SETTLING.

I think that there's one person that you're absolutely perfect for. And then a few others that you could stay with and be happy with, but it won't be near as great as it would be with that one person. And sometimes you don't find that person in your life and you can be fine. But if you find them and lose them and end up settling, it's just going to be that. Settling. And you'll always know what you're missing.

this is old. i said this a while ago. but i like it. and i believe it. still.

FALLING.

people say that they fell in love as if it's some graceful transformation of the heart.

people lie.

falling in love is anything but graceful. it's not innocent or lovely or anything like that. no, falling in love, and i'm talking about really falling in love, is the complete opposite. falling in love is barreling towards a brick wall at a hundred miles per hour in a tiny, two-door convertible and realizing that someone has cut the brakes... it's hoping that somehow you come out of the wreck in one piece. falling in love is being pushed off of the tallest building in the world and hoping that the landing is not really as bad as they say it is. falling in love is uncontrollable, terrifying, and consuming.

and it starts all over again the next time you see that one person you love.

falling in love is not something you have control over, but it may be the most important thing you do.

[12.6.09]

HOLLOW.

staring at the ceiling from her spot on the floor, she wasn't doing the exercise the rest of the class was immersed in. she tried to close her eyes to block the light out, but it pelted her lids like heavy rain.

she opened them and stared fixedly at the ceiling wishing she could turn over to lie on her stomach. "allow the words to fill you, to speak through you," the teacher was saying. she rolled her eyes, of course the words had to speak through you. they couldn't very well talk all on their lonesome.

she sighed.

"everyone say it, 'hollow,'" the teacher instructed.

she blinked. this was a good word. "hollow," she whispered. "hollow."

"good, now go back to your own speeches." the class was filled again with various words and shouts, but she lay still, staring up.

"hollow," she said again. "hollow."

[12.1.09]

DREAM.

she used to think he was a dream.

that she would wake up one day and he would be gone. that he would take with him everything they had together and not look back. or maybe look back and laugh at her, as she watched him go. her face a mix of disbelief and knowledge.

yesterday, he was a dream.

he surprised her and loved her. he proved that he wasn't just a dream and for a minute, she believed him. she didn't want to leave, not even though she had to get up early. she didn't want to leave because she knew that, though he proved he wasn't a dream, she would wake up and he would be.

she woke up today and thought it might be different. she always thinks that its different. he convinces her he loves her but then he proves her wrong.

sex and drugs and money isn't compatible with live and laugh and love. she knows which one she is, but she can't figure him out. he hasn't figured himself out.

living the life of covering tracks and smiling up, he may lose the things he wants. he is grown up but he isn't mature. he is smart but he isn't wise. she looks to the future and he lives for the now.

how can they love each other when he doesn't know who he is.

how can they love each other if he is the first while she is the second.

how can they love each other when she knows she loves him more but lets him claim it.

maybe it's time to wake up;

but sleeping is always better.

[11.24.09]

INSANITY.

Much Madness is divinest Sense –

To a discerning Eye –

Much Sense – the starkest Madness –

'Tis the Majority

In this, as All, prevail –

Assent – and you are sane –

Demur – you're straightway dangerous –

And handled with a Chain –

-Emily Dickinson

They had called her insane. I had heard that she “straight up belongs in the loony bin, if you know what I mean.” However, personally, I could judge her yet; it was only my second day to spend with her. The day before, though, when I met her, she seemed nice enough, but I had not had a long conversation with her.

I walked behind the desk and threw my stuff down on my side of it; I was early, per usual, and Amelia had not yet arrived. As my ancient computer booted up, I pulled out the files of the clients we would be checking in today. The law firm I was a receptionist for was top-dollar and usually we did not have more than a few clients a day. I set the sign-in sheet on the top of the desk and drummed my nails on the desk as my computer struggled to load all of my files; one would think that such a high-paying office could afford to upgrade the Windows95 computers, but alas…

I heard keys jingling outside the door and knew that Amelia must have arrived. She pushed the door open, holding her cell phone between her ear and her shoulder, “I know, Love. Don’t worry, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” She flounced over to me, her long wavy brown hair falling down her shoulders with grace, and nodded her head in greeting. She set down her purse and case files on the desk next to me, “Yes, baby, I’m here safely. I’ll call you as soon as I get on break, okay? Okay. Love you, too.”

