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