Timmy,
Stay out of that alley.
Don’t take the bike around the block.
And I know that girls aren’t on your mind right now,
but they will be soon.
…Ask HER out.
You’ll know who I’m talking about when you meet her.

Now that we got that out of the way,
I wish I could tell you that the next few years will be easy.
That everything is going to be okay.
I wish I could say that I was telling you this because I am looking out for you,
but I can’t.
The reasons are purely selfish
because when I tell you these things,
I am only looking out for myself.

You’re still young.
Everything that is going to happen,
you aren’t going to fully comprehend.
You’ll know that it’s bad,
and you’ll feel sad but because you know you should
but you won’t understand why.
And you won’t ask any questions.
You won’t say anything.
You’ll just hold it in.
Everything.
Until years later.
That’s when I’ll have to deal with
and go through everything you’ve held in.
And it will hurt.
So, when I say that I wish I could tell you everything if going to be okay,
that is why.

However, there is one thing that helps me deal these things,
and it will be something that you will soon be discovering.
Writing.
Put your everything into it.
It will save you in ways you won’t fully understand
until you reach my age.

You know what,
now that I am thinking about it,
everything will be okay.
It still won’t be easy.
And it’s still going to hurt.
But,
everything will be okay.

Stay strong.

Always,
Timmy.

PS
The very next chance you get, tell Dad you love him. Please.

written on August 25th, 2010

“Forget what they say,
there’s not a thing that you should change.
‘Cause you’re amazing,
just the way you are.
Be yourself with a smile,
the whole world will stop and stare for awhile,
‘Cause you’re amazing,
just the way you are.”

This is for Tommy,
the boy walking down the hall
with a fifty pound backpack and his head hanging down.
For Katie,
the girl who always volunteers to put the equipment away after P.E.
just so that no one was in the locker room when she’s changing.
For Chad,
the star of the football team
who hides his poetry book behind his playbook.
For Tiffany,
the homecoming queen who forces on a smile
even though she lost the only real reason she had to a long time ago.

I see you.
I get you,
in ways you never thought that anyone else could.

Tommy,
I know that along with the papers and book in that backpack,
you carry the weight of the world.
Working hard,
trying to get yourself out of the situation you find yourself in.
You see the stares.
You hear the rumors.
Just keep pushing.
Do what you got to do.
And remember,
it okay to ask for help sometimes.
Katie,
I know what happened freshmen year still hurts.
Add that to the billboards, music videos and magazines
thrown at you every five minutes,
it is easy to feel;
inadequate,
that you don’t fit some mold that society has created for you.
And I’m here to tell you that you don’t.
Mold are used for things that are mass produced
and you, Katie, are one of a kind.
You are unique.
You are beautiful.
But that doesn’t mean a thing
until you believe it.
Chad,
I know its hard living in the shadow of the family legacy.
You’re stuck at a school where your last name has become synonymous
with championships,
with winning,
with titles,
with MVP,
with just about everything,
except poetry.
Which is the only thing you truly feel accomplished in.
Trophies and plaques fill your room
but nothing feels as good as writing that last line.
Embrace that.
Share that.
As good as it feels to get those words on paper,
it feels that much better to share them with the people you care for.
Tiffany,
I know that it is easy to get caught up in the craziness of life.
You find yourself surrounded by so many people
and it is easier to go along with the crowd
than to stand up for what you believe in;
who you care for.
I know you what happened freshman year kills you inside.
I see how you always look back towards her as you pass in the hall.
Know that it is not too late.
There is always time to stand up for what you believe in;
who you care for.
The ones who matter will still be there when you do.

So this was for you.
For the Tommy’s,
for the Katie’s,
for the Chad’s,
for the Tiffany’s.
For anyone,
anyone who has ever felt that they weren’t enough of something
or too much of that.
That you are alone in the world.
Know that you are not.
That all you need to be is yourself.
That there is nothing that you need to change.

‘Cause you are amazing,
just the way you are…

Inspired by lyrics from Back to Us by Kina Grannis.

“We carve into the tree our history of love,
with dreams of ever after.
And we laugh.
And we cry.
And we live our lives.
And we love, and we love, and we love.
And it comes back to us.”

Or at least it used to.
Where it comes to now, I stand alone,
in a spot we once stood in together.
And I remember the moments,
that don’t seem too long ago,
that we used to share.

Nights sitting at the beach
staring out into nothing.
Afternoons spent at the cafe,
lost within our writing.
Random moments holding one another,
just cause.

I remember these moments;
I hold onto them.
And I use them to help me get through those moments.
Moments we still share,
even if I may stand alone.

Nights spent sitting at the beach,
looking up to the sky
and knowing you are looking back.
Afternoons spent at the cafe,
lost within my writing.
In front of me is your chai latte with soy
that I still order for you sometimes without thinking.
The, not so, random moments I find myself at this tree,
my fingers trace the initials we carved into it that one summer day.
And just below it,
to go with the dozen already there,
I carve another notch.
It’s in these moments,
the moments I find myself in need of a strength only you can give me,
that I find myself here.

So I carve into this tree the strength you give me through love,
with hopes of being with you again.
And I will laugh.
And I will cry.
And, with you help, I will live my life.
And I have loved you, and I do love you, and I will always love you.
And it will come back, one day once again, to us.

I need to write.

And I don’t mean for this workshop,
for school,
or even for me.

I need to write,
for you.

The one reading this,
the one hearing this.

These words are here for you
with the hope that they inspire you.

That they spark a fire within you
to need to write as well.
To inspire as many as I hope to.

You see while most choose to color this world in blood,
I write.

I write with the hopes that I can jump start the heartbeat of this generation
that seems to have flat lined.

I cried last night.

For the first time
in a long time.

I am not quite sure why.
I think it was just one of those times
where life finally caught up to me.

‘Cause, I think,
for the first time
in a long time

I let it.

We can argue.

Hard.

I wouldn’t say to the point of violence,
but there definitely those moments.

The weird thing is that half the time
its about nothing.

Really, nothing.
Something as simple as looking at each other the a weird way
and the fireworks fly.

But no matter what,
in the end,
we will stand together.

As hard as we fight with each other,
we will run to defend one another even harder.

We can almost comes to blows with each other
but the second anyone else says something,
that’s when the gloves really come off.

That why I say,
family.

A crush.

There is something about it that is
so playful,
so innocent.

First thought in the morning.
Last thought at night.

You smile,
just thinking about them.

I haven’t felt this way in a long time.
I almost forgot how it felt.

I like it.

Nothing.
That’s what I have.

Nothing.

I may have been thinking about it too much.
I had it,
but lost it.
It was something good too.

I think.

Man.

Next time,
I should just write
instead of thinking so much.

I miss being happy.

And I don’t mean like buying yourself a new phone happy.
Or installing a new sound system in your car happy.

I mean,
genuinely happy.

Like hearing the ice cream man on a hot summer day happy.
Or mom saying you can’t have a cookie before dinner
but dad sneaking you a couple anyways happy.

Somewhere along the way
as life got more complicated
so did the things that made us
happy.

I miss the days when our happiness
didn’t have a price tag.
And if by chance it did,
it was never more than just a buck
for a ninja turtle ice cream
with gum drop eyeballs.

Man.
I miss it.

I used to hate myself for not crying
when my father died.
I mean,
I didn’t shed one tear.

Or,
at least that is what I thought.

Truth of the matter is,
I’ve been crying for him for nine years.
Its just that my tears haven’t been drops of water
from my eyes
but rather they take form in
words on a page.