I tore my eyes from her as she hung up the phone, thinking back to what everyone had told me when I took this job. She’s out of her mind, loving him again. She’s completely wrapped herself in her own little world with him – even after he took off like that. She has got to have something wrong with her head; it’s not sensible. My computer finally loaded as I heard her hit the end button on her phone.

“Good morning, Lillian,” she smiled. I turned around and responded appropriately. “Sorry about the slow computers,” she continued as she turned hers on. “I keep telling him to upgrade them, but he’s stubborn.” I nodded, trying to see what this girl was really about. Was she as crazy as they say? Surely love cannot make you that insane.

She looked at me with her piercing blue-gray eyes and I turned back to my computer muttering something about checking my email. I heard her sigh as her chair squeaked indicating that she was sitting down, “The other members of the firm have talked to you, haven’t they?” it was more of a statement than a question so I did not bother denying it.

I turned in my chair again to face her, “I didn’t really put much stock into what they said, honestly.” I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt, hoping she wouldn’t catch me in my half-truth.

She laughed a pretty laugh and I wondered why she would go back to a man who left her when she could probably get any other man she wanted, “I think that if I heard half of the things people say about me, I’d think myself crazy.” She swiveled in her chair to hit the keyboard twice, as was necessary to start up the old computers, and then she turned to face me again. “Well, I’ll explain myself, even if you didn’t listen to them.” I immediately sat up and paid more attention. “I’m engaged, as you probably know, but the reason people think that I’m s crazy is because the guy I’m engaged to, well, he left me for someone else a few months ago.”

This much I knew; apparently it was everyone’s favorite bathroom gossip. She went on to explain that when he realized what he had lost, he wrote her a note. She said that she hadn’t trusted him for the longest time; she said sometimes she still didn’t. She told me that everyone thought she was crazy for going back to him after what he did to her; they thought she was mad, desperate, and a whole bunch of other demeaning words. And, at first, I could not help but agree with them.

Then, she attempted to explain love to me. Honestly, she did a crap job with it, but the way she tried, the way she looked when she thought about him… well, that really said it all. That afternoon, when the workday was over, I hugged her goodbye after she locked up.

Now, Amelia is my best friend. She and her husband are the happiest couple I have ever met and I am absolutely positive that she is absolutely insane. Amelia is stupidly, madly, illogically in love – and that has made her the most sensible person I know. If ever meet someone that makes me senseless I know that I will not demur them; refusing insanity is the greatest sin a person can commit, and I will not commit it.

[11.15.2009]

ARROGANCE.

it's a king on it's throne,

smiling down on its jesters.

it orders and alienates;

it whines and it pesters.

it scoffs at its foe,

sweet humility.

laughing and pointing

so heartily.

but practiced today

hour upon hour

goodwill and cheerfulness

it does quickly scour

so lock it away,

banish it to dark

i warn you don't let arrogance

make you its mark.

[11.13.09]

NAIVETY.

call me crazy. call me naïve. call me stupid.

i am.

but again, i trust him. but not with everything, don't worry.

i trust him with my life. with my well-being.

i trust him with my secrets and maybe even my soul.

but i don't trust him with my heart.

not again.

not yet.

that's something i will never give away so easily.

he hurt me.

he cut me down.

and now i have to be more careful.

[11.15.2009]

SISTER.

In the eighteen years that led up to that day, not once had I even considered spending it in the Intensive Care Unit with my little sister. Now, three years later, I often dream of that day; the shadow of her memory lingers in my wake, never allowing me a spare second. I had always been told my eighteenth birthday would be memorable, but I never could have guessed the way in which that truth would reveal itself. Grace taught me to slow down and value life, but without my baby sister, our favorite show isn’t funny and our favorite band isn’t appealing. Every detail of my sister is etched into my brain, from her light freckles to her muddy-green eyes. Dying brought Grace peace, but it left me here, alone, missing.

***********************

I stand inside of a tiny elevator taking me to the correct floor. My view has changed with her accident; my world is no longer composed, but scattered. My best friend is in pain, in distress, in danger, but I am left to deal with the consequences. I have a feeling that my love for her will be the death of me.

