Snap

A piece of her snapped.

Broke.

Cracked.

Like a twig under a foot in the forest.

Like the spider web of splintering glass.

Like trust at the moment of heartbreak.

Sudden.

Quick.

Instantaneous.

Snap.

And just like that, she was different.

Dangerous.

Dark.

Careless.

And no one quite knew what to do with the princess who turned into the villain.

Memories of Missing You

Missing you was an intricate part of my lifestyle.
I spent my life missing you.
Even when we were together, I missed you.
And when you broke my heart, even though I wasn't surprised, I missed you sill.
And now, I'm not quiet sure what to do with this not missing you business.
I've finally moved on.
Finally quit that twisted addiction.
Finally.
And once in a while, I see your name or hear something you did, and I feel compelled to miss you even though I don't.
Now the vast, gaping hole in my heart where your memory used to live is smaller. 
Not yet a pin prick but not still a hole.
And missing you seems like a memory too. 

Your Mistakes, Not Mine

How many times do you have to screw up before you learn a lesson?
We've been fighting this for years now and you're still messing up.
I used to want to help, to be hands on and show you your mistakes and talk you out of new ones.
But one person can only do so much.
This time, I think I'll take a different approach.

I think I'll sit back and watch it all implode, and I wont feel bad in the least because, by now, you should know better. 
You should have learned your lesson two years ago when you tried out the crazy for the first time.
So this time, the repercussions are on you.  I'm done trying to coach and teach and help and fix.
Make your mistakes, and get hurt, and be mad at yourself, or whatever else you do.
But don't you dare come crying to me when it's over.
Because I am out of sympathy.  I'm out of patience.  And I don't care.

A Bit of Laughter

I think I cry more than anyone I know.  My emotions are all liquid.  Happy, sad, scared, stressed, surprised, it doesn't matter, I cry.
Ironically, I have no idea how to handle it when other people cry.
But last night I learned that the old saying "laughter is the best medicine" is beyond true.

A smile, a giggle, a hint of a grin.  All for a moment, chase away the shadows of pain.  Weather heartbreak or loss or depression are tormenting you, just a hint of a smidgen of a smile helps ease the hurt.  I don't know what it is about laughter, good, old fashioned, head back, cackling, laughter, but it heals the soul.  It's more than a bandage, it's a stitch for the deep seated scars the world can leave on our soul.
Everyone says it takes more muscles to frown than to smile, so isn't that God's way of showing us we're meant to live joyfully?  Sure we go through tumult and toil and problems, but it all works together for the glory of God.  Maybe your pain will teach you a lesson.  Or teach you something about yourself.  Or awaken a realization that spurs you into the best days of your life.  Or maybe, for you it sucks, but it becomes a lesson for someone else.  Regardless of the circumstance, remember that life is meant for smiling, even when it hurts.  And maybe all you need is a bit of laughter to ease the hurt.

Yet Another Soapbox Moment

I try not to get bent out of shape over much, but I have days where I just can't help it, so once again, I'll hop up on my soapbox for a bit.

Today lets chat about us as a general species and out constant ability to send mixed and damaging messages.

We are in the age of "tolerance" and "acceptance" and letting people be "who they are".  We are constantly bombarded with groups rallying for equality and for peace and for the right to just live out their days as they see fit.  I won't even get into sexuality issues and things of that nature, so I'll stick to the things affecting me.

In all these magazines, we see ads telling us to "embrace our curves".  Now, I am not a small girl.  I've got curves for days y'all.  But telling me to "embrace" them is just as offensive, in my opinion, as calling me fat.  Its like you're saying "well, you're ugly, but you should rock it anyway."  Being fat isn't a sin.  It isn't wrong.  It isn't a flaw.  Its not something to be ashamed of in the first place.  It's not some gruesome horrid card that fate has dealt us.  So stop treating it like it is. 
We wonder why girls have self-esteem issues and anorexia and bulimia, but look at what we're doing to them!  We have celebrities saying "embrace your curves", yet they have not an ounce of body fat to be conscious of.   Nothing against them, but seeing a thin, pretty, girl that we've deemed "better" than me because she's half my weight saying "hey its okay to be fat" doesn't make me feel better.
And if a celebrity gains a few pounds, we slap them on the cover with headlines about "fatal obesity" and "gaining pound after pound" like they've made this wicked mistake and they have to be publicly crucified for it.  Guess what, some of us can't help it.  For example, I have a medical condition that makes it several times more difficult to lose weight than the average person.  I'm not trying to sound pitiful or whiney, but just know that some of us are trying our hardest and it hurts so badly when someone undermines that effort with an off handed comment about our weight.

The fact that "body positive" messages exist sickens me.  The idea they we have disregarded each other's feelings and bullied one another and made mean remarks to the point that the world as a whole is "body negative"  makes me disgusted at the human race.  Let's take the spotlight off bigger girls like me and flip it around.  Stop telling skinny girls they need to eat more!  Stop telling them they're "too thin" or "unhealthy".  Why does that have to be our go to?  Why does it matter if someone is big or little?  Doesn't it matter what our hearts are like?  Don't manners and love and kindness matter? 
I could write entry after entry after entry about how screwed up the ideas of "pretty" and "normal" are, so I'll cut myself off here.  But I'm not done.

Other then physical dissection, we are constantly accused of being something we are not because of our actions.  I'm loud and outgoing and random and silly around people I know, so to outsiders, I seem crazy.  I have been called crazy more times than I'd like to admit.  Some people mean it as a compliment, but since when is crazy a good thing?  And then, when I'm around new people, I'm painfully awkward and shy.  People have accused me of being easily offended and snobby because I'm not overly friendly.
But you don't know me and you don't know my past.  You don't know that I've been hurt so many times, that I try not to open up because Im scared of getting hurt.  You don't know that when someone tries to talk to me, I have heart palpitations and I get high levels of anxiety.  You don't know how I struggle to be polite and normal around people I don't know.  And if you're watching me from the outside when im with friends, you don't know that I feel liberated that I can be myself around them.  You don't know that im faking a smile so they wont leave.  You don't know that im constantly in fear of being crushed again.

So I guess, what im trying to say, is that we have no idea what people are going through, how they feel, or where they come from.  We have to stop prejudging and making up our minds before we have a chance to get to know people.  We have to slow down and see the person on the inside instead of saying "ew she's fat" and walking off.  Or thinking "ha she has to be anorexic to be that thin" and making a joke about it.  Or shutting people out because they seem cold or strange or loud.

If we're going to send this message of "tolerance" and "acceptance" then we need to practice what we preach.  Walk the walk AND talk the talk.  Or else we're just a bunch of judgmental lairs, and I don't want to be seen that way.

My Book

Well today was a big day.  I wrote that manuscript for NaNoWriMo and the five printed proof copies came in today.
It was insane.  I burst into tears when I opened the box and my hands shook like crazy.  I cant help but think of how insanely proud my aunt would be of me.  We were the readers in out family and she would be so excited for me.  I cant believe I've been blessed to this degree and I credit ever ounce of my success to God and God alone.  He has given me everything that made this possible from the talent to the will to the opportunity.  This whole process is completely and entirely devoted to the Lord.

We Are

We are classic.

Timeless.

 

We are black and white.

Pearls.

High heels.

Red lipstick.

 

We are the reoccurring pairing.

Old and new.

Soft and strong.

Sweet and dangerous.

 

We are a living cliché.

Innocent girl and a dangerous guy.

Already enamored and slowly falling.

 

We are the love story you never get sick of hearing.

The once upon a time.

The happily ever after.

The beauty and the beast.

 

We are opposites that will always attract.

Day and night.

Dark and light.

You and me.

Not A Fighter

I'm not a fighter.
I don't like confrontation.
I cringe at yelling.
I like peace.

But when they tore you apart before my very eyes something snapped.  I became angry, violent, strong.

I fought for you.
Tooth and nail.  Blood and all.
I didn't back down from a single argument.
When they criticized you, I defended.
When they called you out, I stood behind you.
I stood alone.

But I don't care because while I may not be a fighter, I will fight for you.

News!

Exciting news for all you guys out there that have any interest in my writing, I just ordered five copies of my book.  I'm not listing them for sale, but I am super excited that I'll have them in my hand!! God continues to bless me and make things happen and it just helps to solidify the fact that this is what I am meant to be doing.  I think if you have that gut feeling, that drive, that determination, it's God telling you "hey, that's the path I made for you" and you should follow it no matter what.  I know that when I feel peace and lightness in my heart, it's God's way of saying "good job, keep going this way" to me.  And I could not be more ecstatic that I found his plan for me.

The Moments

I've ridden the waves of grief for one year and three months.
I've had nights where I laid in bed sobbing, shaking violently while my heart caved in and my chest felt like it was going to collapse.
I've had days where I lock myself in my room and let silent streams of tears flow down my cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away.
I've had hours where I laugh uncontrollably at memories and silly pictures.
And then I have moments.
Moments were I can feel her in me.  I see her likeness when I'm barefoot.  I see her likeness in the reddening of my knuckles as I wash dishes.  I see her likeness in the moments when I catch myself laughing at something she would have liked.  I see her likeness when my chest swells as the leaves swirl across the pavement.
Sometimes a moment makes up for the hurt.  A moment where she feels so close, its as though she's still here.
And sometimes a moment can hurt more than all the pain I've felt in a year and more.  A moment were her absence is wholly and completely felt like a resounding wave of an echo that touches every inch of the earth.
But with the smiles come the memories of love and laughter and every happy event we attended together.  And with the tears come the realization that I had the blessing of having someone I'd miss so much once she left.

