I am the girl that can come off a bit clingy
Often scaring those who cross my path.
My thoughts may seem a bit stringy
Coming off to one like a bloodbath.
I will shoot for the stars
Providing those I love with my support.
Depending who looks you can see the scars
This makes some want to abort.
Giving my all with folks that let her through
As they becoming a part of the life.
There are pieces only few knew
I will occasionally show it all within a rife.
No one can tell me who I am
I do not follow a diagram.

The Matrix

I wake up like I never went to bed.
Sleep is upon my open eyes,
yet they are glazed and scarlet red.
I don’t remember what happened yesterday,
nor do I have a semblance of what the day holds.
I schedule my life out to stop the mind decay.
I sip my coffee until I realize for two hours it’s been cold.
I glance around myself,
“When did I put that picture on my wall?”
“Did I put it together or buy that bookshelf?”
Sometimes I wonder if there’s someone I could call?
But for everyone living their lives,
going to school, work, home, sleep-
It really wouldn’t make sense to hear my cries.
I can’t remember how my mind got so deep.
How I can’t recollect moving into this apartment.
I know I pay for bills, electric and such,
I have a garage that has my car now with a dent,
I mean I remember that much.
I used to go to college,
I had a friend, I think.
But school never taught me a good message.
I always felt blue and everyone was pink,
like I had a mask.
I was so perfect, smart and happy,
but at home, there was always a panic attack waiting for me,
a part no one could, nor would ever see.
Somehow I stopped driving to college.
I had several jobs and goals,
yet I couldn’t find my true meaning or message.
Outside I seemed successful with my methods and morals,
but it seems there’s a part of my soul left behind,
somewhere along moving out and now,
I lost my mind.
Either that or the matrix has me now under its hold.
Somedays I feel the grass under my feet,
and other times
I can’t even look at myself without wanting to retreat.
Cause somewhere along the lines,
I lost me,
and I don’t think I can get her back.
Somewhere on the other side of the root and the tree,
ss the life of that little girl I now lack.
God, I just want to wake up sometimes
without shocking myself with my own touch.
To not wonder If I committed any crimes,
cause my hands are calloused and rough,
From something I can’t even remember,
or can even give a second thought.
When I go to sleep at night
It’s with dread and regret,
that I have no idea what happened in this fight.
But what can you do as you watch the sun set,
It’s the matrix.
Maybe one day,
someone will come and it will all be,
fixed.

Hey, you, old man.
This is a letter to yourself and from yourself.
You know all those things you’ve done wrong,
Regardless of who’s fault, or who’s right or wrong.
But this is not of that my friend…
Yeah, it’s amazing.You can call yourself friend now, but you are! ♥
I know those things I put myself and others through.
I remember the dreams and aspirations.All the good things I had for you.
Looking back is confusing and God it just makes me cry.
But I’m gonna try to leave You out too.Because this is a letter to myself. To maybe find out why.
But God I can’t, I can’t look back Because it hurts too much…
I can’t go to the beach, I can’t go to school, I can’t go to church, Sitting bereaved, I feel a fool.
But Lord, I can’t do it, I cannot watch.
Cannot go to Toledo. Cannot go to Cleveland cannot go back to jail, God what am I believing?
Cannot run to West Virginia, cannot hospital trend…
All along.I hated myself, yet all the while was a good friend. ☺
I can’t even write.I’m sorry I can’t do this.
All along my life, it was my own mark I missed.
But that’s a good thing because i’m not in hell…
Only I could see my place where ever if I made, could never get bail.
I’m sorry, no can do.
God thank you for saving me from me.

Birds still chirp their fucking hearts out on crap days,
Like a karaoke star who’s totally lost his way.
And flowers? They’re gatecrashing funerals with sass,
Whispering, “Was it our fucking fragrance, perhaps?”

People scatter when shit really starts to hit the fan,
Quicker than I say “fuck it” to my diet plan.
But the ride-or-dies? They stick like fucking glue,
Like that piece of gum on your shoe, never bidding adieu.

The moon’s up there, changing her damn mind,
Like me in front of the fridge, a late-night find.
So hey, give yourself a break, don’t stress the fucking phase,
We’re all just bumbling through life’s mad, crazy maze.

In the cracks and crevices, we find our fucking groove,
Dodging life’s big-ass feet, we move and we improve.
Escaping the drizzle, dodging the damn pee,
We’re the fucking misfits, making it, wild and free.

So when life feels as tough as a week-old fucking baguette,
Remember, we’re rocking this shit, no need to fret.
In this grand ol’ mess, we might seem fucking small,
But we’re damn well blooming, giving it our fucking all.

