What It Means To Grow Up

What would you know?

You’re just a kid.

Yeah well,
So are you

We’re all just kids
Until the tradgedy of reality

Hits us like a train
While were trapped on the tracks

Stuck between responsibility and expectation
Complacently waiting to become adults

And our little cars of ignorance are no match
For the devastation hurling towards us

Each event breaks down our childhood
And ages us a little more each time

Until all that’s left of that bright eyed little kid
Is a bitter old man

Wishing he didnt know what it meant to grow up.

“Just Be Happy”

“Just Be Happy”

oh…oh my god…

How have I not known all these years?

That the answer to a clinically diagnosed disorder

has always been so simple

Now that I’ve been given the cure

I can go out an be a productive member of society

No longer plagued by depression or anxiety

I am free to be the person I have always wanted to be

Thank you so much sir

For the kind words that have liberated me from my disease

I will never again feel the limitations of melancholy

And I owe it all to you…

Revel in Mediocrity

You’ll hear everyone talk about their

accomplishments and skills

And not speak a word of their failure

but where have our mediocrities gone?

 

No one is an expert of everything

But with few exceptions

We’re all pretty good at at least one thing

And with even fewer exceptions

 

We struggle to be the best at many things

And we depreciate the skills we have accumulated

whether or not they fail to impress the crowd that exists only in our imagination

Refusing to take pride in our most average

understandings and feats

 

We aren’t given trophies

for our crudely drawn bowls of fruit

And no one will pat us on the back for singing that Whitney Houston song

out of tune

 

But our shortcomings can’t be simplified

into a lack of ability

because that would fail to account for the room

We have to grow

 

If we were proficient at everything we set out to do

immediately and without effort

Then the action itself would lose its  beauty

and we’d be robbing ourselves of our own individuality

 

Mediocrity may not be something to crow about

But it is certainly something to revel in

A Brief Obituary For A Dead Man Who Has Never Felt So Alive.

Lancaster,  Pennsylvania– John Doe, 38

died May 22nd, 2005

when his lungs had been crushed by the weight

of a disease he didn’t want to survive

 

Of his life there isn’t much to tell

nothing that anyone would take the time to read

Not even Mr. Doe himself would want to dwell

On a life so filled with unexceptional monotony

 

But John’s life has only just  begun

free of expectations, limitations, and responsibility

where his adventures take place way above

and his mind and soul can grow ambitiously

 

John Doe was a deer old friend of mine

But John Doe has just up and run out of time