Ben Bonkoske

I doubt that two people will read this. We must accept our inadequacies. Forgive ourselves for not being what we want to be. Forgive yourself. You deserve it after a long day of doing nothing and eating ice cream. Here I am, at two o’clock in the morning and there I go. Forgive yourself. I don’t do half of what I say I will, but the half I do do, when I do it, often overcompensates for my worse days. I don’t have a lot of bad days, just hours that last too long and make me feel void of meaning. And then I do nothing. Guilt. It isn’t until it is twilight when everybody is asleep that I find the time to let my heartbeat. Blood my loved ones, blood that is warm as the lake in my veins. It is worth the whole day. I don’t have to try because I should know by now, I’m not getting up in the morning. My brother is visiting tomorrow. We’re not letting him inside because my dad is…crazy. He’s mean to me as I expect, but it makes me try harder. My brother taught me that trick when we used to play videogames. I can’t decide on “the half brother character” in the book I’m writing but I want to go with Dean. Connor has a more symbolic meaning to me. But hot damn I like Dean. Should the art suffer over sentiment? I think it might add to my good nature, and be a worthy story if I ever run into Connor again but I’m so tired of not asking for attention; Doing the things I love for nothing else. At the same time, I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m happier without being told I’m lesser by people who don’t know any better. Nonetheless, I’m trying to get paid for writing. It’s a stressor. I just want people to read…anything at all, maybe by me, but besides the few I know, they don’t, and none of my friends read my first book, except one. I still think Spoon in the Road is kinda good because it makes me smile whenever I give it a look. I know it’s not important but it still made me sad. I heard once that brilliant people think they are stupid. I did too, once, apparently not often enough. Was it worth a broken heart? Worth the sentiment? Love is so short while forgetting is so long – my Spanish poet friend once said. Forgiveness is a necessity, even to yourself.