groupie love

I'll be your biggest fan.
Tell everyone they'd be lucky to shake your hand.
I'd steal the sky so the stars you wish your dreams on would be safe in my palm.
When you tell me you give up,
I'll kiss your forehead and say to give it one last shot.
Nothing you could do would keep me away,
You're my number one hit.
On replay,
I'd listen to you over and over.
You'd be my favorite song.
Press pause to make it last,
Rewind to feel the good times again.
Fast forward through the part when you tell me you don't want me.

My superstar,
I'll be your biggest fan.

april showers bring....

If people are really like seasons,
you were my spring.

You made me feel new again.

diary

We live our lives like diaries.

Your stories, kept secret, are buried deep inside the pages of a book held tightly shut and hidden in a place no one can find but you.

Your fears, scribbled down in the middle of the night in hopes that writing them and reading them back to yourself may will them to be overcome.

Your dreams (the ones you know will never happen because 'that's life' but think about them anyway) haphazardly jotted on page after page, some erased and rewritten, some scribbled out and revised, some ripped out entirely and forgotten.

--

I can't promise it won't be difficult for me, and I certainly won't promise you'll always like what you see, but let's make a pact from here on out: I'll let you read mine if you do the same <3

girl talk

"sometimes, i try to get the root of the problem. maybe you aren't mad that he didn't eat the brownies. maybe the brownies represent the fact that your feeling like he isn't paying enough attention to your feelings or the relationship? maybe you should bring it up and be completely clear that it upset you he didn't eat the brownies you made for him, but after some contemplation and talking with a friend, you have come to the realization that its more than that and you want to get to the bottom of it before it begins to seriously affect your relationship, especially because he is living so far away now and your feeling more and more lonely and unattached and its getting to the point that you actually wish he would just lie to you to make you feel needed and say 'yeah, the brownies were great! i just ate one'... even if he didnt? maybe its high time you really sit down and talk about where things are and where things are going and make sure you are on the same page, and that everything is out. it might even be a good idea to have the brownies in the middle of the table, kind of like a buffer for any fighting words that may come out. and in that case, if the conversation doesnt go well, at least you'll have something sweet to eat while you feel bad about yourself and how things went and how you could've probably done or said something different?"

"i really think its just about the brownies."

sand

she pounded wet sand into a blue, castle-shaped plastic toy. "ill make a castle for you, baby." he wiggled around, smiling, waiting for mama to make her next move. "ta-dah!" the mound stood rather majesticlly for a moment. that is to say until it half collapsed, washing away in a wave. none the less, the little one gazed upon his mama's creation with something like a look of admiration. she peered up at her husband, 20 or so feet away. thumbs up and a wink; he sent these as his love floated through the wind on the sunday afternoon. Her heart warmed as she turned toward her child. "you are my little prince and i love you as big as the ocean," she whispered in his ear. greeted with a small hug, her heart filled. the cold sea grazed their feet.

there would be a high tide that night.

seashells

As he walked back from the water, I heard him sigh: "I feel like the seashells were better when we were kids."

"How so?" I inquired.

"I just remember seeing more of them, and they weren't all broken."

"Well, we weren't broken." I said with resolve.

"What do you mean?"

As we both turned our heads toward the ocean, silence fell. I didn't even bother to answer.

He knew.

the caricaturist

she started telling me a story about the day he left. the coffee i sipped was too hot and i was having trouble focusing on anything but the tip of my burnt tongue which i noticed tasted different than it ever had before. i could feel the taste buds swelling and bursting as if to scorn me for the trouble i'd caused them. i felt sorry. then i took another sip.

she told me he packed up all his things in probably an hour, but went on to explain that it felt like forever, and definitely not just an hour. she said it felt like everything was in black and white, moving in slow-motion, like an old-time movie. and, continuing this by-standard-like feeling as if a movie viewer, she explained the overwhelming lack of control she had over his movements and equally that of her own. from what i gathered, she just stood there, immobile, staring at the screen in front of her. i took a picture in my head of what she might've looked like at the time. her face, her expression of lifelessness, would've made the perfect muse for a caricaturist. it really was the ideal 'blank canvas.' for fear i looked the same, i sat up straighter and crunched my forehead as if to appear to be listening intently.

she went on to tell me that he left something behind. my interest peeked (for real this time... i wasnt faking it, i promise.)

