Sam O. Bscure





It sat upon my shoulders, with beady eyes and gleaming teeth.

Sometimes It was light, a presence lurking still, but I was able to keep my shoulders square. I was able to keep my head up and a smile on my face, eyes bright. I was fine then.

But other times, It was the weight of the world. That was when it became impossible to stand tall, to look people in the eye, to function. I was not fine then. Continue reading “It”

The Metaphorical Rock Climbing of a Writer

Have you ever forgotten how to do something that is so engrained in you it’s more second nature than anything? Something you’ve done countless times, for countless years. Something you never thought it was possible to forget.
I’m afraid I have. And what I have forgotten is how to write.
It’s something that has always come easily to me. Whether or not what I wrote was good didn’t especially matter, the important fact was that I could.
When I was little, I would write ridiculous stories that were more my own retelling of whatever book I had read recently than they were original ideas, and of course that was okay. Then, I began to branch off, writing my own stories. For a time, I also had a group of friends who were interested in writing and we would work together on one shared inspiration. I thought writing was fun, a casual hobby I suppose, and that was all.
But, then things changed again. I developed passion. I realized that, upon occasion, I really could write something worth reading. And more than that, I realized that doing so provided a release for me. It was a newfound power, and I embraced it. I wrote every day, and even when the words in no way reflected whatever inner turmoil I faced, I still found what I needed.
It was easy for a time, and I think I let myself get a little too accustomed to that. But, then school was starting and suddenly I had essays to write and assignments in a creative writing class. I had never expected that creative writing would be more of a struggle than math, but it has become just that. I couldn’t will myself to write under the pressure. This wasn’t me writing for my own sake, it was writing for the sake of a good grade.
And I believe that is what has destroyed me.
Of course, even this is an excuse. There are so many who continue to write through situations that I never could, and for that I am truly envious. They have found dedication. I thought I had as well, but the reality is I have not yet found the drive that is needed to truly be a writer. It is work, no matter how good you are, as is true with anything.
But, after years of easy movement forward, I have reached the part of a writer’s path where we are forced to climb. And I am simply not strong enough to continue on.
With that being said, I would like to make it clear that this is not a resignation or an acceptance of defeat. No, this is a reality check.
This is the moment when I acknowledge how blindingly over confident I have been in writing, and accept the fact that I am indeed quite average.
And it is now my choice to do what it takes to find the confidence I deserve, not the one I have been blinded by.

Sam vs. The Perfect


Nobody’s perfect. Nothing’s perfect. You never can be perfect.

That’s what we’re always told, and it’s true. There is nothing perfect about any of us. We’re fighting our way through life, dragging our torn hearts and our tattered souls along with us.

And yet, even though we know there will never be a time when we are whole and perfect, we still chase it. We wake up each morning and see ourselves in the mirror. The face looking back at us is ours, but it’s not the one we want.

We don’t want the imperfection, we don’t want our flaws.

How could someone love us like this?

We can’t have these flaws, we have to hide them. We have to make ourselves worthy of love.


Oh, God. That pimple on your forehead, don’t let them see that. Put on some makeup, you need to look like those other girls. Is that your natural hair? Oh, please! Dye that mess! And straighten it while you’re at it, maybe some curls. But not those curls, those are natural. They aren’t perfect enough. You need more makeup, you need the full mask. Hide it all.

You’re body isn’t right. You’re too big, you’re too small. Don’t wear that! I don’t care if it’s the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn, or if it expresses your personality. That’s not cool. You need something tighter, something with a lower neckline. You need this brand, that one isn’t the same. Come on, man! Get these shoes, those one’s are so lame. Bro, what are you thinking? Your hair needs to look like this, go buy some gel!

Well, at least now you look okay. But, that’s not enough. I can still see your flaws.

Don’t tell me how you really feel, tell me what you think I want to hear. Don’t tell me what you think is cool, tell me what we’re told is. Don’t think for yourself, but if you do, keep it to yourself.


Stay in line. Listen to them, they’re telling you what to be. Conform.

Be unique and independent. Be yourself. But, don’t forget to be just like everyone else. Don’t forget that you don’t decide who you are, they do. Be perfect.


But, you aren’t perfect.

You never were perfect.

You will never be perfect.

You are not perfect.




No more looking at yourself just to see what you need to change, just to see what isn’t right. No more hiding yourself behind the mask you made, behind the clothes you wear, behind the words you say.

Look into that mirror and see who you are. See your brokenness, see your flaws, see the imperfection. See them and accept them. You are not separate from them. They are you. So, stop hiding. They make you more than just another body, another face like all the rest. They make you so much more.

Pick up your torn heart, pick up your tattered soul. Stop dragging them behind in the dust.

Hold them up.

This is the you that I want.

This is the you that the world needs.


