If I were given the power to be the tailor of time, stitching and mending it as I see fit

I would learn every life skill I've ever wanted, while the world waited

I would try every meal I could imagine enjoying with ever changing company

I would pants every politician I felt wronged the varying nations of this world

I would like to say I would take the time to rest

But there's still so much to do

I would soon realize that the filets can't sear without the passing of time

And how time would lose all meaning when it's as infinite as my will to be alone

But I would still freeze time as much as I could

There's still so much to do

I can't believe it's already been almost two years since we got to spend any quality time together.

We were always so good about reading what the other was thinking or going through without so much as a single word. The times you helped me through my self hatred, showing me what I can be. The messes I'd get you out of in return. Neither of us ever learned for long, did we?

But when it was time for you to go on forward to your next adventure I fought my family tooth and nail to get you where you deserved. And while it took months to get them to let you leave, it was the right thing. I wish you could've stayed longer. Hell, I know you wish so too.

But maybe someday you can show me all the gardens you've gotten accustomed to stealing from or how to slow down and enjoy what I have now again. I've gotten a lot worse at that without you.

Now that winter is here, I notice your absence more as my feet get cold. You used to always make sure they were warm for me with that big red furry coat of yours, didn't cha' boy?

Let's take a walk through an ocean town.

The one that had so much potential.

With its little shops and great ambitions.

Where even the cheapest shacks have the most stunning views.

And families can feel the breeze cool down their yards along the dunes.

The town everyone said would be like a coastal Atlantis.

Before that snake oil salesmen stuck his bottle opener into the Earth.

And found that tarry elixir made of riches.

And passed bills forcing the beautiful landscape to be evicted.

Replaced with pumping towers and pinstriped suits.

I want to face that ocean town.

I'm ready to accept how far she has fallen down.

My hometown is almost exclusively for the faint of heart.

I may have been born 'in the ghetto" as a child, moving abruptly as my parents wanted to escape, deciding between snitching on the neighbors to the police or risking letting me stumble into drugs, prostitution and dogfighting rings, but our swift move forced me to live somewhere even worse.

From the 1% to the 99%. Yes I'm talking about going from the one sliver of excitement that exists in that boring city to the monotony of "golly Frank, how about that snowstorm yesterday" in this god forsaken city of nothing.

It's a trap, many fall victim to. The "quality of life" is absolutely unmatched on paper. Affordable housing, safe neighborhoods in the vast majority of the city, but all at the cost of any night life, excitement or adventure.

Despite getting down to -50 degrees occasionally, this city keeps it's citizens insulated, whilst suffocating them under a cozy blanket of mediocrity.

I have to get out.

I, WILL get out.

They post

I judge

They fail

I snear

They overcome

I doubt

They succeed

I envy

They achieve what they want in life

I cast shadows of excuses, false barriers, and self pity in retaliation in my head for my lack of success, brooding like an entitled naive prince

They post

I judge...

As I sit here in yet another room I’m fucking discounted or given have you, to pursue this fucking farce that is my attempt at happiness I sense a sad realization.

With all the awards and accolades I’ve slowly been gaining in the writing community, I’ve found the one person that seems to give less of a shit about my efforts than the industries I try to become relevant in is me…

Friends continue to offer their words and figurative hands from afar for support, but my self-hating cynical mind won’t allow me to acknowledge it as anything more than their internalized conceited attempt at “kindness”.

I’m sure they mean well. Fuck, I mean well. But as this stupid idea of mine manifests further, what people “mean” doesn’t fucking mean anything. If it did my work would be more popular as I meant it to.

My work would be reaching someone to make them see life in a better or more realized fashion than they previously had, as I MEant It To.

My intentions to find some form of legitimate work to afford not being a god damn fucking leech on everyone I care about to pursue an accomplishment of what I’ve “Meant to do” for these past 11 fucking months would have been realized.

But no, No the world can’t have that. Whether it be because it’s cruel or because I’m just that fucking stupid I can’t see what I’m doing wrong. You tell me. I really don’t know anything anymore. I don’t even know how the fuck to fall asleep. Close your eyes and turn your mind off right? That’s how we are meant to sleep.

But no.

They don’t understand this reflective state of failure I’ve dealt with, growing like a tumor on my pathetic shrapnel that is my self worth.

But again, how could they? Even I don’t understand why this stupid shit is so fucking important to me.

Why do I have such dreams if I can’t EVen Fucking SleEp?

I’d heard tales of this thing (no not that ‘thing’) living out in the Arctic since the 90′s, but had to see it for myself. Horror stories of a simple floating being. Shaped vaguely like a tall androgynous human, with reflective skin akin to blown glass. It sounded like something out of a fairytale or a failed attempt at a third Testament.

