A Revolution.

Within the darkened shadows and beneath the hallowed halls it rose. It brewed, for years, for centuries, growing, smoldering, in vengeful fire. Waiting for the day when it would exact its revenge, when it would get its justice, when its wrongs would be righted. It stirred in the hearts of men, awakening their souls to its wonderful revenge. It lit a spark throughout the world, rising ever so slowly, it was a feeling, a burning passion for something more. The desire to resist, to create, to discover, it was the will for revolution, the lust for freedom, the craving for justice. Something magical, something...Powerful. What created this fiery spark? Was it years of oppression? Was it the taxation without representation? Or maybe, just maybe, it was something that was woven in us from the beginning of time. A fiber of our being, an actual part of us that yearns for freedom, a part of us that is willing to die for liberty. On a chilly December evening it was brought together, by sons, fathers, and grandfathers. This fire, this revenge, was united under one banner. The banner of liberty and justice for all, the banner of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Yet somehow as we churn threw our technology controlled world have we forgotten about that fire? Have we suppressed the memories of the 55 in iron pen? Generation after generation has not only repressed those memories, but we've abandoned everything that once fueled that fire. We've destroyed the passion that once united the people, the passion that brought men and women together, no matter the race or color, to birth the greatest nation that this world has ever known.

Inside the empty walls.

I heard the doorbell ring, it was like reading a letter that I already knew what it said. I knew what was coming, so I just sat there, refusing to move, refusing to blink, refusing to think. In my mind if I didn't think about it, if I didn't accept it, than it wasn't real. But there it was again, that familiar ding dong, the chime of the door bell. It echoed off of the empty walls, reverberating through the floors and over the sheet covered furniture. I looked around slowly, the boxes were scattered all over the living room, organized, but scattered, holding the remnants of what was once a beautiful home. My brain finally took control of my body and I slowly stood to my feet, knees popping, showing the signs of one to many mountains. I walked slowly to the door, knowing exactly who and what I would find, but much to my surprise I was greeted by nothing..The porch was empty, aside from the twin pine rocking chairs and welcome mat. My eyes traced downwards through the storm door and settled on a small folded piece of paper that was neatly laid on the mat. I pushed aside the storm door and plucked the paper from its resting place, "strong and courageous" it read, those ever haunting words. I carried the paper to the counter and set it next to the stack of all the others, that read the same thing, in the same handwriting, on the same paper. I knew when I finally mustered up the courage that I would burn them...but until then I would allow them to decorate my counter, just another flat space that needed covering. I walked slowly back and settled in my chair, my head cocked ever so slightly to one side and I once again observed my blank living room, I contemplated what to move next, the boxes were packed, the walls empty. Now it was just a matter of deciding what was worth saving, and what needed to be destroyed. The wind stirred me from me thoughts as it slammed the shutters against the side of the house, I figured I should get back to work and I started moving the boxes, rearranging them so that they were separated into which ones needed to go to storage, and which ones needed to go to the truck. As I started moving the furniture around, trying to consolidate it to one side of the room, I found a small necklace, shaped like a heart, and studded with black diamonds. The memories flooded my brain as a stumbled back, my breathing became rapid and my hand trembled as I slowly reached down and picked it up. I let it dangle in my hand for a moment before quickly dropping it into a random box. Out of sight out of mine I thought to myself. I turned and walked slowly down the hall, into the master bedroom, it was spacious, just like I had always imagined it would be. The bed was big, almost elegant looking as it set atop a large pine frame. I could hear it then...the laughs, the whispers, the passion. I pushed the thoughts from my mind and walked past it into the master bathroom. The mirror greeted me, my hair was disheveled, and may face clearly showed that I hadn't shaved in a couple days. I was a sight for sore eyes. Either I looked like a raging alcoholic, or my bloodshot eyes told a completely different story, but I'll leave that up to you. I continued to stare for a moment at the mirror, than pushed past it to grab the box that sat on the sink. It was relatively light and labeled "truck". For a second I stopped, unsure if maybe I should put it in storage and let it collect dust, but I pushed that ridiculous idea aside and walked out. I knew it wouldn't take long before my remorse turned to anger, and I wanted to make sure I left nothing out that I would regret later. The sun was just starting to set as I pushed the box across the tailgate and into the bed, pausing one last time, to stare at the box, as if I could see through its cardboard walls at its contents. I walked back inside, knowing exactly what was coming, and that nothing I would do, could change or alter what would happen...