The elevator moves annoyingly slow; I glance at the only other person stuck with me as the bell dings with each floor we pass. The man is short and fairly obese; he smells of smoke and, as I peak at him out of the corner of my eye, I see him blatantly staring at me. Pulling my furry coat closer to my body, I look down at my hands and anxiously pick at a hangnail.

I wonder why he’s here; did he, like me, get a call to hurry in? Was he staring at my panicked face, my red eyes; was he watching my accelerated breathing? Or did he not care at all? Surely he was not experiencing the unbearable suffering I was; his already overworked heart would unquestionably explode. I will myself not to cry, not yet.

On the fourth floor, the elevator bell rings once again, this time followed by the slow opening of the cold, silver metal doors. The thick smell of antiseptic and latex disperse into the small space attacking every pore of my shaking body. With my heart pounding and my stomach churning, I step into the hall and turn left, as my mother had instructed in her hysteric phone call. I pass a huge window that overlooks the falsely serene scene of the March night; lights from the adjacent and opposite buildings flash happily, inconceivably suggesting that this night is one of fun and excitement.

I continue down the hall, accompanied only by the sound of my boots hitting the white tile; I now feel out of place, dressed up for a night out in such a melancholy place. I pass three doors on my left and stop in front of the fourth to read the chart hanging next to it. Grace Crews, 16, car accident, followed by a plethora of medical jargon I can’t decipher.

I don’t need to; I know what the conclusion will be.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling as if blowing out the eighteen candles I should have had on a cake tonight, I wish silently that night does not end in the way everyone expects it to.

I push the door open; it’s dark. I walk down the tight hallway until it opens into a small room with only a bed, two chairs, and a TV hanging on the wall opposite this furniture. The TV is off and, at the sound of my entrance, my mother looks away from my sister. “Taylor,” she breathes as she vacates her post by Grace’s bed to envelope me in a tight embrace. My mother’s smell registers a feeling of homeliness and the scratch of her sweater reminds me of winter, but today I hardly notice these trivial matters.

I do not wrap my arms around her; they remain rooted at my sides as I stare at the sight in front of me. My baby sister: one fragile girl, two years my junior, three times better than I could dream to be, lies sleeping under the white sheet with gauze wrapped around her newly shaved head and her left arm in a plaster cast. I feel my legs go weak just as my mother releases me, wiping away stray tears, “She’s been asleep this whole time.”

I nod. Shock, complete and utter shock, courses through my veins; my thoughts too scattered to even interpret, much less voice. The white of the gauze, the floor, the sheets, the walls is contrasted violently with the blood that is dried on Grace’s face, her fingers, the discarded bandages on the bedside table. My mother keeps talking to me, but I have long stopped listening; then, suddenly, she is gone and I am left alone with the only girl who has ever truly understood me.

My legs, like jelly and completely detached from my brain, somehow lead me over to Grace’s bed. My hand reaches out of its own accord and my fingertips brush her jaw line gently. I lower myself into one of the half-plastic chairs next to her and stare at the seemingly numberless wires and IVs and tubes that trail from my sister’s arms, fingers, head into the high tech machines a foot away from us. I keep myself breathing by syncing my breaths with the sound of Grace’s heart monitor. In-beep, out-beep, in-beep: my hands are shaking so badly now that I sit on them in order to prevent any accidents.

“Hey, Grace,” my voice cracks; I don’t even know if she can hear me – probably not. “Always trying to steal the spotlight, eh?” I smile and taste salt; I hadn’t realized I was crying. I pull my right hand from under myself and hastily wipe away my tears; she didn’t need to see my crying, should she awaken. I concentrate on breathing again in order to calm myself.

“Mom told me you were speeding, trying to pick up my present in time,” I continue. “You should have been more careful, Grace! Did you really think I meant it when I yelled not to be late?” I don’t bother wiping my eyes this time and I’m sure my makeup is running down my face. I reach out and place my hand on her arm; it’s too cold.

Silent tears cascade onto the white sheets as I kick off my boots and crawl onto the small cot, careful to avoid the wires and IVs and tubes. “I’ll keep you warm,” I vow. “I didn’t care if you got to my dinner on time, Gracie. I just wanted you to get there.” I push my lips to her cheek very softly. “Don’t leave without me, Grace. I love you.” Resting my head on her shoulder, I again concentrate on breathing. My breaths grow slower and farther apart until I fall asleep to the dull tone of the long, solitary beep of the flat-line on the heart monitor.