How... How... How...

How is it that the same people that once made you feel loved and special can make you feel inconsequential the very next day?
I strive and I fight and I try to reach out, to be a good friend.  After everything I've been through, I'm still trying not to just shut everything out.  And just when I'm proud of myself, just when I think I'm going to be okay, I get shut out by the only people I cared about. 
It isn't fair.  This happens to me over, and over, and over again.  Why do people see me as someone that can be easily abandoned?  Why am I the one who keeps getting screwed over?  I haven't done anything wrong!
I though they understood.  I thought it made sense to them that I was hurting.  I thought they were giving me a little bit of slack because I have been hurt so many times.  And then they turn around and do the same thing that broke me in the first place.
People wonder why I have no friends, and its because of people like this.  People who keep using me and them brushing me off like I'm nothing more than a pesky mosquito. 
How many times is a girl supposed to be broken? 
How much am I supposed to be able to take? 
How am I supposed to do this alone?

Tiny Update

Nothing poetic or artistic or remotely pretty today, sorry.  Just the facts of life.
Well, I haven't been writing as frequently recently, so let me explain.
I participated in NaNoWriMo, which is an organization where you create, write, and finish an entirely original novel during the month of November.  So, November first, you put pen to paper or fingers to keys or whatever your medium is, and you write like crazy to finish a manuscript of 50,000 words or more.  So I did.  I wrote, edited, stressed over, and feel in love with a novel I created called The House of Halleck.  Luckily, by some miracle, I finished it and submitted it five days before the deadline (today). 
Naturally, I poured every ounce of creative juice I had, and some I didn't have, into the book.  Ergo, I ran out of juice when I typed the last word.  About the time I finished the manuscript, I got really sick and I'm still coughing up my lungs.  Fun right?  Not.  So, after pouring my blood, sweat, and tears and every last drop of dedication into my manuscript, and being on over five allergy medications, writing is a bit difficult at the moment.
Hopefully I'll dive back in soon, but for now, I'm just trying to regain my voice (literally and figuratively).

Free

I'm finally free.
I've grieved my loss.  The brokenness of our situation.  The terrible things you did.
I've accepted the change.  Taken it in stride and picked up the pieces.
The first time, you shattered me.  But honestly, this time, I think you helped put me back together. 
When there are no pieces left, when shards are smashed into dust, you can start fresh.
You don't have to make things go back together.  You don't have to cut your hands on the pieces.
And today, for the first time, I feel complete again.
I don't regret you, and I never will, but I don't have any desire to get you back.
Nothing inside me yearns for you anymore.
Nothing begs me to give it another chance.
I'm finally rid of your name, your image, your feelings.
I can finally put you down on the list of people that I used to know.
I can finally move on.
And nothing is going to slow me down again.
In the wake of heartbreak, I found myself.

Aura of Winter

Winter reaches out an icy finger and taps on the window, a spiral of frost forming where he touched the pane of glass.
Frigid air kisses bright green leaves into a poetic kind of brown, crunchy death.
Flakes of change dance upon the swirling, glacial, wind.
Hot cocoa, peppermints, pie and scarves and coats and hats fill the dinning room table.
Families gather round, give thanks, bow their heads in prayer.
A sense of community and cheer blends with the frosty air, creating a kind of joyous intoxication brought on by the simple act of breathing.
Things are glazed in sugar and sweetness and optimism and renewal.
The aura of winter is brilliant.
Awe-inspiring.
Breathtaking.
Beautiful.

Warring Sides

There are two sides to me, like to most things.
It is a daily struggle between what I want to feel and what I actually feel. 
I want to be confidant so I fight against my insecurities and self-doubt.
I want to be care free and fun so I fight against my anxiety and the constant knot in my stomach.
I want to be beautiful so I fight to see good qualities when I look in the mirror.
I want to be outgoing so I fight against the nausea that attacks me when someone comes up and says hi.

Some days, I win.  Some days I am confident and care free and beautiful and outgoing.  Some days Im the girl I've always dreamt of being.
But some days, my insides win out.  Some days I am so self conscious, that its hard to even be awake.  Sometimes Im so anxious I make myself physically sick.  Sometimes I cant help but withdraw into myself.

It's hard, to look in the mirror and not know which girl you're going to see.  Its a war that im constantly fighting and it gets in the way of many things.  I only pray that one day, I can win the war.

Empty, Numb and Hollow

Glasses on, covers close, pillows piled high,  my mind wanders to you.
Music blasts through my headphones, the anthem of our past ringing loudly in my ears.
It doesn't hurt this time, since I expected it.
I prayed, hoped, wished, it wouldn't be so, and yet it is.

The fire that used to burn trickles out, doused by realization.
Love turns to hurt, hurt into callous, and soon I feel nothing.
I could touch the flame and never feel the burn.

All my poetic words for you have vanished, gone like a snowflake on the tongue.
Lasting only a moment, sweet and fresh and magical before dissolving into nothing.
Your eyes no longer hold the stars, your name no longer my world.

I'm clean, washed of your traces, of your stain.
Freedom never tasted so dull.
It came with no epiphany, no strength, no power.
Just nothing.
Empty.  Numb.  Hollow.
Like the hole in my chest is no longer filled with you, but with cotton, dry and full of nothing.

The Ones That Didn't Get Away

I don't have a "one that got away". 
I don't have someone that I regret leaving, or someone I wish I could go back to. 
There is no one I'd take back in a heartbeat given the chance.  Quite honestly, I applaud myself on that.  I have no regrets.  I look at my past relationships as lessons learned, not as some big mistake I wish I could take back.

I have a trail of "I got away"s. 
People who were bad for me.  People who hurt me.  People who were great, but just didn't fit into my life the right way.  People I can look at now and tell you exactly what they taught me about relationships and what I want and life.

Someone once told me that dating was like cheating on your husband.  I literally laughed in their face.  That might work for some people, but not for me.  I'm a trial and error kind of girl.  I fall so hard so freakin fast that the first guy who asked me out would have to be my husband.  I am so unrealistically picky that there is no way I could know if I wanted to marry someone unless I dated them.
In my eyes, relationships are learning curves.  If I hadn't dated the people I have, I wouldn't know so much about myself.  I wouldn't know that I have a hang up on saying "I love you"  before you mean it.  I wouldn't know that I have to find someone who takes relationships slow.  I wouldn't know that talking about the future early on scares the crap out of me.  I wouldn't know you really can break up with someone and remain friends.  I wouldn't know that when you try and morph a friendship into a relationship before it's ready, it won't last.  I wouldn't know not to settle.

My relationships have taught me so much about myself and about the world that I don't regret a single one.  Not the ones that ended in an ugly, brutal fight or the ones that were a smooth, clean break. 

I Always Thought

I always thought being apart from him would be torture.  I thought I needed him in every area of everything.  I thought he was all I wanted.

Well, in a sense, I was right.  I did want him.  More than I wanted anything else before.

But separation has a funny way of giving you a whole new point of view.  I'm finally thinking straight.  I'm finally looking at the situation objectively instead of through tinted glass.

I don't need him.  In fact, he was probably the worst thing for me.  I have a habit of falling way too fast and expecting way too much.  He has a knack for saying the perfecting at the right time and showing up right when I need it.  But you have to be more than a knight in shining armor.  You have to stick around.  You cant just ride up and make me feel like a princess and then drop me back in the dirt to dust of my own dress.

When he was around, my mind way always consumed with him.  Even now, I'm having to cleanse my every thought of him.  He was distracting, overwhelming, too much for my crazy life to keep up with.  I have more important things to keep my focus on, for example, myself.  When he's around, all I want is to be whatever he wants.  I lose myself.  And in a perfect relationship you should find yourself, not completely lose it.

Impressed

I set out to prove you could be as much of a game to me as I am to you.
But sitting here, butterflies replaced with dust, I regret to inform you that I failed.
I take my feelings for you too seriously to make you a game.
It's a pity I can't just laugh it off, a failed experiment with lessons learned.
I thought I was strong, mysterious, care-free enough to be just like you.
To use and manipulate and play when I had the free time.
Apparently, I actually have a soul and a moral compass.
I cannot so blatantly disregard someone, the way that seems to come naturally to you.
I might have set out to prove it to myself, to the others around me, but I only proved them right.
They didn't believe in my from the start.
It's hard to triumph with no one in your corner.
Congratulations, on ruining me again, what a victory.
How extraordinary, your ability to break things. 
I'm impressed.

My Future

I think of you and I think forever.

 

I think watching the sunset on the beach.

 

I think wedding rings and engagement bands.

 

I think white dress and bouquets.

 

I think finding a house.

 

I think waking up together.

 

I think picking out curtains.

 

I think getting a pet.

 

I think growing old together.

 

I think rocking chairs on the front porch.

 

I think grandkids at Christmas.

 

I think of you, and I can't help but think of my future.

