There is much
to be said
about
minimalism

The night continues to greet me like an old friend in a coffee shop.

"Hello Tucker, what are you doing here?" he asks me every evening

I always reply the same.

"I'm always here"

"So am I,

I just get drowned out by the sun in your eyes.

I am destined to be a shadow cast in the glory of the light, but I will never leave."

We have this in common.

Full Circle

Today I saw a man in a wheelchair struggling to push himself up a ramp.
The "handicap accessible ramp" seemed to be doing a poor job of fulfilling it's purpose.
I wanted to walk up to him, whisper gently into his ear.
"I got you, old friend. Please don't worry".

But I couldn't.
What if he was bitter, jaded, uninterested in my assistance?
What if he said "fuck off, kid. I don't need you or your stinking help"

I was too afraid to risk it. I kept walking. The thought of an unkind world making a old, crippled man angry scared me. As I walked on by, I became a member of that unkindness.

Maybe I was the straw that broke the camel's back. What if I made this man unkind by not stopping? My own fear became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

A regular citizen of the unkind world.

Do you ever walk into a room and immediately get a feel as to how your night is going to end? For example, when you walk into a house hosting a party and you say to yourself, "I am going to have some fun tonight". The room Nathan Hacker was about to walk into certainly did not feel like a party. The room Nathan Hacker was about to enter was a hospital room, with bare walls, a sick patient, and absolutely nothing that resembles a party setting.

You deserve better than this.
Your home life is formulated by
bellowed shouts through an open door
and a disagreement waiting to happen.

You don't know what I'd give to leave,
but I dread the thought of leaving you alone.
I'm not afraid of what you'd do, but rather,
what you wouldn't do.

Security is the cliff edge you stand on.
Happiness is the free fall that beckons you.

You know how I can tell I was raised in a cruel world? I thought the attacks on the world trade center buildings were normal. I vividly remember saying to myself, "Why would we get out of school for that? This happens all the time". I actually gave a classmate a high-five as we climbed onto the school bus. I could see the sense of fear in every adult's eyes, but didn't take into consideration why they were scared. This was life, they should be used to it by now.

It wasn't until I walked in the door to my house and saw my mother with her hand cupped over her mouth that I understood the severity of the situation. There were tears sliding down her cheeks. It doesn't take much to make her cry, but I always felt the same when she did. I felt like I'd let her down, whether I was the cause of the tears or not. I knew it was serious when I saw my mother crying over the deaths of all these strangers. She had always been cynical, learned not to expect the best from people. She would just let karma sort everyone out. I cried with her.

My branches are bare;
I have nothing to hide. 
I’ve been picked clean,
To the bone,
I am a skeleton of what I once was.
We could sit in the dark and you’d see all I am and have to offer
Everything goes unreciprocated; 
L’appel du vide.