Well Then.

This is going to sound weird.
But I think I like being by myself better.

When I'm by myself, I don't care about what people think, and then... well, then no one can hurt me.  I'm tired of my callous getting thicker and thicker.  I'd rather just be left here, blissfully, completely alone.

I Changed.

There is something about being left completely to your own devices that makes one grow as a person.  I mean really.  If you're thrown to the wolves you either fight them off, learn to live with them, or get eaten and die.  If you're thrown into the sea you either learn to swim or you drown.  If your shoes leave a blister enough times in the same spot, then you form a callous to avoid further pain.  Vaccines are really just tiny bits of diseases, injected into us so that we can learn how to fight them off and avoid future sickliness.
We are built to adapt and survive.

And so I suppose I shouldn't be very surprised to realize that I am alone more often than I'm with people... and I don't mind anymore.  I prefer it, actually.  I get up everyday and I embrace the lonesomeness. 
But it's weird to think that now I'm the one standing in the room, making snappish comments towards the whimsical simpletons who enjoy getting under my skin just right.  I'm the one who's just too tired to go out on any spontaneous adventures.  I'm the one who wakes up and gets ready and sits through seminary, teeth gritted through the mindless contentions of the underclassmen, and then sleeps on the couch until school stars and then goes to class and listens and then eats a regular amount of regular food and then goes to more class and then rides the bus home and then finishes homework and then sits there on the computer until it's time to go to bed and repeat it all over again.  Day.  After.  Day.

It feels as if life it just a 3-D movie.  I'm watching everything and it's pretty interesting... but I just can't bring myself to care.  I am not involved.  I am no main character.
Am I even capable of caring?  I don't know.

This emotional callous of mine is just too thick.  I long for the raw, irrational, passionate emotions I used to base my every action off of.  Because even if often times I was stupid and dependent and immature and really flat out ridiculous, I genuinely cared about things.  I was involved in the lives of others and... well, at the very least I was involved in my own life! 

Some call it strength or independence. 
I'm starting to understand how overrated it is.

My Most Obvious Secret

I know I’m supposed to be moving on right now and everything… but…

I find that I can’t help but ask.

Don’t you ever stop for a moment and remember stuff?

Don’t you ever put a little pause on life and think to yourself, “Oh my god.  That is over and done with.  That will never be my life… ever again.  No matter what anybody says or whatever I want to happen, it’s done.”

Yeah we’ll be happy.  We’ll be fine. Life will change and evolve and new things will bring us joy.

But doesn’t it bother you that it won’t be with me? 

Is there a little space inside of you where you know I belong, but I’m just not there to fill it?

I think of the last time I saw you.  That night... the way it felt to walk up the steps to my porch and try not to look back--try to be strong.
What I would do to be in that moment again and have the option of turning around and begging you to stay for just a moment longer. 

Frankly, you make me feel absolutely stupid.

But I just can’t help it.  This is me.  I am weak and dependent and I miss you.

Still.

Just as much as the day you left.

An Update.

Within the Rose

Stitched With History

You fit me better than my favorite sweater...

3 Weeks Away

Around you:

In private:

Thursday.

I can has come home now?

Please?

Cold is the Night

 

cold is the night without you here...

Backspace

This was a day I've been dreaming about for years. 
I remember those crisp, cool green sheets... turned stuffy and damp as hot tears of fright flowed out of me, Avril Lavigne's serenades my only friend or comfort.  I remember that summer when the world was screaming at me to come outside, to talk to someone--be a normal 12 year old.  I also remember the endless sea of lies and excuses that I cried for myself, so that I would always have a way to avoid the world and anyone in it that didn't feel like home.
All I wanted was to go back.  And quickly, too, before we were too late and people made inside jokes without me.  Maybe they'd even be about me. 
I remember staring out those windows full of lights, hating everything--the sounds, the scents, the patterns.  I could feel some little part of me trying desperately to jump.  I still don't know if it was a jump for suicide, or freedom.
I dreamed of coming back to them.  Of being remembered... fixing things before they were neglected for too long.
My dream came true.
But then I remember the days when things slowly started to feel like home again.  When faces were home.  When I developed a "ushe," both at restaurants and for my weekend plans.  I remember crying for the first time over a boy... but I remember laughing for the first time because of one, too.  Those nights that taught me exactly what I will become, and yet exactly what I can't become.  Making secrets for myself so that I could have some to tell, getting caught in the net they tangled, and then cutting my way out, much stronger than I was before that mess.  I remember what it felt like to morph into a thespian... slowly, over time, with strenuous effort going into every step of the way.  The wind in my face and the jump in my heart as I jumped into the ocean for the first time.  Counting freckles and sins, unable to decide if I wanted them blemishing me or if I should avoid them.  Making another best friend all the way from scratch... because the more work that gets put into them, the sweeter they seem to be.

Suddenly everything vanished.

Erased.  I had a clean slate... time traveled to back then, back when I first learned how to love my surroundings.  Granted, it was only for a day.  A day to visit the past.  People say be careful what you wish for.  And while going back was in no way permanent, it was frightening--as if all of that foreverness could really be erased.
I put so much work into it.  Into myself.  I was just plain miserable sometimes, but I worked for those happy moments--I worked on growing as a person.
And now suddenly back then seems like yesterday, and today seems like an eternity.
Time is such a relative thing. 

