shhh

Sometimes I don't feel like saying anything.

Don't be offended when I don't talk; I know it is quite unusual, and very rare, but if I don't start to immediately ramble,

Don't ask me if I'm ok. 

Don't try and bring up a new subject.

But most important, don't leave.

Just walk with me. Give me a hug. Somedays all you need to do is look me in the eyes and you'll know.

I hope you won't feel awkward. 

If you know me well enough, you'll understand. So following that logic, nobody will understand.

If you're a boy, you can just hold my hand.

It doesn't matter if you like me, or if we've ever talked.

I'll know you care if you don't say anything to me. You don't need to compliment me. You don't need to open doors. You just need to be there.

It's time our world took a deep breath to listen. Opened her eyes to observe. Quieted the gossip, the complaints, the pessimism. Stopped the telephones, internet, and streetcars.
The day that the people in this world just take one second to breathe, to think, to imagine, that will be the day when life creates its own perfection.
Turn off your music, stop talking, stop crying. Finish your conversation and listen to the teacher. The chaos of words piling into my head are in a constant stream that needs to be stopped. So will you, can you be the cork?

Just going with the motions.

Comprehensively, I've had an overall average day.
You know, I'm just like the coolest person in school so  naturally I have 400 friends and everybody loves me.
Actually not really. Mostly I just went to school and learned some knowledge. But is being cool important? I don't know. I guess if you wanna have really Great Great high school experience, you should really get updated on how to be cool. When this boy in my English class gave a speech on how to be cool at Lone Peak, it was pretty informative and really helped me out a lot. But he didn't really address the girls. So let me just tell you, my friends, ten ways how to be the prettiest, most popular girls at school.
1. Dye your hair.
            Preferably a nice shade of platinum blonde would do (with brown roots or underneath), but mostly any color will get you into a popular group, just as long as it isn't your natural hair color.
2. Wear super cute clothes.
            Most likely this will include short, tight floral or indian print skirts. Make sure that you buy all of your clothes at Forever 21 or at H&M so you won't be embarrassed when you tell somebody where you got them. You'll need about 300 fake vintage necklaces, and multiple rings on your fingers at once. Don't forget to wear 5-inch heels with all of your jeans.
3. Go to all the dances and post 100 pictures on Facebook.
            If you don't get asked, you're social history. And if you do get asked, put all the pictures on the internet. And make sure they are SOUPS professional and make sure you look gorgeous in all of them.
4. Have a Twitter
            I don't understand this, but apparently its cool.
5. Use the Instagram or Pixlr-matic app on your i-Phone for every picture you take.
            Even though everyone knows that all your pictures are photoshopped, you can always pretend you still don't live in the century of incredibly clear photography and software, right?
6. Have an iPhone
            How would you Tweet every 5 seconds or post photos on instagram without it, right?
7. Don't play a sport.
            Sports are for boys. The only sport you are allowed to be into are cheerleading and dance, otherwise, just go to the game if you are cheering, okay? (and you better be at all the games, otherwise, who knows what will happen to you.)
8. Flirt it up with the jocks.
             These boys may or may not be smart, have good morals, or have any common sense at all, but make sure that you are the girl of their dreams. Never be smarter than them, and make sure you don't go to half your classes because you are talking or making out with them.
9. Don't eat lunch.
              Ohmyheck you could TOTES get SO fat if you ever did that. Maybe sneak in a bag of carrots in third period, but you better not have anybody in that class who you know.
10. Be on a Jr. Jazz team full of your besties.
               Even if you don't play basketball (oh wait. You aren't allowed to, so you better not know how to), get all of your cheerleader or dance friends to create a team with you. Name yourself something ridiculous like "the basketball babes" or something very gangsta' like "Ballers." Make sure you wear preppy sweat bands and run around like a little mouse the whole time. Have a fan base of all your jock friends and make sure they come to every game. When you shoot, make sure you let out a cute little scream and just chuck it.

Now that you know how to be a cool girl at Lone Peak, I'm looking forward to seeing your transformation on monday when we get back.

sensibility

I'm consumed by jealousy,
Tricked into hatred.

I'm running through foolishness,
and dancing in bliss.

The happiness tangled in my hair,
outlasts the heart full of pride.

The quick steps of embarrassment
harass my serendipity.

While dreaming of romance
and sleeping in false joy,

Assumption murders excitement
and rumors marry anger.

