sticks and stones

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me. I was always taught this as a little kid. Frankly it’s the biggest pile of shit I have ever known. I have scraped a lot of knees in my time, and even gotten stitches a few times. But I would do that all again just to get rid of the damage that words have left. You forget about scars, they become apart of you and just make you stronger. But words break you down. They flow through your blood like a disease. Creeping into every part of your life and changing how you live. You can never escape the words. No one ever realizes what their words do to people. How they make them feel. Sometimes it makes me wonder, what has been said to the people who say mean things to you? What has pushed them to the point that they have to make people feel miserable?

Words are so simple yet so incredibly powerful. They flow off of our toungs like water flows down a river. But the intensity that lies beneath them is astonishing. So yeah, maybe when your five words can never hurt you. But when all those words start building up and start making an impact on your life, those sticks and stones don’t sound like such a bad idea.

in the night.

Nighttime, sort of intoxicating isn’t it? It alters your brain in ways we don’t understand. Things you would do during the night you would be embarrassed to during the day. Take that shot, smoke that weed, kiss that stranger, all things you would feel guilty about become normal under the shadows of nighttime. Is it because we feel like no one can see our wrong doings? Who knows.

Another question comes to mind. What keeps us lying awake at these late hours of the night? Is it the uncomfortable mattress we sleep on? Or is it that flickering light coming from you cable box that just wont stop. Or could it be our minds overwhelming us with the thoughts of tomorrow. The fear that you will go another day not having the confidence in yourself that everyone has in you. You feel as though these people should just leave you because you feel like you cant live up to your expectations. Their expectations. Where does all of this self-doubt come from? Is it truly the fault of that friend who dragged you around and made you feel meaningless? Or would it have happened anyway? All these questions. No real answers. This brings me to my final question. Am I writing this for me? or am I writing it in hope that maybe one of my friends will come across it and maybe discover what’s underneath all of the fake smiles, or maybe that I will get the courage to show them because I am in need of some pity at that moment. Who knows, all I know is that id only write something like this under the intoxication of nighttime.