From the Desk of Nick Lecuyer


Mom Heart

I’ve based my definition of right and wrong on this woman. I feel good about the size of my heart and my capacity for love because she taught me. I envy her strength because it can’t be taught but I’ve got her heart and shes got mine. So mom, heres to you.

When I sit and think about where I came from, there are two sides to the coin. On one side there’s a resolve and a commitment to success and proper etiquette. A demand for results and a respect for the hard working, responsible man. On the other, there is compassion, love, empathy, strength, perpetual work ethic, a demand for self improvement regardless of how flawless you’re seen through another set of eyes. I respect and appreciate both tales but I’m drawn more towards a soft heart and a tearful eye than I am a strong arm and stern message. Mom, it’s your fault that I know who I am and I’ll love you for that until the day I die.

So, I want to go ahead and tell everybody that you are perfect.

— 4 months ago
Ballad of a Lonely Boy

"Dear god, what did you do?" I’m still looking for the answer but I’m living with the question.

incidentally you taught me how to feel. Everything before seems so superficial now. Like I’ve been wounded and I’m looking back on a bunch of scrapes. I’ve been hurt before but you broke my heart. Nine years running, I’m delicate. Fragile. Weak. Some nights I lay awake thinking about how I pretend I’m good. Like my heart has healed and I’m whole again so I don’t have to admit to being vulnerable, not on my watch, not this late in the game I think. It gets tiring.

You’re just a young man in the ground. Reduced to a memory and not even a note to explain. I don’t understand it but you’ve made me live with it. Surely you must have known you were lovely.

You’re just a young man in the ground and I’m just a lonely boy without a friend. So here’s to you, you miserable fuck.

— 5 months ago
I love my wife

We live a struggled life but I love my wife. Out through the front door and into the wild world we question who we are and where the grass is greenest. It was when I met her that I realized she is it. She settles my mind, calms my nerves and steadies my hand. I love her flaws more than her successes because it’s proof she’s human. We share goals, money, meals and best of all, time. She helps me swim because she’s stronger at it than I am. She has will, she has persistence and she makes me happy. 

Life has given me wins, and it’s handed me losses but to finish this thought I’d reference my biggest victory yet; my best friend, my future, the basket in which I’ve placed every last one of my eggs. I’ve counted them all before they’ve hatched and nothing could ever make me feel better. 

I love my wife and someday I’ll be able to give her a ring.

— 6 months ago with 1 note
Open Fields Behind Me

Ever feel like you were born in the wrong decade? I feel connected to the 20’s for some reason, like I was meant for a simpler time. One that denied forward thought unless it was quiet and successful. Innovation was possible but it took balls, not genius. Maybe once I’m gone and later generations think back on the time I lived, I’ll be satisfied that I’m vintage. Maybe rather than looking for greener grass beyond the next hill, I’m looking for open fields behind me. I like to romanticize everything and I’m rarely satisfied with reality so I dream. I escape into an imaginary world of years gone by and I pretend I know them personally. 

Love. What a word. Finding our path through it is an adventure we all experience regardless of who we share it with. I find myself in it and I reintroduce myself daily. Somehow in my mind it meant more when things were simpler though. We had more time to consider it. A willingness to recognize it and a larger capacity to embrace it. The days revolved around it and it was expressed personally rather than digitally. We’re victims of our time. 

It’s time I regressed.

— 6 months ago
These Long Rides Home

Sitting here silently, watching while pretending not to, I’ve realized something…

You’re never really alone, not in this city anyways. If it’s not the guy in the seat next to you on the streetcar, it’s the lady in the apartment across the courtyard that has a perfect view of your living room. All I want is silence yet I feel like I have to create it within the confines of my own head. I sit and stare blankly a lot, lost in my own desires and day dreams. The city moves around me while I sit motionless, emotionless… Empty. 

I swear I’ve developed claustrophobia since moving to this over priced, over-hyped city. I long for the open air of back home, the familiarity and warmth of a cold Ottawa winter. I miss dry socks and enough space to scratch whatever itches. I miss the simplicity of my commute and I’d kill for a meal that didn’t include cilantro. With the turn of the season comes the turn of my attitude. I’ve become jaded here, cynical and unhappy. The simple things I used to find joy in don’t seem to do it for me anymore. Maybe it’s the lack of sun light, maybe I think too much, I’m not sure but things are starting to catch up to me. I’ve discovered that my positivity has boundaries here.  

It’s funny how no one feels sorry for you, none of them do. They sit back in their own comfortable lives and pretend you don’t exist. Look at them all, they don’t care, they’re just sitting there, waiting for their lives to happen. I laugh internally at my own hypocrisy. Self realization is a bitch. I’m always the first to know when I’m being an asshole, I guess that’s why I have such a hard time understanding the idea of an ego. If ignorance truly is bliss then I bet they’re nice to have. Fuck, I missed my stop.

These long rides home.

These long rides home…

— 6 months ago