The Hill

 

Where are you, my angel, now?

To Be a Fish...

I kinda feel like one right now.  Maybe one like on Finding Nemo, where they got tied up in a plastic bag and dropped in the ocean.  While I can see a lot more, flirt with the instinct that tells me this is where I really belong, I'm still trapped inside this bag.  I am still forced to watch helplessly while others get eaten by sharks and barracudas, or perhaps even play around with one another, wondering when it will be my turn next.

I am glad I'm not really a fish in a bag in the ocean.  

I am not having fun right now.

The Dreaded Sunset

Please let this be true.  I don't know what I'll do if it's not...

Nefarious Undertaking

We're going far in life, bud.  Don't forget the band.

(Possibly the last) Dear Abby,

Hey you.
Lover.
Twin.
Blogger buddy.
Partner in crime....
best friend.

Words could never do these past two years with you justice.  Ever.  But that won't stop me from trying.  I am not good at saying good-bye.  That is why I am going to write you this one, to make sure I get it right, even if I am about to go see you off at the airport.

It all started with a napkin.  Not any special one in particular... for wiping purposes, it was actually quite flimsy.  Horrible at its job.
But for writing notes between booths at Coco's Curry, it was just perfect.
We jotted down our thoughts and gossip about Patrick and jokes and witty banter with such excitement, such elated giggles, I never wanted the day to end.  I knew there was something fantastic about this Abby Erdelatz... something that made me want to know her better.
Do you remember that first time we ate lunch together at school, and I convinced you and Alicia to go eat on the catwalk?  We were stealing cookies and chicken nuggets, and shouting at the science kids to "Dance for us!  Express the story of your people!!!"  Apparently a ton of this year's seniors were in class in that building, but didn't recognize us, and were calling us dorks.  I think they were just jealous they didn't think of it themselves.
The honor of being twins was one I could have never deserved.  Wearing matching outfits, spontaneous coordinations, being called Abby and having people just come walking up to me as if I were you.
Far East Drama.  Being room/bed buddies.  I remember you tried to get me into my pajamas because it was late, and while I tried to fight you off, Bailey shoved a mango in my mouth.  What an interesting way to find out I'm allergic to the things!  I was secretly scared out of my wits when we went down that latter to... well... the floor below us ;)  My favorite part was by far the window dancing.  You know what we did.
I will tell you I was secretly envious out of my mind when you managed baseball and the team liked you.  Though, thinking about it, I realize it would be ridiculous if they didn't.  You are such a fantastic, lively, easy to talk to person.
Racing at Mihama.  That sleepover full of secrets.  Microwaved cookie dough.  Whispering sweet nothings to your dog.  Dancing around while doing the dishes.  Oh!  Ooooh!  Ohh!  .... Oh.... ohhh.  That weird praying mantis pose thing we do.  Swing dancing on the stage and everywhere.  Naps on Deakins' couch.  Comparing each other in the mirrors at the beach.  Skipping/running through the halls of the 200's building, shouting "MAKE WAY, WE ARE FREE SPIRITS!!!" while crotchety old teachers tell us to slow down.  Typhoon days.  Typhoon nights.  Microwaving cookies every single day together.  Those moments where you'd defend my food against the predators we call friends more fiercely than even I would.  Those couple times I came to common ground and clung to you for deal life.  Relating stories about how awesome Olivia is to me.  Sharing awesome hipster music.  Venting my silly angers when I knew you were the only person who would always truly be there for me.  Being the d and the ! in David! just so we could be next to each other.  Kissing hand motions.  Questions and lessons on the basics.  That noodle gang we developed on a whim in the bathroom when we found that ramen in the sink and I tried to eat it (Pizza, pomegranates, or noodles?!?!).  Shunning Mauryn because we thought she had betrayed the gang.  Arguing over who would win in a fight (me).  Happy dances after people tell us they read our blogs.  My weird, geeky coder talk.  Staying up late at night to make that album cover for the indie/folk band we developed for our gang that will probably never actually play music.
There is just too much, Abby.  Too much we have experienced together... too much I want to experience with you.  Too much I could have experienced with you.
Also, too much you have to experience without me.
I love you so much.  This isn't easy for anyone, especially you, I know.  But wouldn't it be fun, helping our kids put together little sets in the yard so that can perform plays for us?  I can imagine us sitting together on lawn chairs, giggling wildly at the inside jokes we continue to develop even then, our husbands manning the grill, the little ones scampering around in the grass.
This is a visual I reserve for only the greatest of friends.

Though you're leaving, Okinawa is a place where, for those who deserve such to be true, people are never forgotten.  They live on.  They live on because of the adventures they had.  They live on because of the growth they made.  The tears they cried, the locals they interacted with, the oceans they swam in, the soba, curry, FamilyMart, and seemingly gross native foods they consumed.  Through the tolls they pay on the express way, the stickypix taken at Dragon Palace, the CDs exchanged, and the friends they made, people are remembered.  It's through little things... sometimes the wind imitates the laughter it has heard.  Sometimes people will look at a place where you stood and, for a moment, they'll be able to see you there... they'll be able to feel you there with them.

Both Okinawa, and I, will never forget you.

