this isn't about life

this isn’t about life,
this is about love
and living
and loving
loving until your heart breaks so many times the cracks hurt when you move,
living until everywhere feels like home and everything tastes like passion
this is about the tiny palms that hold your fingers,
wrapping around them and holding on as if to whisper,
“I’m here, I’m alive,” the blood pumping under her skin, tinting it pink like her new jumper.
this is about laughing so hard your insides shake,
tears stinging your eyes and your brain scattered in ecstatic sparks,
this is about the time when she cried in the closet until her ears rang and her legs fell asleep,
closing her eyes to keep it all in, the tears and the pain
they never wanted her to feel this,
but she did anyway.

this isn’t about life,
this is about the boy who threw the bracelet at her and pedaled away,
the boy who prank called her 28 times,
the one who loved her eyelashes,
the one who ran off the doorstep,
the one who couldn’t claim her,
the boy who couldn’t choose.
this is about her heart beating at night, praying for a hug,
praying for the love she felt could keep her safe, holding herself between her sheets.

this is about waking up in the morning and smiling back at the sun,
filling herself with love until she loved more than she knew
walked the length of the city more times than she could count
hugged and helped and served and sang
this is about moments
moments that define, moments that sting, moments that dance
not just living because your lungs are moving and your heart is pumping
but because you’re surrounded by the poignant reminder of lives and purpose and after

after, when everything will be different,
transitions and change beating down on you like a mallet on a wooden post,
shifting perspective,
challenging yourself to keep the doors open even though it hurts
maybe that’s how it is
after living,
after loving,
after hurting

this isn’t about life.
it’s about two weeks ago, it’s about today,
how at once she’s beside him and the next she can’t be
where you can reach and not touch,
speak and not be heard
where the foundation is hope and some twisted notion of faith
faith in something you can’t see but faith that keeps us together,
keeps her from tearing herself to pieces and
keeps her from the foggy pollution she breathes in
this is about her eyes when they close at night
and the reality of the dreams that dance in her head
the reflection of the emotions she can never express
the fight between her body and soul
how long will it be
before they can work together?

this isn’t about life.
this is about love,
this is about living and loving,
reaching and trying harder than you have before,
squinting until your head hurts,
wishing until you feel,
feeling so that you’re living,
living so that you can love.

I haven't thought about love for a while

whispers of broken dreams crawl into the cracking walls I call my heart.
I've tried to fill it with
                          red balloons
                          peanut butter
                          wind
                          touch
                          work
but the cement never holds.
I'm ever-turning towards your endless gaze like a sunflower that worships the sun and
I think you are burning me and I think it hurts.
Caress my wilted fingers between your palms and speak nothings onto my cheek,
carry me down the sloped hills we call adventure.
I've been consumed by love and fear and everything between and
I can't catch up with your rough, calloused soles.

The fireflies are the prettiest and they are the easiest to catch. I would imagine them quick, but they lumber on with the weight of a protective light. They are easily snatched from among the leaves of sleeping branches and caught between the chubby fingers of the little ones, captive until their dying days.

I'd tell you how to catch me if I knew how. I'd tell you how simple it is to hold my careless gaze and read my mind-waves washing onshore my face if I knew where to find you a snorkel. Smiles always frighten me but eyes tear me away from reality.

Really I would imagine running away from the world and all of its distractions into salty air with your calloused hands and soft eyes nightly, if my dreams would allow it.

{today is really summer}

{realizing you have less than half the summer}
{remembering goals that seemed plausible last night}
{eating sugar like there is no tomorrow. even though there is.}
{planning and planning}
{dreaming of beaches}
{getting tan-well, for you}
{noticing that your only friend is a bird}
{not caring about that ^^^}
{wishing for kisses. Hersheys...}
{forgetting how to blow-dry your hair}
{falling asleep on the trampoline}
{thinking you need a job}
{but remembering how good lazy feels}
{falling in love...again}
{hot grape nuts}
{zipline rides with glow sticks}
{being amused}
{doing ab workouts and failing}
{reading over 15 books already}
{going over the limit of books at the library}
{blogging, blogging, blogging}

Inspiration

"If I don't seem to need help, it is because I have a better friend, even than father, to comfort and sustain me. My child, the troubles and temptations of your life are beginning, and may be many; but you can overcome and outlive them all if you learn to feel the strength and tenderness of your Heavenly Father as you do that of your earthly one. The more you love and trust Him, the nearer you will feel to Him, and the less you will depend on human power and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, can never be taken from you, but may become the source of life-long peace, happiness, and strength. Believe this heartily, and go to God with all your little cares, and hopes, and sins, and sorrows, as freely and confidingly as you come to your mother."
                                                                                                                        --Little Women

if I were to talk to you right now..

