Dear Broken-Hearted Girl

Dear broken-hearted girl looking for love,

I tried.

But it's hard to help you see through the windows that you keep painting over.
Such a beautiful girl with a heart as big as America. So I guess that makes me Obama, because I keep getting blamed for everything that your last man did to you. Don't you know that it's going to take more than one term to fix all of that?

I know it's hard for your deflated spirit to bounce back high enough for anyone playing your game to maintain a steady dribble. Your ups and downs are 80% down, 5% up, and 15% hovering in an emotional purgatory, trying to climb your way up while still bracing for the impact of the fall.
The pain that he caused was like that of an abandoning father; sure, you'll be able to live your life, but those scars will always find a way to manifest whenever true beauty starts to appear in your life.

He lassoed your heart with promises of infinite happiness, delusions of never growing up, all of Midas' gold, and clouds for shower heads because your natural high would have you too far above the ground to use common plumbing. He grabbed a hold of those strings connected to your heart and held you over his head refusing to ever let you go like a child with their first big red balloon.
Then he tightened that invisible lasso in your chest and kicked the worlds tallest mountain from under your feet. He watched as the now noose around your heart forced your body to go limp as you swung from his redwood, hanging by your chest plate with your shoulders back and eyes up to him, the boy who had become your new God, asking "Why?!"

He made an Emmett Till of your innocence.

I get it.
...I get it.

And then here I come. A man with similar pledges of commitment. I made the self-sacrificing vow to always make you smile; even though my heart skips a beat every time you do. To hear you laugh for ten minutes is the most exhilarating near death experience I could ever wish for.

But in every sparkling token of affection that I hand your way, you still see his reflection. Somehow my silhouette resembles his shadow. My hug reminds you of his choke; and I wish... I wish I could wipe your slate clean.
I wish that he did the one thing that a virus like him is supposed to do, and completely reformat your hard drive.
I wish he never had the chance to break down your walls, and hymen, with his false starting, yellow flag of a penalty existence.

I wish...
I wish I was more like him.
Because, at least for now, he is the only person that has access to your heart.
I wish my name sounded more like his, so that when you accidentally calls his out in conversation I could at least trick myself into believing that you really did say mine.
I wish I had the power to leave marks on your heart. Not to hurt you. No. Just to make sure that one day I'll be remembered as more than just 'that one guy you dated after him'.

But you are doomed to repeat this cycle. Repeat it until the day that you're willing to drop that emotional baggage and just let the airline lose it without any thought of getting it back. When you realize that not "all men are dogs" just because you've dealt with a bitch.
But when it finally does sink in, don't come looking for me. Because I will probably have just gotten to the point of getting over you.

Dear broken-hearted girl looking for love,

Keep trying.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Pause

Play.

"One thing about music is when it hits you, you feel no pain."

Pause!

Bullsh*t.

Then how do you explain that gut-wrenching feeling that I have every time I hear someone singing along to a SouljaBoy track?

Rewind.

I'm sure everyone has at least one song, that if played will reconnect them to a memory in their life and instantly evoke an ancient emotion. It's like pressing play on paused feelings. That's what makes good music great. The ability to emotionally connect people that have never met. The reason music can cross boundaries of gender, race, religion, status, and geographical demographics is because in it's simplest form it holds the few universal truths that everyone has experienced.

Happiness, sadness, anger, pain, love.
That's how you connect to millions. Relate on the most natural of conditions.

Pause.

Sidenote:
You know, our hearts don't actually look like those cookie-cutter shapes that we're used to that slightly resembles a pair of lips, or breasts, or an ass, or whatever Freudian-esk Rorschach response you see. Our hearts actually look more like a fist... wearing headphones. So while the Jersey Shore steadily fist pumps its way through the caving behind my ribs, I am reminded daily that music is what drives me.

Fast forward.

And how do you explain that emphatic joy that I experience every time Eminem starts yelling on a song and instantly dwarfs his peers?

Pause.

Now I know you might be saying, "That's different. That's happiness, not pain."
But isn't it those that make us those most happy that are able to put us through the most misery?
No?
Rewind to the second to last person that you fell in love with and then fast forward to the feelings you felt when they first broke your heart.