 

Because to me, you are my future. 

 

I want those milestones with you, and only you.

Remember

My greatest fear is that I'm insignificant.
That people might be able to move from my life and not remember me a month from now.
That I don't matter nearly enough to be significant to anyone.
So promise me you'll remember.
Remember my voice.
My smile.
My laugh.
Remember the times we spent in silence, simply enjoying the togetherness.
The shared secrets.
The inside jokes.
Remember the random facts I liked to tell.
The nicknames we used.
The words we overused.
Remember me, even if you start to forget, try.
Because you matter so desperately to me.
And I don't want to feel foolish for memorizing your every move.

Intensity Of Feeling

You are intoxicating, overwhelming, exhilarating.
I can't get you out of my head.
I'm constantly wondering where you are, who you're with, what's on your mind.
It's like someone wiped my memory and only left you.
I can't breathe when I think of you.
I feel like I might be sick from the sheer anxiety of thinking of you.
I am overcome with the desire for you to know how I feel.
I am overwhelmed with the desire for you to feel the same.
You are like a drug I didn't mean to take and am now addicted to.
I can feel you coursing through my veins, whispering in my head.
I cannot come up with a word to describe the enormity of my need for you.
The scope of my love for you.
You are all I've ever wanted. 
No one comes close to what you are.
Nothing can touch what you do to me.
You are not just someone, you are the only one.
The only one I see, the only one I want, the only one I need.
You'd think after four years I'd have forgotten your name like a distant memory.
But no, you are fresh on my mind.
Your name perched on my tongue, ready, as soon as an opportunity presents itself for me to speak it.
I can feel the phantom touch of your fingers on my face, a ghost of the last time I saw you.
I can hear you in my head, the words you said mixed with the ones I wished I'd heard.
Everything with you is intense, extreme, profound.
I cannot be mildly attracted to you, I am enamored with you.
You are the stars in my eyes, the blush on my cheeks, the stain of a smile on my lips.
You are my breathless moments and my wildest dreams.
You are everything I need and everything I want.
I cannot fathom feeling this way for another.
I can barely understand the way I feel for you.

On Paper

I am terrible at face to face communication.
I can't formulate a sentence correctly, im awkward, im uncomfortable.
I suppose that is why I find solace in the written word.  Words on paper are easier than words I have to manufacture and push out of my deft mouth. 
On paper, I can be anything I want, I'm not constrained by image or accent or age.  If I want to be a princess I can.  If I want to be strong I can.  If I want to be rebellious I can.  If I want to be snotty I can.  If I want to be glaringly honest I can.
On paper, I lose my inhibitions.  I write daring things I'd never dream to say out loud.  I can write the most gut wrenchingly honest pieces of my soul without the slightest bit of embarrassment.  I can write about the transgressions passed upon me by others and tear them apart without have to confront them.
On paper I don't have to worry about stuttering or mumbling or saying the wrong word.  I can plan and plot and erase.  On paper, I can be completely me, 100 percent.  I've written things on this blog that have never left my mouth.  I've written things on this blog that I would never LET leave my mouth.  Something about the written word demands honesty, it demands sacrifice.  And somehow, through all my cowardice, I am brave enough (or stupid enough depending on your perspective) to sacrifice my dignity, my secrecy, my civility for the demand of honesty.  And that makes me love this profession all the more.

Hurting. Mourning.

I pull my quilt closer as I gasp for air. Trying to quiet the sobs, I press my warm face into my pillows. I never knew the hole in my chest could ache this hard. It physically hurts. Tears blur everything as I mourn.

Mostly, I morn for her. She was a mother and a friend and a sister. Her loss was so unexpected that it still hits me a year later. I miss her every single day. Nights are worse. When my mind won't shut off and I replay memories of times before we lost her. I miss her more than I knew was possible.

I mourn for lost friendships as I need companionship dearly right now. Loneliness has etched a foothold in my heart and grows daily, fed by my isolation. It is now a massive shadow I cannot escape. Im scared it will be this way forever. I need someone. Anyone.

I mourn for him. For love I handed out too quickly to someone I didn't know. For the heart he broke and continues to dismantle to this day. He makes me so happy. So damn happy. But he tears me apart and I am in agony. I hurt so bad right now. The sobs wracking my body make my lungs scream for air. It isn't fair for me to love him this much with nothing in return. Without him I feel hollow. I feel empty. I feel tired. But when he's even the slightest option I am on fire. I am more alive in those moments than my whole life.

I mourn for the happy girl I used to be. The one with no cares and no troubles and no sorrow.

I am hurting. I am mourning.

What Comes With You

Closing my eyes, I see you there and I smile.  If this is the only time I get to see you, it's good enough for me.
You are perfection, taking my breath away with every moment in front of me.
You elicit a response from me like nothing else before.
Heartbeat frantic, breath quick, mind dizzy.
You make me do things I never knew I could, never knew I would.
I knew when I saw you for the first time, you would take me down.
No matter how strong I thought I was, you destroy me in the most tantalizing way.
I love the feeling I get with you.
Reckless, crazy, dazed.
I love who I am with you.
When we are on the line, I fight like I didn't know I could.
You bring out the troublemaker in the pacifist.
I'm dangerous with you, for you, because of you.
You change my chemistry, me entire being.
Loving you is rousing is an unnatural way and I want it.
I want the strangeness. I want everything that comes with you.

Drowning Never Felt So Good

It settled like dust over every inch of everything.  Traces lingering no matter how much you tried to clean.  It seemed to multiply behind your back.  You would turn around only to find infinitely more than there was before.

It clouded the air.  Made it hard to breathe.  Coated the walls so their color was lost.  Stuck to every inch of you body like wet sand.

It was overwhelming.  It was too much.  It was everywhere, in everything, everywhere you looked.

And then the dam broke.  Water rushed in and cleaned the whole place out.  Flood waters swept everything away, every trace, every hint of it was torn apart.  The rush was terrifying, dangerous, fatal.  But so restorative.  The water washed it from my lungs as I choked and from my mind as I fell into the blackness.

When I opened my eyes, I'd never seen a brighter place.  It was all gone, and with it's demise returned the color of life and the vibrancy of reality.  Drowning never felt so good. 

At 16

At 16 she found her once in a lifetime.

Her first heartbreak.

Her story to pass down to her daughter.

Her place where her mind would always travel in states of nostalgia.

 

At 16 she found her butterflies.

Her restless nights.

Her take-your-breath-away moments.

Her racing heartbeat.

 

At 16 she found him.

 

He made her dizzy with need.

He made her bite her lip.

He made up for every ounce of doubt in her blood with his words and his smile.

He made her toss and turn at night.

He made her lose her appetite when butterflies were fluttering anxious in her stomach.

He made her see the world differently.

He changed her view on love and life.

He taught her how to be more than the quite girl everyone thought she was.

He brought out the stronger side of her.

He brought out the tough side.

 

At 16 she found the boy who changed her life forever.

She found the one she'd never quite let go.

She found the one that made the word "forever" seem way too short.

She found the one who set the bar for everyone else.

 

At 16 she found him.

You

I want to write something beautiful, full of profoundness and depth, but all I can think of is you.

You.

I want to write something entrancing and captivating and easy to sink into, but all I can think of is you.

You.

I want to write something dark and mysterious, let my dark side come out and play, but all I can think of is you.

You.

I want to write something poetic and happy, full of light and pictures and joy, but all I can think of is you.

You.

You take up every space in my mind. You fill every empty corner of my soul. You are my waking thought and my final, drowsy thought as I fall asleep. You work your way into everything I say and do. You are everywhere around me. You make it impossible to think of anything else but you you you.

On Her Bones

He could see right through her.
He could read her like an x-ray, like her insecurities and secrets were scribbled on her bones.
He was terrifying.
He never backed down and his boldness was unnerving, making her quiver where she stood.
She was a challenge and he was ready to win.
But as scared as she was, she was also intrigued.
His determination a beacon for her fragile mind.
She considered herself strong, but he... well he was just plain fearless.
When she iced him out, time and time again, he simply taunted her to come play in the snow flurries her attitude created.
When she opened up, he pried and pried until she snapped shut once again, just like that.
He blatantly named her fears, her worries, and her secrets, demanding she acknowledge them.
But for as much fear as his brashness instilled, she was drawn.
And when she decided to choose him, to give into the terror and take a ridiculous chance, she fell into him all at once, not an ounce of her being remaining her own.

Can't Keep Up

I can't wrap my head around you. You're the embodiment of chaos and I honestly can't keep up much longer.
You're fire and ice.
Hot and cold.
On and off.
You're radio silence and deafening sound.
You're everything I love and everything I hate.
You're nothing and everything.
All at once and yet infrequent.
Nothing makes sense around you. 
I am tired, so tired, of trying to understand. Could you please slow down for five seconds and just explain?  Because I can't hold on much longer.

