Everyone’s eyes tell a story. I believe they tell everything about your heart and soul. Intensity, quiet rage, and restless are three words people often used when desecribing my eyes. Restless – it is a term I have used, often in the various counseling settings I have sat in, trying to find the answer to the madness that lay trapped between my ears. From as long as I can remember I have always had this wandering and wondering mind. As I became an adult it became my eyes, often to my demise, but that is a different story, saved for a different time. The result of this restlessness has led to me cultivating a deep understanding of a few things that I learned just was part of life, as you evolved to chase the ambitions buried inside you. People come and go, as always in life. The people who come and go either enhance or drain you – that’s life too. There is those who lift you up and those who cut you down. The loyalty you have to yourself becomes replaced by the hallowedness you feel after giving it away freely. 

Being restless has always been to me, simply a state of living.


I remember working through the surgeries I had to have in order to have any shot of waking again. I remember always feeling like I was up against some deadline. That there was something else I needed to be prepared for, to work on, to compete, always restless in my pursuit of winning the day. My life has always been chasing fucking cars. Occasionally I get hit by a few, thus getting smeared all over and everywhere in between, but occasionally I make it to the other side. That’s really what it is all about to me and always has been, ever as long as I can remember – finishing what lies before me. The day will come where I know nothing else will be there for me to work on, to grind out, to lose myself in, and when that day comes, I hope I am all fucking used up and arrive exhausted at death.