[11.3.2009]

DISAPPEARING ACT.

she'd love nothing more than to pull a disappearing act. she wants to fade into the wood work, taking with her all of her problems, stresses, and pains. she wants to evaporate into nothingness where everything is peaceful and nothing pulls on her.

she's losing control and spiraling into thoughts that dig into her mind and rip away vital pieces of her soul. she doesn't know what she wants - other than that she wants to dissolve. she wants to see who will care when she disappears and who won't. she wants to be left alone with her memories and secrets, but they won't let her. good or bad, there are few people who keep her afloat. people she can't melt away from. they anchor themselves to her in the way a small child clings to his mother.

she wants nothing more than to pull a disappearing act, but she's not the kind that disappears. so maybe, instead, she can work on erasing him.

[11.3.2009]

MISS YOU.

have you ever missed someone so bad it hurts? like so much that it really, truly, honestly causes you physical anguish? and there's no way to make it better, either. that's another thing. the only thing that will make you feel better is to see them again, but you can't.

and then, while you're missing them, you can't tell if what they are saying is true. you can't see their face when they talk to you making it impossible for you to see their eyes, to tell if they are lying. maybe it's easier for them to forget about you, when they're off being busy and you're sitting at home missing them...

it makes you wish for a fast forward button. or a disaster that would give you some excuse to up and go see them right now. and no one understands unless they t0o have missed someone this badly. which isn't many people, i think, because the only reason i'm allowing it is because i have no choice.

i wish i could read his mind. so i knew if he missed me like he says. because i can never tell.

so lately i've been in a anti-social, anti-people mood. and its a lot of things, but its mainly because i don't like this missing-him thing. because i technically don't even have him to miss.

not today; not on what would be ten months.

he probably doesn't even realize.

[10.25.09]

LOVE.

(one of my favorite quotes on love to begin this post)

so lately, i've been thinking a lot about love. as in i've been trying to decide what it really is, how you fall in love, out of love, etc. i read something on my friend's blog about it and that kind of fueled a lot of what i was already thinking.

i knew i loved someone, and that somehow we'd be together, about seven months before he realized the same about me. let me tell you right now, that is not something fun to go through. but, i wouldn't have said i "fell in love" with him then. i didn't "fall in love" with him until later. and i find it weird how these two things, "loving" someone and "falling in love" with them, are completely different. another thing that constantly astonishes me is how differently you love people. for example, though i love a lot of people, there are only two people i love enough that i can honestly say that if they were to die or cease to exist in my life, i would have trouble moving on: my sister and the guy i love. and of those two people, if i were to lose my sister, but have the guy i love to help me through it, i think i could eventually be okay with my life. what pains me to realize, and i just realized it last night, is that if i were to lose the guy and have my sister to help me through it, i don't know how i'd be. i honestly think that would be harder to get over, for me, than losing my sister.

my sister.

that is a realization that really hit me hard. of course, i don't want her to die. i would come close to a mental break down, if not have one, if she did; however, if i had the guy to help me through it, i think i would continue to be okay. this is the girl i grew up with, my best girl friend, the person i rely on the most in my household, and i truly think it would be easier to get over her death than the death of my significant other.

how messed up is that?

and, now, i'm not even with this guy. technically, i have no tie to him right now other than friendship. and, more, i've known him for only about two years, and yet i'm hopelessly in love with him. i don't even know if he loves me like that anymore; he says he does, but i've always had a hard time believing it. and, still, i would suffer physical pain for this guy. i say i love him, but i almost feel like that doesn't cover it. really, there is no "more powerful" word to describe it.

but love is so complicated. you can't reason with it, you can't control it, you can't say 'hey, can you just hold on a sec because now this guy's in a relationship...' you can't stop it, you have absolutely no say in what i consider to be love. love, in the sense of partnerships, is something that is completely unreal and inexplicable. it makes people act insane and can even make them go crazy. i want to say it's a feeling, but it's really not. a feeling is something you have for a second; i don't think that real, true love ever goes away. when people say they have fallen in love more than once, i always question that. can you fall in love more that once? can you fall in love with the wrong person? or do you just think that you love(d) them?