Just Hurry

Our future is in your hands.
I suppose I should go ahead and walk away but something inside me is begging me to stay.
I leave the decision up to you, but I beg you, just make it fast.
As much as I hope you choose me, part of me is worried that you won't.
If you leave, I'll be okay with some time.
I know how to put myself back together in the wake of heart break.
After all, you taught me the first time.
But if you choose me, please do it now.
I feel like I'm hovering in an unknown area waiting for your decision to be made.
The one person I could tell is being distant, and honestly I don't mind.
She has nothing positive to say to me anymore.
She would immediately go for the worst and assume you're leaving me.
And maybe she'd be right.
But somehow it hurts more coming from her, like the idea of you wanting me is unbelievably stupid.
Like I'm an idiot for hoping.
And I can't stand that about her.
So I'm trusting you to make the choice.
I'm not seeking outside opinion.
I'm trying not to dwell on the thought of you but dear Lord in heaven it's the hardest thing I've ever done.
So hurry up and break my heart.
Or hurry up and put it back together,
whichever it may be, just hurry.

Language Barrier

We have a language barrier, you and I.
I am all words.
All feelings.
All dictation.
I like to spell it out.
I like to tell you, on no uncertain terms, what I'm thinking.
I like to say it and say it over and over again.
I'm the longest novel you cold ever buy.
I'm a million pages full of words and affection that you can't misread.

You're all pictures.
You show, you don't tell.
You're artistic and creative and ambiguous.
One image can mean so many different things and you love that aspect of it.
You love what drives me crazy.
You see in color.
You're wordlessly moving.
You are your own form of art.
And for the life of me, I cannot decode your symbols.

We have a language barrier and I find my self wanting more and more to be bilingual for you.

The Tumult of Sleep

The act of falling asleep is tumultuous for me.
My mind is spinning faster than the speed of light, idea whirling to and fro.
As I close my eyes, scenes of the past days and dreams of the future play out on the back of my eyelids.
I toss and turn and flip and maneuver in my cushion lined prison.
How could comfort become so torturous?
My mother used to tell me "be still, close your eyes, go to sleep" when I was tiny and restless.
Oh how I wish it were that easy.
As I chant "Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep." in my mind, I feel my consciousness begin to quake.
It starts as a low rumble, disrupting the flow of thought and making me yawn.
Before long, it is a full blown earthquake, sending pieces of reality shattering into a vast and empty darkness.
And only after several minutes of explosion, does my consciousness give in completely, surrendering me to the bottomless pit of sleep.

Are You Thinking Of Me?

The strong wind falls and scatters leaves across the ground.  The sun shines in my eyes and I think of you.  How you're always there, lingering, waiting, always in the back of my mind.
Sometimes you blow in like a breeze, a memory of happier times drifting into my day.
I'm falling asleep and your name crosses my mind, bringing a half smile to my drowsy lips and stirring the butterflies in my stomach.
Sleep is a sanctuary of darkness until your image, your voice, and your touch taint it, somehow making me nervous in my sleep.
Sun shines through the window, glaring into my eyes and heating the room.  Your name is on my lips, making my heart beat faster and my stomach drop to my feet.  Every inch of me is on high alert with your name in my mouth, making my fingers tap nervously and my knees bounce.
Driving down the road, I glance at the empty passenger seat beside me.  These worn seats have been home to so many except you.  I wonder what this old pick up would look like with you in it.
Music filters through my ear buds and somehow all the lyrics are about you.  It makes me want to know if you've ever heard the songs I'm listening to or if you'd care to.
Everything I do, everywhere I go, I think of you.  I wonder what you're doing, what you're thinking, praying you're thinking of me.

Again

Everything about him drives me crazy.

The way he says things that make no sense.

The way he's in and out of my life like lightening.

The way he gets in my head and I can't get him out.

But he makes me feel things I've never felt before.

He makes my heart pound.

My chest ache.

My stomach knot up.

My whole spirit soars with him.

It's unreal how much I feel for him.

No one else has ever done this to me.

No one can make me feel like this.

This feeling is one in a million and I only hope he feels the same.

That maybe he doesn't know how to express it.

Maybe he's nervous.

But I don't know how much longer I can play this game.

It has to be real sometime.

Because if not, I'm going to go mad concocting scenarios in my head and lying to myself. 



Dear Stranger

Dear Stranger,
You have no idea how badly I want to talk to you.
I'm sitting here listening to music, crying my eyes out because of you.
I had to lock the door to block my tears from from prying eyes.
I had to muffle my sobs in a pillow to quiet the sound of my breaking heart.
I thought we were best friends. 
I thought you told me that you didn't want to lose me.
What happened to everything we had in July?
How did we get here?
What did I do?
What's going on?
I know you're hurting, but I wish you'd tell me why.
I got a message today that made me rethink everything I've ever decided.
And you were the one person I wanted to tell.
You would know why it was so unexpected, so stressful, so rattling.
You would know how to react.
You would have some funny comment, some silly reply.
You'd have me laughing instead of crying.
But I feel like telling you will just annoy you and I already seem to be on your bad side.
Things flipped like a switch and my head is spinning.
I'm so confused.
I thought I could trust you.
I thought you were different.
You were the one person that made me feel worth while in my darkest times.
But now, you're the one person making me feel utterly and completely alone.
I miss everything about you, even the things that used to annoy the crap out of me.
I need you...
Please come back.
Don't shut me out like this.

Alone into Forever

A sinister darkness grew within him. 
A darkness born from grief and pain and agony and confusion.
It moved like a swirling cloud blocking his view of everything and cutting him off from the world.
And he became the embodiment of fury and sorrow, a walking danger to all sources of light.  Surrounded by shadows, cloaked in a dismal, choking, cloud of dismay, he stalked through life shoving everyone out of his way.
Every good Samaritan that stopped to help him ended up bleeding and running from the scene as his pain manifested outwards. 
No good deed went unpunished and no helping hand was accepted. 
He chose to march alone, dark and angry and full of hate.
The longer he fought, the lonelier he became.
But when he tried to calm the rage and reach out for a life vest, no one was willing to throw one.
He had hurt too many, scared them all, and in his isolation had severed every tie.
And so the anguish mounted, intensified by nostalgia and loneliness and self-pity.
As minutes became days and day became weeks, he built up his storm again, using his shattered being to fuel the winds.
With the fire of pain burning deeply within his chest, he pushed on, past the lost friendships and broken relationships and walked alone into forever.

Silent Arguments

As the sun sets and the announcer comes though the speakers, I wish you were here.
I wish you were sitting beside me laughing at all the crazy people out there.
Laughing at all the girls and their insane clothes and their cries for attention.
I wish I had this memory to share with you later down the road.

As they come out into the arena, I wish you were watching with me.
I wish you were here to cheer and scream and holler.
Yelling at the top of our lungs, until we collapse from exhaustion back on the metal stands.
I wish you would have decided it was important.

As I drive away from a night full of excitement, I wish you were riding home with me.
I wish we were together and we weren't silently arguing about nothing.
Ignoring one another and casting angry glances that make my heart break from the inside out.
I wish I knew what you think I did to you.

For as many people as I have willing let walk out of my life, you are the hardest to let go.  It makes me sick to my stomach to think you don't want this anymore.  I thought I had finally found someone to replace the gaping hole in my chest.  We've been through so much together, it seems a shame to let it all fall apart in silence.

I want you to yell at me.  I want you to tell me what I did.  I want you to walk to me.  I want you to want to fix things.  I want a chance to repair what I didn't realize was broken. 
Because I love you and it's not fair to leave me stranded with no idea what went wrong.

A Spitting Image

Your idea of "friendship" is a load of crap.
You are a master manipulator.
You have to have your way no matter what.
You only care about yourself and what benefits you.
Every line you fed me about "being able to trust" me, and "caring" about me, and "being on my side" was a lie.
It sickens me to think of how much time I invested in you and your emotions and your well being.
I wasted so much time on you.
What bothers me the most is that you know what I've been through.  You know how hurt I am.  You know where my heart is.  Because you're in the same freaking place.  And I would never, in my entire life, do this to you.

I am not her.  I don't love you.  I don't obsess over you.  I'm not even interested in you okay?  All I wanted was the friendship I thought we had, the friendship you said we had.
And as much as you hate her, as much as you hate every trait about her, guess what.  You're a spitting image. 
You are just like her and I hope that hurts more than anything else.  The way she plays with people's heads, the way she lies, the way she's so selfish but thinks she's God's gift to mankind.  You do it all.  You are that person.  You're selfish.  Conceited.  Vain.  Fake.  Stupid.  Manipulative.  Childish.
You are everything you hate in her, and I only wonder if you hate her because she reflects you.  I wonder if you see how similar you are, and how much everyone hates her, and you are terrified we'll feel the same if we see it in you too.
News flash.  I will.

I hate how you treat me.  I hate how you treat everyone.  I hate how you think you're better than everyone else.  I hate how you act.  I hate how you talk.  I hate how much time I spent with you.  I hate that I though you were different.  I hate that I was wrong.  I hate that you're such a disappointment.

I hate that it hurts to lose you.  I hate that I even got close to you in the first place, because I knew this would happen.

You were the one person I could count on, the one I could talk to, the one I really trusted and you screwed me over anyway.  So have a nice life while the lies last, but don't come crying to be when they crumble.

