Erek Smith

I've always been an extremely approachable guy. For as long as I can remember, all the friends I've had have all had one thing in common, no matter when I knew them or what walk of life they came from. They always felt they could come to me; they felt comfortable around me. I'm what is generally considered a "nice" guy, which is great for building strong friendships, though it does present problems in the dating department. Anyway, over the years a lot of my friends have come to me asking me for advice and I've always done the best that I could to help them in any way possible. There's this one guy though. He keeps coming to me with problems and asking me for advice, and everytime I tell him something he never listens to me. He goes off and does his own thing, and then keeps coming back everytime there's a problem, and then doesn't listen to a single thing I say.

That person is me.

I can pontificate with the best of them about loving your life and being blessed and loving everyone and everything; but when the only people in the room are myself and the darkness, I become Ernest Hemingway or Ian Curtis or (insert famous artist that killed themself). I spend hours thinking about what's wrong with me, why whats-her-face doesn't like me anymore, why I should give up trying to write, why I haven't gotten a phone call all day, etc. I always feel like an ass after the fact. I have a pretty good life, I've never experienced real hardship, I've never not had food or a place to live or anything of significance. I don't really know what my problem is, I just hope I can fix it. I should be in love with my life. I'm twenty-two years old, what in the hell do I have to worry about? This is prime time for me to enjoy freedom and recklessness, to travel, to experience everything.

Here's to hoping my heart catches up with my brain.

Last night was one of those nights I was talking about. I felt shitty all night for no reason. Luckily work wasn't very busy, so I was able to be by myself for most of the night. I got a pretty decent poem out of it though, despite the morose subject matter.

It Takes The Best Of You

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To get out of bed in the morning
and fight in the darkness

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To finish your breakfast
sitting at a table for one

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To look her in the eye
without spilling your guts

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To keep a smile on your face
so you can pay the rent

It takes the best of you

Sometimes

To go to bed content
with waking up in the morning

And it gets the best of you

Sometimes



*For those of you that don't know, my friend Jesse Godbey and I will be doing a split chapbook. Should hopefully be done and available at the beginning of the year.

*Apparently I look like a condom when I wear a toboggan.