"Got anything?" Mark asked.

"It's just another can of beans," I replied.

"Shit. I don't know how much longer we'll survive off of beans and peppermints, especially with how gassy Jean's been lately".

"Yeah.." I said, staring off into the distance. It's wintertime, two years after the Big Boy nuke was dropped on us. Not many made it as far as I know. Just me, Mark, Jean, Sandy, and my dog, Spike.

We'd considered eating Spike last time all our beans ran out but decided that he's good to keep around for safety and all. Plus, I'm pretty sure he picked up some sort of disease during that last fight with a ghoul.

Oh yeah, did I mention we have ghouls? Gross, slimy, humanoid looking creatures - well, they once were human - with skin peeling off and eyes hollowed like the pumpkins I'd carve for Halloween.

"Oh snap, Jason, get over here!" Mark said. "These beans have bacon bits in 'em!"

Eat, feed, burp, sleep, repeat.

Okay, more like feed, burp, clean breast pump equipment, try to eat, attend to crying baby, feed, burp, try and take a nap, eat, feed, burp, clean breast pump equipment, repeat.

Sounds tiring, doesn't it? Yet, even with the stresses of a new routing, sleep deprivation and a crying baby, I can't help but feel incredibly thankful. You see, we had a 5 pound, 4 week-early premature baby, but she's healthy. She's had no complications and continues to surprise us on a daily basis.

The joys of being a father are one that I wouldn't trade for the world. She's my daughter, and I'm her daddy, and no matter what happens - I'll always be there for her.

I stood there, too entranced to move. This feeling slowly crept over me as I drifted off into a deep slumber. This was a feeling of darkness. Something crept over me which made me feel afraid, but then, in an instant, I felt releived. It was almost like everything holding me down just slipped away, and I was left with a feeling of peace. It was a good feeling.

I noticed a light, so I approached with caution. It was my desk lamp. Why am I here? I remember being only a few blocks away, walking to work, when everything went blank. Now I am here, sitting in my room, listening for a noise. Something, anything. It's just a little quiet - too quiet.

Some people fear drowning, while others fear death itself. Some have phobias of spiders, and others have phobias that don't even make much sense. I however, fear being alone. It's the thoughts that grip me when the silence creeps in.

I've always considered my mind like an am radio station with no off button. Sometimes it's static, but for the most part my mind is just an endless chatter box. Some of these thoughts productive, and some are even positive. However, 90% of my thoughts are negative. It's the same for every person.

Other people are distractions that feed my soul and keep my mind busy, yet, when alone, my mind races on. Who am I? What happens after I die? Why am I here? What's my purpose? These are the thoughts that race through my mind when i'm alone.

I'll often spend nights awake, ruminating on the topic of death. Where will I go? Does it even matter? How will I make my life worthwhile? Does that even matter? These are the thoughts that race through my mind when i'm alone.

Being alone is like confronting a mirror, and on the other side of that mirror is yourself, your true Self. Your desires, ambitions and goals, but also, your fears, regrets and grievances. Being alone forces you to confront all the things which we spend our days running away from.

One who can embrace loneliness, someone who can truly embrace the silence; that's the person I admire the most, for that is the person who knows and believes in himself. The person who can value their decisions, beliefs and values.

#desires #trueself #soul #purpose #life #positivity #productivity #mind #mindfulness

I've been running away for most of my life. Running away from the fear, from the confusion, and from the anger that comes with it all. I've been running away from my emotions, and from who I am deep down.

In quiet desperation, in excrutiating agony; I pray. I pray that someone will hear this message. I pray that someone might come to comfort me and provide me with the well-needed support.

Until recently, I've been distracting myself from the things that matter most. It was just last week when I noticed an article on mindfulness. It's a topic too difficult for me to understand on my own.

I've spent my whole life running away from the present moment. Running away from the things that matter most. Why? Why was I conditioning myself to run away, hide, and suppress my true feelings? Am I really that bad of a person?

With a burning determination, I decided to rid myself of all distractions. No phone, no T.V, no friends, no family. I burned all of my books and sold most of my belongings.

I think I'm going crazy.

So now I sit here, with this pen and this pad, writing to you about my unstable self. What will it take to drive away this luming frustration? What will it take to free myself from this incessant suffering? What must I do to calm my mind, and embrace who I truly am as a person? How can I be happy?

-Sincerely, Me.

#happiness #mindfulness #selflove #distractions #justbreathe #calmthemind

Josh wasn't a normal child, this much we knew. It was certain that he came from another place, another time, another world. His features were god-like. His nose curved and pointy, lying underneath a pair of dreamy emerald eyes. 

This was regal bearing no doubt. The golden Pendent across his chest signified this. So what was he doing here, in this hometown of scandals and thieves? Such a person raised the interest of looters from here all the way to Low-Town, which is no place for such an odd fella. 

"We must go" I urged him, gripping his clothes and remarking at its unusual silk-ness. 

Who is this man? I thought to myself. Where did he come from? And why did he come to me?

Night was approaching fast. Even in Mid-Town, night was no place for a fella like this. His clothes, his features and even his stride attracted the attention of thieves and vagabonds. It was clear to me by the time we got home that even there wasn't safe. Nowhere was with this man of such mysteries. This man of such regal bearing. 

"How did you get here?" I pressured him as I strode around the shack, lighting all the candles wicks. He looked stunned. With a roll of his eyes and a flick of his finger, he pointed up. Up towards the sky and the stars and the moon, and suddenly I knew, this was no man of Earth. This was one Odd Fella. 

Some aim for riches beyond their wildest dreams, 

others kill brothers for $100 in the streets. 

Some sell dope and get themselves on the ropes,

others can't handle it and choke till they broke. 

Yet, 

what's broke really if you don't care about the $50 in another nigga's pocket. 

I could have two dollars and I'm happier than most. 

Cuz my life is shining so let me give a toast,

To all the brothers out their not afraid to be who they is, 

Not afraid to escape the streets to give better lives to they kids, 

You the kinda nigga's that gone make it some day, 

Just not the way of an afraid fraud or a villain,

But the way of a real man. 

Never before have I felt so free to be who I truly am. No one here to hold me back, to judge me, embarrass me and humiliate my insecurities. Shit, I don't even think I have insecurities anymore. That bastard Charlie, always thinking he's better then me. Well I showed him. I showed him real good, and those pesky dogs that love to shit on my lawn. 

Yeah I showed them for sure. He thinks he's top man, firing me from the business. I'm his next door neighbor(or was), you think he'd carry a gun-nevermimd. It's not like it matters. His brain was too melted  from all that Zombie juice to even give a shit...I don't know what happened to society, but boy did they have it coming.

"My mother doesn't care what I do," I told the man. "It's as if she were strapped to the couch, eyes glued to that television." 

Four days have passed and still no movement. I'm hungry. I'm angry, and i'm sad.

"Is that why you're smoking then, kid?" the man asked. 

"No. It's just a thing now. Surely you've seen all the commercials," I responded with a hefty puff of smoke forming in my underaged lungs.