Pisaries Creator

Instead of saying dear so and so, some people decide to write something different. They might call someone by a name the person never uses. The person of great importance calls them by a nickname they don’t particularly care for but does it anyway. People can be selfish in their own little way. Maybe, there is something missing from the person’s life and makes them feel better inside. This seems innocent at first glance, and it probably is, but over time nothing seems that innocent, even little old me. The reality turns into a nightmare and the little child that never grew up hides behind the adult mask. Happiness as we once recognize is never the same as we grow taller and larger.

This feeling of being wanted is important so we try to find a replacement in every place not yet fully searched when it is taken from us. The last night of our final resting place should be viewed as a vacation to our torturous life. We convince ourselves we are ready to leave when the days get tougher instead of easier. We know deep down this is not our ending. The delicious pizza we made was absolutely beautiful what we believed was our last weekend together. The pepperoni was placed perfectly among the sliced mushrooms and sliced black olives. We are ready to feed our mouths again. Another vacation is long overdue. All my senses are working together for the greater good. I am ready for another pizza. This time I want to make my own pizza to feel useful.

Even with this desire, I know my days are limited. There comes a time when we face the music. We need to sing a new song. Give me the reality of feeling different. I am ready. The pizza is ready to eat but this too has failed. Somehow it is upside down on the floor and in my effort to not make my night a complete failure, I pick up the toppings and place them on the broken crust. The cheese has long strands of hair. Half the sauce is blended into the carpet. A few black olives have rolled away. When I scoop them up, my fingers feel added remnants of past eaten meals by the way of crumbs. The majority of my life can’t be redone. There is no going back in time or place. I am tempted to start the whole process over again, but I hate wasting food. This loss of time bothers me. I am not able to feed myself or those around me.

People give me unsolicited advice all the time. This does not bother me. Have I given this any thought. Have I given that any thought. You have some good ideas, but in the whole scheme of things, it’s not the right time. We will not tell you this, but you aren’t ready for the big leagues. We want to keep you where you are because this makes us happy. We want to continue our power and force you to second guess. Try to make the pizza again but don’t be surprised when it comes out charcoal black.