Pause.

How does it feel?

You see, love is giving someone everything they need to hurt you, but having faith that they won’t.
So when you say, "Oh my god, I love Beyoncé!" What you're really saying is, "I've invested my time, money and energy into this person who so far has lived up to their end of the bargain by delivering something that I thoroughly enjoy. But the minute she delivers a lackluster album, or considering your level of love for her... two lackluster albums, you're going to pack your bags, chuck up the deuce, and bounce with that 'don't call me, don't text me, stop trying to reach me through your videos on youtube' attitude."

Fast forward.

So, you see, if music can give you the highest of highs, then obviously it can deliver the lowest of lows. That's just the laws of nature. Like any child with a Lego set, you build things up to knock them down to build them up again. It's instinctual.

Rewind.

This started about music and pain.

Play.

"Hop up out my b..."

Skip!

Did that hurt you like it hurt me?
Anyway... Getting back on track. I guess my point of this is for everyone to remember, the next time they're rhythmically writhing with someone over the earth-shattering rumble of the bass and ear-ringing hiss of the tweeters... remember that the song that right now makes you yell, "That's my sh*t!" may one day cause you to say, "Turn that sh*t off!" All because of the melodic structure full of strategic chords and reflected reverberations that now resonates with a void in your heart that was created the day you chose to forget the words to your favorite song.

If that's not pain, I don't know what is.

Stop.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Love Is A Unicorn

How can anyone find real love?
Such a seemingly impossible search. We might as well be looking for unicorns.

How can we expect anyone living in this day and age to truly find love? Or even know it when they see it?
What does it even look like? What does the product of a single-parent home think of the possibilities of finding a mate to love for the rest of their life?

I'm not talking about that mother-to-son, brother-to-brother, 'hey... I might not always like you, but I'll always love you', I didn't chose to have you in my life but I'd rather die than lose you from it kind of love.

No.

And I'm not talking about that bff, known you since I was two, best friends for as long as you don't piss me off, I'll cry on your shoulder every time I don't find the love I'm actually talking about kind of love.

Nope. Not that either.

I'm talking about that 'in sickness and in health', hold your hands even when they're ashy, look into your eyes and know everything you're saying, kiss you with morning breath, rub your feet even though I've been walking all day, willing to watch you age... even though I know that it means that you will slowly go from my type go 'My God, you look old'.

That's the kind of love that I've never seen.
That's the kind of love that I've been told my whole life is the truest pleasure in life.

We're raised on stories of adolescent characters going to desperate lengths to get the attention of the potential love of their life. But, why do fairy tales always end when the actual relationship starts?

What does "happily ever after" really mean? Maybe it's "happily even after." As in, living happily, even after falling victim to the 41% divorce rate. Living happily, even after losing your best friend and putting little Jasmin or Jamal through the perpetuating stress of watching their parents fall out of endless love.

These stories, just like life, don't give any real insight as to what you're supposed to do if you really do find love. In hindsight, it's about as frustrating as being a young man and realizing that sex ed is not going to teach you how to make your woman orgasm.
Shoot, that might even help love last.

But no. We are left to build the image of love in our imaginations. And doomed to scrutinize everyone who doesn't live out our fantasies; completely disregarding the fact that they are just trying to live out their own.

I've fallen victim to this cycle. I've been the hunter and the prey. I am the lost lover who has advice for everyone but myself. I am that product of a single-parent home who's just trying to find what he's never seen. Trying to be the example that I never had. Trying to start my fairy tale where the others end.

Somehow I still have faith in the mystical, magical, practically unknown for this millennium thing that is true love. I don't believe in elves, fairies, wizards, or trolls. But I do believe in God. And if God is love... and I'm created in his image... I have to be able to find my reflection. Even if I've never seen it before.

So while everyone else is stumbling around the emotional Sleepy Hollow with a heart full of hope and no clear head on their shoulders...
I'll be hunting unicorn.


Live, learn & love!
- The King

How Did I Get Here?