It’s like I’ve been trying to get somewhere my whole entire life, but
hitting every red light along the way.
ITS Like my brakes go out
thousands miles too soon.
And like I burn
thru way too much gas after filling,
and I can’t even trryyy to justify
the wear n tear of the motor.
I have Been spinning my wheel
and getting nowhere
for as long as I can remember.
I’m running on fumes.
My tires are bald.
I’m one blow out away from
swerving into oncoming traffic.
My dreams are in the passenger seat
with a broken seat belt, a drunken smile,
and an empty bottle of vodka
that I haven’t gotten the courage
to throw away.
I have a green valley
of possibility in front of me.
And a mountain of regret
in my rear view mirror!
I’m hoping there is just enough
in the tank to make it to the end of this road. CRASH

Dear Tay,

Two disclaimers about this piece before I shoot my shot: actually, three. This is not a letter to Taylor Swift, not a ploy to be your man, and I am not calling you Tay to embarrass you!

So, who am I talking about? Two people, Taylor Rooks and Joy Taylor, both of whom are Black women in sports.

When thinking of these women, I won’t lie, they are very physically attractive and some may claim that this is why they are on TV.

They recently collaborated, co-hosting their podcast called Two Personal. Rooks and Taylor do a great job at their “daily job”(talking about sports) and giving a voice to others to express themselves.

In this joint venture, the duo are unfiltered, authentically highlighting the ups and downs of being a minority, especially in the sports world where being judged for superficial characteristics is the norm.

In the first few episodes, they have discussed topics that are, well… personal.

The episodes have included subjects such as pregnancy.

The theme of each episode is not why I am attracted to it, it’s that my personal takeaway is:

No matter what sport they are covering, the leading story about Tayx2 is not about the work the women do in the sports arena, to me, they portray that being a proud Black woman is what they want people to talk about when the conversation about them starts.

I’ve stated this before: sports was a way for me to hold my emotions in, and yes, you would be pretty hard-pressed to convince me that the final seconds of a game where the 16 seed has a chance to push off the 1 seed from “the dance floor” (March Madness pun) is not more heart-throbbing than when the final rose is given out in the Bachelor series.

But the two can co-exist.

So, thank you Joy and Taylor for showing that talking about the final few seconds of the game does not have to be substituted for talking about the first few seconds of my life. They can be on the same team “dancing” together!

Much Love & Respect,

Jake April

Photo credit: Two Personal Instagram Page

Dear You,

Never in a million years did I think I would be so connected with you, but at the same time disconnected.

The thought of ever thinking of you as a POSITIVE mainstay (I use mainstay literally), in my life is like finding a person who does not know what an iPhone is.

The bane of your existence on another person would literally freeze me.

I could not talk at the mere sight of seeing what felt like a drowning impact you had and sometimes still have, on the lives of innocent humans.

Prematurely punishing them with the ability to not talk!

This confinement… well, it just seems like the prison sentence of Jeffrey Deskovic, a man who spent 16 years innocently behind bars. A person who missed 16 years of freedom, family events, friends, and much, much more, for being wrongfully accused.

This powerful story can be read in the new book – “Unseal Your Superpowers: Letters To Inspire The Hero Within You” by Lauren Brill.
(See bottom for link to book).

So much of my life with you I let myself die inside by not behaving as my authentic self.

I was in a stranglehold with you that even the Hulk would not be strong enough to combat your grasp.

Despite you letting go of that fiercely tight grip, I have the scars to show for it.

After years of healing, the scar’s are still there. All but so faint, no amount of scar cream can make it evaporate.

The pain of you will always be there, nagging me like a tag on the back of a shirt.

I realize that tag is not meant to be ripped off or even taken off as a whole, it’s there as a reminder that sometimes a tag or label will never die, but if you don’t like it you can always use tie dye.

Despite the tag or label still there, this time, I am going to exchange it for one that fits me! Only me — the authentic me! After all, no one can be me!

So, I thank you for the lessons you have taught me, cerebral palsy. Now, I’m going to live life authentically and OWN you, tag and all!

Love your once enemy and now friend,

Jake

Here Is the link to the story mentioned above, and much more.

We are currently donating a portion of our proceeds (10%) to two charities:

Lift Our Voices, which aims to transform the American workplace, making it safer and more equitable for everyone, and Team LeGrand, a fundraising arm of the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation dedicated to supporting quality-of-life initiatives and treatments for spinal cord injuries.

