Josh Plovanic's Writings and Thoughts

Was the past real? It feels much like a dream. It feels like the situations Are not all as they seem. It feels as if the memories Are filled with doubt and mystery.  It feels good to know that the pain softens, The further I get from my history. The pleasantness and joy I get, Remembering the good times, Is a pleasant and helpful reprieve, From remembering the bad times. However, I must admit to you, The memories seem surreal, so blurry and cryptic and dreamlike  as if they weren't even real. The Laughter of a priceless moment With friends, family, or both. Those moments of trial that furthered my greatest growth. The football games in the backyards The video games in the homes of my friends and their parents who loved me, more than I could ever know I often wonder and ponder if the relics of my past, and the streets I often wandered, are there and holding fast, to a world that is getting crazy and scarier by the day, I recall a certain

Go adventure in liberty, Dearest friend of mine! For the purest of Liberty, is truly in your mind. Your mind holds the key to the secrets of your life. In the realm of the physical, the world is rife with opportunities, pleasure and successes in store for you and you only can settle the score, with your past, your failures, your hurt and your pain, when you do so you will live and love freely again. Your imagination is the greatest gift God gives you, Your mind's own power opens the portals that show who, what and where and how to get to those places here and there. Those places and things and achievements the world won't offer. Sadly, often times, here you will suffer.  Here in this place you are given one life, yet a glimpse of eternal adventure with the sights and sounds and tastes and scents and the occasional sense of God's presence. My dearest friend, this is just the beginning, of the gift of existence, the gift that keeps giv

Fortress America Lockdown! Lockdown! The panic and fear! Clouding and distorting the reality here. Our schools, our festivals, our concerts, our parades. Our bridges and our streets lined with barricades Every month or two mass death hits the pages, of our papers, our websites, our news feeds and livestreams. We witness the destruction of hopes and the shattering of dreams. You go to our Capital, the bastion of leadership, of power, of prestige, and of status You observe a mentality of selfish ambitions of politicians surrounded by security apparatus The nation is on edge, with our harrowing anxiety of when the fear and senseless tragedy will strike with an unpredictability that is only matched by the terror and instability that fuels the paranoia and enables the theorists of conspiracies to propagate deceptions and delusions into the hearts and minds of the people of this great nation. We are terrorized from within, from our own countrymen, even our neighbors,

At least I Try,  I may have not been successful, but at least I try. I may be a little resentful, but at least I try. I may have been beaten down, humiliated, and defeated many times, but at least I try. I may not have been the most impressive of men, not the strongest, not the fastest, not the toughest, but at least I try.  When I failed dozens of times, when I stumbled and collapsed under the weight of my distress and anger and disappointment, when I lose friends to the hands of time and distance, when I lose control of my mind, my body, and my words, when I break promises, when I break hearts, when I break down, at least I try. I try to be kind. It is often the easiest to succeed out of all my endeavors. I try to be respectful. Sometimes I don't show enough of it to the right people. I try to be wise, but I am often a fool. I try to be happy, but my heart is broken too easily.  I try to be bright, but many times the light is dimmer than I think it is.

I wish I had peace. True peace. I think about violence too much. I get drawn into violence too much. When tragedy strikes somewhere in the world, I become fixated on it's cause and consequences. My anxieties and fears often feed themselves. I am always worried about losing a loved one or friend to some unfortunate situation. I worry if I did my job right. I worry if I said the wrong thing to the wrong person, or if my private thoughts that I vocalize cause concern to someone who might have overheard it. I find myself haunted and tortured by things that I have said and/or did that caused immense discord and suffering to myself or my loved ones. I can't get rid of the memories. It keeps me up at night. I always thought of demons as being scary monsters with ugly faces and vicious smiles and grimaces that want to kill you and consume you, but I found out demons are often the voices in your head that tell you you are worthless, you are going to hell, and those demons often use your