How do they see me?

Disingenuously Pursuing cool is as vain as thievery.
No worthwhile friendship was ever forged by stealing.
The frivolous only defines the weakly rooted,
whose definitions alter in the littlest of waves.

The nobility of a copy cat piggy-backs that of a snap chat.
Yet I dream of counterfeits,
when they inevitably catch my eye.
Sometimes living backwards, seems so temptingly wise.

I know I am all I have ever been,
and I hold the roots just fine.
I just need to keep a forward focus now,
and bless those shiny objects as they pass me by.

Pre-death record

Sometimes I feel the need to record my thoughts.
In case I get shot, or something.
If today was my last.
And someone, probably my wife,
would take a look back at what I left.
And there's something cold about an existence,
where you feel endangered to leave nothing recent behind.
As if you never existed.
Or as if your existence in most recent times
was not remarkable enough to leave any marks behind.
Then there's the unsettled realization
that this could be it.
What if this is what I leave behind?
It's not even good.
And then I remember I don't want to die.
And I hope I don't, because for the same drive in my recording,
also exists in my climbing, of where I hope to be, a long long way from today.
But if I never make my climb, at least no one will be able to say I didn't try.

Saying No

Sad but so, saying no to no is the only no I know.

Whether you like it or not

“People do not decide their futures, they decide their habits and their habits decide their futures.” – F.M. Alexander