Your forever lover/twin,
Corenne

Dear Highschool Sweetheart,

Every Time You Go

And perhaps when I'm sleeping you'll get back on your feet

Fingers Like Cages

The Door Closes

I feel like I just had a birthday party, but it's at that weird phase where one-by-one people start to trickle out, excusing themselves with other obligations and such things.  Meaningless formalities, polite smiles, nervous laughter, and maybe even a hug or two are followed only by hollow spaces.

I'm left feeling more empty with every time somebody walks out that door.

A Lack of Color

 

 But my brain knows better--it picks you up and turns you around

Need a Hug or Something?

Not being able to comfort you absolutely kills me.

Dear Abigail,

Thank you.  Thank you for describing things to me today (hand motions included) that nobody else would.  Thank you for the giraffe necklace.  Thank you for taking me to the shoppette to buy ALL the things.  Thank you for watching a somewhat creepy movie with me because we wanted to be scared, even if it was a far more terrifying experience for you.  Since when am I the brave one in a relationship?  Thank you for taking part in my first ever pillow fight.  Thank you for getting your dog off of me in said pillow fight when he tried to make love to my leg.  Thank you for feeding me delicious meat.  Thank you for saving that gecko's life when I had no intentions of doing so.  Thank you for those funky dance moves you performed for me while washing the dishes.  Thank you for editing pictures with me so that we could make them into spontaneous album covers for our spontaneous folk/indie band.  

Thank you for being my twin.

Us Against the World

 

 and lift off before trouble just erodes us in the rain...

I Don't Think You Understand.

"Friend-zone," or  no "friend-zone"
You're still the majority of what I think about.  You still make my stomach turn to butterflies. You're still the one I wish I was spending time with right now.
This is just how it has to be right now.  For lots of reasons.
Don't you have to be friends before you become best friends?
That's who I want "my person" to be.  My best friend.
Honestly, the fact that I'm invested enough to wait is a big deal.
Who knows where we'll end up?
I sure don't.

Are You Okay?

I wish you'd just open up to me.  I mean I guess if you're not comfortable then I don't want to force you into anything... but I guess I wish you were comfortable enough, also.  I can tell something's wrong.  I pretty much know what it is.
But talking things out helps.  No duh.
I'm here for you.  Every fiber of my being wants to scream it into your eardrums--no, right into your brain--with the hope that perhaps you'll be able to understand that.
But I won't.  

3 Rounds and a Sound

 
And the crisscross of what is true won't get to us
'Cause you know me-I could not give up on you...

Teenage Bliss

You're the one I want to see me for all of the the stupid things I've done

Go Outside

 

Yeah I know what's good
Exactly those things night cannot behold

Dear Cinderella,

I am so sorry you had to scrub all of those floors.
I now understand how degrading it is, kneeling on the floor, at the level of the grossest of scum.
But unlike you I don't get a fairy god mother, a pumpkin carriage, invitations to balls, or a prince charming.
I hate everything.

Teetering

"If Sarah jumped off of a cliff, then would you?"

"... do the Kinser docks count?"

Cradled by Gravity

A goal of mine for the summer was to become more brave, and actually take part in all of the awesome stuff my friends do while I stand by watching.
Well, yesterday I jumped off of the Kinser docks.  That's right, a huge jump, into the water.  Funny how my top two greatest fears are 1. the ocean and 2. heights. 
Well, Coree is officially a beast.  The feeling of falling... being bound to absolutely nothing but gravity... it's something not even I, the woman of metaphors, can describe. 
So thank you, summer.  Thank you, Sarah.  Thank you, ocean.  Thank you, gravity.  Though getting out of the water was a completely different story, I was a champion at jumping off of a giant cliff of cement into that depth of blue. 
I can do more than I think.

Swing Life Away

Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words

Wanderlust

We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go

Wolves

They're tearing their claws in the ground...

Frozen Dairy Treat

I've decided that ice cream will fix everything... I really want some.

Like Daggers

I can't stand the way you look at me when I enter the room.

I'm not a freak.  I don't have a third eye.  I'm not some sort of disgusting creature... I swear.  I hate feeling like my mere existence is a big, dark cloud over the parade of your life... honestly, if that's how you feel, I'm more than happy to leave.  I don't really think this mental torment of wondering if you actually love me is quite fair... I shouldn't have to worry about losing you, of all people. 

It's hard for me to like myself when I don't even think you do.

Easier Than Breathing

and suddenly, things fall right back into place

Possibility

So tell me when you hear my silence--there's a possibility I wouldn't know.

Maybe You Don't Remember.

It was two years ago, late at night, and we were on another one of our typical driving escapades.  The rain was pouring down, blurring your windshield so that it was more of a window into another, more blurry world than a shield of protection.  I imagined it a window into the future, and suddenly something scary crossed my mind.  I wouldn't have you forever.  Someday, you were going to grow up, and our whimsical adventures of circling Plaza and playing hide-and-go-seek inside of cars and saving creatures from the road would have to end.

"...We only have two years left.  You're going to grow up.... what am I going to do then?"

"Oh, come on.  That's super far away... you should stop thinking like that."

Two years has become two months.  Soon it will become two weeks, and then two days, two hours, two minutes, two seconds...

I never stop thinking like that.