I feel the warmth of stinging ignorance
and the cold breath of knowledge

As I bathe in my regret
and dry my tears with carelessness,

I'm woken by reality
and greeted with loneliness.

daydream

I am hopelessly, irrepressibly, simply lost in a daydream. Passing me in the halls, you could possibly, most likely, be thinking "Who is that girl and why does she look like she's dreaming with her eyes open?"  The answer is simple: Because I am dreaming with my eyes open.

A daydream is nothing more than a thought evolving into an image. It needs no storyboard, no plot. It doesn't even have to end with a 'happily ever after', although that is where most of my recent mind-tangents have been after being rudely interrupted. Daydreams grow creativity, spark ideas, and happen to be a nasty distraction.

Don't get me wrong--I love my daydreams. When I tunnel deep into my mansion of thoughts, I find true love. I find success and I can find light even in the darkest of all my rooms. My bedroom holds my most private thoughts, my most sincere desires, while my kitchen, (only a few doors down), leans towards my cravings and initial wants. I never do math or physics, but sometimes I see numbers counting the stairs or sidewalk cracks. What happens in my bathroom stays in the bathroom.

Now see where you've gotten me? I'm so much of a homebody that I've almost given you an entire tour. The thing you need to understand is that my daydreams are consuming me. This is slowly degrading me, and perverting my current views of reality. Of course, this may be difficult to understand, providing that my daydreams seem such a wonderful place to be. And they are. But they are getting me into trouble. Mischief is around every corner. I can hardly stop myself from imagining that perfect boy, and what he is doing, and how in love he is with me. Upon jumping out of  my daydream, however, I may (I Do) believe that he is still the perfect boy. But he isn't. He's hardly the man I imagined and more of the boy that all non-daydreamers and normal people know him by. He makes mistakes, and, frankly, he isn't in love with me.

My home in my head is also irresistibly attractive and appealing compared to my physics, calculus, and history classes. Anybody would rather be in New York exploring the subway and riding bicycles between taxis than in a cold classroom learning about momentum. And dancing under the stars, eating marshmallows, and eating cake around a campfire can all seem colorful in comparison to a dull math classroom. And history? History comes alive when I'm in there. (as you can imagine, I do much better in that class).  Either way, this is becoming a dangerous hobby.

I may also be daydreaming this very moment that people (someone, anyone) could be reading my blog.
It's probably better that they don't because, in reality, after reading this, people might start to think I'm a crazy person. Or more of a crazy person than I already am.
What a foolish daydream.

Watch me.

Watch me
as I reach to touch
The stars that could be mine.
Watch me
as I sail past the moon
and smile bigger than I believe.
Watch me
my hair whips through the wind
when I run from the truth
Watch me
I catch my breath
and hold my tongue.
Watch me
I'm afraid of chances
but tonight I'll take one.
Watch me
as I learn to recall
the memories I've formerly erased
Watch me
I'm curious.
And I'm ready to run.
Watch me.
I might fall,
I might trip.
But Watch me.
Not because I'm arrogant
and not because I'm talented
Just watch me
Because I want you to.

goodbye

I'm afraid this is the end.
I must depart from my love of couches, Pandora, fudge, and Fantastic Mr. Fox.  It's time to remember what I forgot two and a half weeks ago. Today is the day I am frustrated with Chapter 19 and Calculus re-takes. I have to finish my book, because if I don't, I'm afraid it will have to wait until spring break. After finally finding places in my room for my typewriter, canteen, spider catcher, candle maker, Ethiopia doll, and other such wonderful things, I pulled out my math packet and breathed a sigh of realization.
It's over. The two weeks I look forward most to out of the whole year have come and gone without much sha-bang, ka-pow, or sweet romance. Christmas break is a past memory once again and I will wait on next Christmas this next year, only to be dissatisfied once again, like always.
There isn't even any snow.
Now back to school, where it's almost impossible to dream bigger than you are, and possibly more boring than exploring a morgue. {which, a morgue is actually super exciting compared to a lot of things} But, that being said, school is opportune and as I understand it, a privilege. But I'm sad to report that my ungrateful and very human being has evolved into a school-disliking teenager (One of my New Year's resolutions is to stop using the word Hate.).
So, now what to look forward to? Who knows. The New Year? Looking ahead, I'm forced to realize that nothing very eventful is happening this year, and that I'm going to have to start becoming...an adult. Frankly, I have no idea what I want to be or where I want to go to school. Last year, I had what seemed like thousands of things to look forward to. I won't even be turning 18 this year.

It didn't even snow on Christmas.