Beneath a pile of car magazines and 3x5 photos of Michigan under my bed. Scrawled on a scrap peace of paper, written I'm not sure when.
I feel like I'm always plotting, scheming, or seething. Always jealous over something or someone, trapped in my insecure lies and whispering doubts. Where is my beach? Where is my island? What arrogance! I always want them to come to me. Always. Fear. Fear that they don't want me, never did, and won't unless I scheme...master plan.
The musings, laughter, anguish, and tears of a Stickman living the life drawn for him by the Artist. "I must learn to serve the Artist first, His pen directs my path. He breathes life into these worn-out sticks, And stickmen will see at last."
About Me
- MRJ
- Poor. Student. Firefighter. EMT. Kind. Optimistic. Shy. Dreamer. Fool. Happy.
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