Archive for March, 2011

the planets bend between us and a hundred million suns and stars

and if you never heard me before, let me say it again. there’s something more to it than this. i don’t know what yet, and maybe i never will. but i promise you, what you see here, it is not all there is.

i can’t explain what i mean, you either grasp it… or i guess you don’t. but for your sake, i should hope you breathe in every word and never exhale. because i’m here. and i’m balancing somewhere between who i am and what i know and this feels right.

so let me hang from the tangles of you forever, i’m happy here.

You said “Boy Make Girl Feel Good.”

things are okay. so the weather is crappy and school was cancelled and i feel like i’m slowly falling behind things are still okay. i feel okay and sometimes people make me smile. like really smile, as if things are perfect.

but i’ve grown up since i started this blog [which is a funny thing to say] and i mean it when i say i like things better when they’re messy. i like it when i have to fix things and when the pieces don’t fit perfectly. and i’m sure that’s a strange concept to some, and to others it will make sense in an odd way.

and sometimes some people are worth holding on to. sometimes it’s okay to grab hold of the people you love and refuse to let go. because people don’t always realize what they want or what they mean so they need someone to fight them when they’re wrong. and it’s okay to grow apart from people that were once inseparable from you. people change, it’s not their fault and it’s not wrong of them, it’s a fact of life that’s meant to be accepted.

but today you were that boy i once loved in hushed tones. today you showed me that you’re still here every so often and that you still love me in those same hushed tones. so until we collide again; know that i love you very much. and be sure to tell him the same, even if it’s not true right now.

Boy, You Give Me Butterflies.

That boy from the dream, I seem to have found him. Maybe his face was burned into the back of my eyes. Maybe I had met him and then he had disappeared so my dreams made up for that. He’s beautiful though, I will say that much. And not in the usual sense of the word. His big brown eyes could swallow my soul and his laugh makes me genuinely happy. He’s awkward and it’s fantastic because he can joke about it. It’s one of those really stupid grade-school-crushes… only several years way too late.

I’m sure I’ll write more.. It’s just late and I’m feeling old today.

And I’m Quite Aware We’re Dying.

You owe me an apology. Actually, you owe me several. And this is coming from the part of me that’s hurt because the anger has dried up by now. Camping was an awful idea, I should have known we couldn’t all be together in the same place. Remember why you took off in the first place? It wasn’t because of me and yet you were still nasty to me. Why, because I didn’t want to cuddle with you? Because I didn’t wander over to you and see if you were okay? Grow up sweetheart. I’m not your girlfriend, I’m barely even your friend at this point. Then you came back, only to be a bigger asshole. I should have stood up and punched you the second the flashlight hit my eyes. Yes, we realized we weren’t drunk, would you like to know how? We weren’t drinking. But why is it that you get to be the sober shitshow who moons people and plays with fire yet we can’t giggle? Yet He can’t carry me to the bathroom because I’m barefoot? Right, this makes a lot of sense. And what’s better is you screamed at me to the point in which he had to coax me out of the bathroom I had locked myself in. Ask me why I was crying, go on, ask. Because of you. Because for some ungodly reason, you didn’t love me anymore. You decided that you could use me and scream at me and kick me around. That’s not okay. That never will be okay. Let’s go back to a few nights before, when I fell asleep on your couch and you and the other boy jumped on me to wake me up so we could watch another movie together. Then you ended up laying on the couch with me. You held me so tightly that I thought you were afraid I would disappear. You know, I have guy friends now aside from my boys. They don’t treat me like a plaything. I’m not easy to use and available when you’re home and lonely so don’t treat me that way. I am person and at one point I thought I was your friend and that’s why none of this is okay anymore.

And I would be standing in front of you saying these words if I thought it would matter in the end. But it doesn’t anymore. You could show up at the house with bundles of daisies and be down on one knee, begging for me to hear you. And then you could apologize for hours on end about all the wrong things you’ve done, not just in the last few days but the last year or so, and still I wouldn’t take you back. I wish you luck back at school and your mission, and when you come home, I wish you luck with the band. [But “here’s your backpack, please never speak to me again.”]

– Untangled From You.

What in the World Could it be this Time Now?

to all this may concern:

i am sorry you are miserable. i am sorry that you feel that your unhappiness has the right to be contagious. but i will not wait around for you to feel better anymore. i will not work to see you smile only so you can attempt to damage my good feeling. you can have your sadness or depression or whatever you would like to label it as. i will keep my upright chin and happy endings, even if there are some scary parts between now and then. i do not love you any less, i just will no longer strive to make you love me more.

[“i wish you luck tonight. i wish you luck with the rest of your life and whatever you strive to be when you decide it. here’s your backpack, please never speak to me again.”]

