The Analyzers. 

‘We came like a fever in the night. No one was outside our reach. We changed the eyes of our hosts; twisting their vision into paranoid, hurt tellings of the world around them. 

They looked upon all that had gone wrong and we found every possible angle things could go wrong again. They remembered their hurts for a second and we convinced their hearts the same pain lie in wait behind every corner; in the eyes of those around them. 

Knees turning weak, they soon began needing less and less of our help. They became frozen, over thinking every thought they’d ever had; over turning every moment of their small lives. 

Rarely, did our hosts return to the individual they were before we intoxicated their veins with our venom. Even their leader, the one they so boldly boasted had such willpower, became vulnerable to our efforts wearing away at his mind. 

Fear must’ve allowed himself a smile the day we broke that man. We were his front line. We were his first and last resort. Doubt. Distrust. Anxiety. We slowly seeped it all into their heads. We divided them. We won another day for our Master. Fear would now lay waste to what little remained of their sanity. 

So we thought. Alas, we were wrong. That is for another day, however, because that day…that day was ours. That day belonged to The Analyzers.  


The Written Winter. 

‘The falling of cold comes suddenly and meets the skin with a sharp remembrance of what is to come. 

We were imprisoned in the dead of Winter’s icy reign. Left in cells deep beneath the ground; the reason behind our belief that even the world’s core cannot escape Winter. 

It’s truly a task, keeping hearts warm in those conditions. Constantly observed and beaten for being different; being gifted. 

The frozen grime and our own blood lining the walls around us. The first Winter was the hardest, coldest even. To this day it’s memories haunt us on the return of the biting chill on the air. 

There was one Winter colder. Just one. You’ve read about it I’m sure. The year we faced the darkness around us and the fear in our hearts. The year we finally clawed at freedom and grasped it. The Written Winter. 

To No One. 

‘I often wonder if they found the oldest of my scribblings, that they’d change their minds; if maybe they would see a side of life they hadn’t understood before. 

Alas, the hands of time cannot be forced backwards, for that is not a gift I possess. They won’t ever know the first words I wrote, from the rawest emotions I’d ever felt. 

Lines from before the War cannot undo the pain we have felt, nor ease the suffering endured. I have only here and now. I can do naught, except write to them from where we all stand now. We can escape, perhaps. Get out of this cycle. Wherever we may end, I only hope it is a bright future. 

One where the words we write, hidden or not, can change what’s to come. For the better. Where the words we write are not simply pain cried out in secret, but hope poured out in brilliance. 

If you have found this note, know you have found something very old. Something left in the dark damp of a cell, deep beneath the stones. The scribblings of what had once been a man, convinced his words would never reach another; certain this was just another cry to no one…’

Sacrificed Lights. 

‘I cried out from the depths of my soul, but they weren’t listening. Their minds could only hear my screams as muffled agreement to their twisted reality. 

I tried to tell them it was me, their friend, their companion; sadly they saw only danger in my eyes. They stepped closer, weapons aimed at me. I took another step back. The edge was creeping closer. I tried to figure out where I’d lost them. 

Fear had set in quick with these ones. They’d let their fear of death cloud their minds until all they saw was darkness in other’s faces. Never really knowing true light inside their bones, they’d gone careening over the edge of fear without an outside source of light. 

Soon it would be me plummeting over the edge. I did have one option left, though I’d been hoping to save it for a much darker night than this. I would offer them the light stored in my own heart. I could only hope it would be enough to turn their own hearts back into those of the friends lost somewhere in those cold, cold eyes.

I believe I saw some color return. A flicker of hope, before I was lost in the free-fall. Soon my light would float into the depths of the night sky, joining it’s fellow lights; guiding those they fell for, hoping they’d live on to fight the fear another day.’ 

Strength’s Pain. 

‘To be strong; to have that sort of inner strength, can be one’s own personal torture. 

Choosing to keep going, because deep down you know you can handle the chaos inside. 

It didn’t take long for some around me to break. They chose falling apart quickly for they had not yet been forced to endure great loads at once. The burden was too much. I’d been there a year already. The darkness, the mold, the thirst that never gets a chance to be quenched; I was used to that. 

Every now and then though, a day would come along and I would feel like breaking. It would become too much. Still, I would remain strong. The younger ones had come to look to me as a leader, someone to encourage them through such pain. I no longer felt like I had the luxury to break down. I was more than happy to be a source of hope, but my soul was not, nor is it ever perfect and whole. 

Silently I chose to crack. An inch here, a seam there. Never losing it all at once and never around others. I wasn’t raised to be someone who feels superior or more equipped to handle struggles. I still question why I chose solitude over letting them see and help me pick up pieces of myself in those moments. Why my strength felt like more of a burden to my back than wind to my sails. 

For even the strong have weakness and need a hand to help them. Some say true strength lies in numbers. I’ve watched this truth unfold before my very eyes and I’ve witnessed the beauty in fighting alongside another. 

Still…every now and then, strength infects my mind. A darkness clouds my head. I need only let the cracks show and look to the Light, but I tarry; leaving myself to my own methods of self destructive habits. Watching as my strength withers and I am left with only cold vulnerability.’

