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A Locked Box, A Missing Key, And One Memory

There's no easy way to develop yourself that is sustainable outside of the greenhouse you put around yourself to grow. Perhaps a bulky, harsh statement, but it's true. I've spent my time building up to a person who's simply an anxious, vulgar, diluted mess. As hard as I try to pull myself together to be presentable, it's not happening. The Locked Box. What I mean is that my mind works best when it's left alone. Sometimes it works too well. If you listen closely, it's almost like you can hear the cogs clicking and scuffing around and around. As much as I'd like to have the motion stop, to have the noise withdraw for just a few minutes of silence, it's also what helps me to succeed. Most people might find others that motivate them, but I tend to gather inspiration like vintage clothes. I hold onto things until they become worn out, overused, and then I'll repurpose those things into new items - pillows, rags, bandanas, bags. But, I also want to
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A Theme of Prose

Many years ago, when I was just a young man, I experienced the first pang of yearning for love. But, as a shy, to-myself-person, I wasn't conditioned to open myself up to another person and allow that level of vulnerability to show. In a sense, I was a clam, holding everything inside at the notion of possible danger. So, to combat the blossoming feelings and the overwhelming sense of defeat I was feeling, I turned to poetry. I turned to the one thing I could rely on to keep a secret that would never be revealed to the light of day. Crushes came, and eventually, they found their way out again. At first, there were a few interests in women, but then it became known to myself that women weren't my sole interest. Of course, some guys have a sexual identity that suddenly springs itself on everyone else before they, themselves, actually become aware of it. Others, they come to know their sexuality and embrace or reject it. I was more of a toss-up than I'd like to admit. While I

The Hard Lines That Must Be Resolved

It's been a year. A full 365 days that were filled with many moments of wonder, indifference, confusion, or simple joy. As life transitions, so do my own thoughts and writing styles. I wish I didn't leave for so long. I wish I had stuck to the routine of posting consistently. I wish a lot of things, but for now, I will simply reach out and attempt to balance small posts and retelling stories that I have yet to tell here. I'm no longer a Junior College student. I've traded up and began working towards a bachelors degree, but there is still time - still space that needs to be filled. While I add to my own repertoire of classical works of fiction, I also conduct a further analysis of my own life and writing. I begin to question things inside of myself that I have yet to allow beyond the courtyard of my mind. Or, simply put without flowery language, unexpressed emotions have begun to come under the scope of close observation. While my academic life has changed, my career

A Soft Opening

There's a level of authenticity that I want to keep with this...a certain craving to keep things real, but keep them open. As a first post, it's the starting point that is perhaps more magnetic towards the writer, than the reader. As someone who's tried to upkeep a blog here and there throughout the years, it seems that now is the best time to start it - when everything isn't set in stone and there are vast opportunities for me to express the importance of who I am. What I am, frankly, is someone who's timid and shy and keeps to themselves more or less. What I hope to include in this blog will include personal information that I hope will help others if they find it, but among the cathartic sense of blogging, I hope to include various book reviews of books I've read here and there. Perhaps even to entertain small, local trips throughout the North Eastern region of the United States.  The things I try very hard to avoid may never, or rarely, show up at all in t