Happy belated.

Been gone for awhile, but I'd like to wish a happy belated Valentine's Day to all you lovers out there. Don't let her down, fellas. And ladies, don't go blind now. You know what I mean!

I'll blog about the trip after I unwind. I hate traffic. A snowstorm blew through the Grapevine last night and it was absolutely beautiful. Oh, and I got home in time to watch 24. Thanks for driving, dad.

So right now's not a good time for me. Get at me for the complete low-down. Deuces until then.

Oh, and happy belated birthday, grandma. Thank you for raising me right. I love you. <3

Mirror.

I've learned that nothing is for sure, even if they say it is, and I've had to learn that the hard way. Appointments, grades, love and fortune, friendships and passions will all fade in time. The past couple of days have been tough. People have talked behind closed doors and I know that they'll continue whether I'm here or not; the fact that we as humans crave for conflict belittles my faith in the good of the commonfolk.

At times like this, I ask myself why I even try anymore when I am surrounded by people who don't. At times, I feel as if I'm the only one seeking truth and moral righteousness in a world of malice and ill-intent, as if I'm the only one seeking to better myself rather than to influence others. There are moments in which I stop and stare, taking the time to wonder, "Why?" Is it because I want to prove myself better than them? Or because I'm trying to be different?

The realization hit me today that this is just how I am, how I was raised and how my heart & soul operates. My parents have blessed me not in the things that they give to me, but in the ways that they taught me how to give. Father showed me the importance of being earnest, work hard 'till you die and push the limits of the known. I took that to heart, this year more than ever. And mama taught me what it means to feel, to delight in your successes and to reflect on your shortcomings, to never cry unless somebody dies. She taught me that with the fire comes rain, and joy wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't for pain.

So for nearly seventeen years I've lived under a pair of hands, one to pull me back and one to let me go. For as long as I can remember, I wondered why I've been restrained when I should have been pushed, and why I was set free when I should have been held. To this day, I still haven't found the answer to that. I wish I knew, but something tells me that I never will. Yet still I stay thankful for these hands, as mysterious as they may be, for without their guidance, God knows where or who I would be today. I've been told never to let my morality get in the way of doing what's right, even if it means taking the high road, because when lose your heart that means you lose yourself. Time wasted is time lost, and I'm playing for keeps.

They say that love alone makes a home, and a man without a home can't make it on his own. So meet me at the crossroads. Anywhere you wanna go, I'll take you there.

Burn.

February has proven itself to be a hectic month so far. Hands dry, a bruise on my arm, a slip in my pocket and a smile on my face seems to paint the perfect picture.

It seems as if the portrait is nearly ready to be hung on the wall, yet rather than depicting a ravishing duo, it reveals a young man by his lonesome, a compilation of letters laid out on the desk behind him. Yet this image of sadness is accented by the man's smiling face, a radiant glow blanketing himself and those around him.

For through the doubt and the dim he has stood strong. His validity has been renewed; his reason to smile, clear.


I am that man.