I got a typewriter for Christmas this past year.
You'd think that hunk of rusted, dirty, grey metal was a shiny new car.
I was in love the moment my eyes slid across it's keys.
Today I realized the ancient ribbon still had a little ink left in it so I threaded some paper in and began clacking away.
The sound of those letters slamming into the ribbon and flinging ink onto the page is honestly music to my ears. I want to write like that forever.
The clicking keys, the ticking roll as I move the paper up and down, the classic "ring" when I reach the end of the line.
Something in the antiquity, in the out datedness is beautiful.
Im in love with it's effect.
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Dispicable Time
I hate time. That stupid, despicable master clock that just keeps ticking along. Unfeeling, unrelenting, uncaring. It just keeps going and never lets me catch up. It constantly confounds me.
How can people I used to snuggle up to on couches in their living rooms become people who glare from a distance?
How can people I used to text incessantly and have inside jokes with hardly recognize me and then walk on without another thought?
How can people I loved become people I loathe?
I'm by no means innocent. I walk past people I used to know and hardly remember their name. I am not without blame. But today, this time, my heart is aching in my chest.
Change over time spurs so much.
It spurs that feeling where your chest constricts and you can't get a full breath. It spurs the clenching of fists and the thinning of lips. It spurs the kind of pain that won't go unnoticed. It rushes over you and floods out without consent and is impossible to stop.
You can fight it and fail or you can let it in and pray it passes. You open your heart and let out the misery, the hurt, the unjustness of it all. You drown in the pain and the aching in your chest and it radiates until your entire body hurts. You let your eyes sting and your cheeks flood. And if you're lucky, it might pass.
How can people I used to snuggle up to on couches in their living rooms become people who glare from a distance?
How can people I used to text incessantly and have inside jokes with hardly recognize me and then walk on without another thought?
How can people I loved become people I loathe?
I'm by no means innocent. I walk past people I used to know and hardly remember their name. I am not without blame. But today, this time, my heart is aching in my chest.
Change over time spurs so much.
It spurs that feeling where your chest constricts and you can't get a full breath. It spurs the clenching of fists and the thinning of lips. It spurs the kind of pain that won't go unnoticed. It rushes over you and floods out without consent and is impossible to stop.
You can fight it and fail or you can let it in and pray it passes. You open your heart and let out the misery, the hurt, the unjustness of it all. You drown in the pain and the aching in your chest and it radiates until your entire body hurts. You let your eyes sting and your cheeks flood. And if you're lucky, it might pass.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
See Me
I want someone to see me.
I want someone to know when I'm joking and when I'm being serious.
I want someone to see when I'm trying to be funny and when I'm silently crying out for help.
I want someone to recognize my genuine smile.
I want someone to hear me say "I'm fine" but hug me because they know im not.
I want someone to realize when I need cheering up.
When I'm falling apart.
When I need support.
I'm tired of the faces.
I'm tired of pretending.
I'm tired of everyone thinking things are perfect.
I want someone to see me.
I want someone to know when I'm joking and when I'm being serious.
I want someone to see when I'm trying to be funny and when I'm silently crying out for help.
I want someone to recognize my genuine smile.
I want someone to hear me say "I'm fine" but hug me because they know im not.
I want someone to realize when I need cheering up.
When I'm falling apart.
When I need support.
I'm tired of the faces.
I'm tired of pretending.
I'm tired of everyone thinking things are perfect.
I want someone to see me.
Monday, May 4, 2015
The Last Time
It was amazing, the way they set each other on fire the last time they met.
Really, if she had to blame it on anyone, it was his fault. With all his deep looks and that perfect grin, how could it be her fault at all? They made quite a team, when they weren't fighting each other. But they could rarely stop arguing to let anyone else in.
It was a sweet kind of arguing. He would point out something about her and she would be too cynical to take it seriously. Endless giggling would ensue and they were off to the races.
He liked to flirt. But not with her. With her, it was different. There was no hair touching or space invasion, no matter how badly she craved his closeness. There were no compliments, no winks, nothing like what she watched transpire with other girls. There was only good natured arguing and a hell of a lot of laughter.
She smarted off, hardly letting the thought of her words touch her mind before they came spinning off her tongue. At first, she panicked. But then he laughed. He really laughed, and the smile that came to his face was radiant like nothing she'd ever seen. And the knowledge that she put that smile on his face? That was the best part. His low, rumbling laugh sent a shiver down her arms and turned her cheeks bright red. But she didn't care. She made him laugh and at that moment, that was all that mattered.
He caught her off guard, reading into her in a way no one was ever able too, seeing through her like she was made of glass. It was scary, but oddly invigorating. He could see her. For as long as she could remember, no one could see her like he did, and now there he was reading through her like a children's book.
At the height of their interaction, when he reached out, she rolled her eyes but her heart was pounding. Their knuckles touched, and she felt a literal, physical, spark. The act was simple, trivial really, but it seemed to solidify something between them. Something that made her acutely aware of his location relative to her. Something that held his eyes to her face. Something unspoken between them that changed the waves in the air from friendly fire to something more. Something with underlying meanings and a depth neither of them could hope to reach the bottom of.
Her only regret was how late in the season the moment had fallen. Their season was coming to an end, the leaves of their trees all fallen to the ground now, ready for the next period of time. But neither of them could guess whether they would move into the same season, or if one would move backward as the other slid forward. There was no telling what would happen next, but whatever happened they knew for sure the air between them would never be the same.
Really, if she had to blame it on anyone, it was his fault. With all his deep looks and that perfect grin, how could it be her fault at all? They made quite a team, when they weren't fighting each other. But they could rarely stop arguing to let anyone else in.
It was a sweet kind of arguing. He would point out something about her and she would be too cynical to take it seriously. Endless giggling would ensue and they were off to the races.
He liked to flirt. But not with her. With her, it was different. There was no hair touching or space invasion, no matter how badly she craved his closeness. There were no compliments, no winks, nothing like what she watched transpire with other girls. There was only good natured arguing and a hell of a lot of laughter.
She smarted off, hardly letting the thought of her words touch her mind before they came spinning off her tongue. At first, she panicked. But then he laughed. He really laughed, and the smile that came to his face was radiant like nothing she'd ever seen. And the knowledge that she put that smile on his face? That was the best part. His low, rumbling laugh sent a shiver down her arms and turned her cheeks bright red. But she didn't care. She made him laugh and at that moment, that was all that mattered.
He caught her off guard, reading into her in a way no one was ever able too, seeing through her like she was made of glass. It was scary, but oddly invigorating. He could see her. For as long as she could remember, no one could see her like he did, and now there he was reading through her like a children's book.
At the height of their interaction, when he reached out, she rolled her eyes but her heart was pounding. Their knuckles touched, and she felt a literal, physical, spark. The act was simple, trivial really, but it seemed to solidify something between them. Something that made her acutely aware of his location relative to her. Something that held his eyes to her face. Something unspoken between them that changed the waves in the air from friendly fire to something more. Something with underlying meanings and a depth neither of them could hope to reach the bottom of.
Her only regret was how late in the season the moment had fallen. Their season was coming to an end, the leaves of their trees all fallen to the ground now, ready for the next period of time. But neither of them could guess whether they would move into the same season, or if one would move backward as the other slid forward. There was no telling what would happen next, but whatever happened they knew for sure the air between them would never be the same.
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