The Weary-Hearted. 

‘The very weight of my thoughts pull at the roots of mountains and swallow oceans as if they were mere puddles. The depths of my heart can be as hollow as an old log reduced to a borough for other inhabitants; while remaining a remnant of burning ash remembering it’s time as volcanic fire. 

The intentions behind my voice are as scattered as leaves falling from the branches they once called home. My mind deceives me more times than I have remembered to count, playing my emotions like a grand theatre preformance.

In all of this I have learned that I am both capable of uncontainable love and unimaginable chaos. The mind is a foe who knows no match. It does not recognize competition. It has already made itself its own master. 

The heart is not weak either. It experiences an emotion to the very fullest it can follow it. It does not go just half of any journey it’s presented with, rather, is unrelenting in its forward motion. 

Inside my soul lies the ability to love deeper than I did yesterday. Therein also lies the fact that I am but a human and can become chaos and struggle in an instant. 

We would do well to remember those parts of us we cannot run from, as we all face a demon or two. I have been the strong, hope-filled heart. I have been the broken, the weak. There is not one who is better, superior; elite. We all fall down. We all need hope.’ 

On Growing Up.

I find there is more to growing and growing up than simple aging and day-to-day experience.

Who you are will be tested and you start to work out whether you actually believe in the things you’ve always said you do. You start to discover whether your stances on life are based in fight, or in flight. 

Growing can be painful at times, but if you really believe something is worth growing for, you experience exhilaration and joy at overcoming the fear and coming into your own. 

Whether in jobs, relationships, religious beliefs, or simply living… I am finding myself here a lot lately. 

While I would have assumed, or believed I was mostly based in flight, I’m realizing the opposite. I’m a lot more fight than I would give myself credit for. 

I believe in God. In someone and something bigger than me or anything else. That means I believe in an unstoppable love that no fear can stand against and an unmovable hope that will not simply give up. 

I believe in sharing life and beauty and hope with those I love most, and strangers I’ve yet to meet. 

I haven’t always lived up to my beliefs, as I think natural for any human being. Life always gives us a chance to grow, however, and I hope to be on the side that says I faced my fears, I faced the crappy circumstances, I faced the depression, and I came out the other side a better individual for it. A better son, a better brother, a better friend, a better someone’s significant other. 

I’ve been looking at many chances to grow lately. Frankly, it’s unnerving as hell sometimes. But my heart is to grow and seeing as how I will have to one way or another, I pray I take each chance with grace and joy in my eyes. 

Kids don’t think about this when they wish to skip childhood. Growing isn’t always easy. It remains beautiful, though. Always beautiful. 

Passion Punch. 

“Purpose is the reason you journey, passion is the fire that lights the way.” -Unknown 

I recently made a decision to further myself along the education path. It hasn’t been a strong suit of mine for awhile now and I felt it was holding me back. 

Now with open eyes and fire in my heart, I am eagerly pursuing bettering myself in this way. I feel hope again about school. 

I have many dreams. It has been hard to be driven or consumed with motivation for them of late. Though I know what some of my passions are, it has been as if the fire has been taken from them. 

Maybe it was not knowing how to go about it. Knowing I have very little figured out. Maybe the fear kept me frozen. 

Then again, maybe I just needed to refind my passion. 

I believe passion is sometimes effortless and sometimes you have to sweat a little for it.

There are moments along the way that push you down and steal some of that fire from your soul. You end up wandering around aimlessly, feeling like you’re lost. You should know it happens to most, if not all of us. You won’t be aimless forever. It might take a couple months, or even a few years, like it did for me. 

I just needed to think about baby steps and then look at those from a new angle – one filled with hope and excitement. See, now I’m starting to feel fire again. I’m recognizing the warmth and the drive. I’m remembering my passion. 

When you find your passions, whether they’re to be a writer, or save the world, or even to get through college and find a career; you go for it. Take all of that passion and run. Don’t let fear have any say in it. Don’t give it time to freeze you. 

And when you’re in the midst of a season where you feel like the passion is gone and you’re hopeless, don’t be afraid. Just find something, anything you can find hope for and work towards. You’ll find that passion again. And you’ll be unstoppable. 

Don’t Want The World To Know.

I’ve lived with type 1 Diabetes for 4 years, going on five this New Year.

From the very beginning it’s been an emotional roller coaster, at best. I was diagnosed at 16, after getting sick for a month and coming rather close to going into a coma. I can’t say I handled it very well at first. I mean, I did handle my sugars and diet well. My emotions were a wreck, though. Faster mood swings than puberty ever brought to the table. The teeniest bit of stress sent me into a ball of tears. Every adult in my life felt the need to push opinions and worry down my throat because the amount I was already dealing with wasn’t enough.

After all, it’s not every day you get to wake up and hear, “Eat healthy, or go blind, lose your feet, and probably die. Painfully.” Eating healthy is important for everyone, but it’s different when suddenly the freedom to do so is taken away. Emotional eating, sugar cravings, all nighters at friend’s houses; none of that goes away because you have diabetes. Your favorite juice doesn’t stop being your favorite because it’s now poison for your body. Sugar substitutes you get used to of course, but it doesn’t help the missing all the things you could once eat. Not at first.

