In a Nutshell

For a celebration my family had for me, at the dinner my parents had everyone say 3 things they enjoyed about me. Three of my siblings said "I guess he's my brother" or "what they said" and nothing else.

Whenever I use the microwave I never time it with any numbers divisible by 5. I can only use an even number for every 4 odd numbers I try.

Every day at school I receive comments on how many friends I have, yet there is never a moment I feel alone.

I have a passion for exercise, but don't have the motivation to be proactive and do it by myself.

During the last month I tutored seven people for the ACT, but probably won't graduate on time.

The person who loves me the least in my life is the only one who tells me that they love me every day, and she does it out of obligation.

I'm unhealthily OCD when it comes to organizing my desk, homework, and thoughts, yet my room looks like an abandoned nuclear test site.

All my dreams reach for the stars but most days I can't even get out of bed.

My stepmom claims she is trying to help yet fails to see she's the thing that is suffocating me the most right now.

Last week I tried to hitchhike to school and was only received with dirty looks and a mocking chorus of laughter.

I now prefer rainy days over the sunny ones.

Sleep never fails to escape me, but I remain addicted to it.

I can't recall the last time I ate for hunger and sustenance instead of taste and passing the time.

When I'm out of the house I tend to smile bigger and laugh louder though it is just a fruitless effort to convince myself that I can still be happy.

I always eat my pizza backwards, starting with the crust.

Even though I hate it when others are concerned for me, I find myself always yearning for sympathy and help.

I look twice as good in my reflection than in real life.

A few days ago I spent 37 minutes trying to remember what a trapezoid was called.

I've forgotten how to love, but I want nothing more than intimacy in my relationships.

Nothing entices me more than peace of mind yet I consciously notice my sanity slipping.

I can't figure out why I'm writing this, I just know I was supposed to.








And somehow that explains everything

To the Caretaker of Souls

Mr. Insolence

Lost Somewhere in Hell

3/16/14

Dear Mr. Death, Anubis, Xolotl, Lucifer, Hades, or whoever this may concern,


I need your help, I did not consider that I would ever be in such a grim situation. And only you possess the means to help me in my distress.



Give me my life back.



Give me that mortality and fragility that I now yearn for. I did not realize that I would ever miss the existence of my imperfections. Give me my world, and all the love, hate, charity, disgust, compassion, jealously, brotherhood, prejudice, and ideas that come with it. That place where thoughts are not confined, not bound to this law of perdition.

I have no way of knowing whether you receive letters of this nature frequently or if this is the first of this sort, but do not discard this letter nor dismiss my words. For I carry upon my back a will strong enough to break the gates of hell, a cause righteous enough to stand before the Almighty, and a burden heavy enough to drown even the purest of men into never ending turmoil of guilt-ridden agony. The pain has been overwhelming, so I have devised a ploy not just as means to an end, but to set all things right.

Never in my days could I imagine death having struck one such as myself in the peak of my youth and knowledge. It is somewhat ironic, really, for I had nothing to fear except death itself. In comparison, fear of anything else but death is pointless. Whereas with any fear but death, regardless of consequences there shall be a continuation of one's self. There is another opportunity presented to stand up and press forward. As I came to find out first hand, death gives no second chances. Death offers no forgiveness nor spares any mercy. Though I had searched extensively, there are no loop holes or shortcuts or anything.

The idea which I present before you is simple: Give me my life back. I was too young to die, and I bore the weight of unfinished business. I do not ask this because I died before traveling the world, before ever making love to a woman, or before repenting of all my sins. I ask this because there are a great many things that were not done that make me feel as though I did not complete my purpose.



I never was able to have my stepmother understand how I feel about her, and regardless of how much I disliked her I truly was grateful for what she did.

I didn't take the time to express my love for those friends who saved me from an equally awful hell.

My knees didn't spend enough time keeping me grounded so I could pray to God. My eyes did not read as many pages from the good book as I had hoped.

The relationship I had with my brother only existed through something I no longer had access to.

I will never know whether the career and path of learning I sought was truly the dream I was chasing after.

To be able to feel completely healthy would not happen, or getting over the constant illness.

All of the problems I caused for so many people that one night, and I never got around to fixing them or making it up to the people.

I never was able to tell the woman who always challenged the world that I loved her. I never had the audacity to tell her even once how beautiful I thought she was in every aspect.



There. Do you now understand how much I would be willing to give up to finish these? I am eager to offer up any limb I have, any sense I possess,  I will even work for you for 500 years just to be able to have another chance. Ideally, I would love to be brought back to life, but I understand that there are some limits to your power and influence over such things. As long as I can accomplish what I need to so I can fulfill my purpose then I will be more than content with that.

Death was the only thing I had to fear, and now it's the only thing I cannot overcome. That is the reason for this letter. That is the reason of me asking you in such a manner. This death is the ultimate limit. There is no transcending of it at all.

Once more, as a broken and humble man, I beg and implore you: give me my life back.



Sincerely,
Sir Insolence.

A.D.D. and Subtract

I didn't write this to do math.

I wrote this for someone who is dear to me

And when you solve the equation.

He started a voyage only to disappear at sea

But he hasn't drowned quite yet.

From the start, he oozed with color

At his birth the stars were aligned

For him to never stop painting,

To ignore all of the street signs

But he yielded for the first time.

The more he learned, the more he knew

That he possessed a unique quality:

He was the second most convincing person

To ever utter the words, "come follow me"

But he doesn't ask that anymore.

Most pairs of eyes were unable to see

The simple beauty he found in movement

They assumed he needed time to mature,

That his sanity would follow as consequent.

But he never had a sane day in his life.

The masses then turned against him

Out of frustration, he began to question

If the cruelness in which he was treated with

Was because of his deficit of attention.

This order of the ignorant self-proclaimed professionals, to find a solution to this boy's problem, his diagnosis, his disorder.
Intending to stop the incoming insight into his mind, they prescribed their way to steal from his inconsistent wealth, framed with confessionals.

The unnecessarily large doses would make any man not believe, even if they had seen Jesus walk on water.
The boy now doubted what he could be able to achieve, and knew that no father would want him for their daughter.

Trapped in a system that punished him for spending time thinking of two hundred and twelve ways to use a calculator that does not involve arithmetic
Left with the options of submitting himself to the false direction of those with authority or to delve into a maze of confusion and darkness with no resolve for the sick.

But he was quick to see that he started a new minority,
 standing against the thick headed suit and ties who declared superiority
Forced to take priority in eliminating his existent inferiority of attention
and taking back what he had lost to lies to find capacity to love.

In a world that is structured to take all the seeds and expect to grow them with one flower in mind, this boy, amid troubles with isolation, discovered his focus and challenged those mocking from above.



Time passed, the boy developed into a man
Different from all the other flowers of mention
He created wonders that redefined art
Though not without stress from opposing tension
When asked about the success he found he said
It was because of my deficit of attention.











This is something I wrote for the Speak For Yourself Open Mic last Friday but was unable to attend so here you go. It is meant to be performed more than read but I thought I should post it regardless. So I believe you will find enjoyment in reading it out loud.

- Your Captain, Insolence is Bliss