me, in my naivety, would love to believe that you only fall in love once in your life. that there is one person that can make your world spin, your mind jumbled, and give you that completely cliche feeling that everyone writes about but no one really understands until they themselves have felt it. i want to believe that if you really aren't meant to be with someone you thought you love, it's for the best because you'll find someone that you'll love past the point of reason.

but what if you can't imagine loving anyone more than you love someone now? what if the thought of loving someone else more than you love someone now makes absolutely no sense to you? i think that if i were to love someone more than the guy i love now, the world would implode, or, at the very least, i would. everything in the songs and stories not only make sense to me, but they undercut it. i'm convinced that no one loves another person like i love him, which i know is probably completely wrong. i feel stupid saying things like this not only are they cliche, but no one believes that someone can meet the person they will love for the rest of their life at the mere age of fifteen (which was how old i was when i met him). no one believes that this is legitimate; 'oh, its teenage love, how cute!' they say. i want to stomp my feet and yell, 'it's not like that!' because it's not. and, i know one day i might take back everything i'm saying now, i'm not stupid enough to think everything i'm feeling now will stay, i'm just saying that i'm pretty sure i won't find anyone that i love as much as him. and, sometimes, i hate it.

because it's really not fair. not to me. not to him...

i've digressed.

love.

i guess, i just think that it is a compilation of feelings mixed with the unimagined and the unbelievable. falling in love takes you by surprise, or so it has with me. and falling out of love seems damn near impossible. love is something you have to experience and when you do, you'll know. it makes you lose sight of everything else.

the other day i was talking to my guy about how love and sex really are linked. though we aren't together, we still love each other, and i don't know. like love, my relationship is complicated. but i've always had my friends saying that what me and him have is lust, or teenage love, or some other term that is no where near close to describing what we really have. lust is just sex. i was saying that even if i never passed kissing my guy, i would be fine. i could live a perfectly happy life if all i could do was be with and/or kiss him. the reason that you have sex with someone, at least in my mind, is because you love them and you are just so overwhelmed that you need to touch them, feel them, etc., and that's the most intense way to do so. he was telling me that he could honestly sit next to me forever just holding me, and he wouldn't complain. and i agree. people judge teenagers with they have sex mostly because they can't believe that they are in love, and probably a majority of the time they aren't.

but when you are in love. and you love someone else so much it honestly hurts at times. and when missing them is the worse pain imaginable... i can't see anything that would be more intense than that. i can't picture meeting anyone that makes me happier than him.

but, at the same time, if he were to tell me that he didn't love me. that he found someone else who made him happier (something i'm half-convinced is going to happen), i'd let him go. happily. sure, i'd be miserable, but as long as he is happy, i can live with that. and i know a lot of people say that and don't mean it. but i lived nearly eight months practicing that belief and while it would be harder to go back to it now, i would. i need him to be happy, and if that is with me then you won't hear me complain about anything, but if that's with someone else, i'll deal with it.

and, really, if that isn't "true love" i don't know what it is, but i can't wait to see because i can't imagine anything better, worse, more confusing, more exhilarating than this.

i'll probably think of more important things i wanted to say later, but oh well. i'll edit or something. ha.

[10.21.09]

INSPIRATION.

