Inside the Quiet

The Biggest Disappointment I Know

2011-11-23T04:58:00.000-08:00

I had dreams
but I watched them float away -
balloons lost in the cold October sky,
myself the sorry child
who let them slip into oblivion.
I extended my arms to reclaim them,
and reached so far I could touch the stars
but by then I was too weak
to pull them back down if they were found.
So here I stand,
grounded.
Their memory is a flower pressed between pages:
flat, muted, morbidly beautiful,
As soft spoken as a garden,
As loud as the silence of space.
Did they continue past the stars,
to whatever lies beyond the elusive glow?
How did they cope
when they spiraled past the planets?
Can they keep my secrets from the sun if it asks them
in the heat of the moment?
Will they keep my secrets from the words
if they should ever return?

Eh

2011-11-15T06:52:00.000-08:00

It's 5:34 and I'm lost. I've been thinking about you since I woke up and I don't plan to stop anytime soon. My stomach growls and I want to throw up.

I think I'm starting to understand that ever since we were separated I've been filling cracks. Every hole in my heart and in my hed is being filled with you and I'm always searching for ways to replace what you took from me - the things that created those holes in the first place. I wonder all the time why you are so important to me. I give myself headaches all the time with my thoughts; I let them poke holes in my heart so my self-hatred can bleed into the rest of my body. I am a walking stain.

For a long time I felt dead inside. With every shaking, violent, panic attack -

I can't remember much from those days. Almost nothing exists in my mind past the point of the -

So I wonder if I was addicted to more than just you.

It's 8:57 and I don't believe in miracles. Time heals and this I know. But it doesn't erase. It's been years and I still look for people who remind me of you. Why do I surround myself by things that are bad for me?

It's 10:59 and he asks me what grade I think I deserve. I say I deserve an A because that's what I think. He praises me for turning things around and says that change is good. Now I'm thinking about when I was in the dark and the time I cried to him in class. I don't know what happened - I just broke down.

It's 11:42 and we're talking about me - when there was you. He asks to see my scars, says he had no idea what I was doing. I show him my stretch marks. We change the subject. I feel okay.

It's 1:38 and I've decided I'm having a good day. I didn't write as much as I wanted to - but if I wrote constantly with the description I'd like to write with then I wouldn't have time to be alive. I learned what I needed to. You are in my thoughts always, lurking in the back of my brain, reaching out with my hands, waiting to take over. I want you out.

It's 1:47 and I will not raise my hand to do a presentation on random drug testing, even though I am fully prepared. I don't like the people in this classroom and they don't like me. I will try to fade into the background of their lives. I don't want their attention. My stomach growls.

Inked

2011-11-15T06:49:00.000-08:00

My entire body is tattoed with names
and descriptions of what happened
and moments that will eternally be etched in my skin.
I am not alone and I believe this.
But being alone is an irrelevant piece
of my bodily pictures
because it's not about being alone.
It's about impressions.
It's about ink and blood and forever.
You really rubbed off on me -
and that's all there is to it.
I'm covered with colorful crayon rubbigns
and I'm the only one who can see them.

Riddle Me This

2011-11-15T06:42:00.000-08:00

I went to the woods because I wanted to be surrounded.
I wanted to be hugged in the knowing embrace of the trees.
I wanted to watch animals watch me.
I wanted overwhelming noise
and overwhelming silence.
Every twig-snap, leaf-fall, hurried-scurry,
complete silence.
It's deafening.

I went to the woods because I wanted to be alone.
I wanted to scream so loud my throat got sore.
I wanted to throw myself on the ground
so hard that my body got bruised.
I wanted safety, stability, and something sturdy to cry on.
Unshaking and unbending stability.
Something real.

You like riddles.
If a girl falls apart in the middle of the forest
and no one is around to hear her,
does she make a sound?