Typhoon Scones

6 c. flour
1 c. sugar
2 Tbsp. baking powder
2 tsp. salt
2 c.  butter, softened (but not too soft)
1 c. sour cream
1 c. milk
1 pkg. (2 cups) mini chocolate chips
Raw sugar for sprinkling

Heat oven to 400.  Combine flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl.  Cut butter into flour mixture using a pastry blender (or two butter knives) until mixture resembles course crumbs.  Stir in sour cream and milk until all is moistened.  Fold in mini chocolate chips.  Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface.  (I use a 12" x 18" cutting board and it also helps me to shape and measure the dough for cutting.  See picture.)  Shape dough into a large rectangle, about 12" x 18".  It should be about 3/4" thick.  Get it as close to perfectly rectangular as possible, using a rolling pin and your hands to gently poke and shift it until it's even.  Using a pizza cutter (and a ruler if you need one) cut dough into squares, leaving dough in place.  After you have the square grid cut into the dough, cut each square into a triangle, by cutting the grid in a diagonal pattern (just follow the corners of the squares as you cut).  Lightly sprinkle raw sugar over the top of the dough.  Separate triangles and place them (an inch apart) on baking stones (or parchment-lined baking sheets).  Bake for 12 minutes, or until lightly browned on top.  Cool on stone for a few minutes, then transfer to cooling rack.  Best served warm.

Flightless Bird, American Mouth

Songs like this make me want to curl up in a sobbing ball of "D'awwww"

Do Hurry Back!

Despite the distractions I'm surrounding myself with, 

I can feel myself slowly.... slipping... away.

Dear Nemesis,

You made a big mistake last night with those comments.  See, I am a loyal person, and a person good at admiring from a far.  I've been doing this for a while... admiring your blog, your quiet intelligence in class, the witty conversations you and my friend seem to always be having.  I quite honestly looked up to you.  But, being a loyal person, I find betrayal to be a horribly bitter sin for which I do not often give mercy. 
You have betrayed me.
In my slap-happy stupor you witnessed over facebook chat last night, despite my friend's attempts at snatching back the wireless keyboard, I described to you in detail the things I would do if I got my hands on you.  If you've ever seen Llamas With Hats... well, there are subtle similarities.  You have come to this blog to see what stinging words of vengeance I have thrust upon the internet. 
I'll keep this simple.  I am not somebody to be crossed.  I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my daughter go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.
Oh wait... no, that's Taken... same idea.
Ah well.  Really I'm just excited you're reading my blog.  See ya!

TCCOREE-1 Recovery

This chick.

Dear Recently Discovered,

You have only been in my life for a couple of days, and yet already I feel like you're one of those people I just can't live without.  I feel like I've met my other half... practically the male version of myself.  I've never had somebody get disappointed when I made a joke and say "I thought you were a goody goody..." to which I can gratefully reply "Don't worry--I am."  with the relief of knowing I don't have to put on any sort of "cool" mask.  

I can't even express the joy and comfort that floods my being, at how every time I reveal a bit of information about myself, you let out a groan and mutter something about how unbelievably awesome I am.  For some reason it's quite easy to believe coming from you.
Yes, I do like ramen.  Apparently in your book that's proposal worthy.  I also like the narwhal song, I do make Lord of the Rings references, and I know more than any girl should about Star Wars.  I also play Halo on occasion.  In most cases, such things make me... awkward.  A social outcast.  Unladylike.  But really, it's just how I was raised.

And yet, those seem to be the things that make you so elated at my mere existence.

If there's one thing I like, it's somebody who finds me as fantastic as I do.

Your timing is absolutely incredible.  You and I are going to be best friends. 

Maybe I will survive after the summer, after all.  Provided you're coming along with me.

Grasping at Straws

You would think that in the absence of my rock, my life, the one who's contributed the most to who I am, that I'd branch out, try and meet people who won't be going anywhere for a while--people who are able to commit themselves to me at least a bit.

Instead I'm desperately grasping at other people, who are leaving just the same.

Isn't that the definition of insanity?  Doing the same thing, with expectations of a different result?

Dear Missionary

who converted my father,

Thanks for saving all of our souls!  We're all happily sealed now, and quite active in the church.  To thank you for this favor, we've purchased the science fiction novel you later went on to publish.

Love,
Inherited Holiness

Hallelujah

And love is not a victory march,

it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

Off We Go

You offered to come along if I ran away.

And though I would never do something like that,
you'll never know how much it means to know you're willing.

Midnight Confessions

Rage.  Somewhere along the way, a fighting instinct kicks into people when they're weakened.

Rather than whining and wallowing in her self pity, suddenly she wonders how it is just and fair that such things could be happening to her.  Her chest tightens, she wipes those tears streaming down her face away, and she emits a pathetic sort of gasping sound.  

Why?
Why her?
Why now?
She slams her clenched fists angrily against her dresser, squeezing her eyes shut tight, avoiding the harsh gaze of her own reflection.  She knows that she worked hard for what she has... she deserves it, and continues to work hard.  There should be no expiration date on her rewards.

No one is displaying any sort of true understanding.  She knows that she isn't going to find any sort of comfort or sympathy in the arms of another... no, others don't know what she did to make this work.  They don't know the part of her soul she sold permanently.  Every laugh, every song, every dance, every joke, every secret, every bit of advice, every single moment...

They live inside of her forever.

She lets out a cry of frustration, throwing anything in sight, the crashing sounds only fueling her anger.

And now, she's expected to just give it all up because the time has come.  Yes, others have done it before her.  Yes, she probably can too.  But people seem to forget that it sucks... she knows she is going to be alone.  Perhaps there will be other people wanting to befriend her.  But they just don't get it.  

