Archive for March, 2011

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┬áran, 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