The Loudmouth Mooch

It’s that time of night again. That late hour of unstoppable thought where one tries their hardest to enter the land of sleep, yet an immovable force blocks their path. Like a bright light that will not seem to go out when one's eyes cannot seem to take anymore of it. When the mind is an endless raceway of cars and the constant race of continues.  The heart lingers on the past. What has happened seems to happen again. It recreates a truth out of half a lie. Appreciating. Wishing. Hoping. Yearning. The desire seems to flow like a river. Pulsing and thriving with an energy that could fuel a thousand galaxies. Yet something so lively is only a shadow of its former glory. The truth seems to lie only in the past, and the lie can only be the future. But is that really the best answer? Surely, there must be a bright light out there. A beacon of hope in the treacherous night. Something that can be clung on to. Something that gives courage. Something that pushes one further and further. T...

Before I write about the idea that I have grasped in my mind, let me tell you about a guy that is currently in my day-to-day occurrences. For identity purposes, I'm going to call him Tom. Tom is a pretty cool guy, he's somewhat progressive, loves wine and travel, appreciates light conversation, practices martial arts, and can appreciate the beauty of culture. Tom is also a former Marine. And while Tom may have a lot of great interests, Tom also has a military way of thinking. He has seen the yellow eyes of his enemies, he has felt the intense heat of battle, and has endured the constant fear of danger. Now Tom lives in a civilian world, a changed man. A man that has fought for his country. A man that has done a great service to the civilians around him, yet little do they know of it. And he knows it. It bothers him, which also brings him back to his childhood, when he was picked on by his older siblings yet treated lesser than his younger siblings. He is forced to feel somethin...

Imagine  a juggler (I'm talking a serious juggler here, not someone who can throw two tennis balls around, that doesn't really count. Posers). They have quite a few items in their hands: ping pong balls, apples, oranges, a flaming torch, some daggers, and other items varying in danger levels. There are so many things being tossed all at the same time and keeping these things up in the air at a consistent rate is getting particularly difficult for them.  They start to grow weary and begin to drop a couple of things, possibly getting injured in the process, but they keep going. Sometimes they wonder if they can keep it up and other times they wonder if they should throw it all away and go drink a rich glass of Cabernet, I certainly wouldn't be against it. And as they keep going, things are continually being dropped and more things start appearing in their hands that they didn't even realize that they were juggling. I really feel bad for this guy. Or gal. Whatever they are...

Have you ever caught yourself, staring at your phone with a text or Facebook message conversation typing a billion different ways of saying something, but then catch yourself deleting whatever it is that you wrote over and over again until you give up? To a boyfriend or girlfriend, a fiance, a wife or a husband, a mother or father, a friend that you're having troubles with, or maybe even an ex of yours? Where you try to think of all these varying things that you want to say to them but you're too afraid to actually send that message because you're fifty-two percent sure that it'll freak them out or make them angry? But how do you even know that how you think that they're going to react is actually going to be the way that they react? You don't, and it's absolutely terrifying. But then, what do you do if you decide to just give up? Worry about the fear of not saying anything and missing your chance, or scaring them off from the potential of something positi...