They weren't there all of those years.

Suddenly she pauses for a moment, as if realizing the mess she's made.  Her body becomes limp in an instant, feeling like it has aged a hundred years, so that she can not support herself on her own two feet.  She falls down slowly, bringing her knees up close to her chest, cradling her own pulsing body as she finally begins to sob.

Even still, nobody really knows.

Nobody actually cares.

She's alone.

Take a Walk

All these kinds of places,

makes it feel like it's been ages!

Thanks for the Ride!

And then somewhere along the way, you became home.

Dear Honors,

Oh, the sleep you've deprived me of!  I loathe it with a passion, those endless nights of reading and typing outlines and other such inventions of hell.

And yet, I know I'll miss you.  Getting challenged in a class is something  I treasure... at least when I manage to rise above it.

5 Years Time

Yah, well I feel all pretty happy too
And I'm always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you

A New Chapter

Everything feels so new.  It's like I just went on a shopping spree where I picked out an entire new wardrobe, and suddenly my style is just so adorable every single freaking day.  I feel like everything is shifting and evolving and turning into something... different.  And yet, despite all of my terrorizing fears over the past year or so, it's not scary.  It's not sad at the moment.  I feel like I'm reading that very last chapter in a good book, with each page turn a tingle goes up my fingers as I count the remaining sheets of paper that will conclude the tale told within my own mind.  But, I know there's an entirely new sequel sitting on my shelf, just waiting for me to bust it open and pour over the contents, lingering and appreciating each and every little letter of every word of every sentence of every thought of every paragraph of every chapter of every story. 

The adventures that await us all!  It's almost too much to fathom.

Dear God,

I don't need to see you to believe in you.  But honestly... a nice hug every once in a while would be absolutely fantastic.

That would get me through this nightmare called highschool easily.

I could deal with this impossible family.

Waiting for my spouse would be no problem.

Maybe just hold my hand occasionally?

Too much to ask, I know.  But it would rock if I could at least meet someone where hugging them felt like hugging you.

Eternal love,

Faithful yet Fragile

I Will Follow You Into the Dark

If  heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied,
then I'll follow you into the dark.

Dear Blinded Beauty,

Please... just, understand me.  I cannot even express how desperately I want to insert my thoughts into your head so that you know I only want the best for you.
I don't think you realize that we actually have pretty much the same feelings on almost everything.  Although, I've observed that you lack empathy.  You don't see that we're put in practically the exact same situations, only at different times.  It's sort of unfair, to be honest, trying to help you through things I have no clue in just because it's my job to be supportive, and then when I'm in the same one you don't bat an eyelash of concern in my direction.  The bad things I put you through are somehow so much worse than what I deal with from you.  At least I try to agree with you.
But I'm a patient person.  And I honestly don't hold it against you.  We both make sacrifices in this.
Despite some grumblings and contention, I can't help but feel like today was a wonderful day.  I do appreciate that you tell me things, even if I don't always have the best reactions.  Please don't stop.... I would much prefer this than having you be alone in your experiences. I'm learning.
The future's so close I can taste it, kiddo.
I know we'll both go on to do great things.
Stay classy.

Love always,
Carefully Concerned

Memorial Day

This morning I actually got to sleep in.  I ate cookies for breakfast.  Plans loosely talked about last week actually came true... I went grocery shopping and got to ride in the cart and laugh hysterically at Sarah for using baby soap.  Now the whole internet knows.  We rented a movie and ordered KFC.
Picture this.  Two teenage girls on a rainy day, huddled up next to each other on the couch, munching on fried chicken and biscuits as they "ooh" and "ahh" over a chick-flick.  I think it was rather hilarious.

We went to the store and looked at shoes and books.  I started chanting magic spells from a wicca book I found and then when we found a book about things to do before you die, we sat there on the floor and read the whole thing then and there.  

Which inspired us to buy little notebooks to decorate with collages from magazines and childrens books, and fill with lists of things we want to do.

I swear, mine is the most adorable best friend ever.

You Still Hurt Me

It's been 13 months since May...

it still feels like yesterday.

Since You Went Out For That Walk...

I don't think anyone fully comprehends the situation I've been thrown into.  I'm not very good at describing the panic that washes over me like a tsunami each time somebody opens a door too quickly.  The smallest of reprimands sends my soul recoiling in despair for at least a day or two.  I don't dare bring it up ever again, hoping I'm the only one who will remember.

Y E L L I N G

C R Y I N G

S E C R E T S

There used to be one person I'd tell, but now it feels more like an assumption than a new, ugly, misshapen piece of my soul that I need to get out in the open.  It would get pretty obnoxious if after every time you asked somebody how their day was after your last encounter they listed off every time they went to the refrigerator to check for food.

So I just stopped bringing it up...

for the most part.  But then, every time I do, I regret it.  Slowly I'm starting to learn my lesson that silence truly is golden.  

I'm vocally startled quite often... meaning it's far from rare to hear an obnoxious scream escape my mouth over the tiniest of movements, whether or not they were meant to frighten.  

YOU'RE TELLING EVERYBODY ABOUT HOW YOU'VE CHANGED SO MUCH.  

NO MATTER HOW I TRY,  I JUST CAN'T TRUST YOU.

IN MY HEAD YOU'RE STILL THE ENEMY.

Something inside me says you always will be.

