Dreams

I'm running.
I'm running through New York and screaming your name. Why? I don't know. But I can't stop. Tears stream down my face and I'm searching...searching. Searching for somebody who cares. The wind whips my hair around my face and I'm blinded for a moment. It starts to rain and I panic. The subway train comes closer and I can't move my feet. The horn sounds and I'm frozen. Faster, faster, closer, closer. I wince as the lights near my face and then everything goes black.


I'm in a classroom. A classroom full of people I know and people I've cared for. He's looking and me and I can't read his emotions. I stare straight into his eyes and I know he can see right through their amber glow. I want to break away, but I can't. I let him in. I let him know. His eyes reflect hate and I know he doesn't care. Its only a game. Its only for his enjoyment that he sees me suffer. Then he starts to laugh and I fall on the floor.


I'm falling.
Falling backwards into the water, where fish touch my feet and the sand scratches my skin. My shirt sticks close to my skin, and and moves with the current. I stare at the sun and watch the birds. I hear nothing. The sun warms my skin and I close my eyes. I start to sink, and I realize that I don't care. Where I go or what happens to me is only a myth and nobody knows me. Light refracts through the water as I open my eyes..


I'm at a carnival. Color blurs around me and sound fills my ears. I search for a friendly face. I can't calm down. I'm desperate. I feel breath on my neck and I whip around. Its him again. He looks down and studies my face. I can't handle it. I sputter out words and tears seem to flood out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm crazy. I know I'm bothering you. I know you hate me. You never talk to me. Its my fault. I'm sorry." The words never stop. And then throughout the endless flow of nonsensical apologies, his hands lift my face and he just looks at me. He looks at me and says, "I don't care." and my thoughts run through my head, and I tell myself, I knew it. I knew he didn't care. Why could I ever think he could care? He doesn't. I turn to run and all at once he snaps me back to his gaze, his piercing stare. The kids running around us are invisible, and the noise drowns into static. He says, "No. I don't care. I don't care that you're sorry because I don't want you to be sorry. The person who should be sorry is me." And he puts his arms around me and kisses me, right there, and we are oblivious. 


I'm cold. I'm wet and its black. I feel around and coarse burlap rubs against my sore skin. My limp body is thrown back and forth, bumping itself and...something else. The burlap separates me from whatever the mass is that bruises my chest and arms. I struggle for air and I can't breathe. Muffled voices echo in my ears like the sound of anger. Searing pain in my head overtakes me and I can't think of anything else. Nothing but the pain...


I round a corner and slip past the cameras. I open a door and see a garden. A garden that is exclusive for the world, and its just me and my conscience..


And I find myself in his embrace once more. He's holding me and I'm crying. Crying for something I lost, somebody who is gone..


I taste the snow on my tongue. Its warm and dissolves at the touch. Its satisfying and despite the fact that I haven't eaten anything in days, its only a little like Christmas dinner.


He's here again. He's here telling me everything. Its bittersweet when he sees me, and I can see his remorse and his guilt. Who is he? I thought I knew...




I wake up and its all a dream. It's in my head, it's the brainchild of my desires. Only he will never be there, I'm not dead, and I'm only half as frightened. It haunts me and becomes part of me.

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.

Don't.

Don't Bother  Me.
i'm Planning on typing on my typewriter
        love poems
        letters

        lyrics
You could find me stuck in my book
        Cold Sassy Tree
         the Blue Castle
         Tuesdays with Morrie
I mess around on my iPod
         it's white
         and helpful
Wait for me while I
        Fill this canteen
        wrap these boots
        sneak this gingerbread house
If you want, we can
        Dance.
        Sing

        or write
I will do everything I want,
and nothing I should
Anything fun,
and nothing productive.
Let's jump on the tramp
and imagine the sky
          Nobody can stop us
I could possibly have homework
          history,
          math,
          physics.
But let's not do it,
and pretend its not there.
Don't Bother Me.
While I'm Daydreaming,
         Of you,
         of colors,
         of food
I'll be hidden in the tree
          drawing pictures
           or singing

           or sleeping

Don't Bother Me
unless you're here
to forget about this
and be yourself.
Don't
Unless this intrigues you
unless you're carefree
unless you want me.