My heart

My mind was sharpened by the stone of work,

My forge, my fires, not able to shirk.

The workman’s hammer came a pounding down.

Again again, it fell upon the ground

Swing after swing after swing made me sharp

The hammer had borne a change so starke

A mind so fine it cut itself to bits

Cared less for joy, and more for all its wits

But silence tempered a different fire,

My heart awakened for a time so dire

What are you doing, you aren’t finished yet!

I stopped in my tracks, mind began to fret.

“But I am well, my path is straight and cleared.”

I didn’t know that’s why my heart had feared.

But tell me mister have you lost your feet?

I looked at them and found them in the heat.

“They haven’t yet, for on this path they’ve led.

Then why are they used as if they are dead?

His question shocked me, thoughts began to lay.

My sharpened wit had then began to fray.

“My legs still live, they stand me straight and tall.”

To stand, my heart asked, that is truly all?

They stand so still you’d think them never used

Not dead, something worse than my heart mused

My mind once sharp had now become most dull

My skull was empty, but my heart was full

I stood and saw the rut I made

Cut into the earth with a sharpened blade

My heart was quiet, silent as I tried

To say I was truly alone, I lied

For I knew truly standing in the heat

That up above the light had always beat,

I saw its brilliance, light, its truth its love,

And I had to face what I saw above.

I felt my legs could bear to rest no more

Began their trek to find a brighter shore.

Out of touch

I’ve left writing for too long, and I miss it.

I’ve written, but not my thought or feelings, my ramblings or rants

So now I am very bad at it.

It’s amazing how proper rambling takes practice like it’s an olympic sport.

People take practice.

It’s been so long since I’ve been able to properly person.

Left to only texts and anonymous posts I can stay sane, but can not flourish.

I need people

I need hugs

And sometimes I need to think about what I’m going to write before I start typing.

Oh well, too late now.

Have a good week

What if…

What if I’m already dead and I don’t even know it?

What if people deal with me becuase I’m nice, not because they like me?

What if I’m doomed by some force of desitny to fail no matter how hard I try?

What if I hurt as I try to heal?

What if I lie as I try to feel?

What if I missed a misatke and left others to deal with it?

What If I misspelled this post?

What if I hurt as I try to heal?

What if I am speaking nonsense?

What if I repeat myself?

What if I am not enough?

What if I rhyme?

And what if I’m wrong?

But what if I’m right?

A List of People Much Smarter than I

This post is different.

It is not about sharking what I have learned,

But showing how I have learned it

If you have resources to add, please expand out knowledge by commenting them below

Screen Writing Channels

Acting Channels

Novel Writing Channels

Digital Art Channels

Actual Useful Knowledge Channels

When the dust settles

I am factually more fortunate than the majority of people on this earth.

My parents make enough money that I don’t have to worry about college or food,

My skin is pale and my chromozones XY so I don’t have to worry about descrimination,

I am academically intelligent with the opportunities to change the world,

And yet the earth I walk on is still soft, ready to crumble.

Nothing more than dust.

I am not always happy.

Unfortunately I know that I am not alone in this fact.

Unfortunately I know that the earth still shakes.

Unfortunately I know that I will still fall down.

It’s hard to admit that you are so fortunate because then the times of pain and agony feel selfish.

It’s hard to admit that you are in agony because then the gifts you have been given make you feel ungrateful.

Those who have been given much feel so pressured that they break, and those who are unfortunate are told that they were never meant to be anything more than unfortunate.

It hurts to breathe as the dust begins to fill your lungs and blind your eyes,

But then you remember to read the words that you once wrote.

The words of a poet, an artist, and a miracle worker, but not one who fought in the battles of long ago

But rather one who stands on the earth today.

You remember the hearts you loved,

The moments you shared,

The gifts you gave,

And you begin to feel a little different.

You still hurt and probably will for a time, but something is different.

Your soul begins to ache for another master,

Not for hopelessness or a void that wishes the world were nothing but shadow, nothing but a neverending midnight where it matters not whether the earth is upside down because it simply wishes for it all to end,

Not for a master of dust, but a master of dirt.

The ground your heart is planted in may still be dead, but now it begins to grow.

It grows until it has no choice but to bask in the light above.

Until it has no choice but to accept it’s place above the dust.

