smoke windows

so did you just stop writing? the words I held onto for so long drift like smoke between my ears, an empty head full of mists that resemble something substantial, playing on my emotions like they hold the power that my brain might.
               
              but where did it go?
where did you go, your words always painting a picture of my emotions, giving voice to things I couldn't say. now I'm here and it's 11:11 and I'm confused about where you went and why you thought you could just disappear, and I have so many things to ask you, and I don't know why it's always you I think about when I'm alone with myself and my smoke-brain.

maybe it's your words, lingering like unwanted guests in the forgotten corners of my brain. can you dust while you're back there?

if you were here I'd tell you about how my eyes sting when I think about your hugs, wrapping around me and keeping me safe. I'd tell you about how much your words meant when I was burrowing deeper into my homemade pit of self-pity and distaste, how I knew you never got impatient with listening to me or making me feel better.

or maybe you did, maybe that's why you stopped, came over to say goodbye, went on a plane and never resurfaced from the oceans of your own self-discovery. maybe this whole time I was a weight and you were strong until you weren't.

anyway, I need you and I need the broken glass and hours of smoke, folding around me in beams of colored and entering my brain while I dance, dance, dance--

I knew I would never be able to let you go.

you surprised or what

I used to write about you all the time.

Every time, in fact. I wrote about you because I wanted you, I needed you. You made me feel like wings (not chicken) and you always gave me a hug whenever I was upset. Somehow, you knew when you looked in my eyes how I was feeling and every time you smiled at me it stung a little bit. Not the kind of painful, overbearing sting you feel when an insect bites you or you have a rash, but the kind like a papercut--distracting, but small enough that nobody else really cares or notices. You had this way with me that made me feel like it was just you and me, and that was it. You looked at me above the crowd of people with your icy eyes and you saw me. And maybe you did this with everyone, I don't know, but you saw me, and you saw what I saw, and you understood like I did. You and me, we had the same filter.

I wonder why I want to talk to you now. After all this time, after all these years, it's still you. You're still the only one who ever knew what to say, the only one who knew when to tell me I was perfect and when to send me cat videos. You were never demeaning or inconsiderate, you never thought I was less. You knew, and I never understood you. I couldn't be what you needed, and I couldn't be quite enough.

I have so many questions for you, and I want to ask them, but I don't know how. How can I ask you what you did when you felt so alone, because it was just you and your head, even when you were swimming in a sea of people? I have so many more--how did you know when it started? How did you feel it the first time? How often was it? Who did you tell?

What did you do when it was too much? When you couldn't be enough? When you knew what you wanted and how to get it, but somehow couldn't take that first step? When you were paralyzed into thinking that you were less and somehow you existed only below? When you were angry? When you were sad? When you wanted to punch a pillow in but didn't have the strength? What about the insomnia? What happened then?

How did  you deal with the pain? You know, the pain that cuts into your heart and sits there, makes a nest, a nest of glass that threatens to cut more whenever you move. How does it feel to take medication? How does it feel to self-medicate? What did you do when you were done, when you wanted it to be over? Did you ever go too far? What about when you had too many thoughts, too many questions, too many dreams, and not enough hope? What about then?

Somehow I know, if I asked, you would answer, and you would call and tell me it's ok, and you would know what to do. You would drive over and you would hold me in your arms, even though it's been years, and you would kiss the top of my head and fill me with warmth. You would know, and I would know that you knew, and we would be you and me together, two broken records that made a pretty cool collection.

I used to write about you all the time.

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.

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.

Saturday.

Saturday.

Lazy Day.
Adventure Day.

Soccer Sister Day.
Dad's Bread Day.
Radio Day.
Nap Day.
Do Nothing Day.
Forget about Homework Day.
Make Brownies Day.

Piano Day.
Ponytail day.
Indian Summer Day.
Friends.
Friends.
Friends.
Music Day.
Dance Party Day.
Sit on the Couch and Look
Out the Window For No
Apparent Reason Day.
Wahoo! Day.
Weekend Day.
Really Cool Day.
Football Day.
Not Go to Homecoming Day.




Saturday.

Horoscopes? What a joke.

You know, the funniest thing just occurred to me just now.
Why is it that every horoscope is different on different websites?
Surprisingly, most of them are right.
But, they are all so different.
Here's a few for my sign, Cancer, for today (september 23).

Astrology.com.
Your spirit double is watching out for you today, so much so that it might be harder than ever for you to get in trouble. Your amazing, positive energy should protect you from most problems

My Spirit double?
I didn't know I had one.