Nobody’s perfect. Nothing is perfect. You will never be perfect.

But what would you be without your imperfection?

Sam O. Bscure

Sam vs. The Walls

I wrote this for the book I’ve been working on, but because I have the attention span of a gold fish (that’s five seconds, by the way) it took a few turns and ended up on a completely different road from what I was planning…

I had been warned, but now it was too late. They had all told me that trying to break free was never going to work, that there was no way I would make it. To them, the risks were too great. But to me, there was no risk greater than staying. You see, none of them could really understand. While they were all the same, I was different. While they all were more than happy to stay in the safety of what they knew, everything I knew had been turned to dust.

I don’t doubt that they all really believed what they were saying, or that they really thought what they were doing would protect me. But, I know they were wrong. In the end, everything we thought we knew, everything we were taught didn’t matter. It was all lies. And as everyone knows, lies can only hold up for so long. Eventually, a tiny crack will form and spread throughout the whole structure. It happens slowly, quietly. You don’t really know what’s happening until everything crashes down at one time. That’s when it hits you, that’s when you realize the truth and how blind you’ve been all your life.

Maybe it isn’t always that dramatic. Sometimes the truth never manages to escape, and you live your life surrounded by the walls of lies around you. Everyone has these walls, we all build them around ourselves and we all allow them to be built up even more by others. Before we know it, our walls have become ten feet tall and twice as thick.

Breaking free is one of the greatest struggles in our lives. Those walls have become your protection, your safe haven. For years, they’ve told you how to live and who to be. They’ve told you the only way to be a success is to stay inside. They tell you to chase your dreams, go after your goals, but don’t leave the walls. With each lie, they added one more brick. And as more time passes, the idea of breaking free is completely erased from your mind. The walls become the only world you see, you can’t even imagine anything outside of them.

But, there are rare moments, glimpses of what’s on the outside. It’s in these weaknesses of our walls that we see the light shining through, and we get the chance to break free again. The instant you get a taste of what’s outside your walls, you find the truth. All of the walls fall around you and for the first time in your life, you’re truly free.

Sam vs. The Double Identity

You know what I figured out today? I’m actually a top level spy, and you probably are too. I’m talking about the double identity. Its something that almost all of us have mastered. We can almost instantaneously change everything about our personalities as soon as we come in contact with any group of people.

In spy lingo, that would be called a double agent. According to, a double agent is “A spy who pretends to be working against one country but who is in fact working for that country’s opponent; often a conduit for disinformation”. So, just substitute the social group of your choice in for ‘country’ and you have the everyday double agent.

Basically, I’m destined to be the next James Bond or Ethan Hunt. When it comes to my double identity, I’ve got some skill. You might even say I’m on my way to becoming a Special Agent. But, while the spy comparison does make this seem pretty impressive, the truth is that my double identity is the thing I dislike most about myself.

What’s the point in having a unique personality that only one person in the world has if you’re just going to hide it behind a mask of something else? My true identity is what really matters. The real me is completely crazy, confident, and extremely sarcastic. I jam out to music that nobody else can hear (I have some pretty great playlists, by the way), manage to fit random movie quotes into most conversations complete with my imitation of the character’s voice (I specialize in Batman), and, on occasion, pretend to be a t-rex and run around my house making dinosaur sounds. I intentionally fall down, just so I can thrash around trying to get up with my tiny arms. Okay, so maybe that last one isn’t true. But seriously, since when is it not cool to be a t-rex?

Now, I know what your thinking. I just sound like such a cool person, why would I change anything?? But, sadly, I’ve got to say that once I leave my comfort zone and head out into the insanity that is social life, I become an entirely different person. I turn into a reserved, awkward, and self-conscious shell of myself. I do keep my sarcasm though, so that’s a bonus.

In reality, this double identity doesn’t make me more popular or make more friends. It probably does the opposite to be honest… Most people don’t really start to like me until they see my t-rex form.

So why do I still hide behind my double identity? Why do any of us? Everybody has their own reasons. Maybe its just how you protect yourself, if they don’t know the real you maybe they can’t hurt you so bad. Or maybe its because you feel like something about you doesn’t meet all the requirements, you just don’t feel like you’re good enough.

Whatever your reason is, your wrong. There is absolutely nothing better than your true identity. No matter what it is. So, my suggestion to you is to stop hiding behind your double identity and let people know who you are. Or, get in touch with the CIA. I’m sure they’re looking for some new double agents.

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Sam vs. Sam 2.0

Are you ready? Did you make your resolutions, put up your ‘new year, new me’ post that everyone loves to hate, and, of course, make a few of those awful ‘see you next year’ jokes? For some of you, the new year has already started, but where I’m at I’ve still got a few hours.

Personally, I’ve never made a huge deal about the new year. What’s the point in making promises to yourself that you’ll almost inevitably break? Why spend a day to look back on your past when you could be charging forward into your future?