Be Mine

I suppose it's wrong that I get jealous, looking at all those girls who seem to flock around you.  

I'm probably not supposed to feel a little stab when I see you posting romantic statuses on facebook, because I know they're not about me anymore.

I guess I don't have any right to wish that you cared about me.

But, you know, I remember back when I was your first priority.  Somehow you picked me to be your bestfriend, and there was an interesting sort of mutual agreement between us that was far more than words.  We agreed that we were best friends, and that we loved each other, but yet our friendship was just too comfortable to make it anything more.

I liked those days.

Now I miss you, kid.  More than anything else.

Just come on home.

Worn and Ripped

Little Talks

There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back
I tell her that I miss our little talks
Soon it will all be over, buried with our past

Necessary Repairs

Sometimes when you recognize problems in yourself, you've just got to pause for a moment, grow a pair, and fix things.  It may be hard, but ultimately life is about becoming the best version of yourself you can be... not being right.  

And when you've done that, by all means, continue on this seemingly endless road of growth.  Chances are, the less you suck, the more you'll enjoy it.

Judgmental

Being judgmental is one of those things that's just all too natural.
You look at her and you know the type.
Those blue eyes are just too calculating.
She's only luring him in to hurt him,
she's just like all the rest.

But she's powerful. 
Sometimes... you just have to take her side in things,
no matter what you really think,
even though you know you're only a tool in hurting him, too.
Even you are just like all the rest.
When will that kid catch a break?

Still, you don't like her.
You use her.
She's a pawn in your master scheme in trying to attain power.
But what you didn't realize is that everyone has your same plan for her.
She's been thrown down like you can't even imagine.
When will she catch a break?

The reality of what you've done,
the puzzle you've helped put together,
the map you've assisted in drawing,
the war you've joined in fighting...
the horror of it finally sets in.
And then, what excuse do you have?

Only,

"I didn't know the way those blue eyes could shine!"

Bluriness and Bruises

Right now I feel like an out-of-focus picture.

I don't really know what to look at--what to think.

All These Awkward Stares, and Yet No One Cares

I feel like this picture could tell an entire story if it wanted to.

Why doesn't anything make sense?

I wish the world really was black and white.  It would make things so much easier.

I'm tired of looking at all the little things that used to drive me wild with jealousy.

....because now I don't care.  I just watch on, helplessly rocking away my troubles in a corner.

Rivers and Roads

nothing is as it has been

Silence is Golden

This is completely unlike me, but I seem to be unable to lash out and scream for help.

I'm not okay.  Far from it, actually.  But I think I'm getting more independent, but almost to an extreme.

I miss talking to my friends.

I miss feeling like I had friends.

Featherstone

And my love is yours but your love's not mine
So I'll go but we know I'll see you down the line

I Own Many Leather-Bound Books...

It's funny how, for her, it only takes one book to get her sucked back in completely, as if she'd never given the pass-time up.  Her world is still bleak.  People still frustrate her to no end.  She still looks in the mirror every day and struggles to force her gaze to stay there, sensitive to the way her confidence is knocked right out of her, like the wind after one has been punched. 
Only thing is, when her face is buried in a book, none of this matters.  Even if it's only for a fleeting moment or two, she is somewhere else.  She has different problems.  She has different people who care about her, and, in this world, even the most skillful of authors can't explain every single little detail and emotion of every single relationship.  These are what upset her the most... and so she is grateful when the tiny things cease to exist. 
Even having different problems is a dream come true.  Out of them she gets to ponder the lessons they could possibly teach, and exercise her mind in trying to find solutions.  The beautiful thing is... she knows that all she has to do is take a step back and withdraw her mind, and none of it matters anymore.  Terrors and sorrows and tragedies and mysteries remain words on pieces of paper.  Beautiful, masterful, deep, consuming words on pieces of paper, that she hopes with every fiber of her being she gets to be a part of creating in the mystery commonly known as, the future.
She can feel her brain growing stronger with every word processed, every mental image created.  Her eyes are opened, her imagination expanded, her cocoon of the drab and serious thing called real life ripped off with her desperate hands.
At least for a little while, she is freed.  She does not care that others are staring at her, thinking her odd for spending her time doing such a "loserish" thing, in her own words.  She doesn't mind that her friends are having fun without her.  She does not care anymore that a certain boy is trying hard to attain her attention again... in fact, she'd rather he just left her be.  It doesn't matter that she is heavier than most of her friends, no matter how many extreme things she does to change this.

In that moment, her nose buried in a book, the giggles and snorts and screams of her peers turning into mere white noise, her mind soaring through a land of adventure and love and sorrow,

she feels light as a feather.

It's a Metaphor.

I'm just cutting things up into little bits... because I can.

Come on, guys, it's deep.  Quit mocking me.

Gazes Locked

I'm just a creeper in the fact that I notice almost every facial expression people make at me.  But there's one you wear frequently, especially as of late, that sparks my interest.  Something about the way you smile carefully, the way your eyes sparkle with a youthful sort of affection, and you don't look away until I do makes me think that... well, it just helps me believe that perhaps you actually think about me sometimes, despite recent goings-on.
Usually you choose to sport said expression when I'm being silly and loud and overly-excited with life.  Maybe you're just amused with my ridiculous antics.

Don't lose that look, okay?

It's one of those interactions with people that the rest of the world seems to take for granted.

