The Passion Collective


The Passion Collective.





Spring Brings Self-Reflection: Autumn Brings Reinvention


Death is present, it always has been. It's outstretched wings cast shadows over all of us. Some of us fear the night that life vanishes into the dark abyss, while others sprint into it with open arms. What makes us so different from each other?

I feel as though I've been surrounded by the ugly evils for years. From the aggressive, semi-genuine streets of New York City to the pale emotion that hides under the brightened fakeness of the suburbs. 

The raindrops fall like the tears of mothers who have lost their sons. The tree branches sway like personalities between seasons. I sit, alone... wishing, waiting for the truth to set me free. My sickness shrivels to the bone, like a tumor under the spotlight of radiation. Still, no matter how miniscule it may become, it's almost always there.

They say, "Only the good die young", but the greats live forever - anarchists against the very formalities of life, swimming against the currents of mediocrity for the rest of eternity. I want to be great. My physical vessel will sink eventually, but the ocean will never fade. The transition in between the two will be somewhat seamless, at least that's how I'd like to think of it. I will be happy, and so will you. We fear the idea of death, and rightfully so. I'll be the first to say, I'm not ready to die. Nope, not yet. I still have so much to accomplish on this planet, this floating sphere of earth and water. Although I lose time to distractions and mistakes, the quality of my purpose will never be cut or diluted. It's locked into my identity. I am who I am, I'm a writer. There are some people who like the idea of becoming an author, and there are some writers who like the idea of becoming a writer. I need to seek the path that stands out to me, the path that calls to me in the shower, at my desk and on my commute to and from a job that I dislike.

My life hasn't turned out the way that I once envisioned. I never saw it like this, how could I? Nobody plans on being a drug-addled college dropout. I saw what my mind wanted me to see, instead of what my eyes did. And for that I've suffered, but ignorance is sometimes bliss. I can still remember those late June afternoons spent at the reservoir, fresh out of school for the summer, allowing myself to become tangled up in the hallucinations of the future. Truly believing that destiny would carry me comfortably to my wishful destination. Well, it didnt.. And it won't. Life doesn't work that way. Destiny is the meter that you forgot to put a quarter in, fate is the police officer that's writing you a ticket.

I'm nowhere near where I'd like to be. As much as I'd like to believe that it's all okay, it's not. As a human being, I need to accept the terrible mistakes that I have made. Not only do I need to accept them, I need to embrace them. Because if I dont, those outstretched wings will pay me a visit and my friends will attend another funeral, and I won't be standing next to them. Deep within my soul, I know who I am and what I'm supposed to become. Self-doubt may creep in from time to time, but it'll never fully derail me.

Sure, it'll cause delays but it will never derail me.

Most people would probably feel that I have no business talking about life lessons, and to most people, I don't. I'm not a prophet nor a preacher. For others, the minority, I most certainly do. To all those struggling, I have a message to send. It's not clear or precise, but it's real.

I'm not out of the woods. In fact, i'm still lost in them. Everywhere I turn, I stumble, and eventually fall. Like clockwork, again and again. My eyes don't glisten like they used to. I'm not as hopeful as I once was. Fairytales don't exist in my mindstate. One of the only feelings that I;m unable to shake is hollow disappointment. I've let myself down, I've let my family down, I've let God down. I believe that I was given a distinct gift and I haven't fully accepted it. My passion lingers like the stone colored smoke over the East River on 97th street. I am nothing but a face on a bench, I can only watch as it comes and goes..

 © 2015 The Passion Collective