purest form of love and hated that love with a feeling so strong it would take a million letters to construct a word to describe what i would do to make it go away. i’ve hated. i’ve been hated. i’ve wronged. i’ve been wrong. i’ll never admit it though i think i just did.

i’m so scared to be alone. but i’m so proud of what i want to end up with. if i settle then i’m exactly what i don’t want to be. and if i don’t then i might never find a place. i’ll see things that people dream of. but i’ll have no one to tell when i get home. i’ll have no children to raise. unless a mistake…that won’t happen. stop thinking about that.

for now i’m living selfishly but learning to be selfless. i’ve got a car. i’ve got a bike. i’ve got a guitar. and i have this computer. those are my tangible. holdable. touchable. belongings. i have some amazing friends all over this country. i’m meeting more. and i’m trying to always give my full attention to every connection. what people don’t notice. i do. i love all of you. different sized buildings. same city.

whoever gets to my house first gets their choice.

i’m trying to love. and it’s hard work. but i’m getting closer.

be aware of your actions and of the things around you.

we are so much more than people.

i separate my thoughts with dots. we travel along a long windy road. where we stop no one knows. i had a perfect day today. no i didn’t. i lied. i tend to mis represent myself with a new hair hairdo once in awhile. i wish i had candy striped pants like a peppermint stick and an oh so hip cigarette case to check my lips. hips. then a short twist. a strong walk straight to someone i love. i didn’t find it. fuck it i’m leaving.

i woke up this morning. did i have a revelation? did a dream change my whole game plan? my whole direction? give me a new outlook on life that i have so badly begged for? fuck no. but i got a good nights sleep. i’ll be a night owl tonight. big eyes. a crooked sigh. a never ending always eating close but so far away. why god? why? the time is 11:06.

the time. where does it go? you question everything. you haven’t had too much worth fighting for and the things you find don’t want to be fought for. you’re leaving. get over yourself. you’re so trusting. you’re so honest. you are the biggest fake of the century. a little creative criticism never hurt anybody. tell that to the writer who hung himself in my closet. tell that to the failure who never made it home. i’m coming home. strong. loyal. a good friend. a selfless man. i’m coming home the best way i can.

now it’s 11:11.

i wished.

it’s raining cats and dogs outside. what a perfect way to end a boring day. i’ll be leaving soon and hopefully when i get back i’ll be refreshed and ready to take a step closer to getting a serious life together. small steps. baby steps. i stepped on a centipede and crushed it. do over.

tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

lamp

i has been wearing this yellow polo with a penguin on it. how many of these shirts exist? i find myself wonder about thrift store finds and the history of used items. was the guy that wore this before me handsome? was it a guy? was it a lady? our clothes have so much history. travel. time. space. if our clothes could talk. what would they say? “geez that was a bad move!” “hug me harder against these beautiful bewbz”. if in animate objects could talk. we’d be in so much trouble.

shit.