The Cartographer of [her own] Hair.

The Last Time I Saw You, You Turned Away/I Couldn’t See You with the Sun Shining in My Eyes.

i’m just so scared to grab hold of something new that i can barely speak to you without stuttering. don’t think i avoid you on campus because i don’t like you, it’s just that i turn so red it’s embarrassing.

but this is what i want. i want a cute crush, not something overwhelming. not something that i need or think that i need. and moreover, something that i can take one step at a time.

i don’t want to be romantic with a friend or someone that was forced upon me. i want it to be a silent understanding, like a secret between the two of us. i want him to be wonderful without trying. i want him to be perfect for me even if i think he’s all wrong. and i just want him to be himself around me.

and he does that. but he’s not all i can think about. he’s not all i talk about even if i do smile when i hear his name. and that’s what i mean when i say this is what i want. this is the connection that i’m comfortable with. and he’s just something else..

Tell Me What to Do About You.

I don’t understand something, and I know every once and a while someone actually reads these silly thoughts. So please, if you’re out there…. help me out, seriously.

Have you ever spoken to someone who sounds so utterly hopeless that it hurts you? Someone who is so sure that someone needs to save them that they forget they are fully capable of saving themselves? Because there’s this boy, who is combination of a hopeless romantic and and a nervous wreck. He just so happened to find this girl, who has probably the worst supergirl-complex ever heard of. You see, I want to save him from his life, honestly I do. But I can’t, he has to do it himself. I know he’s having a hard time… I do but I can’t change that.

What do I do? I don’t want to be one more mess in his life but I can’t reconstruct him myself. It’s not my job.

Sweet Disposition, am I too Soon?

To the Cute Boy In My Creative Writing Class.

So it’s 2 AM and I’m not quite as tired as I had thought. This all-nighter has potential, aside from getting work done. And as Sweet Disposition and (500) Days of Summer passes in one ear and out the other, I realize that maybe it’s going to be okay. Maybe I’m going to be okay.

All Your Ways and all Your Thunder got Me in a Haze Running for Cover.

Dreams are strange, creating people and relationships within them is even stranger. These are people I could never avoid colliding with if and when I meet their real counterparts.

Erica and I were on the roof with a professor and this blonde boy named Frank. He sat between Erica and I and attempted to hit on me. He was sweet to be honest, and as the professor went on showing slides, his pointer finger tapped mine in an attempt to hold my hand. I gave in, hooking my pointer finger around his. He reached for my whole hand and The Boy shot through my mind. My hand remained limp, I couldn’t. The slides and class ended, Frank stood up and started to walk away, a puzzled look on his face. I looked at Erica, “Where’d you park?” Frank turned back around, walked towards me and said “Let me follow you home.” “No,” there was this strange sternness in my voice. Erica saw this as her queue to wait outside the room, she walked towards the door. Frank leaned me up against the railing of the balcony. “Please,” he whispered flirtatiously. “No. I can’t. We can’t. I’m not interested.”

The view shot down to the ground as if I was standing behind someone familiar. The Boy spun around and looked up towards the balcony, his face twisted into a frown. I watched as he stared up at this “other” me. I watched as he saw Frank lean in towards me and what appeared to be me holding onto him below his arms, but I still knew what was happening. In my attempt to push Frank off me, my back arched over the railing and somehow I fell. The Boy ran, his eyes glued to me. He stood below me, frantic as I fell gracefully on my feet within the last ten feet. I looked up into his face, embarrassed and shrugged. He stepped forward and hugged me, confused my arms remained on my sides. “I don’t…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “Like when I flirt with other boys?” I questioned, loosening his hug on me, freeing my arms. He looked red and a little shocked. My arms wrapped around his neck as I placed my head on his shoulder and laughed, “Me neither.” His hands wrapped around my waist and he smiled into my hair.

It’s Colder than it ought to be in March.

so i packed your sweatshirt away this weekend. and i threw that ratty-old t-shirt out. and i thought about times that i probably should have forgotten about long ago. it’s not really that i hate you. it’s not really that i’m even hurt over what you said. it’s that people shouldn’t say things like that to people they claim to love. people shouldn’t treat the ones they love so poorly. you see, there’s this funny, awkward, beautiful boy around here. and he looks at me like i’m something fascinating. like i’m precious. and it’s made me start to believe in myself again, as if all that damage you had done was obsolete. so it’s not that i don’t miss you. it’s that i love myself more than i had ever loved you. and i don’t think that’s selfish, for once i think it’s the right thing to do.

 

just know i love you.

and that you are something special.

and that where ever you go, i will always wish the very best for you.

be happy,

The Cartographer of [Your] Hair