Justin Nozuka's latest album blares through my speakers as I make the same drive I have made a countless amount of times. But today's ride is one that I will not soon forget.

Or ever.

My mind whips its way through a pensive parallel universe as my dissociated body drives itself. The fact that I didn't run into any other cars is a miracle. Then again, I don't even remember seeing other vehicles on the roads that I know for a fact were riddled with traffic. Buildings became a blur as my eyes glazed over with a frosty film that resembled an antique camera filter.

As I recite the words to the tunes that are accompanying me on this trek, I feel the first stream of my eye's salty secretion trickle its way down my face. Songs that used to make me so happy to sing along to are now stabbing me with pain.

It isn't just the music that's bringing this out of me. Nor is it where I'm going to.
It's where I'm coming from.

I just left from seeing you in a way that I have never seen before. In a state that I wished I never would see. You laid there in that hospital bed not knowing what to feel or expect. I sat there next to you not knowing what to feel or expect.
It took all that I had to keep a calm face while by your side. All the while, my brain was being poisoned with 'what if's. I was able to control these thoughts in the moment, but they are currently getting the best of me.

I can't lose you.

My life would cease to function without you to share it with. You have been there for as long as I can remember. Please don't leave me right now. I'm not strong enough to handle it.
That's right, me... The pillar of forced strength is saying that I can NOT take you being taken away from me.
Not now.
Not ever.

The tears continue to pour down my face in a manner that would make Niagara proud. For every one that I try to fight, four more follow. I am now howling the words to the music. It is my only remaining grip on reality in this moment of insanity. The harder I cry, the louder I sing. The louder I sing, the more it hurts. The more it hurts, the harder I cry. My circle of sorrow.

I think about everything that I've never told you. Everything that I may never get to. Everything that I wish I never did. And everything that I can't wait to tell you again.
We have unfinished business. You have unfinished business. I'm destined to be great. And you're destined to be even better.
I'm sorry for every word constructed by me that has ever hurt you. I'm sorry for every word constructed by anyone else that hurt you that I wasn't there to protect you from.

You are my heart. You are my inspiration. You are my focus.
You are my brother.

My car comes to a slow stop. I made it to work.
How did I get here?


Live, love & learn!
-The King

My Schoolyard Sweetheart

I miss you.

My schoolyard sweetheart.
So many years we spent hand in hand. I was your favorite. Everyone knew it. If we walked into a room together it was like all lights and eyes were on us. People on the street used to acknowledge our bond.
We were supposed to change the world together. Do you remember that? I was destined to be better than your ex. Even though I knew that everyone would forever compare me to him. But that was a burden that I was more than willing to carry.

Our first kiss was like magic. Even though it left me with a sore throat.
Every date we had went to second base. Sometimes even more than that.
Remember how we used to love to go to the carnival? We could ride the carousel for hours.
Trips across the country together. Those were the days.
Oh, and that one time at the park. With the Dalmatian. I know you remember that.
Do you remember that one big storm when we sat in the house for hours?
And once that was washed up we ran to the beach to watch the sunset. That one night felt like years.

But that night didn't last as long as we thought it would, did it?

I told you that I had to go away for college. It was really important to me. You promised that you would be here when I got back.
But I knew that things were different when I would go back for visits.
You started to lock your eyes on someone knew. Is he better than me? No. Not even close. But what can I do? In your eyes I chose education over you.

Do you hate me now?

At times you make me question those decisions that I made. But in my heart I know that what I did was right. I didn't turn my back on you. You turned your back on me! I'm still the same man. In fact, I'm an even better man than I was then.

One day you'll remember. One day we'll be back to where we were. But this time I know to be cautious with you. I must act fast at a slow pace.

Do you remember me yet?


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Acid Tears

A tear falls from the back of my eye into the throbbing enclosure that is my skull. A tear that is invisible to the world, yet I can still taste its saltiness.
On the outside I must conceal this pain. My face is the face that must be looked to for reassurance. I am the support behind the tumbling wall.

But I am the skyscraper with shaky foundation.