A Waiting Game With Sanity

Walking up to him was intimidating.
Like he was deep inside the walls of a castle, surrounded by armed guards and I was walking up completely empty handed.  I had nothing to offer him but empathy.  We were the same, but I had no idea how to get him to understand.  He didn't realize I had a castle of my own a few hills over.  A castle I rarely ventured from.  I know why he loved it there.  Felling safe, protected, and home after such a devastating blow was crucial.
He was like stone, impossibly hardened to the songs of the world.  To the idea of trying again.  Cold and rough and heavy.  His presence like a darkening cloud that seemed harder to escape from as time went on.  Warning after warning passed through my mind, shouting at me to give up and walk away.
But there I was.  Bearing my soul, begging for him to give it a shot.  Praying that he'd come outside, given failure would mean a volley of arrows through my already mangled heart.
I wonder if this is how the prince felt, calling out to Rapunzel.  No, this was worse.  At least she was willing. 
He couldn't see that he'd trapped himself.  That he was in need of rescuing.  That he needed help.
I didn't know at first either.  It felt better than anything in the world to lock the door and never look back.  But time turned into an unbearable sentence that I couldn't make myself serve.  Sooner or later, he'd feel the pressure too.
Only, when he started looking out the window for a savior, he'd find one.  Unlike the dismay I felt when I realized I'd have to rescue myself, he would feel relief.
As imposing as his walls were, as fiercely as he was guarding himself, I wouldn't give up.  I couldn't.  I couldn't watch someone struggle the way I did, drowning in silence, choking on self-pity, slowly fading out of reality until there was merely a ghost and no longer a person inside.
I was terrified.  Scared of rejection, of failure, of him.  So scared of him.  But I stayed.  Playing a waiting game with his sanity and praying for a victory.

Instantaneous Fall

It was a moment, an instant, when all became still.
The songs of the birds, faded and now silent.
Children wake to find icy windows, and leaves cover the ground.
Temperature drops give way to sweaters and scarves encompass necks again.
Where I stand, Fall is not such a season as a state of mind.
The fast-paced relax.  The chaos slows down.
We pull out our coats and favorite winter hand-me-downs.
Everything gets a dash of pumpkin, here, in the Fall.
The tress don't change, merely die and shed, the process isn't beautiful here as it is elsewhere.
But the spirit is.
More smiles are given, more jokes are told.
The colder air seems to revive and renew every heart in this town.
With Fall comes a sense of acceptance and a breath of change.
It isn't a gradual process.
It happens in an instant.
It happens over night, our instantaneous Fall

Caught in Limbo

She's caught in limbo.

Advancing and reverting and making no progress at all.

Things that seem strange are accepted while things that seem right are denounced.

Looking right and left, she sees no way out other than moving forward, into unfamiliar territory and the ball of anxiety in her chest weighs her down. No longer a girl, and not yet a lady, her place in this world is unsure. She tries to grow, to move, to change, but her confidence is shaken by uncertainty.

Is this how a lady would act?  Do I have to act as a lady would?  Does this make me immature or am I okay for now?

Questions plague her mind, making sleep unenticing and headaches inevitable.

How does one cross this transition and is it usually this hard?

She wonders about everything in her life but no answers come for sure.

The things she wants are changing with her, and some of them seem impervious to a girl of her age.  But then again, as her age reaches upward, should not her wants follow?

Her ideas of the world are lost between naivety and cynicism. Her plans stuck between dream and reality. 

Navigating this passage is like sailing through rough waters in slow motion, seeing the possibility of disaster all around and merely being able to pray that you steer the right course.

My Independence

Independence is something we strive for as young adults.  We're constantly bombarded to be self-reliant and not need help.  But my independence tends to by my downfall.  I'm fiercely independent and sometimes it gets in the way of relationships.

It is never my intention to be antisocial or rude, but I am self reliant most days.  I need space.  I need time to myself. The thing I fear is that my relationship will become my identity and I never want to give that a chance to happen.
Sorry if I tend to push people away.  I could sit and write for hours about how many times people I trusted with my life, ripped me apart.  I'm a cynic.  I'm a loner.  I'm distrusting.  And I'm way too young to be those things, but it doesn't change the fact that I am.
I don't mean to push or to draw back, but when I see those warning signs, I go into self preservation mode and I immediately retreat behind my walls.  If you really want to know me, to be my friend, to love me, you have to understand that.  You cant just assume that I hate you or I'm stuck up or I'm antisocial, because I'm not.  I'm just doing my best and sometimes my best isn't good enough.  I hate myself sometimes for how I recoil from human interaction.  I hate that when people try to make plans with me, I want to say no every time and have to force myself to say yes.  I hate being this way and I'm trying as hard as I can not to be that way. I don't like to settle for less than I want so I tend to stay alone.
So give me a chance.  Try to break down my walls.  Try to rescue me from my self-made prison.  Just don't get upset if I don't seem willing, because deep down I am.

Like We're Dying

There's a song by Tim McGraw called Live Like You Were Dying.
Its a great song musically but I love the lyrics more, they really make a point.

The song is about this guy who finds out he's dying (obviously) and then he goes and does all these really great things, taking advantage of the time he has left.  He goes skydiving, climbs mountains, rides a bull, changes the way he loves and the way he speaks.  He makes over his whole life in light of his diagnosis.  But my question to you is, what would you do if you knew how long you had left?

I think we all want to say that we'd do what he did, we'd take risks and do crazy things and admit our love for people and be kinder.  I think we'd all like to say that we would just come to life in a new way and totally demolish our last days with fun. But would we? 

Or would we sit around and mope?  Would we start saying goodbye?  Would we cry and beg God for more time? Would we do everything in our power to avoid that inevitable day?  Unfortunately, I think we would. 

As life would have it, none of us know when God will call us home.  I think that is the most generous thing ever.  Because without an impending date of doom, we have the chance to live like we're dying every single day.  Why wait until the last second?  Why live bored and sad and then jump on the party train right before it's too late?  Why not live a life worth living?  Why not jump out of a plane?  Why not declare your love for someone?  Why not go ahead and sweeten up your words and be genuinely good to people around you? Do crazy stuff, do the things you've always wanted to.  Kiss a stranger at midnight on New Years.  Travel.  Don't live in a protected bubble, waiting till the last minute to live, because what if your last minute comes before you think it will? 

We don't know how long we have, and we can't control it, but we can make sure that we live a life full of memories not full of "I wish I had"s.  We can look back with no regrets, all we have to do is make the choice today to live the way we want to remember living.

More Than Tinted Glass

I hold the bronze aviators gently in my hands as I fall into a pit of memories.

I can still feel the awe when I saw the mountains through their dark lenses for the first time.
I can still see the smiles on my friends faces when we stepped out of the bright white vans.
I can still see the house we painted through the protective coloring of the glasses.
I can still feel their protection, as the dark lenses hid the tears in my eyes from the outside world.
I can still feel them shielding me from judgmental, angry glares.
I can still hear the laughter from our trip down the river, where all the problems were washed away and I was saved by the boys  grew up with from self-destruction.
I can still feel the icy water as the glasses tumbled into the river and our rafts were momentarily abandoned to save my beloved shades.
I can still feel the laughter echoing down the river as they were passed around, resting on every face in our group when we retrieved them.
I can still see the beauty of the riverbed as their tinted color shielded my eyes from the world again.
I can still feel the awkward tension for eighteen hours as we traveled home.
I can still feel the resounding gratefulness for a week of bliss and stronger friendships.

I swear I can almost see our happy faces reflecting back at me and I have to blink a few times to dissuade the illusion.  These glasses hold more than tinted glass.  They are a reminder of the most blissful and most painful week of my life.  They are a reminder of the bonding and the breaking of friendships.  They are a memory in and of themselves and I treasure them to this day.

Glass Heart

Her heart was fragile, like a thin pane of glass.  One wrong move would break it down.  She was cautious with her glass heart, never falling too fast, but landing gently in disappointment so her heart was scratched, but still intact.
He wiped away everything she had worked for when he blew into her life.  He was a storm of a man.  Feelings, glances, laughs, touches, smiles all whirled around and swept her up in his wind.  They had a whirlwind romance, it was never meant to stand the test of time.  And when he left, taking his storm with him, she didn't have a chance to catch her glass heart before it shattered on the ground.  Every piece she picked up held a memory that ripped her open, leaving a trail of crimson in her wake.  Soon she had gathered all the pieces, but nothing could make them go together again.
Her glass heart was in pieces and with them she built something new to fill the aching hole in her chest. Piece by painstaking piece, she fashioned a rose from the bloodstained shards of glass.  And when she placed it in her chest, a light burst from her.  For no longer did she have a fragile glass heart, but a sharp, strong, beautiful, piece of artwork that rose from the ashes of disaster.  And from that day on, the light drew people flocking to her.  But the rose was sharp and she never let anyone get close enough to touch it again.  For if they did, they would undoubtedly be cut and their crimson life would only serve to deepen the red of her strength.

The Kind I Wait For

Me and my Grandma are very close. We're tied at the hip.  She knows me better than pretty much anyone in my life and I love her to the moon and back.

I never got to meet my Grandpa, her husband, because he passed a few years before I was born.  But I feel so close to him because of all the stories they tell about him and all the little bits of information I've picked up over the years.  I love him.  I never knew it was possible to miss someone you never met.  I never knew you could cry and hurt and miss over someone you've only seen pictures of.  But this isn't meant to be a sad post, so I digress.

