No Time To Chat

Sorry no time to chat. I am working on my gift.

When I grow Up

When I grow up,

I want to be a millionare.

I want to eat chocolate cake everyday. 

I want to be married like my 2nd grade teacher is. 

When I grow up. 

I want to make money.
I want a great career.
I want to be liked.

When I grow up?
I want just enough money to survive.
I want to fill my life with something.
I want somewhere I can be me.

Now that I have grown up.
I forget about wishes I made when I was ten.
I want to be happy. No.
I want you to be happy.

I am different than I wished for.
But thats because I spent my life wishing for the wrong things.
I wished for me.
But now I wish for you.

This is the birthday letter I never sent.

Liar, Liar, My Trousers Are On Fire.

I have written this over and over again.
Each time with a different spin.
This is the chance to lie about who I am.
This is the chance to justify what I have written.
This is the chance to rationalize myself to you.
Maybe I am just crazy.
Maybe I am unrealistically sane.
Whatever I am.
That is what I am.
I am Thomas Edward Holdman Jr.
Son of Thomas Edward Holdman Sr.
Who is the son of William Floyd Holdman
And he is the son of the late William James Holdman.
Anyways thats my name.
And thats my lineage.
But that is not who I am.
I am what I have written.
For better or worse.
So now you know my name.
But if you read my work.
You already knew me.

Deafening Sound

Sometimes.

Only sometimes.

Well, I suppose you could say often.

So Yes.

I often.

More than I should.

Listen to songs that pull at my heart.

Because I believe that my heart was made.

I believe it was made to make music.

So I listen to these all of these melancholy songs.

Hoping that my heart will play back.

Because I would rather hear my heart preform on tiny violins.

Than to hear the pounding silence. 

Tender Age

I was going to write (and complain) about how my parents treat me. I was going to write about how I am a legal adult and can make my own choices., but that all changed when I ran out of gas this morning. It all changed when I was helpless.

I ran out of gas on the freeway. 

I got out of my car and walked. 

I walked for two miles and no one would stop. 

Till a ,very suddenly, haggard time worn minivan came to a agitated stop beside me. 

Inside this van was an equally time worn, haggard man. 

In any other situation I would have shied away from this man.
His eyes seemed lost and his speech was slow.
I thought he had nothing to offer me but a ride to the nearest station.
I was in need, so I accepted.

We came to the station and it was closed.
Why wouldn't it be on that cold early Sunday morning?
Even though it was out of his way the haggard man drove me farther down the road.
I was grateful for him but still upset at the situation.
We keep pleasant conversation but I didn't think much of it.
Because it was hard for me to understand his slow speech.
I felt rushed because I believed I had places to be.
I was still polite, of course, but I wasn't fully invested.

In the end we retrieved the much needed gas and returned to my car.
Which was at that point  was far away in a different city.
As we filled my car he talked bout his wife and the wonderful story he now had to share.
He proceeded to recount everything we talked about, in order, and with emphasis on my goodness.
I was shocked.
While I was busy being upset by my situation this man was delighted.
He wasn't delighted with my misfortune, his delight the chance to meet me.
I am still a little surprised he went so far out of his way to help me.
But I am equally not surprised.
It wasn't the middle aged man in his expensive Lexus that stopped.
It wasn't the soccer mom in her new sports utility vehicle.
It wasn't the able bodied father with his family.
It was an eighty year old man.
In a tired old van.
This man remembered my hopes and dreams.
He remembered my concerns for the future.
He cared.

I feel ashamed.
Because as I drove away.
I couldn't even remember his name.
I thought I was the tender age.
I thought I was deserving of compassion.
But I am not.
I am hard as stone.
This man is the tender one.
Because his heart was open and mine was closed.

How to be me.

I haven't discovered, at this time, how to be me. So I'm afraid I will be unable to tell you how to do it. Please check back in about 6 months when I'm supposed to have it all figured out. 

Im Only Scared Of One Thing.........

Out of all the things there are in this world to be scared of,
I'm only scared of one thing.
That when I die.
I will walk up to my God and ask,
"Did I do what you asked me to do?"
And he will respond.
"Yes, but the truth is you could have been what ever you wanted to be."

Im not terrified of monsters or death.

Im not afraid of rejection or embarrassment.

Im not scared of commitment or difficult sacrifice.

Im scared that I am sacrificing everything for nothing.

Im afraid of lost opportunity.

Im terrified of never having the chance to be with you.

