A new encounter with a first impression...

I started to wonder. Like seriously question, who he melted into. I've asked myself this a century of times, but he clearly became diabolically altered. His eternal mask changed for the slums so I thought, and his actions finally monopolized his once baby-bottom character. To add to this moral downfall, a new arm constricted his shoulder like a loving, killing anaconda. As for the chick, she was one of those perfectly sculpted blonde's, nothing you couldn't find in a porno. And don't get him started on her either. Shit, she was this "Godly" creature, kindly dawning her presence on us like The Beatles.



She came over one night, carrying Leo behind like just another faceless man in the crowd, but I just didn't get it, I really didn't. I mean the guy had more money than a machine could print, but still lagged behind some girl identical to every other Pamela Anderson look-a-like that attenuated the streets. Now tell me if that makes sense.


I was especially depressed that night too- listening to Fleetwood Mac and The Police. I love the oldies, and the way they somehow carry me to an age that only a time-machine would permit.

So they walk in, and all she does is ramble about her aunt, uncle, some family member shit I don't know, and how he's this "Big Time Movie Producer." The chick did not catch that I lied in favor of the written word, and simply just didn't give a Fuck; my bitter hints of disgust flew high above as you can see.

I just sat really, observing the two. I would, could, and did just walk out on my balcony in all of the sudden botheration, and listened to the birds intertwined with the poetry of the frustrated honking horns, hoping with my mindful adventure their presence would somehow vanish. I turned around, and yep, there they were. Still cuddling under one another like Siamese twins, but in reality were New York and California.

Something hit me-hit me hard. I turned away from my rocky, and confused moment of meditation and saw it. What I saw proved me wrong, so, so wrong. Her eyes, similar to the prostitute on the corner leaked a certain tangy smell of passion, and understanding for the world that many just don't see. I'm sure, nearly positive that you sit there questioning my ability to characterize someone by their implanted spectacles, but so be it, I can easily add you to my list of cell-lacking bulls that wish to rule the elegant swans. I would bet, bet a lot actually that your not seeing through my telescope right now. I'm not surprised really, you have no feeling when it comes to viewing the multiple faces of people, and differentiating those colorful covers with that of their solid core.

Why did I take her immediate actions as an absolute in dubbing who she was, Sara that is? Why did I?


I guess, as much as I don't want to say it,I stooped down to their level in my state of depression and withdrawal from my healthy pills, but I awoke; the real man was re-born and my mind began to function once again without my little sweet tarts, believe it or not. What I'm trying to say is, and I don't know if I've made this clear, but adjudicating by the cover can lead to a life time of misunderstanding.

For instance, I saw this girl walking a promiscuous yet sentimental walk, and naturally fell for her, but for reasons my weak mind can't put together. Upon our first conversation I judged her, judged based on a materialistic vibe she electrocuted into me, I guess thinking she would impress, but I'm not really sure. We were still young and everyone was like that, but I was a little more advanced, and my conclusions led to years of belittling fighting like Civil Rights Activist. I was never given my shot, my rightfully deserved shot at love with her, but it was all my fault, my fucking fault-I am crazy. I liked the girl, but my actions were mismatched with my feelings, for some reason...

Don't judge. Don't you dare fucking judge someone by your first, one-sided impression. In doing so, you are counterfeit money of a person, a title you only felt they held. Follow your heart for meaning, not a rocky boat of a mind.

Why did she, why do we, why does the world always do it, upon meeting a new face. Most likely this idea of first impressions has been truthfully injected into our minds, but note, why does it matter. Your will to impress holds no purpose, no meaning.

So, what?

You act like a fake buffoon, and get new fiends. I more commend you on being a complete blockhead. They are not friends mate, if you can't shed your real soul around them without being viewed as Leo at his first lunch-in.

And then you'll change, change so fast you won't even notice. You will get lost in excuses, and convince yourself you are doing the right thing. Priorities my friend, what the are your major priorities when defining who you really are.

Please, I advise you do not make the same mistakes I have, the same mistakes that leave me a man that can't leave his house, fearing their influence will kill him. Be bold, be an ox, believe in any sort of God, person, or element that will allow you to walk your walk in any situation, and amongst any group of American idol judges.

And am I smart, strong, thick boned?...Whatever you want to call it.

My friend, I can't leave my house.... I don't know who I am.