The Examined Life

The beginning….


You know how Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living?” Well, that got me thinking. We don’t get to live forever. We don’t get to restart and try again. We get one life, and while I have this one, I’m going to examine the hell out of it. This will be my journey from now until the end. This will be a record of all things, me. Enjoy the examined life.


Friend Zone

via Daily Prompt: Recreate

Some time will pass and she will find,

someone to love her the way she deserves.

Her heart will sing, her eyes will light up,

her breath will be short as he kisses her lips.

I won’t be anywhere near her, too distant to see,

out of her mind completely because he is not me.

I will try, with my best attempt, to recreate

the feeling I felt for her, but with someone else.

And she will never know that I loved her

with all my heart and soul, because she said,

“We’re only friends, nothing more.”



via Daily Prompt: Priceless

I wrote you a love letter,

and I signed it anonymous,

because I must have thought,

the act, altogether

was cliché as it could get,

might as well go for it all.

In it, I probably told you how much

I truly cared for you, or some

variation of love without

actually mentioning the word…

I can’t be completely sure,

because I wrote it while inebriated–

a state I’ve been way too familiar with recently.

I must have told you how important

you are, and how much I need you,

and, probably something about

the time we spend together being priceless.

And because I couldn’t remember

your email address, it went un-sent

for the rest of my intoxicated night.

In the morning I deleted it,

I didn’t read any of it except for

where I signed, “I will always care,




I don’t much sleep anymore.

Maybe it’s the heat.

Maybe it’s the wild thoughts

running through my head.

Maybe it’s because I dream,

a little too much about her,

and in my dreaming I worry

that I may fall deeper into love.

She is oblivious.

I am occupied, taken.

She summed it up, once,

as beautifully as anyone could ever

sum up the situation,

“you can’t be compatible

with someone who’s married.”

Drink Fire, Vomit Pain

When I was in my twenties I didn’t drink. It wasn’t that I was prohibited from doing so, in fact, I was encouraged to. My friends all drank, socially, or whatever it is you call a bunch of idiots gathering around and drinking until someone was too drunk to stand. I, well, I took the high road because I was pretentious. Pretentious and drinking alcohol made me want to cut off my tongue and soak it in cheese just to rid myself of that awful taste. I justified it, saying I didn’t need to drink to be social. And while they had fun, I sat quietly, observing their inebriated behaviors.


Perhaps, I was friends with them during the wrong years of my life. Or maybe alcohol is an acquired taste and I was just too averse to it to give it a chance. Now, I don’t mind the taste so much. The brief moments of clarity during the drunkenness are a welcomed surprise. And, the way it distracts from the actual pain makes it a worthwhile companion.


You see, I’ve come to treat alcohol like a high school friend (the friends I had during my twenties). Whenever they came around they made me feel good for a while; then they’d be around too long and I’d get irritated and want to fight; they’d leave and I’d remember that I didn’t like them all that much to begin with; then I’d get lonely, alone with my thoughts, and I wish they were around again.


I guess I’ll have another drink and wonder some more.




I stood in front of her, kind of. I say “kind of” because I leaned my back against my car and only had my head turned towards her. She leaned against my car trying to mimic my stance, but she had her whole body turned towards me. I wondered about the jeans she had on. Did they have those little metal tabs on the pockets that might scratch the paint on my fender? I guess I shouldn’t have cared about that, but I couldn’t help it.


She smiled the entire time, telling me about her week. I smiled too, genuinely interested in her stories. We didn’t talk much anymore, not since she quit, but that night was catch up time and I enjoyed every second.


Somewhere in our friendship I might have realized I wanted her, and held onto the feeling because letting it out, that is, letting her know, would have been disaster. So, it came out in a not so subtle way, unnoticeable to a fool in love. I guess I came on too strong at times. She would never say, but I knew.


She continued with her stories, and then her alarm went off. Bedtime. We said our goodbyes, and I wondered if I’d ever see her again.