Night of the living dead.

My heart feels,
Or so I think.
My mind thinks,
Or so I feel. 
Some of us are scared of monsters with no heart beat.
I am scared of monsters that have one,
Because then we have something in common.
I am scared of monsters with a heartbeat,
Because that shows I could become one.
The monsters in my head are much scarier than the monsters underneath my bed. 

The four letter f word is "fine".

But really I am.

House of Bricks

Bricks, like stones, still break bones.

No Great Sacrifice

I promise that I would do anything for you.
I would climb any mountain.
I would work any job.
I would sacrifice my life.
But the truth is,
All of those things are easy to give.

The hardest thing for me to give is nothing.
I would do absolutely nothing for you.
I would walk away.
I would "forget" your birthday.
I would never ask you to prom.
I would never say your name.

I would do nothing for you.
To others that may seem like the easy task.
Giving nothing must sound like a pleasure,
but to me that is by far the hardest thing to do.

The only thing that I want to do,
Is serve you.
I just want to be there,
anywhere,
with you.
I want to give you everything that I have.
I want to share the beauty in this world with you.
I want your happiness over anything else in my life.

Thats why I would give you nothing.
I would walk alway,
because I know you could never eternally be happy with me.
I am so happy when I am with you,
and I want you to have the same.
Your happiness couldn't last with me.

I would go to hell to be with you,
Because I already live in it.
To me, hell would be no great sacrifice,
But I could never drag you down with me.

You deserve heaven. 

So I can't have my heaven with you. 

Here Is my great sacrifice.

I will give you nothing,

because I want you to have everything.

 P.S. I sorry that I may break my promise. I might still bring you gifts for your birthday. I will probably still help plan your wedding. I will always be there because I love you, and completely leaving would completely destroy me. Even if I cheat a little and still give you all the treasures I have. I won't ever tell you that "I love you". Not out of fear but out of hope. Hope that you will find someone that will give you what I can't, everlasting happiness. Please be happy, because that is my life's goal. Your happiness, even at the cost of mine. 

You.

Why is the world so beautiful?
And why does every beautiful thing make me think of you?

Its. Like. You know. 1 am and I'm like. Sorry.

Im like sorry, you know?
If I sound flighty enough, will I be embraced by my teenage peers?
Its getting to that point where you post things you regret.
Kinda like every time I post.
Why do I stay up so late?
Sometimes its so late that its early. 
Because I don't like sleep.

Why don't I like sleep?
Am I even human?
Because when I sleep, I dream.

And in dreams I can be whatever I want to be.
A bird, a plane, happy?
Even if its someone I shouldn't be.

So instead I like to stay awake.

I choose honor, over sleep.
If you think I'm poetic. I'm not. This is late night talk, and I'm sorry. 






This time is a lie, it's at least one hour later than this. 

I Am A Robot

I can't do what you asked. (human trait)

I'm sorry. (human trait)

I tried. (human trait)

I will do my very best to explain. (human trait)

I made a mistake. (human trait)

I chose something wrong. (human trait)

I used my free will poorly. (human trait)

I can't love. [robot]

Human (7) Robot [1]

"That's it folks, the robots took the win."
"Right there in the end."
"They pulled a fast one on us."
"We thought we were ahead."
"Then we realized we are more than a head, full of circuits and wires."
"We also have a heart and once we lose that, it's over, the robots win."

I lost my heart that day in February, long after we met.
The tricky thing about love is,
once you lose your heart, it's gone.
In order to feel whole again,
someone has to lose their heart to you.
I know that for me,
this won't happen.
I can't let it happen.
So I am left without a heart.

By default I am a robot.

I'm sorry I couldn't do more. (human trait)

Im a Tourist.

First of all, I must declare how sorry I am.

My writing has been weighted.

I honestly prefer to keep things light. 

I want to be the kind of writer that makes someone laugh. 

I, so badly, want to be humorous, and bring a soft snort (because I know you don't laugh at your computer very often) to someone's day . 

I... I... I... should stop because there I go complaining again. 

I know how you feel.

Thats why I want to make you laugh.
Because heaven knows we need it. 

Men with eating disorders

Hey guys.
Guys specially.

Remember that day in 7th grade,
When the time had come to display our physical strength?
When we had to run a 7 minuet mile.
I ran *cough* walked a 10 minute mile.
The mile run that seemed like a marathon.
Well now I run a 7:30 mile.
I still feel like I miss the mark.