Seasonal Depression

2011-10-11T04:54:00.000-07:00

It's spring cleaning in my head.
Shovelfuls of dust-
collected throughout the course of the winter,
corrupting my every thought-
are being tossed out my ears.
Small mees are shedding their suffocating sweaters
and feeling the cleanliness of a breeze.
The clouds roll in
(not nearly as ominous as the cold clouds of winter)
and shed their rain.
It exits through my eyes.
It feels like a second chance in there,
even though the whole season to come
is a frenzied preparation for when
my own cold shoulders return.

Growing

2011-09-29T04:59:00.000-07:00

We were awkward together.
You made me laugh -
uncontrollably, and it was embarrassing.
Together, we were a comedy act on legs,
experiencing that juvenile tendency
to be inappropriate at all the wrong times.
We cried together,
laughed together,
scratched the unreachable itch.
We learned cruelty together:
sat alone but never really -
we always had each other.
We were funny
without realizing that we were the unfortunate joke.
We watched other kids be normal
from the window of the counseler's office.
We were friends with the benefit of innocence,
made of hugs and handholding
associated with little kids.
We loved and lost and provided lots of bandaids.
But you can't always put a bandaid
on a broken spirit.
We learned how to be strong.
You left.
We cried together, our final act as one.
I'm here.
We've grown.
Apart.

Hello Everyone (:

2011-09-29T04:48:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my blog. I hope you enjoy your stay. Have a cup of tea, will you? (:

"Eu Estarei Aqui Ate o Fim"

2010-12-31T20:03:00.000-08:00

My thoughts are a million different roads
concentrated in one area.
They are like veins in an eye without rest,
doodles on the bottom corner of a math test,
the knot of rubber bands that comes undone
when one band is moved before its time.
On some of these roads,
evidence of a car crash exists.
I know because in these spots memory fades.
When I eventually gather all the broken glass,
and find out exactly when the impact ocurred,
the memory hits like the explosion of a star.

The world is forever changed.

Everybody Knows

2010-03-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

"So how was school, sweetie?" her mother asked. She was a kind woman, with soft mousy features and dry brown hair. She wasn't old or young, but laugh wrinkles whispered of cherished moments and untouched innocence on her face. She was the kind of mom that sincerely cared about how school was.

"It was good." Rachel said in her light-hearted voice. This voice spoke no hatred. She looked a lot like her mother.

"Good," her mom smiled. A thoughtful expression crossed her face as she watched her daughter open a bag of popcorn across the table from her, careful not to sprinkle its buttery dust on her expensive and fashionable clothing. "Hey, do you talk to that girl anymore? The one with the glasses and blonde hair? What was her name..." she struggled to remember. The last time she'd seen "that girl" had been when Rachel was in fourth or fifth grade. She didn't know what made her think of the girl; she had somehow found her way into Rachel's mother's mind.

Rachel looked confused. Her mother answered the expression on her face with, "Remember? You did a puppet show with her when you were little for a school project. You went to her house and were amazed by the clean counters."

"Ohhhhhhh," Rachel said, recognition dawning on her face as though she were dusting off some old memories. "Nicole?"

Her mother beamed. "Yeah, Nicole!" she paused and then said, "Sweet girl. Whatever happened to her?"

An odd expression between sadness and curiosity came over Rachel's face. She said slowly, "You wouldn't recognize her, not in a million years."

Paperclips and Sunken Ships

2010-03-05T07:36:00.000-08:00

Papers clutter the floor of the smallest loft downtown. Printed emails, letters, bills, and pictures. A collection of his life and his dreams in a messy pile. A keyboard leans against the corner of the wall nearest the window, stained by dusty webs of spiders that found a home between the keys. A guitar case rests on top of the clutter, in it some blank paper, several unsharpened pencils, and a dirty sock or two. The guitar is cradled gently in his calloused hands. Broken drumsticks play hide and seek in the crevices between how-to books and old recording equipment, their splintered ends well-worn and forlorn. The product of a failed attempt at some band merchandise sprawls across a wooden folding chair, wishing to make something of its lonely fabric. He continues to play his melancholy tune. His voice joins in on occasion, a soft-spoken cry of defeat.