Astrologycafe.com

September 21, 2011

Small but nevertheless frustrating delays are more likely to occur today, dear Cancer. Past errors can crop up, or you might feel vaguely guilty about a responsibility you haven't fulfilled. Instead of stressing yourself out, take advantage of the time you have now to reevaluate what you are doing. You could find an error or an inconsistency that needs correcting. Take the time to right a wrong, or to forgive yourself for something you can't change. Even if it's a small effort, it's somehow empowering.

Ganeshaspeaks.com
22 Sep, 2011 
Today, you will feel blessed. And blessed you are, indeed. You will have the proverbial Midas touch, albeit with a slight difference: you will not touch the people you love and turn them to gold. You will just touch their heart and make them happier.


my.horoscope.com
Who knew you were so talented, Cancer? A creation done long ago suddenly takes on a life of its own. A short story written and submitted long ago is pulled from the bottom of the slush pile. Or a portrait you painted gets a second admiring look. Whatever the circumstances, you enjoy the recognition. Your work isn't the only thing receiving admiring glances. Your partner appreciates you, too!


shine.yahoo.com

Quickie

Enjoy the positive attention you're getting -- you're entering a high-profile phase.

astrologycom.com

Wed Sep 21: Personal Magnetism

You may have a revelation about a work issue today, but now is not the time to act on it. Stress may cause you to catch a cold more easily than usual, so avoid those who are sniffling and sneezing. At least on this traditional equinox day, the Moon is in your sign, so your personal magnetism is stimulated. It's a shame the environment is not so cooperative! Auspicious colours are iris and baby blue. Lucky numbers are 39 and 48.

Last, but not least, my facebook horoscope.

This one is always the most accurate.

Sometimes its scary.

Daily Horoscope: September 21, 2011

All's well in your world, as evidenced by that great big grin you're wearing -- and your uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. This would be the perfect time to mend those fences.

• Compatibility: Capricorn
• Mood: Mellow
• Lucky Color: Shadow Black
• Lucky Number: 61
• Lucky Time of Day: 2am

well this is awkward.

Coincidence.
This is what I like to call a coincidence.
I guess we could call it karma.
But whatever you would like to call it, it is
what it is.
A 25% chance can become a reality.
Or an awkward situation.
The only thing that
irritates me about you
Is everything about You.
I confuse myself
over a passerby smile.
My face lights up
at the glance of an unsuspected text.
And my eyes shine with anger
when I am unmistakably
ignored.
Honestly,
I'm over you.
But if we are still being honest,
I'm completely in love with you.
The difference between you
and me
is that we are
the same
in almost every way.
And yet,
I can't see
the way you do.
Lets pretend we are friends,
again.
You know me,
I know you,
I tell you my secrets,
and you catch me when I'm lying.
You tell me things I used to
believe were the honest truth.
Now I'm not so sure.
I'm not going to write some long sappy
poem about this,
because I tell it like it is.
And if you ever get the chance to
read this,
You'll know.

Here we are.

At school I find an air of solitude around friends. Surrounded by so many, I still feel so alone.
Or so I thought.
But today I realized that I'm not.
I'm encircled about with people who love and care about me.
And I shouldn't take it for granted.
Random acts of kindness (forced or not) happen to me all the time.
Me.
Don't ask me why, don't ask me what.
And if I'm not happy with it, then what would make me happy?
I don't even know.
Making something into a big drama isn't the way things should be.
I can talk, so can you.
Mostly me.
As we all know.
But so what? Let me talk.
Let my loquacious lips fly!
I'm rambling.
I realize that.
But who cares.
If he ever read this blog I could possibly be stereotyped for life.
Talk to me, loser, before I talk to you.

....

Really dumb.
You're really really dumb.

I am dumb.

I am really really dumb.

The end.

Last day of summer.
A fitting 30 million degrees too.
Construction = not done

I think I decided to play basketball again.
It could be worthwhile.

School will be heck.
The only fun classes I have are a capella and seminary.
At least I'll be prepared for college, right?

I just remembered.
I Don't Have a Back Pack.

I'm scared to go to school because I'm scared to see that boy.
And I'm scared for AP Physics.
And I'm scared that I've lost all my social skills whatsoever over the summer.
I'm scared of any grade lower than an A.
And I'm scared of not fitting in.

Sound like regular teenage problems, right?
They don't seem regular if they are your own.

My New Favorite.

Two (three?) words.
Retro.
Clipart.

I'd also like to announce that I am officially, insane. Refer to the last post.