I've tried hell

That's the way every day goes.
These days Im just looking for the next out.
Full time job.
Full time salary.
Full time mission prep.

Part time Depression.
Part time Mania.

I thought my friends would stay in our safe little valley forever.

Now everybody is gone.
Not like "oh we're graduated now" gone.
Like, "who do I talk to" gone.
Who do I talk to?

gone.

How am I supposed to suit up for a mission?

Last sunday was almost my last....
It should have been my last
I'm in trouble...

I  just want to talk to somebody I can trust....
Everybody I could trust is gone..........................................

I don't cry.
Damn it....
This is so pathetic....

All my past blog posts make me sick.
My reflection makes me sick.
My past makes me sick.
My present makes me sick.
My future makes me sick.

The infections in both my legs my parents have no clue about  are making me sick.
It's my fault and its making me sick.
Physically sick.

Last sunday was my fault.

Im sick.
I'm getting sicker every day.
I'm in trouble like i've never been in before.
I'm in trouble.

Published.

Maybe the things you wanted to say most finally came out.
Now I can't deny the fact that they can have a physical copy of it.
Maybe these things needed to be said.
Maybe this wasn't art anymore.
Im a published author now.
Where has time gone?
........
Fool's Gold became real gold and I never had a say.
........
http://www.amazon.com/Fools-Gold-pensive-collection-stories/dp/1533411727/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1465010397&sr=8-1&keywords=joshua+hi
........
https://www.createspace.com/6295287
........

Goodbye

I guess here is my goodbye to all the people I once knew. We shared classes, songs, and laughs together. I’ll miss your faces when I walk the halls of our high school. When I watch a football game and I don’t see your faces up in the stands I’ll think of us. I’ll hope we get together but this truly is the end. Graduation told us to grow up. Graduation told us to go to college. Graduation told us to find new friends. Graduation told us to move on.

Time never said goodbye to me, why should I say goodbye to time? Time always wins. Time made me say goodbye to some and hello to others. Time slowed and sped up but it never stopped. The time conundrum that is life took me to limbo and back. Maybe the grave never actually waits for us. Maybe I've been too blunt with the poems i've written. Maybe the readers won't understand them. Maybe the poems don't understand me. Maybe Goodbyes are better unsaid. Sometimes the closure doesn't change anything anyways.

The past of the Priory

I'm slipping.
I can't show this to you.
This was not meant for you.
This was meant for me.
This was my vent.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
But I can't deny my feelings anymore....
I can't deny my past.
I can't deny this post.
I can't deny the punishment.
I don't care about how much trouble I could get in at this moment.
I'm slipping,  and I'm reckless.
One man's trash is another man's tears.......

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_A2nSrU95cA

Why do I hurt myself so much.

like the red life pumping out of my arms yesterday.

I thought about the songs you played me

I thought we were different

You missed a few lines in my last blogposts, some things i was too scared to say so I wrote them in black on my blog.

I thought I could stop picking the scabs after my friend branded me...

I want the scars.

Why can't I look at you and see a friend anymore.

Why can't I look at you and see a lover anymore.

Why can't I even look at you...

every time I try the water blocks my vision

I thought music would have the answers

Night terrors gave me them instead

I thought the song I wrote might transfer to some other lover...

You thought the church bell sounded holy when I thought it was haunting...

Maybe i am just messed up....

I drew the same picture again, the one of the cemeteries 

the one of the char beast

the one of the house of saint give me

the one of the kiln

Sometimes the scary things in life are the ones that keep you coming back for more.

"Are you a demon?" the skitso asked me

Maybe he was asking me directly....

Maybe he was talking to something behind me...

but he stared right into me and asked it

either way it's true

either I'm the demon...

or something behind me is...

The music was killing me that day by the pond

The music is the only thing keeping me alive now

I forget my dreams every morning because I need to...

I remember my scars because I have to...

I make new ones because I want to...

Every night I fall asleep to wake up and I wake up every day because I didn't die in my sleep like I wish I would have...

Sometimes the scary things in life are the ones that keep you coming back for more.

Santa Monica

with his rustic jacket of patches the old man boasted of his journeys

he played chess and guitar at the park

a younger man would ask of his wisdom

he never ceased in giving

the books smelled like home to him

the fruit trees smelled like grandma's

the bakery smelled like mom's

the rain felt like first love

the wind in his hair cuffed his memory

he came here when he was young

he missed his mountains

but his seashells and journals kept him company

he longed to play on a nice piano

the sunshine loved him back most days

he still wrote to her

but the letters never made it home 

to his sweet sweet wife

lying beneath dirt.

future missionary.

It started the day we were born. The ongoing fight that all men lose. 

The girls, they know, but they don't understand. 

Somebody told me

"you're a human if you look once, but you're not a missionary if you look again"

See, the girls know, but they don't understand. 

"keep your eyes up"

Let me start by telling a story about a kid named "every dude ever". Your walking in the hallway, your on twitter, your at the store, your anywhere, and there it is. We see it, we look again, and again, again, and again, because 9 out of 10 guys are in the same boat that I'm in, and the ship is sinking. 

Anybody that graduated high school/college before the internet has no clue what they're talking about.

Try growing up in a world where everybody including yourself destroys your mind every day, all day for living with the strongest instinct you were born with.

The weekly reminders that you aren't good enough takes a toll on you.

I've tied enough "slip knots" to know where the toll takes you.

I don't know why i'm writing this. 

Maybe i'm mad?

Mission. Mission. Mission. Mission. Mission.

"so when are you putting in your papers?"

I don't know.

One day she asked me "am I a temptation?". 

Sometimes I feel like you don't fully understand that word. 

Sometimes I feel like I wouldn't last as a missionary, between the sleepless nights, the psychotic episodes, wandering eyes, untreated depression, and struggling belief.

Is god out there?

I feel something.

I don't know.

I've never tried harder at anything before. Bishop says im fine, the voices in my head say otherwise, all the while he's telling me to end it.

I don't know.

All I can think about is you.

So until I meet you I'll keep my eyes up and my future missionary tag on.