Silence

2010-02-09T07:02:00.000-08:00

Sometime after the microphones have been unplugged,
and the guitars have been de-amplified,
and the drums have stopped keeping tempo,
we sit.
Just sit,
in the backseat of the car.
I begin to say something,
and you gently stop me with a "shhh".
You take my hand in yours
and whisper
"Isn't that the best sound in the world?"
You pull me closer.
I smile
and together we listen to the silence.

Spider Web Veins

2010-01-13T07:08:00.000-08:00

Spinning, spinning, spinning.
I stumble across the stage,
a wounded dancer
in a perfect play.

Eyes of clear, smooth glass
render me entirely vulnerable;
exposed to the piercing gaze
of a horror-stricken audience.

A new-born angel,
my wings remain neatly folded.
Not yet achieving balance,
they flutter in desperation.

Is this beauty?
The fragility of a broken spirit renewed-
Renewed,
yet somehow born for the first time.

Radio Tower Skyline

2010-01-13T07:00:00.000-08:00

Flipping through the pages,
my eyes scan over cursive scrawls
and noisy print.
Each word is a recollection of
Sound
Touch
Taste
Sight, and Smell.

A new emotion pulses in each line.
The blank pages scattered throughout
my cluttered mind
are nameless memories.

My story is incomplete and interrupted.

Flipping through the pages,
I can't stand
all those faceless, happy grins.
They lie to the unsuspecting passerby.

You would think that we had not a care in this world,
but the truth is that we didn't know how to stop smiling.

Traveling to places
I've not been.
Never saw myself here.
I greet myself just like a stranger and
I say "Hey, how've you been?"

Well I've been fine and
dandy.
Let's visit that radio tower skyline
and sing together all the time.

My story is incomplete and interrupted.

Every so often I go back
and I fill the blanks in an attempt
to find Peace.

[This is a song I wrote a couple days ago, and I really like the lyrics just because it's so different from what I usually write. Soo... woo? (:]

Music

2010-01-13T06:57:00.001-08:00

I am deep in a
radio tower skyline
that defies distance.

6 Ways of Looking at A Paper Clip

2009-12-10T17:25:00.000-08:00

1. Wrists and fingertips
The first step in a series
of bad decisions.
You tell yourself it's just a scratch.
It's just an accident.

2. Staples
The colorful metal
draws you in.
You want to keep buying more.
That one was really shiny.

3. Miscellaneous Writings
You hold me together
when all my ideas are falling apart.
The frayed edges of my creativity
can be kept alive and in good company.

4. The Scarlet Letter
I couldn't find a bookmark
and the metal was shaped like a smiley face.
Now when I open the book,
a happy expression will greet me.

5. Unidentified Flying Object
That kid across the classroom
called me a freak.
So I threw you.
I hope you don't mind.

6. That Place Under the Bed
I made you a bed of dust
and other missing objects of sentimental value.
I'm sorry that you are lost,
but you certainly have interesting stories to share with us.

The Longest Season

2009-12-10T16:53:00.000-08:00

Frustration comes home
from his house.
She comes home shaken,
and bruised.
He loved her at first,
but soon became angered
because she was tired of letting him have his way.
And no one will listen to her cries.

Frustration has no voice.

Frustration pulls out her hair
as she rocks back and forth
in her room.
She doesn't know what else she can do
to let go of her emotions
besides punching herself
until she stops feeling.

Frustration is having a rough night.

She stares at the pair of scissors
on her dresser.
They stare back, grinning maliciously.
Frustration is trapped between
their eager blades.
She will not succumb to their whispers
if she can help it.

Frustration cries herself to sleep.

She wakes to the sound of the alarm clock,
shouting that she's running out of time;
Shouting that today she will look ugly.
Frustration can't be seen without makeup.
Her insecurities cause her to cry
as she gazes at the hideous girl in the mirror.

Frustration barely makes the bus.

She is already tired
as she stumbles down the hall
to third period.
She walks thru the door several seconds late.
The teacher first tells her to spit out her gum,
and then sends her to the office.

Frustration will go home with a detention.

She gets off the bus,
and walks thru the piles of snow
to get to the front door.
She opens the door
and is greeted by a punch in the face
for getting a detention.

