So I write long posts, cry about it or something.

This is for all the families who think throwing money at problems solves more than attention ever could.
For the people who come out of rainstorms with dry hair and tight hoods.
The people who don't know how loud the stairs creak at night or what the bleachers look like full.
The boys who won't go to senior prom because 'there's no one to ask.'
The girls who don't get asked and won't admit it's killing them.

This is for you, my dear.

For all the kids who let machines eat their quarters to they could eat gumballs.
For the worker and the wife and the wastebasket sister.
This is for the shooting stars that never got wished on, because even in their dying breath,   their plea to be appreciated,   no one saw their beauty for useful.
For the student body officers and the lacrosse kids and the girls who fix their make-up in between classes.
The people who watch para-gliders in awe but never look up the phone number to the dream they promised to take out on a lunch date.

For the wounded and the winners and the wanting.
The people who think talking about the moon makes them deep.
This is for the page of the textbook that's never been seen and the world in the dictionary that's never been said.
The cap and gown gathering dust in the closet.
The restless, the relentless, the receiving.
This is for the blockbusters of the social world.
The scouts who put flags up too early in the morning
The grandmothers and the tea parties and the silly hats.
The PTSD and the cheaters caught cheating.
This is for the Saturday morning cartoon watchers and the Sunday evening comic readers, whichever you are, you're valid.

This is for the voices that were drowned out with the applause and the cashier who meets a thousand new people everyday but still goes home alone.

The world is spinning miracles. Seconds are falling like raindrops in Oregon and you have to catch them on your tongue for full effect. Windy days lead to warmer weather and whether or not you drive just to feel the caring safety of your seat belt is up to you. It's only trying to save your from the villains your mother once read to you about.

Because the Big Bad Wolf takes a detour every once in awhile but if you take the long way to grandma's house too many times, eventually he'll find you. and he's not as easy on the mind as he is on the eyes.

Questions with complex answers should not scare you out of living,  just scare you into existence.

God knows we need more people existing in this world.