I live.

I live in the rehlm of the uncommon 

Within the company of the not forgotten

Because what you got, 

is what they’re not

When it’s all over you’ll be at the top

You’ve got the fire for a phantom dream, 

The uncommon means, 

Your eyes are on fire,

They’ve got that gleam. 

Walking those halls with your head hung low, 

Storing the fire way down below

You’re different from them, 

it was what you feared. 

But child don’t judge yourself, 

by the company of peers. 

Because what you got, 

is what they’re not, 

and when high school is all forgotten,

you’ll live in the realm of the uncommon. 

Keep the fire for that phantom dream. 

Fishing for answers

Ive never encountered such a complicated knot of questions than that about my own vulnerability.

I’m addicted to overcoming obstacles, perhaps to the point of seeking out obstacles if there are no immediate challenges to be found.

Humbleness and fear creeps in when I realize I’m not in control. Exposing past pain and vulnerable areas puts me in an unpredictable emotional position, and I do fear the consequences of letting those soft spots surface.