Don't lean too hard; I just might fall over. Or I may crumble inwards like a termite infested maple beam.
I am a newspaper from the 1920s... in 2010. At a glance I offer everything that you need. But handle with a delicate touch. Too tight of a grasp is sure to shatter my tainted texture. Leaving nothing but the hardened edges that naturally evolved for self preservation.
Quite the useless evolution, seeing as how I am only protected from forces weaker than I.

The tear inside of me makes its way down my body. Burning its path down my chest and through my heart. As it reaches my stomach I can feel my core tighten and begin to heave. I look around for my way of release but all I can see is the shadows. I'm lost in the darkness of a glass room in the daytime. All around me, candles lit. But I still need a light switch. I know that there is a glorious glow cast upon me. By why can't I see it?

My mind is as scattered as the very words I am currently speaking. My thoughts are filled with articulated nonsense. Poetic gibberish.

The tear makes it way through my legs causing me to buckle at the knees. I drop to the floor in a thunderous motion as if a plane flew into my sternum.

As I lie there, curled like a fetus, insides scarred from the molten tears, I raise my right hand and pound it into the floor. Pound until I break through the glass bottom. Just then a recognizable hand from above grabs me and lifts me onto my feet.
That's my hand.
I am my own strength. I can never get back up if I am not ready to.

I am ready.

I take my first step towards the luminescent panes in front of me. I will be the strength that everyone needs. I will be the strength that I need.

But first, I need to stop crying.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Angel In Red

Beware the gaze of the angel in red.

Such a beautiful being with a smile that could change lives.
Only a certified fool could ignore the brilliance that is her.
Your every fantasy is but a mere snap of her fingers.
Your dreams are her past and your future is in her purse.
The click of her heels mirrors the beating of your heart.
Her eyelids are Pandora's box and her eyes are the gateway to Eden.

But beware the gaze of the angel in red.

She is by far the sexiest woman that you will ever encounter.
Thousands of strands of capelli d'angelo, (angel hair), fall gently over her nape to tickle her shoulder blades.
She was born with the lips that Angelina Jolie wishes she had.
Hips, that with every pendulum-like sway draw you closer like a moth to the flame burning inside of her.
And an ass that... ::sigh:: ...You get the picture.

But beware the gaze of the angel in red.

Her halo is permanently disfigured by third-degree burns.
To indulge in her is to enter a world of tantalizing deceit.
Her candy apple red dress is as dangerous as the devilish clerk who persuaded her to pick it from the tree.

As you confront this charlatan of life... remain calm and stand true. Do not be the cushioned landing for this fallen angel. Move cautiously, be persistently observant, and consciously moral. Your life has more purpose than the temptations of this femme fatale.

And so, I say to you... Guard your eyes, turn your head, and beware the gaze of the angel in red.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Fireworks

A flash of light that breaks the unbearable silence.
A thunderous roar that illuminates the jet-black sky.

At this very moment my senses are more sensitive than raw nerve endings. Every touch to my hand sends chills down my spine. The dimmest beam of light to strike my eye is being perceived as the brightest white. I can taste every smell and see every sound. I can even hear the colors in the sky.

And oh, the sound that blue and pink makes when amalgamated resembles the most beautifully symmetrical sine wave tucked in between the course exterior of a saw-tooth bass and the hum of what I can only assume is an angel's lullaby.

My frozen stature combined with the warmth emitted from the sky is leaving me at a precise 98.6. In other words, I feel perfect.

So many nights I have longed for this pyrotechnic display of fine engineering and sheer creativity. And for so many nights I have been left with a blank, barren sheet of sky that seemed to get closer and closer every night, tucking me in to a claustrophobic bed of desolate solitude.
And now, here, on that which is this fine country's day of independence, I feel rejuvenated. I feel revitalized. I feel life... re-imagined.

I sure hope this show never ends.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

From Glue To A Magnet

For years I was an adhesive.
I was the glue that bonded two rough surfaces together. Day by day my strength was tested. I was strong enough to hold up against any third party that took a shot at separating this union. At times I even impressed myself with my sheer determination to put everything that I had into keeping this unit together. No interference from any outside force could break this bond. Not in my eyes at least.

