The truth about Sarah


The truth about Sarah is that she didn’t know what pill to take when they told her that she had anxiety, so she took the green ones instead of the blue. The blue pills would’ve made her slow, but the green ones made her fast. They were so strong that she ended up jumping out of a 20 story building to her death. And that is the short truth about Sarah.

The long truth is more complicated, but still worth going into detail. Sarah didn’t know what she wanted except that she wanted to help people. But people didn’t help her. That was always the problem. She had strong, idealistic views about the world, but reality always told her a different story. So who was she to trust?

When it came time to marry and settle down, the truth is she realized almost immediately how mistaken she was in her assumption that the man she was marrying was good and kind. Even after the first beating, she made the mistake in assuming it was just the alcohol; the second time he was sober. Then, after the third time, she left him and never dated again.

So Sarah knew when she started convulsing and having panic attacks that the time for change was near. She couldn’t take being stepped on like a floor mat anymore, so she got the pills and took the green ones instead of the blue. And the truth about Sarah was ever more evident when her blood was spilled on the sidewalk of New York City.

The truth about Sarah is that she could have done a million different things. She could have taken blue pills instead of green, she could have married a man who was not a wife beater and alcoholic, she could have given up her petty ideals and unrealistic dreams. The truth about Sarah is that she is just like you and me.

And that is the short and long truth about Sarah.DSC_0015

Nuclear Holocaust featuring Smokey Robinson and the Miracles


Smokey Robinson is singing in the background, as I stare at the deserted city streets that make up my post-apocalyptic world.

“People say I’m the life of the party. . .”

The dead bodies have decomposed and now the dogs are eating what’s left of their owners.

“. . .cause I tell a joke or two.”

The houses are all but gone, the only evidence that even shows they existed are the scattered rubble peppered with dolls and toys because it was Christmas in America when they struck.

“Although I might be laughing loud and hearty. . .”

I’m not crying. I’m just remembering what was going on yesterday, Christmas Eve, when I was drinking egg nog and talking to my relatives about politics. I myself had always bore a feeling of dread toward what was on the news, but to others it must have seemed like a fleeting thought, no different than a passing cloud.

“. . .deep inside I’m blue.”

My whole world is dead now. My family is dead, my house is gone, my friends are all dead. Even my dog is dead. Incinerated, as if it were all nothing.

“So take a good look at my face. . .”

I don’t really regret anything, having done the best I could with the tools I had. I just wish other people had listened to what I had to say when I said it. But then again, maybe it wasn’t worth the time and effort on my part. After all, a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a tsunami half way around the world. That’s what my English teacher told me, but he’s probably dead too.

“. . .you see my smile looks out of place.”

I remember Rose and how beautiful she was. I wish I could’ve seen her face, even for just a moment. She had high, rosy cheek bones and a cute little upturned nose, flaming red hair and green eyes. It was her smile though that made me want to kiss her. If I were going to marry one person, it would’ve been her.

“If you look closer it’s easy to trace. . .”

Where is the music coming from? What is it doing in my world? This world that should be dead; deserted of all things that are good and enjoyable. Why is Smokey Robinson playing at this moment? Why is there nothing to do but stand here listening to this song, trying to make sense of what has just happened. Why can’t the music die along with everything else?

“. . .the tracks of my tears.”

I wish I had a gun. Better to die than live like this. But the music has stopped and there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do. Has anything really changed? Maybe it is me who has changed. I wish I knew.


#WaveofAction and why it’s needed

The worldwide hacktivist group Anonymous and its allies are hoping that April 4th, the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr’s death, will be the next activism storm that will engulf the world similar to that of Occupy. Will it succeed?

That solely depends on you.

All over the United States are activists who are waiting for something to happen. But what is that something, and when will it occur? More importantly, how long must we wait? The truth is that enough has happened to warrant a nationwide movement against various injustices committed by the United States Government. Perhaps it is more important that people do something rather than nothing. Either way, this stunt is destined to be a flop without social media promotion, which is why I’m doing my small little part in this blog post.

Occupy had its share of problems and there is no question we should do better. I think it is unfair to the cause that people are scared out of their wits and in hiding because of fear of the police or fear of the government or fear of whatever else they may be scared of. This is not a time for fear. This is a time for action. We will all either survive or fall by our actions. I don’t think we should be remembered for what we didn’t do.

However, as honorable as it is to repeat certain phrases and cliches, I will acknowledge that this will not be easy. It will require work and effort on many peoples parts. But we must get this going.

So with that said, go to the website and for God’s sake organize!

What I’ve been doing

In case you’ve been wondering why I’ve been M.I.A.:

Keep an eye on for more from me. In the meanwhile, I’m going to try and revamp this little personal blog/site of mine and see what I can do.

Thanks to everyone who reads my work,

Kevin Limiti