Frustration prays that tomorrow she will not have a black eye.

She tries to ignore it.
Tries to pretend that she is fine.
She stares out her bedroom window,
crying as she watches the snow
continue to quietly fall.
She hears footsteps on the stairs,
closes her eyes,
and promises herself that someday
she will be wise and silent like the snow.

Frustration is so cold.

Thank You, Teddy Bear

2009-12-10T07:22:00.001-08:00

Hope smiles at me
from behind long lashes
and joking hazel eyes.
He flips his brown hair to the side,
breathes a content sigh,
and says "Believe me,
you are a way above average girl.
I know that you will be okay."

When you are in pain,
Hope will collect your tears.
He saves them,
and patiently waits for an explanation,
to which he offers the best advice.
Hope dispenses the most comforting hugs.

Hope teaches you to skateboard
when you need a distraction.
He endures your long rants
about the many fine points concerning Ronnie Radke,
and then the many faults.
He eagerly offers himself as a pillow
to punch
when crying just doesn't work anymore.

Hope does everything he can to make you happy,
but from time to time
he needs you to remember
that he is only human.
Hope sheds a tear every once in a while, too.
You can't give up on him
when the tables are turned.

I am sitting across from Hope
for the last time before he goes back to college.
He tells me he's proud of me,
that he knows I'll make good decisions now.
I promise myself that someday
I will help people like he helped me.

I shed a tear as he walks out the door.
Hope has gotten me thru the hardest things
of my life.
And although Hope has to leave sometimes,
he always comes back home
when I need him most.

Observation

2009-12-10T07:06:00.000-08:00

The substitute watches each of us cautiously. I can tell she has never been in such a quiet, respectful classroom. A classroom full of people consumed by their thoughts; perhaps some of them are consumed also by their pasts, like me. I stare around the silent room and I wonder. I look at each individual face, and long to ask their eyes of the things they have seen. My eyes would have trouble finding the words. I decide that given the oppurtunity, I wouldn't ask. There are some things you don't touch.

She fixes her gaze on a boy that walks in late. He hands her a pass and sits in his seat, tapping his feet as I noticed he often does. She tells him to work on his assignment, which today includes the creation of a long and painful essay involving the function of a chloroplast. I can tell that she expects a conflict. He nods and pulls out a notebook, runs a hand thru his long, curly hair, and begins to write. Her lingering, skeptical gaze makes me sick.

It's an average day.

Actually, I take that back as I recall the events of this morning. Waiting for my boyfriend outside. Walking towards the school. IT turning.. staring. I was naked to IT's gaze. No part of me is unfamiliar to IT, and standing next to my hopeful, beautiful, gently boyfriend - well...

It made my stomach churn.

I tear myself from the images playing in my head like a silent, horrifying movie. My classmates have become restless and are whispering feverishly. The only word I hear is "freckle". The sub glances up from the book she holds like a shield against all teenage angst, ready to shoot down any sound.

I wonder what made this woman so bitter.

A fly lands on my arm and I jump. Embarrassing, it's only a fly. But I don't like the feeling of an unexpected touch. My heart pounds as I continue to write.

I want the callous in on my finger to go away. But maybe it's there to remind me that I have a voice when I write. Suddenly, it changes from the focus of my detest to a symbol for the journey I have chosen to begin.

I should share my story.

There are ten minutes left in the period. I will walk proudly from this classroom, despite my sour mood and spiraling thoughts, and meet my boyfriend with a smile. He deserves a positive attitude from me, if I can give him nothing else for the time being. Maybe if IT had received more smiles, he would have been more like the beautiful boy I've fallen in love with, and less like his father. Maybe then I wouldn't have a story to share. Or maybe I would just have less of a story.

With four minutes left to the period, I write quickly now. Two girls sitting in front of me begin to talk. The sub watches, with an expression somewhere between interest and disgust. One of the girls lets out a laugh, and she walks to them, glancing at me as she does so, and tells them not to be so loud.

I pity her.