Goals

Goals for the Week:

Think of others before you in every decision

Don't regret a single thing you eat.

Get grades up so much you can be proud of them

Make someones face light up like they make yours

Watch The Office and Friends as much as needed

Read scriptures every single night.

I promise you I am going to fulfill every single freaking thing on this list.

We Are Young

I know you’re trying to forget.
But between the drinks and subtle things, the holes in my apologies, 

you know I’m trying hard to take it back.

Free

Run free, kiddo.

Some Nights

Man, you wouldn't believe the most amazing things that can come from some terrible lies.

Loserish Moments of Highschool

There comes a time when one sits back and realizes... "My life is sorta pathetic right now, compared to what it once was!"

I suspected it to come in my 30's.

But here I am, 15 years old, going to bed at 6:30 on a Friday night, waking up at 5:30 on a Saturday morning... making enchiladas for breakfast and getting on the computer to write about stupid animal characters that aren't going to get me anywhere in life and only serve the purpose of distracting me from thinking about all of the fun my friends probably had without me the night before and will have later today.

And what are my fun plans for the day? 

Write poetry and other such things about a dead old man who made cartoons, and then use a glue stick to put said works of art up on a yellow display board, otherwise known as "Power of One."

When will my life begin again?

Master, The Tempest is Raging

Stay cool, kid.  The tempest will soothe itself...

eventually.

we can hope.

How Deep is Your Love

And it's me you need to show how deep is your love

You'll Never Know.

You'll never know how much it bugs me that, even though I am loved to infinity by so many people, you're included in that small group who just doesn't feel that way.
I don't think I'll ever be able to convince you otherwise.
I'm trying so hard to just relax and tell myself that I can't please everybody, that you're a scumbag of a person, anyways... but you just make it so hard.  Around you, existing feels like a strenuous task.  I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be that way.

I wish you'd just reflect on the outside what I know you to be on the inside.

It'd make it all too easy to stay clear of you.

Eyes on Fire

Suddenly emerging with grace.

Not Scared.

And I'm not scared of your stolen power....

I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU ANY HOUR

What I Really Do

The House Under The Hill

Alone, I am nameless and fearless and faceless.
I see just my knees and two hands held in front of me,
mine for this lifetime, so kindly I'll treat them.
My blood pumps,
My lungs bellow,
So I will let them be.

Well Crap....

Those were a lot of years wasted.
If I had known that you actually would have rather been doing other things but just didn't want me to be upset, then I would have found somebody else.  I don't think you get this.... but I am not repulsive.  Actually, I have a lot of people who reach out to me.  I just knew that you didn't really have anybody else, and I liked you, so I chose you.
Believe it or not... my relationship with you is pretty much the only unhealthy one I've had.  It's driven me into the ground, trying to please you and get you to notice me in ways that I find out just make it worse.  Now you just see me in a way that nobody else does.
I'm not sure if it's you or them who sees an illusion...

I'm done with this.  I just want to be healthy and happy and satisfied for the first time in my life.  I hate caring so much about someone who really could care less at this point what I do.  I've been playing my cards wrong for too long.

So good-bye.  I'm going to try just being by myself for a while... physically by myself, rather than just mentally, like I always seem to be.  If you want me, please feel free to call.  I don't want to push you away.  I never want you to feel alone like I do.
 But so help me, if you do call, you better not be doing it just because you feel sorry for me.  It better not be because you want me to be happy.  I'm only going to if it will make you happy.  I refuse to be somebody you just play along with... no... that is an identity that I have never wanted for myself, even if I might have attained it.

Divine Nature

Every princess gets a fairytale...

Mine feels more like Greek mythology right now.

A Week of Lonesome

This here was a week of lonesome.
It was a week of mistakes,
a week of goals,
a week of frustrations,
a week of the most bitter tears,
and fond embraces I'll never forget.
This was one of those weeks where every day is a race,
a challenge where the end is completely out of view,
but apparently not out of reach. 
It was a week of growth,
of responsibility.
I fell down.
I tripped over thin air,
nothing to blame but my own clumsiness.
I am only realizing now that somewhere between all of the yelling,
all of the praying,
all the pleas,
the clenched fists,
the biting,
those laughs that sound more like sobs...
I got up.

It's been exactly one week.
One week that helped me to grow more than any other set of seven day's I've had the honor of experiencing.
I'm alive.
'm still kicking.
It'll be harder than that to get rid of me.

Pretty Ways

Even the most peaceful town was once a battleground...

I Am Free, but I Am Flawed

Seeing you yesterday helped me to realize something... yes.  You are absolutely fantastic and I love you more than anything.  Away from boys and school and stress, carefully avoiding serious or heavy topics, we managed to just... have fun.  Be free and excited in the simple company of one another.  It was very reassuring, to know that I wasn't completely crazy in the decision to make you so important in my life.

But somehow yesterday made me realize that the world isn't going to end once you leave.  You are fun and amazing and intelligent, but there are lots of other people with such traits.  I will have more time for other people like that.  You are going to grow up and go off and do amazing things... and I'm pretty sure you'll be eager to tell me all about it.  I'll have to make sure to actually do stuff so that I have cool stories to share, too. 

Knowing you has been.... more than a pleasure.

Now it's time that I repaid you just a little bit.  I need to let you go.  No, I don't mean completely cut all ties.  I can't help but feel a bit entitled to a skype call or a facebook chat every couple weeks or so.  I mean that I need to move on.

