Escape.

Still Here

You say "but I'm still here, 

and that means that I love you, dear!"

Like No Other

I'm going to admit.  There is not a single person out there capable of making me mad like you do.

But then, I have to remind myself that there's not anyone out there capable of giving me absolute, limitless joy like you do, either. 

This is mainly a reminder to myself, but, I suppose you could stand to hear it, too.

I love you.

I Don't Mean to Intrude...

But, you know, I feel like if I'm allowed to press for information from anybody... it's you. 
Today I realized that you are scared of me.

Not in the traditional way.
You're scared of how my opinion of you could change.

In my head this was the sort of relationship where the tongue was tied down by nothing, being free to soar with whatever musings or secrets or thoughts or just... anything. 
That's what it is for me, at least.
But today I noticed that while you tell me lots of things... you conveniently leave out the bad parts.

Maybe you don't want to be a downer?
Maybe you forget them?
Maybe it's not on purpose at all.

Regardless, I think you're fantastic.  Though... you don't seem to believe me.

A Drop in the Ocean

Most nights I hardly sleep... don't take what you don't need from me.

Little Known Fact #2

I do love the color red, but I specifically and especially love red backpacks.  You might as well know that if you carry one, I've stared at it for an uncomfortably long about of time.  Probably more than once.

I Do Say,

You remind me of somebody I used to adore...

The Pink Bottle

A breath.

Her eyes are forced closed, a wave of sensory stimulation rushing through her by the intoxicating, peaceful scent of memories trapped in a small, squarish, pink bottle.

A knife.

The images of it flash through her head quickly.  Bathroom stalls.  Compasses.  Seminar.  All-nighters.  Jackets.  Hiding... always hiding.  She can feel the once constant ache inside of her chest.

A necklace.

The scenes change from darkness and extremities to ones of personal milestones.  She remembers what it was like to want so desperately to look pretty and normal... and have no idea how.  She sees that little silver necklace reminding her to be good hanging around her neck every single day.

An orange.

Such a simple organism, such an example of humility.  Cautious gazes locked, challenges issued, people staring, the whole world watching.  The taste of that hellish fruit still haunts her.

A curse.

Stupid.  Ungrateful.  Lazy.  Brat.  She flinches as the sound of slamming of doors and the crash of glass shivers up her spine.  She can still hear those nights... the words repeat over and over, chipping away bits of her wellness.

It only takes a blink to awaken her from her daydream into her own senses.  She continues rubbing the lotion into her skin, her eyes straying a few times to her reflection in the mirror in front of her.  Oh, how she'd love to believe that the person she's seeing is completely transformed from the girl with the pink lotion and the silver necklace.  That was a phase, she says.  I was so stupid back then, she laughs at herself.

Really she just learned how to cover that girl up.

Speaking a Dead Language

Oh I wonder, when did it all stop making sense?

She Falls.

But she falls short and the night explodes in laughter...

Dear 12 Year Old Coree,

I don't know exactly when this tragic transformation occurred, but, somewhere along the way... you learn how to lie.

You learn how to lie to impress,
to get out of trouble,
to lie well,
to lie badly for attention,
to lie about stupid things,
and... how to lie about important things.

If there is one thing I could change about us, it would be that.  Someday you'll realize that nothing is real.  You'll have friends because you lied about tragedies to get attention, you lied about skills to impress, embellished stories to amuse.... your whole life will be built off of lies.  You're going to have to face the facts that all you can do is wait for these people to move on without you so that you can try and be more honest with the next batch of loved ones.

Some of these people are ones you want to know and love forever and a day.
You'll dig yourself into a hole so deep that you can't even see the surface light anymore.
You're going to mess up your one and only chance with them, while they're completely oblivious that you did anything wrong with them.

It's a hard pill to swallow.

Please... just... be honest. 
You might be less interesting.
You might get grounded more often.
Your life might sound much less tragic.
But it will be real.

Blue Jeans

You fit me better than my favorite sweater...

Dear Boy Down the Road,

Hey.  I hope you're doing well.  You're probably just dandy.... been pretty busy lately, huh?  I know.  But I'm talking to you right now to discuss something else.  I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to worry about me anymore.  I don't really care at this point.  You seem to be doing just fine without me, and honestly, I'm doing just fine without you. 

I've finally realized that if you don't want me, then there's no point in wanting you.

I can see the one I will end up with.  He's The Man Who Will Be Next to Me, rather than a Boy Down the Road.  He's tall and thin, though still more filled out than you are.  He's got a scruffy beard and untamed hair.  He enjoys plaid shirts just as much as I do, thinks mine is the best cooking in the world, and cuts down the firewood for our cabin in the forest.  Most importantly, I'm his favorite person in the world, and he is mine.

So.  Continue on in your boyhood.  Someday you'll be exactly what a girl needs, like you once were for me.

Best of luck,
Corenna Jellybeana

Checkpoint Reached!