so today, after school, i was inspired.
first, as i watched one of my friends teach another girl a dance that my friend had choreographed. the way they both moved their bodies was so foreign to me. i could never move like that. the muscles are so toned and just brilliant. i wished i had been able to dance.
then, i was sitting listening to my friend play me the guitar.
he's really good. it's pretty ridiculous. my fingers just don't move that way, the way they have to to play a guitar. i'd love to learn, though.
anyway, he was playing all of these cover songs and then some of the ones he made up, and i was in awe. i wish i was good at something. really good. the way he is at music and guitar and writing songs. all of his songs are like so emotional and just... i don't know if i can describe it. it's that singer/songwriter connection that comes through when you hear someone perform their own song. as i watched his fingers fly to positions i know mine could never achieve, even after years of practice, i'd imagine, i was moved. and inspired. to write. i guess.
but then as i was driving home, i realized that i don't really have a "thing." another one of my friends is good at a variety of things, so she could pick anything to be her "thing" but doesn't really have to. me, i don't know what i'm good at. i don't really excel at anything. i'm just average or a little above average at some things, and then just average at others, and then i just suck at the rest.
but i'm not good at one thing; there is nothing about me that people would say yeah, megan garvey is good at this and it is fantastic. no one is jealous or wishes to have any skill i possess.
sure, i'm smart enough, i get by; i make friends; i could read music and play the piano very, very basically; i can draw better than some people, but not well at all; i like to sing, but i suck at it; i can't dance to save my life; i'm okay at softball and other athletic things, but not good enough to go anywhere at all with that; i can't act because i am too insecure; and i'm not even pretty.
i feel very average.
people remember me because of my personality, maybe. i'm crazy; i'm outgoing and such. but no one thinks of me as someone that stands out. no one really knows me for anything except for maybe some sort of drama i've caused. i am pretty good at stirring things up, i guess. but that's not something to be proud of.
but, especially now that i'm filling out college applications, i wish that i had something about myself that stood out. something i really was amazing at. something other than having to deal with all the stuff that comes my way. when i really think about it, the only thing that life has taught me to sincerely excel in is perseverance.
i'm still here.
but i'm not good at anything.
i'm average in a world where it's necessary to be exceptional. i want to stand out, to be recognized for something, but i just don't have anything to be recognized for.


[10.16.09]

MEMORIES.

there are so many things i never want to forget: your smile, your laugh, that look you give me when i'm being crazy, the feel of your skin, your lips, your hand in mine. i don't want to forget the way you say 'i love you' or the way you look at me.

there are so many memories that i never want to fade: sitting in your car after school waayy back just listening to music for hours, getting caught by tyler johnson in the parking lot late after school, the day you first kissed me (it was december, but it felt like october. the sun was out. the wind was blowing. we were at natchez looking over the bridge. there was a snake. you jumped the rock wall. i laughed. you hugged me. you kissed me.), sitting in your car in while everyone else was at winter formal (just sitting there, leaning on you, while becca texted you freaking out about wynn), the night you asked me out (you gave me my cd. i still have it. you asked me. i asked if you were serious. you laughed. i kissed you. you told me you loved me.), mock trail days, days i was sick and you took care of me, valentines day (so cute. alice is still in my closet. loveless. perfect day.), my birthday dinner thing (i still can't believe you sat through that.), playing "horse," that day we watched the lacrosse game after school when your car died and you "officially" asked me to prom (i still have that weird ass blue thing we found), prom (perfect.), summer days at your house.

too many more.

I know i probably shouldn't think about these as much as i do. i know i'm probably too caught up in the past. i know we might not be perfect again.

i know it may be wrong to grasp onto whatever little piece of us we still have.

but i can't help it.

and i need to write it down. i need to have it here. because i'm so scared i'll lose it. and if i lose this, if i lose you, i don't know who i'll become.

i'm scared.

[10.12.09]

CRASH.

It was windy; the kind of windy that forces the leaves to scatter and fall through the grey sky until they reach the thirsty ground. It feels like rain, though the weatherman had insisted it would stay dry. Uneasiness circles her like the strong winds as she walked to the car where he dad was paitently waiting. Throwing her bags in the backseat, she sits down and puts her seatbelt on as her dad pulls out of the parking lot. She glances out, up at the threatening grey sky that expands forever. Her dad opens his mouth, most likely to ask about her day, but as she looks back at him she catches sight of a SUV barrelling towards them with no apparent intention of stopping. It starts to rain, the sound mixing with the squeak of brakes; the SUV slams into her little car and, a second later, the grey sky is replaced with complete blackness.


[10.09.09][pathetic fallacy. ap lit.]

MEET ME HERE.

'take my hand,' he said, looking at her with those eyes.

'where will we go?' she inquired as she took it, sealing that feeling.

he didn't answer and she asked again with her eyes. then he told her silently; he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers and she knew. this was a place that couldn't be explained - not in words. it was the most well-kept secret of fate; it was the place where emotions were born and reason was lost.

it was the best place to be.

and it was wherever he was.

[10.6.09]

GIGGLES.

the sky was blue, speckled with balls of cotton. the sun was out, but not prominent; the weather was perfect. two sat; reading, waiting, discussing.

belly.
chickens.
roller skates.

then there were three and it was complete. what mischief could they cause now? three of the perfect students secretly longed for chaos.

jumping.
skipping.
running.

they sprawled out on the grass, staring up at the infinity of sky; the kind that allowed you to fall up. no one else questioned them; this was normal.