This is what you would hear.

I have no poetic words for you, no literary writing. When I speak in person, this is how I talk to people. In English.

Let me just tell you,

Have you ever known what it feels like to
sweat
and
Love It?
I believe that my schedule of the day previously included,
pure
torture and possibly death.
But did you know?
It is wonderful.
Being in shape...that's wonderful.
Knowing what your body can do, and what it is
capable of.
Truly terrifying and inspiring at the same time.

You could possibly be thinking right now that I am the most disgusting person you may ever meet or get a chance to meet.
You may be judging. But who cares? Not me. I'm in love with my body and what it can do. (don't take that the wrong way, please.)

Also, today, I ate lunch.

now here's a true tangent for you:

Another thing I really like is when people read my blog. I was thinking about blogs the other day...and who really cares? People read these blogs like they are some magazine. But blogs I have read, are personal. Very personal. Some blogs include things that nobody would think about telling somebody in person. You think my blog is deep? I'm not being a hypocrite. The things I write are the things I am comfortable telling people. I guess those people could also be willing to share those things about themselves. But blogs are only an example of the technology that prohibits our everyday lives. Especially mine. Look at me. I'm typing this on a blog when I could be telling somebody else. (This is hypocritical.)

Par example: Let's glance into my life. Texting. The everyday teenager's enemy. I love it. I can tell people things I would never say to their faces. I can text boys and tell them everything on my mind without feeling like a complete dope until I see them in person the next day. Truthfully, I would never find myself in the kind of drama I dive into without it. Texting is a convenience that can quickly evolve into destruction and distraction.

You think this post was random?
You should meet me in person.

Here is a nice picture for you:

Who are you anyways?

Its funny

The way life works, isn't it?

Its not my fault I'm crazy

and it isn't my fault that I think about you

so much.

Maybe someday, 

we'll be best friends,

But for now 

We'll stay on our separate paths.

What did I do?

What did I say?

Nothing.

Well, I'd like to say that

I said

Nothing.

But truthfully, I said

Everything.

And its all 

My fault.

As much as I hate to 

take the blame,

I'm afraid I can only give you

a small percentage of it.

I feel like I know

Who you are.

But do you know me?
Of course you do. 

I force my life into yours

Unnecessarily.

And I'm sure you hate it

and I'm sure I will continue

being a 

crazy 

raving 

lunatic.

 

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.

Fairytale.

Let me write you my fairytale.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, there lived a girl.  Now, she is no ordinary girl. Some might look at her and say, what an ugly creature! Get her out of our sight!
Yes.
But, this girl had many talents, too. She was a total nerd and she loved music.  Not only this, but she was a princess. A daughter of a King.  Most girls are.
Well.
One day, a charming prince knocked at her window and tempted her with his romantic words and his flattery.  At first, she was not fooled.  Many princes will do anything for a princess. Even if they do look like crap.
But, by and by, she fell in love with him.  And yes, he broke her heart.  And she didn't care.
Nearly a year went by, and after falling in love with the prince's best friend and possibly every guy in the castle, she began to realize that she was still in love with the prince. It wasn't her fault. But she thought maybe, just maybe, if the prince had loved her ugly face once, he might love it again.
So, she kept it a secret.
Mostly because she was afraid.
And she had good reason to be afraid.  After months, she finally gave in and went completely ballistic.
She sent him letter after letter, at first with his charming replies, and those replies lasted.
Then one day, they stopped.
She worried. She fretted. She hoped nothing had happened.
But, something did happen.
The prince had stopped playing his useless charade. He had never loved her. She knew when she saw him. She told herself, Don't go near him. She knew from the day he knocked at her window. She knew he would eventually forget about her and despise her face, resolving to find another princess.
And so the princess sat on her windowsill, never to be loved again.
The end.

The moral of this story is: never fall in love.