An Unfortunately Idiotic Brandon-84

Int. B Apartment night

Brandon and James enters the apartment, and James flops on the couch.


Crashing on the couch tonight?


Room… too… far… legs… don’t… work…

Brandon smiles. He gets a drink out of the fridge and pours himself a glass. He looks over and sees James dead asleep. He drapes a blanket over him before opening his laptop. It’s dead, and so he plugs it in. He sips his drink while waiting for it to boot up. Once it does, he looks at the screen for a moment. He looks over at James, then simply types ‘Falling in love, without finding a foundation of happiness to stand on.’ The rest is typed out with Brandon voicing it over.

Brandon VO

What a funny thing love is. A creature that you can’t control and yet you try to ride it. A pet that bites, but can’t be put down. An experience so euphoric that you don’t even realize that you’re unhappy. We all spend so much time trying to describe it that we don’t even recognize it in the way we need it most. Love is intimacy, love is friendship, love is sunsets and first dates, campfires and screw ups. It’s what binds the soul together all while we blame it and try to scare it away. In a perfect world we would be able to control our love and our attractions, but in a perfect we would be bored out of our minds. In a perfect world we would be so smart we wouldn’t even bother with trivial things like love and happiness. In a perfect world, there wouldn’t be any idiots.

The word idiots freezes on screen for a moment.

Brandon VO

And so I’m glad I’m allowed into this world, even if I make it a little less perfect.

He saves is and sits back in his seat, content. James quietly awakens.


What are you doing still up?


Oh, just writing about love and stuff. The usual.


So what are you going to do about McKenna? Are you guys, like, dunzo?


I wish I knew. I honestly don’t even know whether I should apologize to her or break up with her.


Sounds rough buddy. It doesn’t seem like life’s going to be giving you a break anytime soon.


Admittedly a break would be nice, but I’m ready to get to work. I’m glad my life is in my hands, and even though that makes it much harder, I know that it will make me a better person. The end may not be clear, but there’s a kind of wonder in not knowing, in things being ambiguous and up in the air. It’s like I’m on a journey that hasn’t quite ended.


Wise words.

Brandon’s phone buzzes.

Well, I wish you luck on your journey. Wherever it may take you


Scrap that she just dumped me.


James erupts into laughter then the credits roll.


The Literalization of the English Language.

I am playing on my phone.

On? Why on instead of with?

Sure, my finger could at times be on my phone screen, but I am not.

I do not stand on it,

Sit on it,

Kneel on it,

Or even lay on it.

I hold it, I play with it.

Actually, with partly implies that I’m using the physical shell of the phone to play.

It sounds like it’s my friend that I always crush when we play a game of tag, or that it’s a ball that I hit with a bat or club to score an arbitrary amount of points.

Interesting how that works.

Language is a stange beast that we can’t really change or control, and yet it’s very existence and meaning is based upon what we think of it.

Anyway, that was my strange mind ramble, hope you at least understood it because I highly doubt that you enjoyed it.

-Courtesy of the mind of Nathaniel Hariff

Now that I’ve finally gotten all my angst out with a few admittedly terrible posts that I would be completely fine with if literally not even a single soul in the entire world read them and they fell off the face of the planet,

It’s time for an anonymous response, and one that I hope will find it’s way.

A love letter, the best that I can manage with my foot always in my mouth.

Niether did I.

I really didn’t expect this at all.

I didn’t expect to find someone so wonderful, so special that I don’t even need to see their face to know they are.

You are invaluable, you are indescribable

I may not have a way with words or impressive shows of emotion, but I do know one thing that is true.

You are loved.


I don’t care what your weight is, what your height is, what your gender, or party, or race, or sense of humor, or favorite flavor of ice cream is, which I must admit was in good taste, but that’s besides the point.

You are loved.

Seriously. I would not trade you for cans of beans or popsicle sticks, nuclear warheads or shoe strings.

Even if you feel unseen or unwanted, you are loved.

What a relief it is to be vulnerable.

To be completely understood and unable to hide from those who have read your thoughts and searched your mind.

What a relief it is to love someone even if you may never see them

Never meet them

Never even learn their name

And yet all the while know that you would be at their doorstep in an instant

Ready to share some loving words if needed

And recieve a promised embrace.

What a gift it is to share our lives,

And to share our {moment}

With Love, Patience, and a bit of lime juice,

Nathaniel Hariff ❤