I am a work in progress

Orphan baby that time stole

As I figure out my role

Though sometime just a hot mess

I try to find my true self

Racing time against its toll

Challenging my self control

While maintaining mental health

The haters and the lovers

Inspire my will to thrive

And my desire to stay alive

Lest I dive under the covers

So, in stepping out of bed

I take steps toward my goal

Like a newborn baby foal

To live life outside my head

Have I really been working on myself or did I just change from my work clothes to something more comfortable
Is this depression or is it just the pigment of my skin
Can I defeat you, detach from you or are you so fingerprinted to my thoughts that I’m simply running away from me
Sometimes I wish I could just escape me, myself wears a mask, and I am tired of getting dressed up just to still feel down
I’m black said my mind, I live in the shadows of sadness watching the sunlight from a distance
If only the heat from the suns smile would kiss me, maybe it would melt away my sadness
I’m black said my words, followed by you’re different, they won’t accept you, you don’t fit in
I’m black says the mirror looking at a reflection of depression
I get so lost in my waning emotions my waxing moon can barely breathe
It’s so cold that even the rays of light feel sad
I’m black, I’m depressed, I’m black, I’m oppressed, I’m black I’m obsessed with the idea of my feelings living on equal ground
I’m black, I’m depressed the two interchange while beginning to sound the same so much so I took depressions last name
When I look at me I see one broken piece
I can’t find the rest of the lyrics to my song, maybe it’s because the writer will never finish it
Maybe it’s because I didn’t cry enough to water my heart
I’m black, I’m dirt, but my soil is killing the last remaining rose
I am a rose with bloody red regrets for petals, I put my failures on a pedestal
So, every time I tried to look up it got me nowhere
I’m lost and I keep letting the grey line give me directions, because there’s a thin line between joy and happiness, and in the middle is pity where you can find me
I’m black so they think I stole these 5 minutes of happiness, and so what if I did everyone deserves 15 minutes of fame and mine is coming soon
But right now, I just want to smile and actually feel the laughter hold me instead of the facade that hugs me like a long embrace
This morning I stopped running and looked depression in the face
My mind is not yours it is the Lord’s
p.s. let the battle begin

As a writer, I often find myself discovering scraps of writing I have jotted down somewhere, or suddenly, a line will appear in my head that doesn’t fit anywhere or doesn’t feel good enough. Sometimes, I foolishly let it fly away because it wasn’t what I was looking for at that moment. I have pondered how we do this with so many things. We set expectations and order and refuse anything that breaks the pattern, even if the thing we are shooing away isn’t harmful but is healing. We become so strict within ourselves that we become the cause of our discomfort. We search for relief in one way and refuse to accept that anything other than that specific thing will help. There is a calming effect that comes with the familiar, but only because one thing helps us, it doesn’t mean something else won’t. Here is a little silly analogy. Only because you love fries doesn’t mean you can’t like mash. It doesn’t mean mash isn’t satisfying, even if fries are your favorite. The same goes for everything in life. Are you feeling sad? Then you probably know something that can help, but if you are being entirely honest, can you say you are open-minded and open-hearted to other options? We tend to dismiss things before attempting them and convince ourselves that something else won’t work until it stands no chance. I was against exercising for so long. Told myself that I hated it and did so with such intensity I couldn’t let myself feel how I genuinely felt. There was no benefit because I refused there to be one. I was determined for it to fail, so it failed; however, when I let go, gave it a chance, and approached it with openness, I learned it does a lot for my mental health. This is one example of many. It is strange how this links with my writing and how I have started writing down the notes I would abandon before, and the results have been incredible. Instead of telling myself they are awful and brushing them out the door, I let them stay a while. I give them room in my notepad and let them ruminate.
In summary, I am saying we are terrible at giving things chances, and we should open ourselves to everything. It is okay if you give something a genuine attempt and it doesn’t work out for you, but please try it. Download the running app, try those HIIT workouts, make that recipe you’ve been unsure about, and write the poetry you are sure will suck. In celebration of this, here is an ending of a poem my brain created that doesn’t have a body yet. Hopefully, one day, it will.
“Please call back later
I’m trying to sleep off the silence
And if you don’t understand
what I’m saying
Congratulations
You’re cured.”
(If you like this letter, I write these weekly on my website. I will post more here also, so make sure we’re friends.)

Dear Movie Fanatics,

Where do I start on my mood swing journey?