All of this time that I spent watching my back and looking over my shoulder, I forgot to look out for our closest threat.

...You.

You were the biggest test of my strength. You would pull, stretch, and tug at our edges to see just how together we were. You spent so much time testing our hold that you weakened its grasp.
At times we would even pull apart.
But I was resilient. I would always find a way to reunite us. The only problem was, every time that we would separate, we would lose some of that coarse exterior that we started with. Slowly but surely smoothing out our surfaces. You spent so much time trying to sand me down into what you believed to be the perfect representation of what I could be.
But here's the thing... It was those rugged edges that kept us together. Once you filed us down, we were now too smooth for me to grasp on to. I couldn't keep a grip. I had to watch you slowly slip out of my embrace.
And I watched it.
I watched our distance increase without any effort on your end to rejoin our connection.

...Bye...

Here's where the magic happens though.
After I gave myself enough time to clean myself of the last remainders of glue that were scattered about my body, I noticed that my freshly polished edges had a sort of a charge to them. Next thing I know, I was uninterruptedly drawn to someone who had also recently taken the time to clean their history off of them.

I was drawn to her.
She was drawn to me.

This new charge that I was left with was nothing short of magnetic.

So now the pressure is not all on me to keep a union held together. There is an equal force from both sides that makes this not only the easiest mixture, but the most pleasant unity that I have ever experienced.

So, thank you. Thank you for preparing me for the future. Because I am now no longer the glue holding two entities together. I am one half of a unit that would not be complete without each other.

I am no longer the glue. I am a magnet.

Live, love & learn!
-The King

Man From Woman; I Of She

Brought into this world by two.
Accepted into this world by one.

Everything that I am, I am from her.
Funny how the man that I have become, and will continue to mature into, is a complete reflection of a woman. The strongest woman that I have ever known. The most beautiful woman that I ever will know. My life is the fruits of her labor. Literally, her labor.

When she cries, I weep.
Her pain is my suffering.
Her joy is my heart.
Her rest is my slumber.
Her sacrifice is for my benefit.
Her word is my bond.
Her wound is my scar.
Her lesson taught is my lesson learned.
Her son is my brother.
Her laugh is my love.
Her smile is my life.

Sometimes I wonder if he's ever even wondered. Wondered what he missed out on. Wondered what I've grown to be. Wondered what exactly he left.
And then I wonder why I'm wondering.
Wonder ceases.

He would have been nothing more than an unnecessary accessory.
I learned to shave without him. Learned to flirt without him. Learned to play basketball without him. Learned how to 'wrap it up' without him.
Learned... everything... without him.

And I am still here. A man among boys. An example for my brother. An example for my peers. And example for a generation. And most importantly... An example of her.

So here I stand. Man from woman; I of she.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Subliminally Yours

We speak the same nonverbal language.
I know what every look in your eye means.
I can say so much to you without a single consonant or vowel.
You can ease my most viscous mood with a slight touch of your hand against my shoulder.
That slanted smile of yours feels like it was made specifically for me. Maybe that's because I know what it's really saying.
Our personalities mesh. Mesh more than all of the jerseys of the starting lineup woven together. (That's a lot of mesh.)
You even understand jokes like that before I have to explain them.
We are quite perfect for each other.

But you are not my girlfriend. You never have been. And there's a slight chance that you never will be.
Our relationship is nothing more than a heightened friendship. A wonderful friendship. But a friendship nonetheless.

Would we work well together? Probably. Actually... almost certainly.
Is it the right time to find out? Neither of us know for sure.

Right now I am conflicted. Maybe we both are. Neither of us is closed off to the options of meeting other people and taking a stab at a relationship. But if I was to settle down with someone else, my first thought would be worrying that I might be hurting you. I don't want to hurt you.
The same stands the other way around. If you found someone else, I would be more than happy for you. But would I be slightly somber inside? Surely.

For now let's just see what life has in store for us and play this by ear.
Or, knowing us, play it by eye.

I am subliminally yours.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

I Am My Words

I am a reflection of my own written word.
My personality is similar to my handwriting. I might not enter every situation the exact same way, but there is enough similarity that you can tell that it's still me.