Among the things I know of him, I know that he and my Grandma had a love like no other.  They were meant for Hollywood.  For Nicolas Sparks novels.  They were the epitome of star-crossed, madly in love like you wouldn't believe.  And that's the kind of love I want.  Even after all these years, my Grandma has always said that she'll never love anyone again like she did him.  She never saw other guys, she never got remarried.  They had a love so deep the ocean would be jealous.  And that's what I want.  I want a one time, end all, never looking back kind of love.  A love where he could be gone from this earth and Id still love him more everyday.  A love where no one else would ever measure up to him.  A love with no regrets and lots of laughter.  A love where you're truly best friends and lovers and spouses and where you truly stay in love forever.  I crave a love like my grandparents had.  Because even though I've never met him, I know he saw his entire world when he looked at her and she did the same and that's the kind of love I wait for.

Like Rain

He was like rain.

He was sweet like the sent of fresh rain drops.

He was soft and quiet and mesmerizing.

He was gentle like the falling rain kissing your skin.

Being with him was like being caught in the rain.

He drenched you in himself and when it was over, everything was washed away, leaving nothing but refreshing newness. 

His voice was so warm and rich it gave you chills.

He was the best of everything and being loved by him was better than a fairytale. It was perfection. It was intoxicating. It was remarkably dreamlike yet so unbelievably real.

My Nineteens

They say you find yourself in your twenties.

I think I've found myself in my nineteens'.

One year ago, I wouldn't have recognized the girl I see in the mirror right now.  Not that that's a problem, seeing as I actually love who im becoming.  A year ago I never would have been this strong, this determined or this happy.

I haven't found myself in the way I thought I would either.  I guess I figured it would be gradual and Id be happy, skipping through fields with soft music playing in the back ground and the sun shining off my hair.

I never knew it would be instantaneous.  That it would come through on entire year of depression and tears and loneliness.  I never knew that in one second, everything would change, like a light bulb coming on and I would be stronger than I ever thought imaginable.

I've changed more in the last three weeks than I have maybe in my entire life. 

I know what I want.  I am no longer willing to settle for anything less.  I know what my goals are and while I may not see a straight shot to them, I plan to achieve them all the same.  I don't get mad about minor things like I used to and I have an inner confidence that supplies peace in every situation.

I look back at who I was and I cringe.  I was so sad.  So broken.  So willing to be trampled on by worthless people.  I willingly let my heart get broken and I was ready to settle for a sick, twisted, one way love that could have really damaged me.

I look in the mirror today and I am amazed at what I have become.  There is a strength present and a spark in my eyes that I've never witnessed there before.  I stand taller, smile brighter and laugh louder.  My breaths are easy, not labored with the task of faking it anymore.  And I wouldn't trade this version of me in for anything else.  Im on the road to success.  Im on the road to happiness.  Im on the road to my future and I don't plan on making anymore pit stops.

I Live To Blow Your Mind

Writing is not an occupation for the faint hearted. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I think to myself I cant do this, there is no way im doing this.  Its an occupation full of self doubt.  Im constantly pondering if I can even call myself a writer.  The days are always different.  You have days where you love every single solitary word that drips off your pen and other days you hate every word that comes to mind.  Its emotionally exhausting.  You're constantly at war with yourself, changing and editing and deleting and rewriting.  But for all the bad days, I wouldn't trade it for anything.  It honestly has to be more than a hobby, more than a pastime, it has to be a passion if you want to make it a career.  Its terrifying and difficult and emotional but this is who I am. 
I've written several times on how im seeing life differently and this area is no exception.  I feel more confident than ever.  I still have bad days but even in the bad days I have a little voice in my head saying "it gets better, you can do this."  I have no interest in people who think writing isn't a valid career.  Tell that to C.S. Lewis or Chaucer or Shakespeare or Alexander Pope.  Writing may be unusual, but it is in no way invalid.  So watch me climb to the top while you stare with disbelief.  I live to blow your mind.

The Feeling

When the feeling hits, its like a freight train. Its instantaneous. Painful. Blinding. Overwhelming. Breath taking. It hurts like hell. It rocks your world in a second. You stop what you're doing. You cant think. You cant breathe.

The charcoal color sweatshirt, a tale-tale sign of trouble, slips over long, messy, blonde hair.
Tears build behind tired blue eyes, forbidden to fall.
The air that was just so comfortable has a biting, inescapable chill.
Goosebumps raise on pale skin.
The feeling stops the heart that's been so carefully guarded for so long.
Alone.
The word is incapacitating.
The lights are suddenly too bright.
And its all I can do not to cry out in anguish. I lock myself in my room. I turn up the music to drown out the voices in my head. The ones that tell me I'll  be alone forever. The ones that need someone...anyone... The ones that confirm every fear and solidify every doubt. The ones I can never truly shut down.

I am so alone. So lonely. And I'm trying so hard not to be needy, not to settle for less than I deserve but my resolve is crumbling fast. In the tumult of life, I need someone to be my life line and pull me back in. I'm spiraling out into space all alone. I need someone, anyone, to help me.

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, I knew what it felt like to have a zoo stampeding though my stomach instead of just butterflies. Once upon a time, I fell in love, hard and fast and without looking back. Once upon a time I knew what all the romance books and tragedies and movies were about, because I felt it every single day. And then I was left, utterly and completely alone to pick up the pieces of my recently shattered life all by myself.
Once upon a time I felt that feeling when your heart breaks, when it literally feels like your heart has stopped beating. Like all the butterflies or whatever you felt, they all just fell dead. Like life wasn't worth it and like nothing could ever hurt that bad again. Sophomore year in high school, a naïve sixteen years of life under my belt, I had my heart irreparably broken.
But when he came back, it was like he never broke my heart in the first place. I felt that passion, that need, that love just as fiercely as before. Nothing ever felt as intense as the feeling he gave me. He was my drug and I was a hopeless addict with no desire to be sober. My world revolved around him and only him and I was intoxicated with the thought of him and nothing else ever crossed my mind.

Once upon a time, but much more recent, I had an epiphany. My whole perspective changed on the world. Everything was different, my friends, my choices, my desires, my goals. And my view of him. When my perspective changed, I realized I was a game for him, an easy pastime when he wasn't feeling needed enough. For the second time in my life, every animal stampeding through my chest fell dead. And I grieved my lost love for the second time.
Fast forward to the present and I am at a loss. Im afraid no one will ever make my heart race like he did. Im afraid I'll never fall that deeply in love with someone again. Im afraid I wasted my feelings on someone who ended up being a joke. I have someone in front of my that I really thought I cared for. I have no idea how he feels about me, though everyone in my life is rooting for him. But I don't feel the zoo. I don't feel the storm. I feel birds sitting patiently in trees, but only fluttering from time to time, never fully bursting forth in flight.

My fairytale has turned into a nightmare, and no matter how badly I wish to wake, this is my reality. My knight in shining armor turned out to be the villain and there are no knights around. Only squires and palace guards, but no one riding in on a white horse. I cant wake up from this nightmare. I can not escape this feeling, like empty air caught in my chest.

Lover of Paper

I have always been drawn to blank paper. I could spend hundreds of dollars buying empty spirals and reams of blank paper. I love seeing it transform from a barren, crisp sheet into a mess of words and thoughts and pictures before my eyes and at my hand. You don't understand my love for paper. I literally salivate at the thought of fresh notebooks, untainted by expression. I live to destroy the pristine whiteness and create. Part of me hates to ruin the perfection but part of me relishes the chance to demolish and blemish and stain the snowy whiteness. I live for that moment when the pen hits paper for the first time. The first line. The first scar. I love how paper softens and tears and bends with use so in the end its limp and greyed and fragile. I love marking up printed sheets and doodling to fill in every corner. There is something beautiful to be found in the ravaging of new paper. The carnage of eraser bits and pencil tips is stunning. The way a new spiral can be demolished from stiff to malleable, immaculate to disheveled, bland to enthralling, is just astonishingly appealing to me. I am of a lover of paper and of pen and of the marrying of the two.

A Bravery in Artistry

It takes bravery to be an artist. Or an artisan at all. To create art is a brave thing. Art is meant to be felt not just read or seen or touched or looked at it. It should elicit some emotion, it should make you feel something. In order to create something that beautiful, you have to be willing to break down every last one of your walls. You have to be willing to tell your story, to tell of your loses and your losses and your heartaches and your joys. It’s like having an emotional break down while being locked in a glass case in the middle of a crowd. People will look and judge and know everything about you, but it’s beautiful in a way. To be able to bare your soul and spill out all your secrets is an incredible feat. Whether you’re a writer or a painter or a sculptor or a photographer or an artist, you’re creating art. And it’s terrifying. Terrifying and somehow totally perfect. But you have to be secure enough in yourself that you can dare to show all of you to the world. You have to be confident enough to be willing to just open your suitcase in the middle of the street so to speak. Because once you create from that raw, honest place in your soul, how could people only look at your work? That much emotion, that much storytelling, it demands to be felt. It has to be. So yeah, I think that any profession where you create something from nothing but emotion and idea and creativity is brave. It’s brave and beautiful to be that broken for the rest of the world to observe.