Well, you all should know a little about my personality. To begin, I am a partial introvert with an appreciation for life. Empathetic, goofy, and humble all rolled into a nerdy late 30-year-old. I go through the swing of life with a healthy mix of career and personal goals. My love life is healthy, and my fiancée is awesome. He is my balance, happiness, and 1/4 of my heart next to my dad, mom, and dog.
Just to give a little background now let’s go on the rollercoaster- fasten your seatbelts, everybody.
Like most people, I go through different moods depending on my situation in life. I have 5 that drive the genre of shows I am going to watch for the day, week, or month.
—————————————————————
MOOD 1 (Psychological Thriller Genre)
Typically, when I start watching films like this it indicates that I have been around complex individuals—usually my friends, fiancée, or coworkers. To add on, I have watched something insightful/educational. My handy dandy TV providers HULU, Netflix, Tubi, etc… are always on the ball with recommendations for what I usually watch but sometimes I like to switch it up on them.
Recently, I came across a movie called “The Loft” which has a pretty badass cast. The plot centers around five married men who use a loft to have affairs however one woman ends up dead and they must figure out who killed her. Sounds predictable to most moviegoers but the writers threw in two great plot twists. Logan’s character, the main one who ended up buying the loft, ends up essentially screwing all his friends over by having affairs with Chris’s wife, sleeping with Ben’s sister (who was a virgin), and Matt’s affair partner. All the friends end up framing him for the murder of the girl, but it ends up being the awkward friend of the group who gave the girls sleeping pills and Logan’s half-brother who kills her.
A lot went into the plot, but I was very impressed with the director’s ability to keep the story on track. I love it when I have to double back on a film or re-watch it to understand the plot.
After awhile, my brain does need a break from all the movie Jedi mind tricks and that’s when I transition to the more non fiction based genres.
——————————————————————————————————–
MOOD 2 (Documentary Genre)
After I have gotten my dose of fiction for a week straight, I start to crave semi-predictable “historically accurate” content. I tend to get into this mood whenever I discover something new about myself or the people around me. Research begins and I look up specific artists of different genres to get their backstory. For example, sometime last year I happened to be listening to “Time Machine”, by Willow Smith, and in the lyrics, she sings, ” Baby, if I had a time machine, I’d go back to 1983. Maybe I would chill with Basquiat, I’d be out there playing make-believe.” The first question that sprung to mind was, “Who tf was Basquiat? Some French guy?”. Without hesitation, I immediately did a Roku TV search and happened to find a documentary on Hulu called, “Boom For Real: The Late Teenage Years of Jean-Michael Basquiat”.
“OMG, this is the SAMO guy!”- I screamed aloud.
Of course, my random outburst scared my dog and fiancée, but it was only because I felt like I had been sleeping under a rock. After watching how prolific this melanated Brooklyn-born artist was during the 80’s, I ended up purchasing a huge Basquiat-inspired “docu-art-book” (roughly 1,000 pages long) and got through 25% of the book as I am writing this article today.
After viewing 1-10 artists’ life stories, I started to wonder if these celebrities infamous or not, were the inspiration for different horror films. I then delve into my Horror Film binge.
———————————————————————————————————
MOOD 3: (Horror Genre)
Recently, I have been curious about the human experience regarding coincidental or inexplicable events happening in the past or present. I researched the story of Ed & Lorraine Warren. While most people thought they were “Kooks”, I found the integration of their career in “The Conjuring Universe” to be quite insightful. Curiosity at this point got the better of me and I began my binge of the whole series. From “Annabelle” to “The Nun”, each movie kept my attention for following the storyline. Jump scares used in moderation make for a great horror film in my opinion.
Afterward, I go to the old-school films that set the bar for the horror franchise today. Films such as “Child’s Play”, “The Exorcist”, “The Shining”, “Alien” etc… I am a firm believer in giving homage to the originals. Eventually, after my subconscious tricks me into believing I am being chased by an evil puppeteer, I begin my transition into a animated viewing experience.
————————————————————————————————————-
MOOD 4: (MANGA/ANIME/CARTOON GENRE)
I usually get into my animation craze when I need a dose of comedic relief from any horror or non-fiction binge I finish. Anime, Manga, and cartoons hold a special place in my heart and brain. Maybe the fact that someone’s inner child brought their imagination to life is what draws me in so heavily. One of my favorite anime series is Cowboy Bebop. Alongside this masterpiece, I also love “Samurai Champloo”, “Trigun”, “Attack on Titan”, and “The Boondocks”, just to name a few.
Afterwards, I go down memory lane for my dose of nostalgia and start watching projects from Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, and Cartoon Network. “Samurai Jack”, “Hey Arnold”, “Code Name Kids Next Door”, “The Proud Family”, etc… bring me down memory lane and my loved ones talk about which episodes resounded with us the most.
Recently, I made two cartoon theories on the TikTok app. Both theories focus on the possibility of cartoon characters being reincarnated on other cartoon shows. For example, I made a theory video about Susie Carmichael, from “The Rugrats” being reincarnated as Ms. Zorski the drama/English and music teacher due to their hobbies or life events in each show. As a result, I have come up with 5 video theories that are in progress as I write this letter. I love the fact these animations can get your imagination running wild. After a while, I need to come back to “reality” and I end my monthly genre binge with a more adrenaline-based viewing.
——————————————————————————————–
Mood 5 : (Action Packed Genre)
Finally, I end my monthly binge with some blood-rushing special effects and ass-kicking films/tv shows. I usually get into this mood after watching manga turned into anime shows where the fight scenes get my blood pumping. My favorite action film is a mix of horror/action, and it is “Blade”. I know that is technically “cheating” but his killing vampires and the fight scenes using Wesley Snipes are downright awesome. I always get more inspired to learn self-defense in my spare time as a result of watching an action-packed movie. I’d also venture to say that the actors/actresses also inspire me to get to my ideal body. Special thanks to Halle Berry in “Catwoman” for her perfect curves in tight leather. Standing ovation for Salma Hayek in “Dusk till Dawn” for her two-piece bikini dancer body. Honorable mention shout out to Angelina Jolie for making it cool for girls to look sexy in hunting gear with gun holsters.
After I tire myself out mentally and physically, I give the action genre a break and restart the binge process all over again.
————————————————————————————–
In conclusion, my taste in movies has changed over the years but my personality has played a role in the films/tv shows I have had the pleasure/displeasure of viewing. I’ve concluded that my rollercoaster always encompasses these 5 main genres. However, they do not always follow the order of the genres listed in this piece. Sometimes, I can have one mood for two to three weeks at a time and I could end up watching one genre for 3 weeks and switch it up at the last minute. (Especially if I am feeling impulsive).
So, I challenge all my TV/FILM fanatics to look into their favorite genres and reflect on their process for picking what they want to watch for the day or month.
Ready, Set, GO!