Few.  I've gotten through this week.  There is no doubt it was.... well, hellish.  But now I feel like I'm sitting above all of those demons and trials, the quicksand and pitfalls, able to take a breather and just reflect.  I am safe... for now.

Dear Older Sister,

I find you to be absolutely fantastic.  Though often I pass the time by getting under your skin just to get a reaction, and sometimes I try and make you feel like a bad person, and I make faces and snide comments and roll my eyes at you at lot, it's only because I love you.  I guess we would make good sisters.  Nothing really compares to laying around on your kitchen floor, eating all the things, and pondering the wonders of life considered indecent to talk about by most organisms.  I think somewhere along the way, after all of the hours upon hours used up, gas money spent, five facebook albums full of pictures, coordinating outfits, family mart consumed, cookie dough microwaved, laws broken, sweaters exchanged, secrets spilled, collaborative prayers whispered, tears fallen, embraces felt, and I love yous said... there became a part of us that will forever remain connected, even if we do fall out of touch.

All I know is I really hope our kids get to have as much fun together as we do :}

Michicant

Somebody come whisk me away to a cloudy world of forests and fields and freedom

Twilight Realizations

Darkness.  The world has been immersed in a blanket of shadow, as it is every night.  You know how the old saying goes... "not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."  While she isn't stirring, she is still wide awake, thoughts stabbing and cutting at her brain like a knife.  She shuts her eyes tightly as the wind is literally knocked out of her by realizations which hold no physical power, though they have still managed to batter her body into a helpless heap, like skinny jeans without a nice pair of legs to cling lovingly to.

She is tired.  Every ounce of her patience has been squeezed mercilessly out of her by screaming mouths, meaningless promises, hands like shackles, and challenging glares.  In her mind her very own tongue has become a viper, lashing out with a seething bite, spitting out venom of honesty with no consideration of feelings or punishments.  Really she's not capable of such things.  It's more like a hamster... always covered in fluff to make every blow soft and comfortable, though it will occasionally nip.  But she doesn't know if she will be able to hold up much longer.  Those traditional healing methods she learned from Grandma are doing more harm than good though mentally they are of some aid, and she's really just tired of being completely and totally helpless.

Tonight her painfully slow, unobservant cranium has managed to completely unfold a mystery in her life.  She lets out a pathetic sound, indistinguishable between a sob and a desperate gasp for air.  Now that she knows... she almost wishes she could go back.  This information might be too much for her.  What is one supposed to do after their most terrifying suspicion is confirmed?  How does one react upon finding out that the sculptor, after putting all of their meager salary into supplies for their upcoming work, every bit of skill and effort they can muster, every moment of their free time... just doesn't like what they made.  She can understand how one would want to just take up that disappointment into their clenching fingers, and hurl it at what they can only imagine to be their own shortcomings, and the unfairness that is this life.

Crash!  She buries her face more forcefully into her suffocating pillow, the sound and energy of the shattering pot running up her spine like a chill.  She knows she is the pot. 

She is disappointment.

She is an expert at making up metaphors, as well, and continues to do so.  For the first time in her life, the creativity and pleasure of playing with words doesn't help.  Nothing does.  Another first... there is nothing to be done.  Nobody is doing anything wrong.  She and her are just puzzle pieces, both with little nubs which stick out to cling to another, so that no matter what they do, they will never fit together.

The only thing to do is deal with it.

Her distraught gasps for air turn into peaceful breaths, and soon she drifts into a world of dreams, where none of this matters.  If she weren't too busy fighting off murderers with her superhero for a brother, getting stuck inside of giant pears with characters from TV shows from her childhood, and taking huge last minute tests in her underwear, she'd realize that it is a really sad thing that she would rather just never wake up from said dreams.

... and at once she knew she was not magnificent.

Heavy in Your Arms

It isn't worth the wait, all this killing time.

Broken.

I bet you didn't know that I am completely, totally, undoubtedly shattered on the inside.

No.

I've been told that I'm too... malleable.  That I need to learn to say no.  That I need to just say what I feel, because it really will matter to those who I should be caring about.
Today I tried it out....

Twice.

Neither time did it  work.  I said what I was feeling.  I was firm about it. 
You brushed it off and ignored me and did what you wanted, despite my attempt at an interjection.  It didn't matter to you that today just wasn't a day to mess around with me.  You didn't care that every little thing was pushing me closer to the edge.  I fell off the edge, actually.  But you wouldn't stop long enough to hear me, even if I did try to tell you that.  All it got me was a lot of awkward silence and a further tarnished reputation.

Well.  What lesson did we learn today, kids?

Keep everything inside of you.  Other people don't care how important the part of yourself you're trying to give to them is.  They'll give you advice because it sounds like a smart thing to say... but then when it's time to try and take it, not even they will support you.

I am tiny.  The speck on a speck on a speck in the grand scheme of things.

And, you know what?  Today I'm really feeling it.