The Briefest, Rarest Season

The sweet, stifling air of summer is swept away by cooler, stronger winds.
Here in Texas, where leaves don't change color, only die and fall, leaves begin to  brown.
Pleasant coolness washes over our tiny slice of earth giving sweet relief from the heat.
Mowing is more of a pleasure and less of a punishment.
The buzzing of mosquitos is less deafening now, though still audible.
Tank tops are traded in for t-shirts, maybe even a few long-sleeved.
Flip Flops turn to tennis shoes and socks come back into fashion.
It'll be gone in a day or two, this deliciously refreshing whether.
But while it lasts, we'll enjoy our bit of the rarest season.
Our tiny scrap of Fall.

Views on Friendship

Friendship is not something to manipulate and guilt trip. Friendship should be genuine and honest from both parties at all times. I have had my fair share of failed friendships so I take friendship very seriously. And that tends to spark a fire in me when people I call my "friends" try to manipulate me.

Don't feign interest in my problems if you don't care. Don't pretend to care about me just to hear my issues so you have dinner conversation. I refuse to be guilt tripped into explaining my frustrations. If I say I need you and then change my mind, be respectful of the fact that at the moment I'm not prepared, for whatever reason, to talk it out. Don't you dare say "its on me" if I don't talk. Don't you dare say you "gave me the chance" to talk it out. If that's how you view friendship, then I say very kindly, screw you and screw your repugnant ideology. I don't need you in my life. I've done well all by myself. You are a luxury, not a necessity. Buzz off.

Random Music Review

In light of today's whopping 30 views and my growing list of "newly found artists", I feel compelled to share a few of my new favorite bands with you all.

1. This Century 
 I am loving their light, breezy, yet still pumped vibe. Their lyrics are amazing and I can listen to them no matter what mood Im in. A few of my favorite songs are "Sound of Fire" and "Do It To Me" but you really cant go wrong with any of their songs.

2. Rixton
 I am unashamed to say I LOVE One Direction and 5 Seconds of Summer. Rixton has a similar vibe but the vocals are slightly more mature depending on which song you pick. Im currently putting "Appreciated" and "Hotel Ceiling" on repeat back to back and have yet to be tired of them.

3. The Vamps
This band is gaining traction with their newer song "Somebody To You" featuring Demi Lovato. Again they follow the 1D/ 5SOS vibe which is something I enjoy but not everyone is a fan. Their song "Wild Heart" is definitely a pump up song.

4. We The Union
Oh. My. Gosh. Talk about saving the best for last. So, this band is a Christian worship band, I had the pleasure of seeing them every day for a week straight at Bogg Springs Baptist Camp this summer and they are INCREDIBLE. Their music is uplifting, powerful, modern, and full of heartfelt worship lyrics. I cant help but raise a hand in praise every single time I listen to them. My personal favorite song is "Found" which is the second track on their brand new EP that released on ITunes just over a week ago. Seriously, they don't have a bad song. They're going to go far in the worship world and I will back them 100%

Well I'll stop babbling on about bands but if you're bored and have spare iTunes credit, at least go preview some of these groups. They may not be your style but you never know what you'll like unless you give it a fighting chance.

Messy

Music fills my ears and my foot mindlessly taps out the beat.
My mind sings lyrics and tries to conjure up the words you're reading right now.
I write and delete and write and delete again, knowing I want to say something but unsure of what it is.
Part of me wants to be poetic and abstract and find beauty in the way the air dances across my skin in the quiet isolation of my room. Part of me wants to tell you all how silly I looked this morning, with my nice Sunday dress and converse sneakers. Part of me wants to talk about a certain someone that's got my attention at the moment.
I guess, for the time being I'll start with this;
Im a mess, and people are just going to have to be okay with that. My hair is always in a state of tangled disarray, no matter how many times I brush it or comb my fingers through it. Im always going to be flying in at the last minute,  praying not to be late. Never in my life have I been able to sit still, and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon. My laugh...my laugh is ridiculous and embarrassing and loud but its like my personality in sound. Im awkward and nervous when I talk to people but I never have been very outgoing. Overall, im a mess. But I like it. I feel like there's beauty in chaos, you just have to be willing to see it. The people who can find the beauty in the hurricane of me are the people I want to know. And if they can't see past the mess and the chaos, then maybe they weren't meant to stay very long. I might be a mess of tangles and dresses and sneakers and laughs, but im me, and that's all that matters.

Strong? Not Even Close.

People think I'm strong. I don't like to cry in front of other. I don't like to seem upset at all. In fact, the other day my mom told me she was glad I was "strong enough to see her upset and not think the whole world is falling apart". But I'll let you in on a little secret, I'm not strong at all.

While I sit typing the truth, my hands shake and the screen is blurry from tears I cant keep in.
I'm not strong. I feel like my world is falling apart on the inside but I rarely show it. But sometimes you get to a point where strong isn't an option anymore. I feel like everything around me is falling to pieces. Things I was so sure of are making my head spin. Grief I thought had dissipated is coming in waves like its brand new. The people around me are screaming at each other and I've resorted to locking myself in my room and crying and pouring my soul out to you people kind enough to read the madness I write.

I'm not strong. I'm broken. I'm scared. I'm hurt. I'm confused. And I'm faking a smile so hard it feels like plaster.  I'm faking so many things. Faking having a plan. Faking confidence. Faking a laugh when all I want to do is cry. Faking independence.

I need help. I need someone to know. So, im telling you. And I think that's all I need. I just need someone out there to know, whether they care or not, whether they can do anything about it or not. I just need someone to know that im not strong, and that I break down sometimes.

Silence and Stillness

Silence is my enemy.
It rages around me and drives into my ears like a knife.
It makes the pounding in my skull unbearable.
It feeds my doubts and fears and uncertainty.
It gives me too much room to think.
To overthink.
And overthink again.
Silence is not a refuge for me as it is for so many others.
I dread silence.
I dread the overwhelming feelings that come with it.
I need noise constantly.
Ear buds connect me to my surplus of music on my IPod, giving me sanctuary.
It doesn't distract me, but lulls me to focus.
I have to listen to music while I write and while I sleep.
Silence is detrimental to my mental capabilities.

Likewise, stillness creates panic in me.
I have to move or do or be involved in something.
My leg is always bouncing or my fingertips tapping.
I cant sit still for anything.
I move and twist and turn in my sleep.

Silence and stillness rip the sanctuary from my life and cause chaos.
So, do not expect some quiet, calm girl from me.
I am a hurricane of noise and motion and thoughts that I can't keep inside.
If you find me silent or still, be afraid, for its only the calm before the storm.

Soapbox Talk

Very few things in this world get me riled up enough to need a soapbox. But animals are one of those few things. I think, as an entire race, human beings are arrogant. We think we know so much. We think we can fix everything. And that irritates the living daylights out of me.
I was watching Nemo the other day (like the mature young adult I am), and it really got me thinking.
Assuming we're all familiar with the movie, lets get to the Dentist who takes Nemo from his home. This guy really gets on my nerves. One of his lines is "caught this little guy struggling by the reef" and I think the guy genuinely believes he's helping the fish. But he isn't. He was just fine. He wasn't struggling at all. He panicked because the diver got in his face and freaked him out, but he was perfectly fine in the habitat God placed him in.
Humans like to think we're being helpful when we "rescue" animals but can we call Nemo "safe"? He was going to be given to that demented little girl for goodness sake! Nemo was in no way safer in the aquarium than in the ocean. Speaking of the aquarium, have we noticed that every fish in that tank had an issue? One actually believed her reflection to be another fish that was just always in her way. That isn't natural. That cute yellow one was obsessed with bubbles, probably because they were the only thing that changed or moved freely. The one with the scar, the mentor fish, the best one ever, had given up. He was depressed. He was content to just live, unmoving until he finally died. That's the saddest thing of all.
These fish spent the entire movie trying to get AWAY for the man that had so valiantly "rescued" them. How can we even call that a life?
The fact of the matter is, animals we find in the wild are meant to stay there. They are meant to thrive and fight and survive in their own habitat. Not in a cage or an enclosure. (Don't even get me started on Zoos). If you want to study them, study them in the wild, watch and observe but for Pete's sake, leave them be!
What you might see as "saving" or "rescuing" could be detrimental mentally and emotionally for these poor creatures. Tigers aren't house cats. Lions aren't meant to be in an 80X80 square with a screen for a roof. Sea creatures are SEA creatures, not tiny glass box full of stale water creatures. We have to leave them alone and stop trying to assume we know what's best for them.
Im all for rescuing the sick or hurt and healing them but RELEASE is the next step. Don't catch them and lock them up. Animals don't have a voice but we do, we can be their voice.

Excuse and Forgive

Please excuse my inability to create full sentences around you. Please excuse my nervous giggles and awkward glances when you walk up. Please excuse that face that you suddenly make me nervous in a way I didn't know you would.
Please forgive me if I seem distant or unsure. It's merely a side effect of silently hoping you like me as much as I like you and not wanting to embarrass myself. Forgive the fact that I'm terrible at admitting my feelings.
Most of all forgive me if I'm reading too much into your kind words and actions. I'm just not used to someone making time for me that way. I'm not used to someone like you at all.
You're gentle and sweet and patient where I am a tornado of loud and abrasive and emotional.
Forgive me if I doubt that you could ever feel the same way about me, it's only because I never expected to want you like this.
But you make me want to be better than I am. You make me want to be something you would be proud of. You make me want to change for the better.
So please excuse my uncertainty and my awkwardness and my quirks. I just like you an awful lot.