Oh yes, sugar substitutes. Diet pop. Splenda. Sweet N’ Low. Sugar free. All things you become used to hearing/saying and implementing into your diet in an effort to better it. You find some comfort because you find things you like that don’t have sugar and aren’t riddled with carbs that will send your eyes blurry-making it hard to read the small print on anything because your sugar has gotten to out of control again. That’s not where it stops though, with the finding diet things. You probably know a lot of healthy people and health conscious adults and probably a few health nuts. The next scenario follows:

“Diet pop is terrible for you. Artificial sweeteners cause cancer. You’re ruining your body. You really shouldn’t be eating/drinking that. Diet? WHY on EARTH would you drink THAT??!”

You mean ruining my body with things that I had to turn to because sugar and carbs will ruin my body? My body is already ruining itself because one day I woke up and my pancreas decided it no longer needed to make insulin. While drinking only water and eating only almonds sounds like a great lifestyle, it wasn’t the one I was ready to take.

Does it sound like self-pity? It might. I’m not denying that there’s never been any of it involved in my feelings on this. However, it’s unfair for the outsiders to look in on a struggle they’ve never had to deal with and say cliche garbage because it’s easier than we make it, or not really as life shattering as it seems to us, or simply because they don’t quite understand it.

Whether diabetes or depression(both of which I know intimately), I never thought hearing “it’s a blessing in disguise”, “it’s just a matter of not being depressed”, or some similar statement would be many folk’s offering of sympathy.

I’ve bunny trailed.

I got better at dealing with the emotional part(most days). At the same time getting worse at the actually taking care of myself part. Counting carbs and calories and eating just the right portions sounds great for a couple months. After that, it kinda loses all the charm. You’d think though that feeling that great from good eating and balanced blood sugar would make it worth it. You’d also think that the insulin that works best wouldn’t be super expensive. So much so that insurance doesn’t cover it and your doctor just gives you samples until you move, get a different doctor, and get a cheaper insulin that doesn’t work the same, or quite as well.

Now you’re getting used to a new regimen with an insulin that responds differently. Thus, you learn how to take care of yourself all over again. Small changes affect a lot when you’re diabetic. It doesn’t just happen once, either. You find yourself constantly faced with new challenges to living this new lifestyle.

I’d like to say I’m a pro. That I take perfect care of myself and that I eat all the right things and have this down to a science. That I don’t worry about the always looming health complications that could happen because I’m good. But I’m supposed to be honest, aren’t I? Honesty is that if I allow myself to think about it for too long, I freak out and beat myself up because I’ve lived a sorry excuse of the ‘diabetic lifestyle.’ I cause the people closest to me to worry because I don’t regularly take the right amount of care. I cause myself to worry. I struggle. I lose sight of the end game. I lose hope. Because there’s always another article about how even if I take great care of myself, I could still die early, or get an infection and get sick and die. There’s always another health thing that could go wrong.

Granted, that’s looking on the dim side of things and that’s not a side I like to flirt with for long periods of time. It’s a side I have to face, nonetheless. Otherwise I will spend my days avoiding it because it’s serious and makes me feel like a failure; like I can’t possibly win.

So I am facing it. I am trying to better myself in this area because it’s not impossible and I WILL win. I will turn this into a not big deal thing.

But I haven’t done so yet. I’m barely close. Just thought I’d air out the garbage in my head that I’ve boxed up for years.

I don’t know many other diabetics, nor do I find myself interested in those groups they tell you to go to in the hospital. I would like to encourage any who may happen upon this merry blog, though. I know how effing messed up it is. I understand how truly effed up you feel inside sometimes. It does get better, although there will be days you feel that was never the case. You can do it. I can do it. We can do it. With some care and a bit more attention, we can manage this disease like a boss. There are also articles about how with proper care we can live just as long as an 85 year old person(that’s old!) or more because the care for it and technology has greatly improved and so on… So no more beating up ourselves. No more worrying to death(we will sometimes. it’s okay). Just owning it and following our dreams. Because we have a life to go out there and live just like everybody else. Be there for those you love. Cause God knows, there are days you’ll need them there for you. Most importantly, don’t ever, EVER give up. You are not alone, and there is always hope.

Let’s get to it then, shall we? 🙂

Creatives All Creating.  

I think art is a part of everyone. We all have different ways of expressing it, different talents we were given. We all have something we have a chance to pour our hearts into and make something very authentic and unique not only for ourselves, but for others. 

They hear it and some connect with it and it brings them comfort, or happiness, or makes them think; maybe it even saves their life. And that’s not giving too much credit to what we create from our most vulnerable places, it’s how creativity was designed, that is its nature. It connects us, brings us closer in community, in our pursuit of creating art from the soul. 

We were given the gift of creativity as soon as we were born. Our imaginations alone are proof of that. God gives each of us the precious gift of being able to use our strongest emotions and desires to create amazing things. That through this process we would become closer to him and closer to those around us. 

I would encourage everyone, myself as well, to not be afraid to go out on a limb and start feeding your creativity. It was meant to be used.