“well, he didnt leave it behind. that wasnt exactly what happened.” (a moment later, she would come to reveal the actual sequence of events.)

what happened was, she took it. she grabbed it before he realized it wasn’t packed away, stuffed haphazardly into a box.

it was strange for her to do such a thing, i thought. why take something from him and why make it so... to have anything left over from him? aren’t the memories enough (or, too much?) to have to hold onto?

and then, acquiescing to the idea that perhaps it wasnt SO strange to have done what she did, i decided i could maybe understand her taking it if it were something they shared, or bought together, or enjoyed on a regular basis while in each others company as a semblance of what was. but this? this item, this trinket, this token… why? id never understand.

she saw things differently.
"i would've taken it, too," i said.
i put my coffee cup to my lips, and continued to listen.

refrigerator

she thought, and she thunk. she analyzed and created convoluted mixed messages for her brain to pick at, prod and poke, rip apart, relatively rationalize and then construct into novel oddities which continually perplexed her. nearly everything was complicated to her.

except for those rare times, those almost never times, when she would step back from the refrigerator and see that the syrup was right there, in plain sight, on the top shelf.

never too late

to fall in love.
to ask for seconds.
to smile.
to say sorry.
to change your mind.
to turn around.
to jump.
to sing out loud.
to tell a secret.
to buy yourself flowers.
to forget your problems for a day.
to help someone.
to eat a lot of ice cream.
to kiss.
to hug.
to go to the beach when its cloudy, just cause.
to listen.
to hold hands.
to wink.
to make a new friend.
to remember a sweet memory.
to think about how lucky you are.
to tell someone your happy to know them.

... these are the things i want for you.

running into an ex

And there we were, just standing, looking at each other... he and I. But it was there, too... our past was there standing right in between us. I felt like another person was in the room, looming and breathing loudly, just watching and laughing at us. Pitying us for our unfortunate run in. If I could've, I'd have asked our unwelcome, 3rd wheel to leave so it would just be the two of us... because at least that way we wouldn't have an audience throwing imaginary tomatoes on our stage, sneering at us and critiquing our incredibly horrible acting as we pretend like its good to see one another. But that'd be impossible. You can't un-write memories. They feel like they'll never leave, like a house guest you wish would stop using your shampoo and just disappear.

pain

It's rather tough to explain, but I'll try...

I guess the best way to describe it would be like when you're a little kid and everyone tells you not to touch a hot stove because it'll hurt you. It'll burn and bubble and then leave a disgusting, fleshy, bloody scab. And when that scab becomes a scar its a constant reminder of the choice you made. And when people say 'what happened to you to get such a scar?' you'll have to tell them the idiotic thing you did to get the tremendous wound.

But some sick, twisted, fucked up part of you wants to touch the stove... mostly to make sure that everyone else isn't crazy and lying to you when they say it will be painful. But also, you do it because you want so badly too feel something-deeply and intensely- even if that feeling is horrible and won't go away for a long time.

Or ever.

You. Are. My. Scar.

That about explains it.

tall orders

dont let me down.
dont hurt me.
dont lie to me.
and
definitely
dont
leave
me.


do accept me for who i am.
do give me freedom.
do make me smile.
and
definitely
do
love
me.

25 questions to ask yourself...

generally, i like to keep this blog completely untarnished by anything about myself OTHER than my words. with that said, i feel inclined to deviate from my normal tendency, and indulge myself and perhaps my audience with some introspective q&a. i encourage you to take these same questions and submit your answers on this very post...

and, action:

1. how old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?
21

2. if you have the opportunity to get a message across to a large group of people, what would your message be?
try to forgive.

3. is it possible to lie without saying a word?
yes.

4. if not now, when?
... now.

5. What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?
never wear shoes. or wear my pj's to work.

6. are you holding onto something that you need to let go of?
yes.

7. have you done anything lately worth remembering?
not that i can remember.

8. who do you love? what are you doing about it?
holding back.

9. when is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards and just do what you know is right?
answering this would assume i always know what's right to do, which i dont.

10. do you think crying is a sign of weakness or strength?
both, because they are both the same to me.

11. would you break the law to save a loved one?
absolutely.

12. when your 100... what will matter to you the most?
that the people i've loved felt it.

13. do you ask enough questions, or settle for what you know?
sometimes both.

14. do you celebrate the things you have?
not always.

15. when all is said and done, will you have said more than you've done?
id like to think no.

16. when was the last time you tried something new?
lately.

17. which activities make you lose track of time?
cuddling.

18. if you could do it all over again, would you change anything?
so far, fuck yes.

19. what is the difference between living and existing?
letting your emotions run the gamut and not trying to control everything. laugh til your stomach feels like its going to burst, cry a lot, get fucking mad, etc.

20. if you had a friend who spoke to you in the same way you sometimes speak to yourself, how long would you allow that person to be a friend?
a long time, i try to be positive.

21. if you had to teach something, what would you teach?
how to smile more.

22. time or money?
why cant i have both? ok... fine. time.

23. are you aware that someone has it worse than you do?
yes.

24. what makes you smile?
mostly everything, except of course, for things that make me frown.

25. what would you regret not fully doing, being or having in your life?
being a mom. chill out, i dont mean right now, i mean eventually. 

and, scene.