A Guy Like This

"He broke down her walls without her even noticing. And when he rebuilt the walls, he added windows to let in the sunshine."

This has instantly become one of my favorite quotations. Other the fact that it's beautifully written and something about it is just perfect, it makes me love this guy. He knew exactly what she needed. He broke down the walls but not in an intrusive way. In a gentle, patient way to where she didn't even realize it was happening. But he didn't leave them down, no he knew she needed to be protected. But he built them differently. He built them in a way that didn't close her in so much. The windows let in the sunshine but also make it easier for her to see out. That one detail can change her entire perspective and make her world brighter. The one thing that isn't written directly, the thing my imagination conjures up, is that when he was tearing down the walls, he was on the outside trying to get through to her. But when he built them again, Id like to think he stayed inside with her to keep her company.
That's the kind of guy im waiting for. The kind of guy that can see what I need and help me get there without pushing. A gentle, loving, patient guy that can help me change the way I see things. Someone who can let the light in when I want to shut it out. Someone who can break down these walls I've built through years of cynicism and bitterness, but not with a jackhammer. Someone who can pull them brick by brick and still want me when he finally sees me completely vulnerable and broken. I need this guy to exist because anything less wont make it into forever.

Surprised by Vastness

I thought I could get a fix of you and let you go. Like one last time for memory sake would be enough. How foolish was I to believe you could be temporary. It was like jumping off a diving board expecting a kiddie pool and landing in the ocean. I am drowning in the all encompassing feeling of you and I have yet to catch my breath. The overwhelming need to have you beside me makes my breath catch in my throat at the sound of your name. I have no idea what makes you so enticing or what makes it so impossible to separate myself from you. Words that typically come so easily to mind are all but lost when your name is rattling around in my head. Loving you is easy and disorienting. Like I have nothing better to do than flail and drown and gasp for breath. Like my body wants to be in such a constant upheaval. Its miserable and perfect and completely insane but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. Because loving you is unreal; its like nothing I've ever experienced or heard of. Its the opposite of all the fairy tales. Opposite of everything I've ever dreamed of having. Its perfect. Its mind-boggling and stunning and devastating. I am helpless when it comes to you, completely at a loss. I have tried so many times to remove myself from your spell but its impossible, plain and simple. I cannot and never will be able to let you go. I doubt I will ever want to. You are this awe-inspiring, breath taking, intimidating, incredible creature and I'm hopeless. I'm yours. Completely and entirely. All you have to do is say the word.

For Her

A year ago today, God called you home. It's hard to believe an entire years has gone by without you. I can honestly say I miss you everyday. You were so much more than an aunt. You were a friend and a sister and a mom. There are so many things I wish you could've been here to experience. So many things I want to talk to you about. So many days where it still isn't real. I hope you'd be proud of who I've become. I hope you would look and me and smile and say "that's my girl". I miss you like you could never imagine. I love you.

Changing Love

We have a hard time correctly identifying love. Love in the sense of undying, unconditional, forever and always, life completing love. It's an overused word in the first place so it's lost meaning. We "love" pizza or we "love" a TV show or even "love" a celebrity. But im not talking about temporary, superficial like or even infatuation. Im talking LOVE. The kind you marry for. The kind in story books and Disney movies. I think we have this picture perfect idea of what "true love" should feel like. Like it always has to be at first sight, earth shaking, breath taking love. And maybe it is. But then again maybe its not. Part of the problem is that we expect every love to feel the same so when it's different, we don't always recognize it. I believe it's absolutely possible to love more than one person. Maybe you fall in love and then fall out then some time later, you fall angina forever. The thing is, you have to understand that those loves aren't going to feel the same. At the same time, even if you only ever love one person in your life, your love isn't going to be the same as someone else's. Your falling in love experience is exactly that, its YOURS. No one can tell you how its supposed to work or what time frame it should fit or the words you need to say. One might be fairy tale, princess and castles and birds singing and helping you with housework. But the other could be butterflies 24/7 and confusion but stone cold devotion through every trial. Love isn't a cookie cutter. It's not the same. We have to be open to letting it change and feel different in the wake of heartbreak if we are to have hope of loving again.

What Hides The Chipping Paint

Sitting on the floor, I stare up at the chipped tan paint. Maybe it used to be white, but years of abuse and over use have tainted it to its current tan color. Its been years since I saw this paint last. Years since I began the effort to cover it up. Littering the floor around me are the dozens of pictures that used to be taped there. Taped to that door. To the door I see every time I enter my room. Every time I leave. Every time I pass by. It felt surreal to take the pictures down. Snapshots of memories of laughter and friendship and love and joy. Snapshots of people who no longer have time for me. People I never see. People I'm adding to the long list of people I knew. Somehow I felt like a liar every time my eyes caught those happy faces, frozen in time and stuck on my door. Like a child holding on to a teddy bear long past the age at which I should have given it up. Relief flooded me when the first one came off with a satisfying pop. Then regret with the next. And nostalgia. And hurt. And then came the strength. With every memory off the door, I got stronger. Surrounded by the faces that haunt my memories and my dreams, I realize I no longer have time for people that have no time for me. I realize I am worth more than the occasional phone call or text. I am worth more than a few likes on Facebook. I will no longer feel hurt when I'm not tagged in a "best friend" post on Instagram. I will no longer be repulsed by the Snapchats I'm not included in. Because I am a young woman with a life and a goal and a mindset in which I have no time for trivial problems like abandonment. I am not one to throw away old photos simply because the people in them have changed. So for now, I'll stick them in a different place. Perhaps the pages of an overflowing smashbook or the clear plastic of a scrapbook, but no longer will they riddle my everyday life with questions and what ifs.

Glad For The Company

As much as I love the endless stream of dialogue and plot that flows constantly through my head, it has a tendency to exhaust me. I am never truly alone, constantly attended by the characters I've created and new ones forming in the blink of an eye. I am never truly bored, unceasingly besieged by their emotions, their words, and their situations. In the dead of night, as sleep closes around my consciousness, one of them will speak up and I lay for hours helping them out of imaginary snares and finding new paths for my manuscripts to take. They never blend together, their personalities so distinct but their faces are blurs and changes made with every second as I wonder weather adding a scar and a story will help develop my imaginary companion in a better way. I do not regret having them in my head. I don't care if people think I'm crazy. I don't care at all that talking this way makes me sound completely insane. But in moments when reality and pretend collide, and I am overwhelmed with things that need taking care of, their voices serve only to increase my anxiety. They are my friends and in recent days I have become overwhelmingly grateful for their companionship but sometimes I wish the voices would silence. I wish their plots would stop mid frame and let me breathe. I wish their imagined emotions couldn't so easily affect my own. I wish I had a breath of time all to myself with absolutely no one else around. And then, in the instant I wish for their eradication, I don't. I remember that their existence is the reason I've found a career path that I love. They are the reason I write. They are part of me. Their fears are my own, their dreams from my head, and their entire existence because of me. Because of them, I have come to know myself better and I have become a more complex person. And in that moment I no longer take them for granted, but sigh a sigh of relief, glad for the company.

Finally

Intoxicated by feelings and memories, I float on the cloud you've created. I stumble over my words but I cant wipe this smile off my face. Your name is exhilarating and your smile leaves me with a heady weightlessness. Sunlight filters through the trees like nature's own version of a chandelier, letting me bask in the glittering happiness that's overtaking my mind. I am powerless to fight against the stirring you create in my soul. You are the strongest drug that could exist for me and when it comes to you, I am addicted. My heart soars at the mention of you and I feel at home in conversation with you. You have a way of incapacitating me in the best way. I am hopelessly steadfast in my trust in you, in my hope for us, and in the desire to have a future with you. Somehow you complete me and we fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Me without you would be disastrous. I fail to see how I could continue to exist without you next to me. Given the time and the separation we've had, I cant help but assume fate brought us back together. We are written in the stars. We are a story for the ages. And I want nothing other than you.

A Warning and A Promise

People underestimate me in practically every area of my life and I am sick of it.

I am not a fragile child who needs coddling or protecting. I am a woman who has seen her fair share of sorrow and grief and misfortune and I am strong because of it.

I am not a game to be played. I am not desperate enough to hang my feeling out to dry in front of a man because I require a man who is strong enough to chase me.

I am not a children's game to be played and laughed at in free time. I am a woman to be respected and if you cross me, a force to be feared.

I used to be the innocent school girl with no malice and no backbone but that girl is gone and good riddance. I cringe to the think of the wavering doormat I used to be.

Now I am solid and strong and a force to be reckoned with. Should you treat me like a game, Ill show you how its played.

It is absurd for you to think you can manipulate me the way you used to and frankly its cowardly. I will not be made a fool of and I will most certainly not be humiliated.

This is a warning and a promise.

Cross me and you will regret it. Play me and I will demolish you. I refuse to be toyed with any longer. Make that mistake, and I will have no reservations about letting my wrath out upon you