Hold me now, I'm six feet from the edge.

I don't know what it was at first, maybe the childlike intrigue or interest, or maybe the reassurance or persistence. At first it was slightly comical, borderline annoying. But after a while it became comforting and expected, almost desired. It was like a slow flood. Slowly the waters rose, and slowly they eroded things that had been built over years and years, until before I knew it I was drowning...and sinking. And everything I had built around me was gone, but it wasn't the drowning that hurt, it was my struggle to breathe that caused the most pain. I could see it all, in slow motion, like in a dream. The old scars were still there, along with fresh wounds, but the walls were gone, the guards were destroyed and I was left vulnerable. And at that point all I could do was say to myself, "I told you so." But unlike in the good dreams where someone reaches out and pulls you up at the last second, or the water resides, I was alone, and I was sinking. And that reassurance, the persistence, well...It was gone. Just like that, in a heartbeat. Did it get bored? Did it lose interest? Did it find something else? Was it even real from the beginning? This I don't know, and I don't know if I should lie to myself and say it was real so I won't hate, or if I deserve something more than that. It's so hard to accept how things can change so quickly, but I guess its like the calm before the storm, like the saying, "all good things come to an end," or that it was simply to good to be true. Its crazy when you experience something to an extreme, good or bad, because you always think that it could never get any better or any worse, and no matter how hard you try, you can't imagine what it could possibly be like if it were better or worse. I guess to me I just don't understand how we can say things that mean so much, that are so serious, and then change our minds so quickly. But yet our society does it every day, from the simple words of I love you. I realize now that I had already jumped off of the cliff, expecting you to do the same, but I realized to late that you weren't...Yet I was already falling, and no one could save me. I can picture it in my mind now, the look on your face, the tears in your eyes, and I'll never forget the feeling in my stomach as I fell, slowly, but farther and farther, until you were just a small speck in the distance, a faint memory, a fading shadow. It was terrifying...I wanted to scream but nothing came out of my mouth, I wanted to climb back up but didn't have the strength nor the ability. Did I give up? No, but I accepted the fact that I could do nothing to change the situation, that nothing I said or did would give you the courage to jump, because once again, its a choice, and a choice that only you could make for yourself. Sometimes I still catch my mind wondering to those places, those memories that I've locked far away, deep down inside, sometimes it refreshing, but most times its just downright painful. But I still don't know whats more painful...the memories, or the fact that I know that you don't feel the same way that I do. The world that I always imagined, that I always wanted and dreamed of you gave me, but it was only between me and you, and because no one else could see that or accept it than it failed, because we all know that when we see something we can't have, we will stop at nothing to make sure that no one else gets it. Somehow you learned things about me that no one ever knew, you got me to say and do things that no one could accomplish, but at the end of the day, somehow you hurt me in ways that I never knew possible. It makes me wonder though, will I ever have those moments again? Will anyone's voice ever sound so comforting? Will a smile stop my heart the way your's did? Will my mind ever be at peace like it was when I fell asleep in your arms? I have to tell myself that it will, that someday I will experience all of those things, but on a much more powerful scale. But even by saying that, or thinking that, it feels as if I'm belittling those feelings, or downplaying them, or saying they weren't as strong as they really were. I'm surprised at how things change, and how roles can be reversed, and I take hope in praying that maybe you can think back to what it felt like then, for you, even though I still know that it won't change your mind. But, if you just walk away, what can I say? And would it matter, anyway?

Responsibility and Change

Have you ever wondered where it came from? Where it started, or maybe what caused it? Change is inevitable. Can we fight it? I believe people only change if they really want to, I don't think anyone is changed by anything other than their desire to be different. Yes, I believe that what we surround ourselves with can add to who we are, can even take away from who we are, but I don't believe that it can actually alter who we are deep down inside. That can only be done by a choice, by the decision to change. Unfortunately many times people use change as an excuse, they use it to hide from their problems, run away from them, or escape responsibility. Because to them, the idea of change is more comforting and secure then the idea of dealing with the guilt and remorse that comes with responsibility. Is there anything we can do about this? No, because just like how change is a choice, so is responsibility. We can't force responsibility on anyone, just like we can't force change on anyone. They have to want it. They have to desire it, and until they do, it will be like preaching to def people. We won't be heard, we won't be acknowledged, and it will mean nothing to them. This lays claim to one of the most heartbreaking and heart wrenching things we will ever have to do...sit back and watch, as they make the decisions for themselves on what change they will accept, on what actions they will take responsibility for. Many times it will not go our way, and we will have to stand by helplessly as they choose another path, but every now and again, ever so rarely, someone will surprise us. Someone will accept the change, or take on the responsibility, and in that moment we will know that they are worth it, that they mean what they say, and will stand by what they say.

