You Were Poison

I didn't want to let you go.  You have to know that.  You have to realize that leaving you was one of the hardest things to do.  You were my last string, my last anchor holding me to my past.  The part of my heart that longs for the familiar screamed at me to keep you close.  But reality told me different.  You are a toxin that I had to be rid of.  Had I stayed in your presence, I surely would have died.

It's different up here.  Floating above the things I know.  Landing for a moment anywhere I please, but never growing my roots deep enough to stay.  It feels a touch like freedom.  It feels a touch lonely.  But mostly, it feels like breath is finally coming back into my lungs.

I had no idea how long you were holding me under water; denying me air.  Denying me life.  You sat the weight of betrayal on my chest and expected me to carry on like nothing had changed.  I failed you there, but I don't mind.  I couldn't live that way anymore.  That's why I left.

I want to be vengeful and hope that me pulling away is killing you half as much as you killed me.  But I know better.  You won't feel the sting until you've made some drastic mistake.  You won't realize I'm gone until you need something and I'm not there to give it.  But right now, in this moment, I doubt you even know I'm gone.

You were poison.  Sucking life from someone else just so you can live yourself.  Call me selfish, whatever you please, but I'd like to live for me for a while.

The Clouds of People

I've always been fascinated by clouds.

They way they float together, becoming one and splitting apart.

Changing each other and creating new forms.

It has occurred to me that people are much the same.

We come together, impacting and changing the lives of each person we come in contact with.

Sometimes we split and become two different things.

Sometimes we softly drift apart.

And sometimes we drift together again after a long time.

It is in that reunion that storms are born.

Thunderstorms of emotion,

hurricanes of repressed feelings,

beautiful lightning storms of something new and brilliant.

We drift and we collide and we tear ourselves apart, each of us hoping to find a storm we want to live inside of forever.

The Things You Don't Know

I spent the first week of July at my favorite place on earth. Pine Springs Baptist Camp. A place that changes lives. A place the ignites the fire of Christ in icy hearts. A place full of miracles. But something one of the girls in my dorm said got me thinking about how we portray our selves and what others see. She made a comment about me being "preppy" and "happy" and "giggly" all of the time. I was immediately defensive. She doesn't know me. She doesn't know my struggles. She doesn't know my heart or my life. So I thought I'd take a moment to share my secrets, the parts of me that I cover up with smiles and giggles. 
This girl, no offense to her, but she has no idea who I am. And honestly, you don't either. So here I am. Here are the ugly truths that hide deep in my soul that no one knows. 

You don't know that one year and ten months ago my best friend in this whole world died unexpectedly and I'm never going to stop hurting. 
You don't know that my heart physically aches every single day. 
You don't know that it's been five years since I've had a best friend.  
You don't know that in the course of two years I lost 6 friends and I still don't understand why. 
You don't know I have severe trust issues. That I ice out anyone who gets remotely close to me because I'm so freaking terrified of getting hurt again. 
You don't know that I have severe anxiety when I step foot outside the house. 
You don't know I've had to develop my own methods to stop myself from having a panic attack as I walk across campus. 
You don't know that I cry almost every single night before I finally run out of tears and pass out, exhausted on my pillows. 
You don't know that all my pillow cases are stained with mascara from my late night sobbing. 
You don't know that I've been single for fours years because someone took my heart and ran it over with a lawn mower when I was 16. 
You don't know that he's still my weakness, after everything he did to me, I've let him break my heart three times and I still miss him. 
People call me a flirt but they doesn't realize that I prefer the company of guys because they don't snicker about me behind my back or make me feel ugly or fat. 
No one in my entire life has heard this all as blatantly as I'm writing it right now. You don't know how proud I am of myself for being able to post this and not be self conscious. 


There are dozens more examples of demons I had behind my smile. But there's a lot of good too. I like looking up, just walking and looking up and feeling so infinitely small in this massive universe. I push past my insecurities because I want to be that happy person with a constant smile. I don't want my issues to win out. I want to control them, not for them to control me. I'm that girl who makes straight A's but takes an extra minute to get the joke you just told. 


Anyway, this girl doesn't know me. She doesn't know any of this. No one does. Well, you do now I guess. And that's insane. Because I don't speak this candidly to people. 

So if you've made it to the end of this post, I guess what I want to say is first of all, thank you for taking a spare moment to read it. And second, you never really know people. Don't assume. Don't call names. Just be a descent human being and be kind. People are always fighting battles you know nothing about. 


With love,
 M. A. Trappe 

Sunshine and Light Bulbs

He was sunshine in the purest form.

All smiles and glowing and brightness pouring from every inch of his skin.

He was radiant.

Glorious.

Warm and inviting like a cloudless day on the water.

Every time she looked at him, she was blinded by his incandescence.

She couldn't stare directly into his face, not the way the knots in her stomach begged her to.

Instead, she glanced around the edges, where it was just bright enough for her to warm up a bit.

She thought she was good at faking it, her own light.

He set a good example that she tried her hardest to emulate.

In her mind, she was just a star, a little farther away, and only a little less bright.

But he could see through her glare.

He did what she couldn't and looked at her dead on.

And to him, she was a light bulb.

When she was on, you could hardly look at her for the brilliance.

But when she was off, all you could see was fragile glass and wires.

He knew if she was handled too roughly, she'd break apart and the glow would die forever.

She wanted so desperately to hide the glass.

But to him, she was beautiful when she was off; all glass and wires and exposed.

Her delicacy was what made her different.

In a world of rocks who despised the light entirely, and flowers who needed it to live, she could create her own.

But the wires made him fearful too, for he knew that if she kept it up too long, she just might burn herself out.