HA.
bestial wail.
chinning.

the freaky asian kid, the midget, the tall one; inseparable, unapproachable, unmatched. such friendship is irreplaceable.

they share a look, a smile, a word, and burst into a fit of
giggles.

[9.30.2009]

HIM VS. YOU.

today there was a moment
when i did not think of you,
for the first time in a while
i thought we might be through.

another took my hand this morning
while we sat in class.
i grinned at him and him at me
and a mere second did pass
when of you i wasn't thinking,
for you completely left my mind,
but a tiny second later
thoughts of you made me blind.

so now i sit here debating
the two ways this could go
i could take his hand tomorrow
or wait for you to know.

i knew all along
that thing you can't decide,
so i can't sit here waiting
for you to make up your mind.
do you really want me?
or will you leave me behind?
i'm sure of what i wanted
but none of that survived.

so maybe i'll just let him,
the next time that he tries,
for with a kiss he just might fix
all of your silly lies.



[9.24.2009]

PORCH.

Red sneakers, white t-shirt,
an old pair of jeans,
doubles zoom past
so that I barely see
he sun off their bikes;
nearly miss all their laughter.
I know who will win
and I know what she’s after.
The little girl screams
as she crosses the line,
she pumps her fists in the air
as he screams, “one more time!”

My distraction, one of many,
on this beautiful day.
With the sun out and shining,
everyone’s out to play.
The green grass in front of me
is growing too tall
but I’m too lazy to mow it
as it creeps into Fall.

My tabby cat rests lazily
soaking up the late summer sun
and a small dog barks loudly
while out for a run.
The sky is too blue
for a simple afternoon
the neighbors grin and wave
knowing too soon
the weather will freeze
locking us inside
so just for a while longer
we’ll enjoy the ride.

Today it feels perfect,
and for as long as I may,
out here on my front porch
is where I will stay.

[9.22.2009]

WISHED.

today, for the first time, i wished something new.

i wished, not for us to find peace, not for these feelings to go away... no, my normal wishes were forgotten today.

today, i wished that you knew what you did to me.

and i hope it hits you soon.

because when it does, when it finally catches up to you, it's going to hit hard. it'll knock you down to your hands and knees, i promise.

and

then

maybe you'll regret it.

maybe there, on the ground, you'll understand.

then, maybe, you'll stop being so arrogant and realize that your actions affect the people around you,

and

more,

they affect the people who love you; they affect me.

today, i wished.

and i hope to hope's end that this one comes true.

RUN.

i told you that i hate them,
the ones who simply acted.
you told me you agreed,
it was much better to be attracted
to people who were real
and told the truth about
everything around them,
leaving others with no doubt.

i told you that i was with you
but then you said goodbye.
i thought that i would crumble
i thought that i would die.
but now that i can see you
from a place farther away
i realize that i get better
with every passing day.

i told you you were perfect
but now i see i lied
it's not my fault, however,
but now, look, we're tied.
you act now like those people
i said i couldn't stand
the ones i said i hated
the ones with whom you planned.

so go on with your life now
however fake it may be
because i'm sick and tired
of repeating my sad plea.
i tell my friends we're over,
how i wish that we were done.
i vainly long to hate you
but i cant, so i run.


[9.19.2009]

DISSECTION.

you said ‘i.’

you did.

you gave me yourself, or so i thought. you said you were mine, but you lied. you said ‘i’ to a lot of other things, too, did you not?

but you said you didn’t. you said that i, me, was more important to your ‘i’ than anything else. you try to turn it on me now; try to make me feel like i am the one that did wrong.

but i’m not. i meant what i said. i was true, i was real, i was everything you said you were, too.

but you lied.

you lie when you say ‘i.’



you said love.

you did.

you said it, said it to me. did you mean it? can you have meant it? could you mean ‘love’ when you said ‘i,’ but lied. did you mean it when you loved me? are you the person who haunts my memories, or is that ‘love’ like your ‘i?’

i hope you meant it – i did. when i say love, i mean it. it comes from the heart of my soul, from the back of my throat, from every cell that composes every bone. i mean it when i say ‘love,’ though now i wish i didn’t.