I don't even know

We all have those times when we believe things we shouldn't. Those times when for some reason we allow ourselves to have some false sense of hope, blind trust some would call it. And every time the same thing happens, yet still, we allow ourselves to be led astray, hoodwinked in a sense. But for what? One moment of happiness? Five minutes of feeling special? Maybe a couple laughs. And somehow, every time, we go back for more. It’s as if we never learn...You'd think that after the first, second, maybe third time. We would have figured out how short we were selling ourselves. But no, because all were worried about is that moment of self-gratification. That short time where we can justify everything wrong, and right thing that we've ever done. At some point you just get to the point where you don’t care. And I’m going to transition this into something about me. I’ve allowed myself to get to the point where I just don’t care. I’ve let one bad decision after another dictate the direction of my life. I’ve ignored what I know is the right thing, what I feel is the right thing, because I wanted to fit in, or I wanted to have friends, or be popular or well liked. I sacrificed what made Jesse, Jesse. And in doing that I completely lost who I tried so hard to be. I gave up on dreams, I gave up on friends, and I started sacrificing more and more areas of my life towards failing endeavors. But, we all make choices, we all make decisions, and those are choices that only we are responsible for. No one else. I wish I could blame someone, and I’m sure in the grand scheme of things somewhere in my life someone is to blame for all of this, but there is no point. Blaming someone else, what would that accomplish? Absolutely nothing, it would just add to another long list of bad habits – the inability to accept responsibility for your actions. Now all I can do is determine what is important to me, what is worth my time, energy, and resources. The hard part isn’t figuring out what those are, its sticking to them no matter what happens, no matter what “better” thing comes along. 

Hesitation destroys our lives.

Where do you want to go from here? What do you want to do? Have you ever asked yourself that question? Ever sat in from of the mirror and just thought, 'what the hell'. Some things just aren't worth thinking about, they aren't worth worrying about, stressing about, or letting consume your life. Just like some people don't deserve your time, or your energy. Most of our struggle in life comes from inside of us. It comes from the hesitation of putting ourselves out there, from the reluctance to let other people see what were  really about. We set restrictions and handicaps on ourselves simply because were to worried about how we will look, or what someone else will think. What we do will never be enough, not for everyone. So...we just have to decide who its going to be enough for. Will it be enough for our family? Our friends? Our spouse? Maybe our boss? Or will we be one of the few people who figures out how it will be enough for a couple of those? If were lucky maybe we can find the balance. Living life is just about figuring out how to survive in equilibrium. Its all about which battles we can afford to fight, and which battles we can afford to lose. If for one second we allow ourselves to think that we are in control, or that we have some type of say in what goes on is where we are wrong. Everyday I learn something new, who gives a shit, and who doesn't. And everyday, that list gets smaller and smaller. Our lives are what we believe that they are. We can create anything that we want in our minds....and with that, we can make any fantasy become a reality. So that's up to you, that's your decision. If you want your dreams, your fantasies, to be reality, then all you have to do is let them. Its as simple as that. And sometimes, when people stand in your way, you just have to say fuck you, and never forget their face. Because if someone doubts you once, they will doubt you twice. Always forgive, but never forget, because the minute that you allow yourself to forget, is the minute that you die. You just have to ask yourself, "do I want to live my life making other people happy? Or do I want to live my life making me happy?" We have no control over what other people say or do. During the civil war Stonewall Jackson told his men that in order to win the war they must raise the 'black' flag, meaning that they could show no mercy. He believed that in order for the south to emerge victorious they would have to fix bayonets, and spare no one. In more ways than one he was right. Sometimes in our lives we will come to situations where we will have to raise the black flag and fix bayonets, otherwise we will allow ourselves to be walked on, trampled on, taken advantage of, and slowly but surely we will watch as that destroys who we are. As it eats away at the very fiber of our being, and erodes the foundation of our soul. That decision to fix bayonets is never easy, and it isn't a matter of it being "us or them." Many times its the deciding factor in whether or not we want our livelihood to remain...Whether or not we want everything that we stand for to be preserved, valued, and honored. Our legacy is never what we leave behind, it isn't the pictures, the money, or the house. Our legacy is that burning hole left inside someone that causes them to do something great. Its the fight that we win, so that they know what its like to be victorious. Its the feeling they have of knowing that someone would do anything for them, the ever resounding noise that brings tears to their eyes. If we want to leave behind a legacy, one full of inspiration and of passion, then we must raise the black flag in our lives. We must show everyone else that we are willing to do what it takes to preserve who we are and that we will fight and never give up to prove that. And we do that by taking away that hesitation, we do that by allowing ourselves to be seen for who we are. Scars, wounds, and all. By raising that black flag we are saying that we aren't ashamed of who we are, and who we are going to be. That's what really matters...And that's what will ensure that we are preserved, that our legacy is remembered, and more importantly, valued.

