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I just published my first book… “Lost in Soliloquize”

  • Writer: Patrick Shyaka
    Patrick Shyaka
  • Jul 19, 2019
  • 5 min read

So I wrote my first poetry collection and this is the introduction:

I’m a private person, ironically. “Ironic” because I’m in the business of public disclosure, and I’m part of a generation that shares everything. Aside from my daily social posts that allow glimpses into my life, I tend to keep my thoughts, opinions, and words to myself—relatively speaking. Now, if you get me around the few people I trust, I’ll say just about anything that comes to mind. Anything. So don’t try me. I’ll let my mind spill its contents like a cup with no lid, whether those contents are applicable to the moment or not. I’ll dish it all. On the flip side, where the general public is concerned, I often remain silent. I like to think of myself as a listener—an observer. I enjoy absorbing information and analyzing my surroundings, even down to the color of the shoes the girl across the room is wearing (mustard). It’s more by choice than habit. I derive a strange thrill from noticing the details of my surroundings, and I always have. But there’s also a dark underpinning to my silence. Sometimes, I can’t decide if what I’m thinking is what others want to know. Do people really care that some strange girl across the room is wearing mustard-colored shoes? I’m putting my money on the answer being no. If I voice my thoughts, will it disturb the atmosphere? Upset the dynamics of the present moment? Is my input even worth sharing? I think I think too much (as will become clear in the pages ahead), but that’s who I am, and that’s what I’m here to share: my perspective, intimate musings, odd observations, intense moments, and the interior dialogue I reserve for only myself and a select few. This book is filled with short essays. Observations, Poems, Thoughts, Feelings, Ups, Downs, and the in-betweens. I’d like to think of this book as a scrapbook of my mind. A collection of small vulnerabilities. A harmony of notes to self. Much of what you’re about to read was written in the heat of the moment. The darkest passages came to me with tears in my eyes and darkness clouding my mind. The happiest of times were recorded moments after they happened, if only to preserve them in text. My words were placed on paper—or tapped into my phone—when certain thoughts, emotions, and inspirations hit home. I’ve tried to maintain that rawness and sense of authenticity throughout. If you read a piece on its own, you might say it doesn’t make sense or seems random, but when taken all together, these pieces form my grasp on reality. What you’re about to read is the closest thing to my heart and soul that I have ever produced for anyone else to read. I’m cracking the door open a little wider. This is an open diary. This gives my insides a voice through visuals and poetry; this is me spilled out on paper. Each and every one of us experiences the human condition. That is our great equalizer, our common ground, our reason for empathy. We live in a curative space of perfection, especially in today’s world. I’m not happy a lot of the time, and I feel shame about that. It’s been hard for me to find another open soul to confide in and relate my story to. Until now, perhaps. This one is for you. But, more importantly, this one is for me.INTRODUCTION I’m a private person, ironically. “Ironic” because I’m in the business of public disclosure, and I’m part of a generation that shares everything. Aside from my daily social posts that allow glimpses into my life, I tend to keep my thoughts, opinions, and words to myself—relatively speaking. Now, if you get me around the few people I trust, I’ll say just about anything that comes to mind. Anything. So don’t try me. I’ll let my mind spill its contents like a cup with no lid, whether those contents are applicable to the moment or not. I’ll dish it all. On the flip side, where the general public is concerned, I often remain silent. I like to think of myself as a listener—an observer. I enjoy absorbing information and analyzing my surroundings, even down to the color of the shoes the girl across the room is wearing (mustard). It’s more by choice than habit. I derive a strange thrill from noticing the details of my surroundings, and I always have. But there’s also a dark underpinning to my silence. Sometimes, I can’t decide if what I’m thinking is what others want to know. Do people really care that some strange girl across the room is wearing mustard-colored shoes? I’m putting my money on the answer being no. If I voice my thoughts, will it disturb the atmosphere? Upset the dynamics of the present moment? Is my input even worth sharing? I think I think too much (as will become clear in the pages ahead), but that’s who I am, and that’s what I’m here to share: my perspective, intimate musings, odd observations, intense moments, and the interior dialogue I reserve for only myself and a select few. This book is filled with short essays. Observations, Poems, Thoughts, Feelings, Ups, Downs, and the in-betweens. I’d like to think of this book as a scrapbook of my mind. A collection of small vulnerabilities. A harmony of notes to self. Much of what you’re about to read was written in the heat of the moment. The darkest passages came to me with tears in my eyes and darkness clouding my mind. The happiest of times were recorded moments after they happened, if only to preserve them in text. My words were placed on paper—or tapped into my phone—when certain thoughts, emotions, and inspirations hit home. I’ve tried to maintain that rawness and sense of authenticity throughout. If you read a piece on its own, you might say it doesn’t make sense or seems random, but when taken all together, these pieces form my grasp on reality. What you’re about to read is the closest thing to my heart and soul that I have ever produced for anyone else to read. I’m cracking the door open a little wider. This is an open diary. This gives my insides a voice through visuals and poetry; this is me spilled out on paper. Each and every one of us experiences the human condition. That is our great equalizer, our common ground, our reason for empathy. We live in a curative space of perfection, especially in today’s world. I’m not happy a lot of the time, and I feel shame about that. It’s been hard for me to find another open soul to confide in and relate my story to. Until now, perhaps. This one is for you. But, more importantly, this one is for me.

**Here’s the link to get it**

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