The local scientists and Yupik people said the being didn’t move more than a couple miles from a specific point but warned people that others who’ve tried to get too close collapse and are rendered speechless.

I had to learn why for myself and what this creature that could only be described as alien to our comprehension.

A few flights, an oversized orange coat and some introductions with my guides later, I was ready to witness this crystal-like creature. The guides and I trekked across the blizzardous landscape until a few hours later the snow seemed to swirl and raise like a tornado, but without the strength to lift any of us off of the ground or invoke any form of fear for our safety. The first of the two guides looked to me and said,

“We’re close. We have to go through the spinning snow. Shouldn’t be much farther now.”

As we entered the eye of the storm, the sun gleemed down and made the ice we walked upon shine like a rainbow and floating not more than a meter off the ground I saw them. The being was preoccupied, making light bellowing hums at a seal. The bellows sounded like a quieter less deadly vibration Sperm Whales are known to make.

The seal appeared to be staring in a trance at the floating 6ft creature. After what felt like an hour later, the seal slowly began to go off towards a nearby hole in the ice, still as wide-eyed as when we spotted them.

The second guide went to get the creature’s attention for me as it did not have a history of physical violence. After playing a piece of violin music through a special speaker, the mirroresque being slowly turned towards us for me to gaze upon them.

It was as people said, a floating androgynous humanoid with crystalline, reflective skin which looked more like a household piece of art than a living layer of dermal tissue. But the being approached us and its limbs moved organically, except its strong legs which dangled down, oddly unused. To my surprise this thing began bellowing a lower pitched rendition of the song my guide played for the them. As it approached the guide to inspect them, I realized it had no facial features but one reflective face. No slits, protrusions or orifices of any kind were visible, leaving me curious how this being communicated like this?

But I didn’t have time to contemplate as the hovering sentient seemed to gaze into the guide’s soul with a new hum that vibrated all of us slightly. The other guide and I watched, terrified, though awe struck as this guide went wide eyed, mouth agape face to crude face with this thing. The humming began to go up in pitch changing to a siren song of sorts. Not long after this auditory phenomenon I screamed,

“It’s aging him! My god this creature is making him greyer, we have to get him to snap out of it!”

The glistening being tilted their head to me and after a few strange clicks telecommuted to me,

“This man, like all who’ve gazed to me sought answers. So I gave him every answer he’ll ever need. But it appears you, humans don’t handle knowledge of this capacity well.”

Before I could ask it where it came from or why it gave knowledge of this magnitude, the being stopped floating and walked calmly into the same hole the seal had entered not long ago. Not long after that, the snow began falling normally and the circle of clear sky was no more.

It wasn’t easy, but the other guide and I got our all-seeing comrade to safety, if you can call it that. It’s been over a year since then and he has had doctors come in and out of the room he’s stationed in. He hasn’t blinked since the occurance, but his eyes never dry or tear up. He mutters a mile a minute about every solution to every regret he’s had. A scribe has been hired to write and record as much of what he says as possible as some of the knowledge he has rambled has given us more efficient cars, helped warring nations come to temporary peace, and those with depression find solace within themselves.

Sadly, this is all at the cost of his own life. Doctors say his vitals are in an identical state to someone having an eternal anxiety attack. His body rejects the IV’s given to him, but he hasn’t lost a pound since entering the hospital. His skin and hair however have aged rapidly.

Humanity has since referred to this mysterious being as "The Answer". I’ll never forget The Answer that gave us access to so much, but at the cost of turning my guides into something more. Most nights, I still see it’s gleaming shard-like skin staring down at me in my dreams. Yet somehow, I’ve never slept better.

Targets

Both of Us

I was Ugly

He was Poor

I took the punches to my Jaw

He took the words to Heart

I told em sticks and stones

He told me 'Easier Said than Done'

Their hate made us closer over the years

We overcame so much

I graduated top of the class

He helped his community

A real class act

He said 'I need help'

I said 'Just tell me whatcha need'

He said 'Easier Said than Done'

I wish I wasn't stoned so often

So I could've have seen you were snapping

I wonder if I had truly listened

What else would've happened

I hope I think of something interesting to write.

This perfectionism I always bring up in my personal pieces, but never do anything about is killing me.

But what do I write? Do I try to be a "real writer" and write some dramatic relatable pieces? Go with my gut instinct and do a stylistic comedy-drama? Otherwise I could always write some sci-fi. That did better than my other works on here the one time I did it. Hmm, oh my laundry is done.

I'll think of something worthwhile, maybe.

Tomorro-

Eventually.