Too Young

2009-12-09T06:37:00.000-08:00

Little girl,
not yet 14,
you long so badly to be loved.
Too much makeup,
too few threads,
your perfume speaks a thousand smells.
So many tears
in so few years;
you've hardly given your heart a chance to beat.
But tonight it breaks.
He said "Let's go for a walk"
and dragged you along.
You always needed your mistakes.

Stop

2009-12-03T17:37:00.000-08:00

Where is the justice in this world?
I find some hope, and it is dashed
on the nights when I forget how to care.
The nights when my mind swims
with thought.
How is it that I only remember what I
long to forget?

Why do the tears have to fall
when my heart screams of happiness,
redemption,
forgiveness?

Can you not leave me in peace?
Be done here.
Leave this plagued heart, this tortured mind.
You left your marks -
All of you left your mark.

Do you want to live with the scars
on your arms?
A constant reminder of the secrets
the lies
the kiss
the knife.
I am not proud.

Pain is an addiction,
and I'm coming down hard.
I need a bruise
I need the wires
I need to let go.

He Told Me To Choke, and I Said 'Alright'

2009-12-02T17:23:00.001-08:00

I am barely breathing as the pain
surges through my veins.
The room is spinning around me.
Stomach churns,
heart pounds.
Life stands

still.

For a moment,
I am whole.
Just one
moment.

Black invades
vision.

Can't
see.

Can't

be...

Time

stops.

Pumkin

2009-11-26T17:34:00.000-08:00

You lose against me too much.
Arm wrestling,
rock paper scissors,
tab flicking the other day.
We need to get you some wins!

Don't listen to your Aunt.
You're fine the way you are.
You make me too happy for words.

I like holding your hand.
I hate walking away or leaving you.
You smell so good.

I've been missing you more tonight than usual-
if that makes sense.
You're amazing,
and I don't think I could ask for more.

The only thing on my mind
other than eating and breathing
for the past two and a half weeks
is you.

I'm like constantly thinking about you,
whatever I'm doing.
...Is that weird?

When we can drive
we're gonna spend every day we can together
for as long as possible.

Rar!
I love you so much.
I can't even express it;
It's an unbelievable feeling
I've never felt before.

You're the best part of my life.
I'm gonna hold you and never let go
when I see you tomorrow.

My whole attitude about life has changed
since I met
you.

Being in love is amazing.
We're like two puzzle pieces
that just snap into place.
It's like we were made for each other.

I need to hold you in my arms
for more than sixty seconds at a time.

You're my entire universe.
One day life will be grand,
and we'll always be with each other.

Goodnight my honey bunches of oats.
I love you.

[ ]

2009-11-11T07:05:00.000-08:00

My stomach churns.
Breakfast was made up of Hello Kitty jellybeans.
I'm pretty sure that they sizzled and melted in the Robutussin
that burned my throat on the way down.
Toasted marshmallow and juicy pear are the kindest to my taste buds.
I always wonder how the jellybean place makes the flavors.

Renee, Three Years.

2009-10-24T17:06:00.000-07:00

I really look up to this woman, and she and I have a lot in common. This kind of goes along with the whole violence thing we've been discussing in class. I think you guys could find some common ground with her, too. Even if you don't think that you can, her words might actually mean something to you, and perhaps get you thinking.(: She is an icon of hope and recovery, and I know that a few of you (myself included) have struggled with both of those ideas. "Hope is stupid" and "recovery is impossible; nobody cares". But.. people DO care, and recovery IS possible. Like Renee says at the end, you have to want those things. They don't just come to you. I hope that I've shared something worth watching with you. Because when I saw it, it made me think a little bit more about what life is really about.

^^ Have a good night.

Curiosity

2009-10-24T16:25:00.001-07:00

Paint me a sky
That has no limit,
Nor has an infinate amount of blue.
I want to wonder.

A Song of Fallen Leaves

2009-10-15T06:59:00.000-07:00

She stumbled from her throne
Of painted smiles
And imaginary happiness,
And went tumbling into darkness.