In the realm of whispers, where simple truths twist and turn
Resides the tale of crayons, damaged and yearned.
“They still bring color ” they say, with a glance
Those who have tried know its a flawed dance.

For crayons though vibrant and bold
Struggle, in hands that fail to hold.
The canvas awaits, vast and forgiving
Fragmented pieces make coloring less than living.

Coloring, not painting; the distinction is clear
One wields crayons while the other brushes near.
Yet the challenge endures with these parts
Smooth strokes of joy elude us like lost arts.

Lines appear jagged and hesitant, on our quest
With each tiny fragment causing hues to fade best.
The persists “They still bring color indeed ”
Oh how we long for crayons to succeed.

For isn’t true bliss found in slow glides?
In crayons that smoothly coincide?
Yet from brokenness we learn resilience imbued
Colors emerge despite abuse endured.Well you know when it comes to coloring with crayons it’s not as easy, as using the ones. It’s like a story of never giving up and facing our fears. Actually it could even be seen as a metaphor for more than just coloring.

In both life and coloring those who are broken may still manage to leave their impactful marks.. Lets not pretend that it’s just as simple or fair for everyone. We all have our own challenges and obstacles to overcome, both in our lives and, in our endeavors.

I don’t mean to sound conceited
But now I’m focused on respecting me
I’ve lived my life trying to people please,
Finally done with it, I broke free
I need to respect me
By setting boundaries
Boundaries stronger than Titanium
I need to practice saying no
Saying no to compromise
And stand firm in my beliefs, feelings and healing
I need to practice discernment
Keeping my vulnerabilities away from those
Those who only know how to hurt me
I need to practice patience
That word used to scare me
I used to be so hard on myself for not
Not progressing as fast as others
I need to stop comparing myself
I have my own pace and they have theirs
I need to practice confidence
I need to walk in boldness and grace
Like a Lioness with pride in her prowess
Stomping on the skulls of what used to haunt me
Terrorizing my sleep, making me drowsy
So I can’t live to my full potential with this chronic fatigue
Afraid to sleep because the girl I saw
Seemed to be impossible to be,
So I shut her out to have depression keep me company
I thank my Father for pushing me and encouraged to fight
So i take my sword paired with my shield
Decimating the lies that the demons wield
Their voices no longer linger in my brain
All because I fought without restrain
I wont tolerate what I don’t deserve.
I need to take care of me
So I have the capability to be a blessing to others
I need to put my healing first,
So I don’t bleed on the ones who didn’t cut me.
I need to trust myself,
So I can discern who I can or cannot trust.
I need to respect myself,
So I can respect those I love that surround me.
So that way I’m not plagued by hypocrisy.