I can be as complicated and multi-layered as the most magnificently thought out and well-constructed sentence full of an array of wonderfully descriptive adjectives and a cornucopia of words displaying my distinct and enlightened vocabulary presence and understanding of the English language.

Or as simple as this.

I may keep my distance from you by putting up a shield between us. But I still know how to push the right buttons to get to you.
Consider that my typed word.
But I can still be as personal as a handwritten four-page letter that I took the time to walk to your house place into your hand myself.

So far, it has seemed that anyone who has checked out the book of my life from the world's library has either found it too difficult to read, simply not their forté, or just didn't take the time to learn the author's writing style. I guarantee that, given the right amount of time, focus and attention, this book could be the most fantastic story of determination, strength, love, loss, hope, talent, class, sadness, growth, perseverance, wit, values, family, and integrity.

But lucky for me, just when I was losing my fervor for writing, you picked up my book. You often rave about your appreciation of it's structure and your love for its wordplay. It has become the one book that you never want to put down.
And you never have to.

I am so glad that you can read my handwriting.

Live, love & learn!
-The King

I Wish You Were You Then

In my mind you can do no wrong. It's like every morning the Sun's rays fight their way through your blinds just to be the first to grace your face that day.
You wake up before your alarm clock each day and hop out of bed with a zest for life.
Your skin is softer than the finest fabrics.
Your hair is long and luxurious.
You walk with the confidence of a queen.
You speak articulately and profoundly.
You always smell of the sweetest fragrances.
Your innermost beauty radiates through your every smile.
You balance optimism and realism in a way that makes pessimism feel like a faux pas.
You love the nightlife, yet only engage in it on rare occasions.
You raise the spirits of every person you encounter.
You are the life of the party.
You are the light of my life.

I'm in love with this woman.

...What happened?...

In reality, you are no longer who my mind holds on to. Now even days in the climax of summer begin with a gray undertone that is similar to the eye of a tornado.
You laggardly shut off your alarm each morning and sluggishly slide out bed after thirty more minutes of sleep.
Your skin is now clammy and unevenly toned.
Your hair is short, matted, and the ends look as if you have been teasing your hair for hours.
You walk around sheepishly with your head tucked between your shoulders; as if scared of the world.
Your beautiful voice is now barely heard as you faintly mumble your way through any conversation that you are involved in.
You no longer wear those perfumes that only you could pronounce the names of. Instead you smell of generic bar soaps.
Your smile is rarely seen anymore. Tucked away behind the saddest grimace I have ever seen.
You always notice the down side of every situation. What was once a faux pas is now a stable part of your personality.
You have not enjoyed a night out on the town in almost as long as you haven't smiled.
Your presence in a room seems to tug at the very spirit of every person in it.
You are no longer invited to the party.
You are casting a shadow over my life.

I'm in love with who I wish you still were.

...I'm no longer in love...

Live, love & learn!
-The King

One Car On A Two-Way Street

As the sun lays its head to bed and tucks itself in under the horizon line, I find myself blinded by the incandescent glare that is breaking it's way through the now red and orange hues of the clouds and landing upon the translucent windshield which far from shields my eyes from the striking glow.

I lower the visor.

The intro to one of my favorite songs creeps its way through my stereo's speakers and I instinctively increase the volume up two notches. Always in increments of two because I hate to have my volume land on an odd number. One of my many idiosyncrasies. I begin to sing along to the melodic tune, stumbling over some of the words that I have forgotten. I look to my right to sing along with my passenger.

Then I remember that this is a solitary drive.

I am so used to her being by my side that not seeing her seated next to me almost makes me forget where I'm traveling to. It is at that moment that I am reminded of just how alone I am.

I look back to the road and can see what appears to be miles of pavement ahead of me. Not another car in sight. This is a little strange.

