You can't have an opinion or original thought in this digital disaster we call Earth. Empathy is replaced by hostile comments on strangers “walls”. Walls that don't require wood, plaster or paint. Instead of sending flowers or gifts when a loved one has passed we send fake prayers through a keyboard. Lives are no longer kept behind closed doors by choice. Our heads are always in a cloud of pictures,jokes, remedies, and false information. We have become nothing because we actively seek out to learn nothing. This is how the human race has evolved. Right in front of our eyes, or screens.

I work hard, and I get good pay

I wonder though if I should stay

The stress fills me with rage

I appeared to have agedBut my boss says I just need a lay.

"I want to be a writer." 

Everyone said I couldn't do it. I couldn't write a book that people would enjoy. My father thought I was crazy, saying I would change my mind eventually and go into something more relatable, like medicine or physics. My mother's only words were 'good for you' before she went back into the stance where my grades are most important. My sister scoffed at me. My best friend told me my writing wasn't good enough. 

What I wanted to do was stripped away from me faster than anything else. No one believed me, or let me do what I wanted to do. That's freedom to me. 

But still, they wouldn't believe me. No matter what I do, I'm stuck in this desolate place where I can't get out anytime soon. No one believes me. No one cares to say otherwise or to push me forwards. 

But that's okay. I don't need them to help me with my goal. They think I can't do it, just watch. I'll prove them wrong. 

Since one of my friends told me a long time ago that I get the best answers when I talk to myself, I find myself doing just that.  "Should I drive the usual way home?  Or should I drive another way.  I feel like driving another way, so I will."  Good thing, too, since there was road construction on the regular route. 

One small step seems 

Minuscule to the entire journey.

But without the first step

There is no journey.

The first stroke of the pen,

The feeling of the first key tapping the keyboard,

Both inspiring untold potential

And an initial spark of energy.

This feeling has an essence 

Of innocence and excitement. 

A child like trust and fearlessness

Ready to conquer the journey.

At that moment there are

Only dreams of stories to 

Lived and be told.

There is only a beautiful view of the horizon.

There may be challenges

Hidden in the brush 

Or fears in the heart that

Are awaiting to be seen.

The journey and the destination,

Failure and change of direction,

The tools and weapons needed,

Are all indeterminable.

The writer does not care.

The only concern is seeing new experiences

And new stories with the eyes of amazement,

Like a child first seeing the world.

A writer searches with no

Destination in mind

Souring from a cliff

Into the abyss of the unknown.

It is quite simple. Remove words that once had meaning. Sincerity, honesty, communication, (I don't mean texting or tweeting). How many times do we see people sitting at the same table in a cafe or a Starbucks each on their smart phones. Neither talking to the person across from them.

Have we become so important that talking to one another face to face will soon be obsolete? Send the wrong emoji and you have hurt someone's feelings. Anyone of us during our lifetime will be very lucky if we have two close friends. Not, I'm sorry to say, the 9,321 who are on some list that want to see the salad you're eating at that moment. Or the new shoes. Those are not friends, most are not even acquaintances. They're strangers thirsting for some form of personal connection, but most are harvesting numbers in hopes of getting advertising dollars. It's almost like a perpetual Easter Egg hunt.

I'm sorry to rant, but the lack of social skills of society in the future will be a whole new world. Easily manipulated and yearning for something, but they won't know what. Imagine what it would be like if suddenly for two weeks there is no internet and no phone service. What would it be like? What would happen?           

A pinch of my sleeping dust, and everyone falls into a deep slumber. Most dreams are the same: flying, crushes or loved ones, monsters chasing them, fear of darkness, wearing underwear in front of people with a hint of surrealism that makes the job interesting. But there is one who has caught my eye. A special girl dreams up far more unique things than average. Lava mermaids, water trolls, magical robots, even taming nightmares. I call her my Sleeping Beauty, because her mind is far more open-minded than others. Her name's Bria, who now haunts my dreams, and my heart.

Of course it is okay to talk to yourself. That voice in my head is my friend. Who else would encourage me and say, "Go on, one more piece of cake won't hurt. Just don't add the ice cream." OR, "Hell, she can't talk to me that way. So I'm two hours late, she's lucky I showed up at all." Then, of course, he always helps me stand up for myself, "You know, I really don't need this job. I can find another." Funny, it's been three months. All he says now is, "Maybe you shouldn't have said, fuck you to the boss."

There was that one time though that I am still a little bothered. The time he said, "C'mon let's go, we don't need this bunch of losers who think they are your friends." Later that night when I tried to go to sleep he was up saying, "Wow, you're all alone now. No friends, no girlfriend, no job. What are you going to do?" 

Time and time again, we are told to find our drive. Our passion. Something that motivates us. Well, I adore writing! If asked why. I'd say that writing to me takes me to a whole new universe. A different world.

Writing acts like a wheel, that I love to keep turning. I also love to read other writers creations. To write, is a form of art and life. One can't simply carry on with life, and not do what they love. May the torch of writing always burn bright.