now i wish i could say ‘loved.’ why? because you lied. you lied when you said ‘i’ and you fibbed when you said ‘love.’



you said ‘you.’

you did.

you said ‘you’ to me. you kissed my forehead, my cheek, my lips. you said ‘you’ in words and in actions – were you serious? you picked me to be your ‘you,’ did you want to? were you happy? why did you make me ‘you’ when you weren’t honest? were scared of me, being your ‘you?’

you want another ‘you,’ now. you’re off to explore other places, other things, other people. but i’m stuck; stuck here and in memories brought out by places i’ve been with you. by things you said. by the impression you left on me heart, my soul, my existence.

when all you did was call me, ‘you.’ but, then again, you lied when you said ‘i’ and you fibbed when you said ‘love,’ so how can i believe that you ever wanted me to be your ‘you?’



you said forever.

you did.

then you said goodbye.

remind me how goodbye fits in with forever; how a break can be as continuous as the word ‘forever’ implies. explain to me how me, without you, fits into this ‘forever’ you so adamantly implied and expressed. tell me how you expect to complete this promise when you’re away, physically and mentally, from being with me…

forever. what a vicious word. oh how it taunts and pulls and spits back out everything i’m trying to forget. i wanted that forever. i wished upon that forever. we thought about forever and bouncing heads running under a good morning kiss…

but it’s gone now. you chased it away. you weren’t the ‘i’ i thought you were, you didn’t ‘love’ like you said, you didn’t hold me up to be your ‘you,’ and you broke our ‘forever.’ so don’t try to refresh me with updated lies and excuses; leave your insincere apologies back with that lie you told me day and night. i don’t think i could handle it, couldn’t swallow that fib that once made my world.

i know i’d collapse

if i hear you proclaim

‘i love you forever’

ever again.


[9.18.2009]

CONFUSION.

there’s a time that resulted in confusion.

she knows it.

she acknowledges, quite obviously, the best of her: of her life, of her existence, of her personality. she knows that he was the reason: for her smiles, for her tears, for her emotions, for her.

he made the songs make sense and the fairytales reality. he made her smile when she was devastated and laugh when she was crying. he kissed away her tears and smoothed out her knots.

he was hers, just as she was his. they never belonged with each other; no, they belonged to each other. they were perfect, incredible, on fire.

now, though, that time is over. he is not hers, and she belongs to memories.

his smiles.

his laughter.

his tears.

his assurances.

his impression.

which of them can she believe, now, looking back?

she longs to hate him. she longs for him. who she had; was it him?

confusion.

she belongs to confusion now. it owns her as he once did. what does she want now? she couldn’t tell you.

one thing.

one thing she could tell you, as she sits surrounded by the rain of confusion: of all the lies, ‘i love you’ was her favorite.


[9.18.2009]

ACHES.

she was supposed to be happy.

no, not just happy, ecstatic. through the roof, bouncing off the walls, overall truly joyful.

yes. and, had she been normal, she would have been.

but she’s not normal, not anymore. she tries, sure, but it’s hard to be normal with normal has been changed. when what had become “normal” is no longer real, but a dream that haunts her as she sleeps.

she got used to it, allowed it to become her “normal” – something no one should ever do – and it proved to be her downfall.

who else, who else besides her could sit next to one of the nicest guys on earth, surrounded by good people, all laughing, having fun, watching their team annihilate their opponent, and not be happy? who else could laugh along and put on a charade while breaking apart?

not many people.

but was it really her fault that he – in the way he talked and acted and smiled – reminded her of what she was missing? that he, who had been so cluelessly envied by the one he hated, would make her long for the just that person? why couldn’t she realize what countless people had told her? that he wasn’t right for her, that he was bad, that he wasn’t a good person. why couldn’t she believe that? she’d surely hated people for less.

but she can’t.

so she aches.

she aches as she smiles at the boy next to her. she aches as another boy texts, “i love you.” she aches as she stands in the doorway looking out at a world where everything reminds her of him.

she isn’t happy.

she acts.

and she hates it more every day.


[9.4.2009]

CREATION.

come.

come one, come all.

listen to my thoughts. my words. my letters.

let them influence you.

or not; it does not matter to me.

i am here, and i will stay.

for now.

for later.

for always.