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.

For You

If you love me with all of your heart I'll make you a star in my universe

Dear Boy Across the Ocean

 

Tonight I asked what your plans for adult life were.

I expected you to say that you were going to try and get a basketball scholarship and then go on your mission and then come back to college so you could meet hot college chicks.  That's usually the answer I get.

... But you're just full of surprises.

You told me that you plan on living inside a cardboard box on the streets of North Korea, and that you'd love it if I'd join you.

Well.  I thought it over a bit, and you promised we could wear plaid shirts every other day, so.... 

North Korea,

Canada,

Uganda,

even to hell and back!

I'll come along for any adventure you ask me to.

Temptation to just swim to you right now = extreme.

And She Was Called Vulnerable

Everybody has a personal demon... sometimes even several.  She learned that from her school's drama team performance.  What it didn't teach her, was that her demons had been studying her from the moment she came into existence.  They know every weak link, and they have the exact right tools to get the job of breaking her into bits done right.  She never took the time to ponder over how subtly such demons could tip-toe their way into her being. 

One moment she's sitting there looking over the random musings and updates of those close to her, Laughing Out Loud (though only in her head, as most LOLs are) as she pondered over the reason as to why people feel inclined to tag her in pictures of their cute yet randomly unrelated babies.

The next she's about really to give in, a giant tidal wave of tiny waists, even tinier shorts, thighs that don't touch, and bones that stick out in all places possible rushing over her, obliterating all traces of a now extinct concept, called "confidence." 
Why does she subject herself to such torture? 
I can tell you she doesn't enjoy it. 

Her frail body shrivels up into nothing more than a pile of quivering bones, no music telling her story more accurately than the slowly dying sound of her sobs.  She knows that she will never be the girl on the computer screen.  She knows that her flesh must be just madly in love with her bones, because it has managed to wrap itself around those suckers in an embrace so tight that they'll probably never see the light of day again.  That's just how her body works.

But one thing that gets to her is the girl with the broken spirit.  See, that girl will never realize what she has.  That girl has been beaten and thrown down and damaged in ways that no one could understand.  Even though she's always managed to pick herself up, she still goes throughout life with a slight metaphorical limp.  That girl has it much worse than the Vulnerable girl.    The one called Vulnerable couldn't help but hate her.  She hated her because she had so much more and she just couldn't see it.  She hated her because she was good at sweeping her broken pieces under the rug so that no one could ever suspect her.

Funny thing is... she would shatter herself if it mean the one with the broken spirit got to be completely mended. 

The Longest Time

Once I thought my innocence was gone, 

now I know that happiness goes on.

I Am Transported.

 

I sit here alone, immersed in nothing but my own thoughts.  Whenever this happens, I can't help but want things.  Want a better house.  Want to be smaller.  Want more time.  Want less time.  Want more friends.  Want the friends I have to want me.  Want to go back.

I can see it just barely... the very edges of my memory more like clouds than vision.  I am happy.  The only thing that matters to me is how high I can jump on the trampoline compared to my peers and counting down the days until Christmas.  I was blissfully unaware of all the things in my life which I'd want to delete.  Cut, bend, twist... that's fine.  It's never going to work, anyways.

I want to go back to the days of hyper-activity.  Where I annoyed the marshmallows out of all who knew the real me, and yet I remained completely and totally invisible to every other soul of the world.  The beauty of it was... I didn't care.  I pranced around throughout my business and my business alone, unaware that there was anything better out there for me.  There was only one who cared.  One who I could laugh with and talk and eat handful upon handful of candy.

But I left her.

I left her for a new world.  This world was much darker... it felt totally isolated, yet there were oceans of people all around.  One held a flashlight.  It was up to her where she pointed it to go, and I followed by her side like my life depended on it.  Part of me thinks that it did.  Or, rather, my death depended on it.  And there is no life without death.  It was a world of independence and anger and spite... and so much excitement that I just couldn't bring myself to leave.  After many times of taking her flashlight and playing with it, clicking the button over and over, shining it in others' eyes, she took me on a long scavenger hunt to find my own.  Luckily.... I did.  Now it's just a matter of figuring out the right places to point it.

Since then, I have managed to tangle myself up in a rainforest.  It's full of vibrant, interesting creatures.  But all of them seem to be fully consumed in their own affairs. Perhaps I look funny to them, because there are so many which just spend their time watching me.  I can tell they're waiting for the day that I reach out my hand to try and touch them.  Maybe it'll happen.  For now, I'm just trying to figure out why I can't manage to get out and move on to the next place in my travels.  I can't tell if the stems winding themselves around my ankles are flowers or thorns.  All I know is, the girl with the flashlight is scampering on without me, and even if I do get it together, I'm probably going to end up having to rely on my own light.

Favorite Quotes of the Day

"Don't worry.  We're going to get married, so then we'll have a different first dance." (Well.  This was last week.  I just like repeating it.)

"I can't feel AN INVISIBLE BLANKET."

"Let's do this the old fashioned way and just get her pregnant."

"Don't say anything.  I'm always right."
"I already know that.  It'll come in handy for when I'm your husband, huh?"

"I DON'T HAVE A LITHP!!!"

"Ah ah ah, you better put the giraffe down."

"I think the fact that you had severe loss of control of your face is what contributed mainly to my love for you today."

"OH MY GOSH DO YOU JUST HAVE NO FAT ON YOUR BODY?"

"It's like when a little puppy gets back from the vet with a cone around its head.... so pathetic but SO ADORABLE!"

"Want to run your brother over?"

Today was good.  Very good.  It definitely wasn't what I expected, and it was super long... but I was happy.

Dear Brown,

You get looked over a lot, don't you?  Slowly I'm starting to realize that.  Now that I think about it, I'm the only one I've ever heard of who includes you on their list of favorite colors.  Sorry if that stings... honestly, I really don't mean to rub salt in your wounds.  This is a letter of encouragement, not cyber-bulling... I swear.

Let me just start out by saying, thank you so much for being the color of my hair.  I may look at blondes sometimes with the most bitter of all envy, but honestly, you compliment me quite nicely.  I like that you picked a good shade.  Not too light and bland, but not dark enough to be boring.  Also, my eyes.  They are the loveliest of golden browns.  I don't think blue could have ever popped like this shade does when paired with green. 
Personally, I find that you are the perfect match for dirt.  I would be disgusted with living if dirt was... I don't know... blue.  You are so mellow and rich and complimentary. 
Thank you for coloring giraffe spots.  And chocolate.  Wood, the center of sunflowers, hippos, my leather jacket, my future husband and children, capybaras...

Even if other people don't see it, I don't that this world of colors really does rely on you to keep things balanced and pretty.  So just hang in there... someday everyone else will come to their senses.
You have plenty of talents... they're just... special talents.

My eternal affections,

Corenna Jellybeana

I Want...

These Two....

Get married, please.

Then I don't have to worry about either one of you being unhappy.

And it will be much less work tracking you down ;)

Look Away

Can't explain what I'm feeling... But I came this far 

to take your hand, help you understand why I'm always wanting more

I Desire....

a corn field.

So desperately.

Sarah and I have mastered lots of fields, from sugarcane, to sunflowers, to tall grass....

All I want in life is to find a random cornfield and take beautiful pictures in it while frolicking with Sarah.

Or a man.

Depending on when it is that this dream comes true...