The beauty of Friday.

The beauty of Friday.

One day with endless opportunity.

Let's face it you've waited five days for this.

Not only if you have plans, that doesn't even matter. The truth is that anything could happen.

You could meet the love of your life and dance the night away.

You could finally start that project you've been meaning to work on for ages. 

You could actually spend some time with your friends for once.

Maybe nothing of that is going to happen, but it could, and that my friend is the beauty of Friday.

Self confidence or the lack of it.

I gotta admit. I'm myself and I would hate being anyone else or pretending that I was.
I remember what you said.
"I wish I could be like you and not care what people think about me"
I wish I could too.
The truth is I'm not self confident.
Hell I still can't talk to the opposite gender without half my face looking like a freaking red light.
I might be myself but I care what other people think.
Being yourself hurts a lot more.
See when someone insults you they insult YOU.
Not a facade, not a fake, not a shell.
They hurt you.
But when you lie there hurt, crying. Remember who picks you up.
And each time you fall one more person will pick you up.
And one faithful day someone will catch you before you fall.
And then trust me you'll be happy you chose to be yourself.

If it's that hard go make a list of things you want to be.
Fair, brave, funny, quirky, yourself.
Now come back to me when you are exactly that.
Then i'll pick you up as you lie there crying.

Friends, joints and some rock music.

Sitting there on your porch looking out on the world.
That summer felt endless, and looking back it was the best summer of my life.
You pass me the joint and I take a hit.
I let the warm smoke flow through my entire body, out into every limb,
and then i let go, let go of the smoke, let go of my stress, let go of my worries.
In that moment the sky turned a little more blue and the grass a little more green.
You turn on the music and pass me a soda.
Cheers man.
Cheers indeed.

Stop.....

Stop looking at me like that....

Stop looking at me with that face of pity.
Just stop.
I don't want your pity neither do I need it.
At least that's what I like to pretend I don't.
Sometimes I like to pretend I don't need you at all.
Not even the slightest.
But then you like to come around and remind me otherwise.
It's like a game of tag, I chase you, and you run.
Then when I give up you start chasing me.
But it's over now, I'm tired of running.