They do, you know that? Pictures do tell a million emotions and thousands of words.


I don’t know what is getting into me these days. Maybe it has to do with me writing my past and then that makes me horrifically sad, so I occupy my mind with silly things. Like, say for instance, looking up important people from my past to see what they are up to nowadays.


No question about it, I google you. I’m freakin’ curious as hell and I guess a part of me will always hope that you are doing well (and yes, I hope that I am doing better…but I try not to let that show as much).


Last year when I saw you, I couldn’t help but think you looked tired, old, and miserable. You aren’t THAT much older…so why do you have gray hair? Why are your eyes sunken into your face? Better yet, why are your eyes so dead?


Once I remember you did smile and laugh. Your eyes had flavor and a little dash of spice. There was always something magically hidden in your eyes.


But now they seem like dead coals just falling into the doughy white powder of your face.


What the hell happened to you? Have you not gotten everything you wanted? Are your street credentials not up to par? Or is it like I said once to you…you burned yourself out and now you have no one to “be young again” with?


I look at you and, to me; it looks like you have lived three lives in under a quarter of a century. You ran so quickly after what? Paper? What did you gain for all that running? More directly, what did you give up to run so far ahead?


What good will papers and credentials after a name do, if no one can talk to you? If there is no one who can look back and laugh with you…if you have no one to truly be goofy with…then what kind of life do you have? Why did you put your time and effort into paper when you could have put it into people?


Maybe I am wrong. Maybe you are very happy and have kids that just light up your world. Perhaps you have a loving spouse and a great job. Maybe you laugh all the time with family. But my guess is your laughter is as hollow as a chocolate Easter bunny. Don’t you remember seeing your first chocolate Easter bunny and thinking how all that height must equal some serious diabetic coma, but then once you bit the tip of the ear, it just crumbles into itself? Do you even have time for small memories like that?


So are you just going to continue quickly dying or are you going to do something about it? I mean, you raced towards everything else, why not race towards your death?


Your eyes are already there.