I tilt my eyes up and point them at my rear-view mirror hoping for a glimpse of a pair of headlights. At least that way I could feel like I'm not completely alone in this moment. I can talk to the person driving this mystery car and come up with my own assumptions for what their responses would be. My new best friend for as long as this strip of road lasts. Someone to follow my every move and listen to me rant and rave about topics that are probably only important to me. They can laugh at all of my jokes; funny or not. Sometimes we all just need someone who is there to listen intently and uninterruptedly. Someone to let us have our moments.

I let my eyes finally focus on the mirror and realize that there is no car behind me.

So I guess it's back to just me and the road. Me, the road, and this empty seat next to me. A seat that still smells of her scent. Still has a few of her hairs caught in the headrest. Still set at a 120 degree angle, as she loved to lean back on long drives so that she could stare up towards the sky. A sky that is currently transitioning itself from its beautiful, almost aurora borealis state, to a dark, onyx-like shade of blue-black.

Quite depressing when you think about it.

I don't know if I can do this alone. If I can travel for this seeming eternity on my own. Left with nothing but my own thoughts. That type of thing could drive a person like myself mad.
But it seems that, at least for now, I have no other options. I will travel down this road awaiting the next sunrise. And more importantly, awaiting the next passing traveler that I can share this moment in time with.

My favorite song fades out.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

No Reflection

Every day it's the same routine. I find comfort in our back and forth. Every gesture that we make is rhythmically timed to perfection. Our voices are harmonically linked. It is absolute synergy the way we coexist in this lowly world. The largest pane of reflective glass could not mirror my image the way you do. You are my soul's twin. I can't even call you the better half of me. Because you are me.

But lately I've been feeling like a vampire on one of those shows that I only watch because you love them so much. I don't feel the similarity in their undead, losing my pigment, thirsting for flesh and blood kind of way.

Oh no.

You know what happens when a vampire looks into a mirror. They are unable to see and appreciate something that the rest of us take for granted every day.

Now, as I stare into the looking glass, I do not see eyes starring back at me.

Where did you go? Where is my mirror image?

At first the fade was slight. But, over time, the opacity gradually depleted. Until I was left where I am now. Gazing into the vast state of oblivion. I can no longer tell my left from my right. My up from my down. I can not even recognize my own movements. I slump around lackadaisically with no vision of happiness or sadness. I am in an emotional purgatory.
All I can do is sit here and wait. Wait for you to return to me. Wait for your spark to reignite my flame.

Until then, here I stand. Starring at the glass. With no reflection.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Dammit, I'm A Doctor; Not A Role Model!

It is no secret that we live in a media-crazed society. We idolize people for insignificant talents. Often times they are not even talents that the person excels in. They just use these "talents" enough for us to familiarize ourselves with their faces. More often than not, these people don't even have any talents. They just show up at enough paparazzi-filled events and are awarded some sort of faux-celebrity.

What is the most absurd about these otherwise average members of society being treating like kings and queens, is that we award them this status and then expect them to be examples of perfect lifestyles.

These people are not role models!

Sure, I may be a fan of Rihanna's music, artistry, and imagry. But the fact that she can sing a song that can get stuck in your head long enough for you to buy a disc filled with 13 more does not make her eligible for the 'role model' status.
(And this is not a shot at Rihanna. She just happened to be the first media-drenched singer to pop into my head. But you can easily replace her name with anyone else in the industry.)

We hold celebrities up on a pedestal. We indemnify them in the face of legal woes yet then chastise them for not setting genteel examples for our children.
What qualifies a singer or athlete to be a role model? The fact that they can carry a tune; or throw a ball through a hoop? Because if that is all it takes, I can walk through any inner city and find about 30 'role models' in the first 30 minutes.

Passing off the 'role model' title to these celebrities is just a way for the rest of us to divert attention away from the fact that nobody is raising their own children with the right standards.

Do you remember when the example-setters in society were teachers, policemen, doctors, lawyers, etc? Not T.I., LeBron James, Taylor Swift, Lil' Wayne, etc.
Now don't get me wrong, there are some celebrities that are good examples of role models. But they work to earn that title. And even better than that... they don't do it for a 'title'. Real role models do what they do because it's the right, civilized thing to do.

Now that's a lead that I'd like to follow.

Live, love & learn!
-The King