But, at the same time, I can’t help but be caught up in the need for change. I crave the hopefulness that comes with the idea of creating a new and improved version of myself, Sam 2.0.

With all the hype, I feel like I can do anything. I could finish that book I’ve been struggling to write, each day fewer and fewer words appearing on the page. I could actually clean my room, instead of just shoving everything into the corners. I could get serious about my running again, stop putting it off until spring. This Sam 2.0 would be awesome.

When the excitement of the new year dies down, so does my drive. That’s the problem we all face. Without the force to drive us forward, the You 2.0 falls apart and fades back into the old routine.

So, how do we fix it? Believe me, if I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be the severe procrastinator that I am or have a life so disorganized and chaotic that I can hardly know what’s going on. But, maybe we’ve all been focusing on the wrong idea. Maybe its less about creating that You 2.0 and more about finding the real, original You.

Nobody’s perfect, and setting unattainable goals isn’t going to bring us any closer to it. Instead of trying to remake yourself, and do nothing about everything, we need to accept who we are and do everything about that one thing.

Before you can be a better you, you need to know who you are. For this new year, don’t worry about those resolutions and goals. Throw that paper into the fire, delete that post. Destroy it. This year, find yourself. When you do that, everything else will fall into place.

Happy New Year


Sam vs. The Favorite Child

It looks like the ideal family, sitting around the table playing a game together. Taking turns rolling the dice, trying to be the first to 10,000 points. And as long as you keep the scene on mute, everything is great.

But, its when you start hearing the words that the problems start. She’s talking about how great it is that he came home from college to visit. Oh, yeah, and the other brother showed up too. That’s nice.

What about Sam? Who- Oh, right. That other creature I gave birth to. If we could only get rid of that one, then this would really be perfect. Her eyes are narrowed now, looking away from the chosen one over to the parasite that somehow snuck into her family.

Why can’t you be more like your brother, she snarls, I raised you better than this. My eyes have glazed over now, her words hardly making it to my ears. 2,000 more points, then I’m free.

Now her focus is back to her golden child, is he seeing this disrespect? Does he see what she has to deal with? If I hate it so much here, why don’t I go somewhere else? Her perfect family could finally be complete.

I swear I won’t let a single tear fall. I gave up on that years ago. What good would it do me anyway? I don’t care what she says, its not true. If I keep telling myself that, maybe I can believe it. Just 1,700 more points, why won’t these dice just let me win? They must be loaded.

She keeps glancing over, looking for my reaction, waiting for me to crack. But that won’t happen, she’s already emptied me out. I’m hollow. I still feel the pain, but it has stopped giving an immediate effect. It just piles up, filling my shell, waiting for the grand finale.

And I’m waiting too. Waiting for my chance to prove everything she’s ever said is wrong. It drives me, motivates me. I want to escape, get away from here and really be someone.

But, I feel the need to do it alone. I don’t want help, I don’t want to depend on or owe anyone. I want to be able to look back and say ‘See? I didn’t need you anyway.’ Its nearly impossible, I know. But, that’s what I’ve been driven to.

So, you can keep your favorite child. Your golden boy. The one who does no wrong. And you can keep pushing me, further and further. But, don’t expect me to stay. Someday, my hollowness will be filled, you’ll push me too far. And I’ll be gone.

You can have your perfect family, I want no part of it.

Sam vs. The Darkness

I never thought it would be like this, never thought it could hurt this bad. It’s like a knife cutting through me, slowly moving, day by day, closer to my heart. I could feel It more and more as time passed. At first It was just a hum in the back of my mind, but then It started to grow and take me over completely.

Even then, I didn’t think it mattered, I thought I was strong enough on my own. But, when It got out of control the first time, I had no choice. They trapped me in a mental straight jacket. Unsure what they should really do, they just filled me with drugs and set me up on a high shelf where I would be safe. But, I was also alone and left with only It’s darkness fighting in my mind.

The drugs left me as nothing more than a shell of who I was, but to them it was better. They could control this empty, emotionless girl. It was the dark, all consuming monster I was on my own that they were afraid of.

I was afraid of It too, I didn’t like the constant blackness filling me or the thoughts It created. But I hated the trapped feeling the drugs gave me even more. I didn’t want to be dependent on some pill for who knows how long, I wanted to be in control of myself. So, I stopped taking it.

I was alone when It came back again, and this time It was much more sudden, and stronger. The knife pushed deeper and It was no longer a quiet hum. It had become a constant presence that pulsed in my veins and latched onto my mind.

I was numb.

It became louder, thoughts of suicide forced their way in and like a parasite they fed off of the darkness filling me.

I don’t want that, I promise I don’t. But, I’m lost. Its dark and I’m alone.
It’s stronger than me, I know that now.

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