I write a lot of things.

Here are some of the things i've written. 

Frustration. April 2018 


I’ve got frustration in my head and passion in my heart. And maybe that’s the problem, but it’s that how I’m supposed to do things? Aren’t I supposed to care? I don’t I have to give a damn? I never expected to be penalized for it. For a year I was told how good I was, and how I would go places. But I’m still here. Where I’ve always been. Where I don’t want to be anymore. So what do I do? Who do I confide in? Who or what do I look for? I look for me. I look for the me that got me here. I look for the me who had piss and vinegar in my veins and never accepted no for an answer. I look for the me that I always believed in. Frustration still sits atop my head. But it’s time to kick it off the ledge.

Just. You. Watch. 


Sick. March 2018 


I’m sick and tired. I am sick and tired of other people getting things they just don’t deserve. I am sick and tired of being passed over. I am sick and tired of others being okay with sleeping their way to the top or being handed opportunities I busted my ass for. I am sick and tired of the people who I once believed in spitting in my face and expecting me to smile. I’ve been told too many times that I don’t have what it takes to cut it. I don’t have “it”. You think you’re so special, don’t you? You’re all that. I’ve had my face spat in. But this time I’m wiping it off and shaking their hand with it. I’m turning down every handout. If I see a shortcut, I’m going the opposite way. I’ve been told to just quit. I’ve been told I’m done. I’m not done. I’m just getting started. Just you watch. 

Failure March 2018. 


A seven letter word. Harrowing and lonely. I’m on top of a mountain I don’t want to be on. I’m all alone, and it’s all my fault. “It’s all over”. “You’re done”. “It’s the end”. These are the things I hear. These are the things I become. I start to buy into it all. Maybe I am done. Maybe I can’t do it anymore. Why even try? It’s simple. Because that’s not what I am. Seven letters don’t define me. I am more than all pundits think I am. I am not a f**king failure. I can take all the adversity. Send me your hate. Send me all you have. Just know this. I’ll be back. Just you watch. 


You Won't Know. November 2017 


Seeing you run towards me, with a big smile on your face. You don’t know how that made me feel. The way I felt when I first met you. The moment I laid my eyes on you, it was indescribable. But you don’t know how that made me feel. Or maybe when I would wait for you at your locker to spend all my free time with you. How about the time we shared that one last moment before I left for a new school. The tears rolling down your face, and the tears I held back. That one last embrace. Or the last time I ever saw you. You don’t know how it all made me feel. And you still don’t. You never will. 


14 Characters. October 2017


A fourteen letter word. One of the worst words in the English language. One of the worst feelings anyone can have. One of the worst emotions to endure. It’s the sense of shame. It’s the feeling of nothingness. Yet I feel it every day. I walk into a room and all eyes are on me. I say something and all ears perk up. But it’s all for the wrong reasons. It’s easy to walk away. It’s easy to end it all. But then I’ll just be known as something I am most certainly not. They say I can dish it out, but I can’t take it. That changes. And it changes now.  Do you know what the fourteen letter word is yet? It’s disappointment. And I, for damn sure, am not a disappointment. I’ll dish it out, and I’ll take whatever comes my way. I’ll burn that disappointment to the ground. Just you watch.