Dreams to reality.

The truth of the matter is that I'm not crazy. The truth is that I just want to have fun. I just want to live life as lively and exciting as possible. I accepted a long time ago that life sucks, that there will always be some type of pain and heartache to experience. Some new burden, some new trial or tribulation. But just because that is so, it doesn't mean that we have to sit back and live our lives like that. I want to go on adventures, I want to go camping and get stuck in the pouring rain. I want to jump in a fountain in a suit, I want to play hide and seek in Walmart, and go to the mall and try on clothes that I can't afford. But I don't just want to do these things by myself. I want to do these things with my best friend, with someone that knows me, that wants to understand me, that seeks to understand me. I wan't to go on long road trips, I want to stay up late watching TV and pouring out my thoughts. I want to love someone so much until I know that I truly can't love them anymore. I want to know that everyday I wake up, and every night I go to bed that I've given someone everything that I possibly can and have to give. To me there is no greater feeling than having sacrificed everything you can for someone else. I want to stare into the eyes of the woman of my dreams and vow to give my life for her, in sickness and in health. I want to experience the beauty of sex within marriage. But I think above all of these things what I seek the most, is someone that is willing to do all of these things for me as well. Someone that enjoys being goofy, someone that likes silly jokes and cheap food. Someone that find's happiness in what they do and who they are with, instead of what they have and how they are viewed.
I want to have a house that is full of genuineness, love, and warmth. I want to be able all of those things for people that no one was for me. I want to be someone that gives people the inspiration, the advice, the wisdom, that they need to succeed.

Dreams of boredom

I love to dream, I love to imagine. My mind is a tangled web of dreams and aspirations going back and forth and forth and back. Sometimes it gets confusing, but most times I love it, because it allows me to see anything that I want to see. It allows me to be whoever I want to be and do whatever I want to do. But above all it allows me to live in whatever world I want to live. I guess my point is that like most people when I'm bored my mind runs wild, and as far as I allow it to go it will. There is nothing in the world that can stop me when I put my mind to it...Nothing that I can't have if I really want it. But in this world you can't force anything on anyone, you can't make someone want you, or your dreams. They have to want them, they have to see them as beautiful and incredible and want those things for their lives as well. Because if they don't than its like eating old spoiled food. For a while its okay, it might taste good, even smell good. And most likely it will sit okay in your stomach for a short time, but after time it will start to run its course, and the stomach will do the only thing that it knows to do in order to protect itself, and that is get rid of it.

These are the worst nights. They remind me of boot camp and infantry school. Of the so many times I sat and dreamed about things, imagined what they would be like. I would let my mind run wild until it drove me crazy. Until recently I've never felt so much control over my life, but at the same hand I feel as if nothing I do will change what is "supposed" to happen. How much can I do? I couldn't ask more from my life. I have a decent job, a great school opportunity, a wonderful girlfriend, and incredible friends. But like anything its always hard not to want more. Its hard to not wonder what things could be like, and constantly running through my mind are all of the if's, and's, and but's. Truth of the matter is I'm completely happy where I am at. Its been a hard journey, and I still have moments where I hesitate and doubt myself. But behind the doubt, behind the reoccurring pain, lies one common theme. For once I am able to sit back, relax, and just be myself, and anything more than that is me demanding things out of my control. Its just me being ungrateful for all of the things I have.