And I will.
You will, too.

Taking Out the Trash

If people could see me when I take out the trash... well, I would have even less dignity than I have now.

Imagine this for me.  It's rather dark outside, the streetlights emitting only a faint yellow glow on the rest of the world.  The white-noise of rain is heard, like shaking sprinkles of creepiness over a cupcake of doom.  Hesitantly, a door squeaks open.  This is only on the rare nights when someone else isn't convinced to do the work.  A hunched figure slowly emerges, peeking around the corner.  The whole scene is assessed carefully a time or two... or five.  One foot in front of the other.  It seems like it should be easy, but suddenly the whole world seems to be filled with murderers and rapists and feline predators, hiding behind corners and in the trees and in all nooks and crannies in existence.  The sloshing sound that comes with each footstep against the wet pavement sends a new shiver up her spine.  She arches her back, stands up on her toes, and holds her cursed load way out in front of her.
She rounds the corner, almost expecting to find someone waiting for her there.  It's surprising when she finds only darkness and precipitation.  Her steps and heart-rate quicken, almost in a race with each other.  The goal is so close... carefully she lifts up the lid.  A movie plays through her mind, about how there was a black hole secretly inserted in that one specific can by scientists hired by the government and it was just waiting for her to lift up that lid so it could suck her into its pit of terror and misery and crime and abuse and sadfaces.  No such pit exists.... not even the shock of a taunting gecko.
The way back is even worse in ways.  There is someone behind her... she can feel it.  Now they are closing in, getting ready to pounce and kill like a starving lioness.  Not her.  She has no intentions of being a zebra for that lioness to eat.  Her pace quickens into an awkward sprint, affected by the way she stays on her toes.  She holds her arms in close to protect them from any predators awaiting in the dark...

Bottom line, I look like a T-Rex chasing after a laser pointer.

A Secret Soap-Opera

The red water runs,
excuses are made,
the night screams with bitter silence,
and a demon or two is released.
Since when did self-discipline become so reckless?

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.

Happy Are We

"Coree, why do you have to be so awesome?"

He makes me smile.  He's the only person who gets to see me at my very worst, and yet still he loves me.  I guess that makes him my best friend.  I am one lucky kid.

I'm Scared.

To Those Concerned People,

"Things are going to be different after she's gone!"

"Are you going to be sad when she leaves?"

Yuuuuup.

 "You'll have to make new friends!"

No way....

Please stop asking me what I'm going to do without her.

You know what the answer is.

We all know it will be sad.

Can't I at least pretend things will be fine?

A White Flag of Sorts

Croak.  The night is overcome with the proud singing of frogs, the fiddling of crickets, and occasional screech of bats.  It is mere white noise to her.  She shifts awkwardly into a new position, her skin feeling more like the burning sun than layers of protection. 

Carefully, she casts her gaze to her left with the slight tilt of her head, her eyes glittering with guarded deception.  She is not alone.  On her right is comfort, sanctuary, and honesty.... so much honesty, that, in fact, things can get quite bitter.  This one is asleep.  On her left is someone unknown and unfamiliar to her.  She usually can't tell if she is the best of any friends, a bitter competitor, or even a sworn enemy.  She can recall many times when this girl was the only source of security available to her.  A breath.  She blinks as her senses start to take over.... the scent of her is not unlike that of her mother, in that it instantly spreads a blanket of peace over her shivering body, no matter what tense encounter they may have had.

"I'm sorry...." 

Once the words are out it feels like running naked through a field.  She is vulnerable.  She is exposed.  She is wrong.  Her frail muscles all clench up tight.  Suddenly a mental connection is made, linking things together and making a bit more sense out of the puzzle which is her often irrational mind.  She is terrified of the ocean, heights make her want to break into uncontrollable fits of sobbing, being shorter than everyone else secretly releases inner rage, compared to her often mules appear meek, tickling sets in the instinct of complete terror, and she can't stand being wrong.
Really it's vulnerability of any sort that nags and tortures her soul.
The one piece of the puzzle that she can't seem to make fit anywhere is why she still loves having her waffles cut for her and being pushed around in grocery carts shaped like space shuttles.

A surrender of two simple words turns in to a peace treaty of four hours of confession and conversation.  It's as if the two are finally speaking the same language for the first time...She lowers her guard.  Suddenly she isn't the only one who matters.  Her eyes are open...

She can't help but wonder how long it will last.

How easy is it to disrupt a pattern that's gone on for years?

Stay Here, Okay?

 I remember a couple times without you there.
I remember being very lonely and just.... lost.
Well.  Perhaps it was only a coincidence. 

But I can't tell if I'm talking about your physical or mental location.
I think both.
I just want you to want to be with me...
and once you do, have it STAY that way for more than a week or two.
I don't think I can take another minute of feeling like I annoy you,
I disgust you,
you don't like my hair,
you think my clothes look funny,
you think I'm fat,
you think I'm stupid.

Some people tell me I'm beautiful.
Maybe it's a foolish thing--believing them on occasion.
But I honestly wonder if you agree with them and just don't say it,
or if my fearful suspicions are accurate.

Tell me what I'm doing wrong and I'll change it in an instant,
even if I do attempt to save face.
I think you know that.

"Bitterman, I don't want to be sad anymore.  I think tonight we'll throw a party..."