A collection of thoughts, poems, & much more
Entry #8 (Poem 3)
I Am Happy, Alone (Italian Version)

sono felice, da sola
la brezza lo sa anche
le incantevoli medle non sono mai ancora
tuttavia c'è una crepa sotto la mia suola
e che non cambia mai

sono felice, da sola
la casa rimane in silenzio
sempre presenti nel lontano
ma ci sarà un giorno che verrà
e dovrò andare avanti

sono felice, da sola
le onde mi dicono ogni volta che toccano le dita dei piedi
non importa l'ora, non importa il tempo
ma c'è un tempo che dovrò partire
e almeno lo sapevo

Sono rimasto felice per il momento.
Entry #7 (Short Story)
""GOOOODNIIIGHT!!"
chanted down the hall as my sister closed her bedroom door shut. I hated night time. This house has been around for decades, and the noisy walls and creaky floorboards signaled that. Moving in to this deserted neighborhood already felt uncomfortable, and knowing that this house has been empty for years didn't make me feel any better either. Mom just needed a place near a drug store, so she could stock up. The drug store was just outside the neighborhood, down the street. She was already there, getting what she could before they close. My sister was already going to sleep, but i haven't slept in a couple days. It's tough moving in to a new house and not worry about what'll happen. I wanted to at least wait until Mom came home before I at least tried to attempt at closing my eyes for a bit.

[2:25 a m]
I stared at my clock. Time moves slow, but fast. Still, Mom wasn't home. I don't tend to worry as much, because Mom stays out to take her drugs and also hang out with other "friends" or at least, that's what she calls them. 
I was about to do some drawing at my desk to keep me occupied, but 
I heard something crash downstairs.
I couldn't tell if it was Mom or not. 
Mom usually is good about not breaking things.
I was nervous.
My heart was pounding.
I don't like to leave my room. Whether it's Mom or not, leaving my room leaves me vulnerable.
to anything.
I keep my attention towards trying to hear any other signals.
I keep hearing thuds, shuffling.
It went on for awhile. 

then I hear the front door open.
and that's when I knew, that was Mom.
& someone else was here in the house, downstairs with her.
"MOM!" I screamed as I ran down the stairs.
I could hear my sister's door opening wide open to see what's happening but i rushed down to help protect Mom.
As i reached the living room, i'm stuck in freeze frame.
The masked guy has Mom on the floor,
holding her down with his foot.
My sister got downstairs, and froze right with me.
"We don't know you, we can't see you so just let her go and we won't say anything."
My sister trembled with the words that came out of her mouth.
The masked figure held an axe in his left hand.
Clenched.
He just stared at us.
I got more and more uncomfortable and scared with every second passing.
And with a full swing, he stuck the axe in our mother's back.
The blood spewed out, flying across the living room and splattering against the walls, furniture, and our clothes.
A screech of pain from Mom could've been heard from all the way down to the drug store, because it was the loudest cry of pain i've ever heard.
And the Axe Man didn't stop. He kept going.
and going.
and each time we heard the bones in her back cracking.
i couldn't even tell who she was anymore.
and i was in shock.
i was in the corner, horrified at what i was witnessing.
my sister ran upstairs, screaming.
The Axe Man stopped finally.
Then he looks at me.
and slowly walks towards me, with the blood of my Mom on the axe.
just before he got close enough, I see a bullet fly into his shoulder.
my sister stood near the stairs, with Mom's gun she kept in her bedroom just in case.
I totally forgot about it when I ran down.
The Axe Man stumbled back, leaning against the wall.
"GET UP!" my sister yelled at me.
I realized what was finally happening, and shuffle up and go to my sister.
We open the front door, and get ready to run off.

We should've known.

This was it.

The Axe Man had a friend.

And he was there, standing on the porch. 
Waiting, just in case.
The fear rushed through me, as I realized what was about to happen to us.

This was the day The Axe Man made a name for himself. 

And who would've known,

right before he slaughtered my sister and cut her up,

he would've taken off his mask,

and reveal his face.

And who could've guessed,

of all people to murder my family and I,

it would've been Dad.

I was crying, pleading.

Begging and wondering why he would do this.