Remember how we never ever played shirts and skins?
Till that day there was a sub.
It was horrible,
wasn't it?
Unless you were one of the few,
who totally felt comfortable in your fit body,
or even in your unfit body.
(No judgement either way)
Well I never felt very comfortable in my slightly over weight body.
And now I have lost 35 pounds.
35 pounds doesn't lighten my body dimorphic disorder.

Remember when we could could eat pizza for lunch everyday?
I like pizza.
I like kale.
I like ice-cream.
I like almonds.
I love brownies.
I like tree bark.

Remember when we came to high school and we did the physical fitness thing all over again?
Well I do,
And sometimes I try to forget.

The truth about weight loss is that,
No one carries around a scale to weigh you.
No one counts your calories.
Less people look at you than you would think.
But the person who is mostly likely to judge you,
Is the person who is always with you.
It's you.

So guys.
Work out.
Eat less pizza.
Eat more kale.

It doesn't matter what you you like.
It matters how you treat your body.

How someone looks its great,
But how they live is better.

Caution: Splash Zone

Rivers run wide and deep,
be watchful how you cross,
or you may get wet.

People can be like rivers.

They are constantly changing,

often taking the path of least resistance.

When you meet someone new,

it's like coming upon river.

You can immediately turn away and leave,

to avoid the situation completely.

You can float right over,

not taking any interest.

Or you can get your feet wet.

I'm not suggesting you drown,

in the current of their problems.

But perhaps you can learn to love the splash,

of water on your heart.

The bitter cold water,

that makes you feel alive

and the warm calm water,

that feels like home.

By loving them,

you may very well find,

you are also learning to love yourself.

Will you remember?

The river you turned away from?

The river you floated across?

The river you ignored?

Or will you remember the river you waded through,

and learned to love?

Your feet will be wet,

your face may be soaked in empathic tears.

Likely,

you will be drenched.

I believe,
you will be a better person,
for getting wet.

Keep Your Crayons

You can keep your crayon. 

You can keep your "cray-ahn".

You can keep your "cray-awn".

You can keep your "crown".

You can keep your "cran".

As for me I will keep my pen. 

Anonymous

I don't know if we understand,

that no matter how anonymous we are now,
the shawl of mystery will be lifted.
And an unflattering light will wash over us,
flattering only the truly beautiful.
We will then all know where the hopeful,
and the hopeless,
words originated from.
All hearts will be exposed;
will we like what we see?
Will you like what you see in me?


In the end,
would it have been better to have never shared?
Once we open up,
once people see,
our hearts can never be unseen.
You can't unread what you have read.
Once something is read.
It has been thrust into the universe.
No matter how many words you use to try and take it way.
Words only ever add and never subtract. 

I'm a Worthless King

Can I trade this crown for a hat?
Please.
Anyone?
Will you trade this golden crown for a simple hat?
I promise,
it is a wonderful crown.
It is all you could ever wish for.
It's not cursed,
I swear.
Well,
for anyone else it is not cursed.
The only problem with it is,
that when I wear my crown,
I am a King.
As a King I cannot leave.
As a King I cannot share.
As a King I cannot have a chance to be with them.
I beg you to take all my lands,
take my castle.
Please,
take all my wealth.
Just in return leave me an old worn hat.
Please take my golden crown,
laced with jewels.
And if you could,
leave me that haggard hat.
Please take all I have.
Leave nothing but that sad torn hat.
All my kingdom,
all my wealth.
None of it matters,
if I can't share it all with them.
So a simple hat I request.
So I might walk outside of these blasted walls.
So I can have a chance for love.
Just one chance.
I know there is no sure promise.
Just.
One.
Chance.
Please take this heavy crown from me.
It may look light,
it feels like molten lead.
It is heavy and hot.
It weighs not upon my head, 
but on my heart instead. 

The Beginning and The End

I don't want to start like this........ 

I do want to start like this............
I will start like this.......................

This first post is also our last.
Not the last to be written,
but the last to be read.
Our blogs can be compared to our lives,
ever changing.
Always moving forward,
often without rhythm or rhyme.
If we were writing a book,
the reader would start with the writer,
and move in the same direction.
The truth is,
we are not writing a book,
we are narrating a life.
The reader is always playing catch up,
so they are moving backwards.
We start writing here.
We are moving forward.
So this is our beginning.
As a writer this is the start.
For the reader this is the end.

I will end like this..........................
I do want to end like this...................

I don't want to end like this..........