And he gave me a sinister grin, before ramming the Axe down on me. 
Entry #6
sometimes it's okay to be alone. to be by yourself. you can always have alone time and it's much needed. you need that peace and quiet. you need those thoughts. to be yourself for a bit and breathe and just think. and it feels good. 
there's so many faces around you. so many attitudes, lifestyles, cultures, etc. that invade our space. and it gets overwhelming. I can definitely say that for sure. you just need that moment of silence. a moment of stillness. maybe it actually isn't silent, but you are. and you may not be saying anything or making sound, but you're still speaking. and it doesn't have to be external either.
Entry #5
it's weird because we are alive in the now but who can tell us we're not? are we actually though? are we dreaming? how do we know that the parallel us are feeling the exact same way? and if we're the same then why can't we switch? how does each personal soul differentiate a different life outcome? what's the meaning? f the "oh to just see how this life would work" no that's dumb. if we're parallels it'd be the same thing every day for each one. parallel lines run straight across one another. they don't cross. they don't go different ways. it's just, straight. all of this isn't some game where you have a different outcome each time. but who's to say it isn't? I can assume it isn't but how do I know the unknown? and how can anybody? when we dream and have those lucid dreams, are we connecting with our other lives? do we see things that were not living? what's the point? you can ramble for centuries on theories of what's it all mean but that's just the concept of it. to not know and even if you can grasp a certain idea it's just an idea and that's all it ever will be. and you can never say you'll experience it because you'll never know because it hasn't happened nor will you know if it'll ever happen. and that's the way things are. or so we think.
Entry #4 (Poem 2)
beaming
the lights
dimming
between
two groves
I'm dying
counting
slowly
my heart can't the handle pain
my heart is breaking again
green, red, blue, you
two, one, zero, who
confused
tiredly
sadly
taken aback now
laying in the grass out-
-side with the shiny stars shining
glimmering
shooting skies filled my mind
I wish you were here tonight
Entry #3 (Poem 1)
walking to the front deck of the ship
tell me if I'm in the right place
cause I think I am 
the stars are shining and it's amazing
it's so silent and I'm craving some attention
but silence is my friend it's been there since the beginning
and so I just stand there and watch the sky
till I see this girl all dressed in white
she showed up out of nowhere
then into sight
and I couldn't think how it could be a better night
but it happened
and it was
I took the move and we laughed and danced the night away
we were two hooligans free in a world with all colors without gray
and damn it was colorful
she could see it in my eyes
all the colors of the rainbow
even when the conversation got deep
it was beautiful
I couldn't stop listening to her voice
when she said "you talk" I said no I'm good 
the voice coming from you is what I want to hear
cause she gave me the chills
she gave me the vibes
this is it, the moment I've been waiting for
the moment I find the girl swoop me and keep me till the day I die
and it played out so well
it was almost too good to believe 
because that's why when she walked outside
I stared at her and waited for something to happen
but she walked off
and now I'm stuck here 
with silence, my friend & my fear.
(my imagination gets the best of me
it's the death of me)
Entry #2
the unknown is truly not known.
explaining to yourself you have the power to do exactly what you want is not the limit.
nor is there actually a real "limit". we make limits in our heads because we cannot comprehend the thought of going so far to achieve it all and more. but that's life isn't it? aren't we trying to achieve it all? or is it just the thought of achieving it which keeps us living? do we keep moving forward looking at each dream as something we can reach but will never reach? why does it have to be that way? 
questions are so small. they don't define a statement made. they don't help. they only give. they give the responder a chance to give an answer from which cannot be true or wrong because the question can be anything.
let the mind and soul take over.
let the thoughts take your reality into a state of inception. see what you can't see. it's there and you can see it. but you can't. and that's the whole thing with society. society is so f***ed up because they shut their eyes when they're blinking. they close it all out and they react to the smallest things and it's a cycle that it's all conformed to and how can this generation or later get a grip if everyone's rotating around their phones? why can't that one person look up in the group and see what needs to be seen. change society. change mindsets. change it all. 
see the art. see beauty. see how the reflection off a face looks. it changes you. 

"be somebody."

that's a lame sentence dude wtf. YOU ARE SOMEBODY. WHETHER YOU'RE THINKING YOU'RE NOT YOU YOU ARE YOU AND YOU CAN'T BE ANYONE BUT YOU AND YOU'RE ALWAYS YOU. SOMEBODY IS YOU, NOT ANOTHER BODY. WE ARE ORIGINAL. ITS IN OUR NATURE. 
Entry #1
Defining myself is never easy. nor is it actually hard to be honest. I don't see myself being defined in any real sort of way. Aren't we all defined by something by someone? Aren't we all seen a certain way in the eyes of each human being? If I was shy to you I wouldn't be to my best friend would I? If I was artistic but can't draw that doesn't make me less artistic? I am everything when I am nothing. I can be it all, really. I grew up an only child. I grew up with separate parents. I grew up living with my grandparents. It was a struggle not having anyone there for me like other siblings do. My imagination was my sibling. my friend. my safety. I grew up with so many ideas and dreams and alternate realities. It was all in this little head of a 7 year old who wanted to do something with his life. He was scared all the time. Always scared. And was it because of the pop-up videos on YouTube or the fact that his parents were always working and he had no sort of assurance of what was to come? the feeling of not knowing what was happening half the time? being alone growing up is scary. and maybe that's why. maybe that's why I always ache when I have this feeling of loneliness. and it sucks cause people would use that against me when they had no idea. they didn't know my childhood like I did. but I keep moving. I keep living. I have ups. I have downs. but that's me. Joseph C. Rodriguez. The lost boy who found his passion Junior Year of high school and knew from then on that his life was dedicated to living to the fullest and doing what he loves the most. I crave the moments to look at a sunset for hours or the sunrise and just be still. to take it in. to feel the warm sun setting and rising. to hear the birds fade and to hear them chirp. to travel the world and see how others live. to know other peoples' stories. I want to live to tell a tale. to show the world you don't need a f***ing job or money or anything to be happy. Have a camera, have a heart, and have a dream. and there's no better way to put it. because that's what I define myself to be.
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