Spinning gracefully,
She began to understand
What the meaning of betrayal was.
That was when she lost her balance.

After many years -
Or were they months? -
The time it stole from her youthful face
Was the equivelant of an eternity,
Yet too brief to be given a proper title.

One day, he arrived
And rescued her from the torrents of wind
Swirling around her.
He said she could have the world:
You can have the world.

And she wanted that,
Because that was what she had lost.
He promised to give it back.
He promised to give her back her world.

He held on so tightly
That she turned to dust
Within his hands.
And her world turned into a lie.

She did not recognize the path she was on
Until her arms and hips became
A trail of bruises in the shape of fingertips.
Grabbing, grabbing, grabbing.
He called this love.

She learned that her head
MUST
Rest on his shoulder,
And if it didn't, he would force it there.
He named this comfort.

She stayed inside at all times,
And he would inevitably find her
When she went out.
He called this protection.

She lost her body to eager hands,
Lost her soul to a confused mind.
This he named trust.

She was manipulated and scarred.
Torn from former familiarities,
Lost all emotion,
Lost her ability to feel.

She called this silence.

For ___.

2009-10-12T15:19:00.000-07:00

Life
Is not kind.
It is confusing
And sometimes twisted.
Within the reckage
And chaos
Shines something beautiful,
Which lives within every person.
Some of us try to extinguish the fire
That fuels hope.
No one likes to be surrounded by hopelessness
And I will not shed another tear for you.

Risen From The Sea (extremely rough draft)

2009-10-12T15:00:00.000-07:00

This place is home.
This is the place where my heart feels free,
Where my thoughts are not suppressed,
Where my ideas are met with similar ones.
This is where we can walk up and down the street,
Not saying much of anything,
Doing it just for the company.
This is where we turn on the music
Until it shakes the rafters,
And you let me stand on your feet
So we can dance.
This is where we argue about which band to see in concert,
Because we like all of the bands that are playing that night.
This is a place I long to visit,
Being able to extend my lonely fingertips
And feel yours there,
Waiting.
This is a place of dreams,
A place that I may have once stumbled upon,
But has since been stolen from my thoughts.
This is where the doubt and the hurt from the past
Disappears.
This place is one of fantasy,
One that I can only visit in my mind.
But it is the Atlantis of my world,
And I believe that although it has been devoured
Into the depths of the sea,
It may rise again.
Maybe if it is discovered,
You can join me there
For real.

Holding On

2009-10-12T14:56:00.000-07:00

Fading in and out of consciousness.
The angles, the measurements, the logic,
They all escape me.
They transform into something else,
Though what it is I'm not quite sure.
All the numbers are meshing together.
I can hardly maintain my focus,
Which is the voice explaining the blurred numerals.
It would be far easier to pay attention
If the sound were not so monotonous.
But if I stop listening to that voice,
I will slowly
Fade
Away.

A Very Convincing Charade

2009-09-30T17:05:00.000-07:00

She is following me as I travel down the hall.
She watches my every move,
Stares at my hair,
Studies my body to see if I am thin enough.
When she becomes disappointed in my appearance
She looks past me to the trees,
Those lovely trees that have been guiding our footsteps.
The trees draw my attention as well.
We stare at them and think
With one pair of eyes and two sets of thoughts.

She is very confident,
Much more confident than I could ever hope to be.
She wears a smile most of the time,
But right now she sports a blank expression.
This is what she looks like when there is no one else around.
I think she only confides in me,
The one person who understands absolutely everything.

She has a lot of friends
But secretly, she doesn't trust any of them.
I am not her friend.
I don't really know what I am to her.
Perhaps I am the destroyed part of her life,
The part that she longs to forget.
I think that I am the part that she tossed into the flames.
But I can't really remember who I am
Because she doesn't let me.
My thoughts and memories are an infection
That contaminate her new life.

I think she's pretty.
Her eyes are nice.
She knows she's pretty, too.
Or, at least, she wants people to think that she knows it.
But me,
I know
That she finds herself to be hideous
Inside and out.
That's because of me.
I'm the ugly part, I think.

Or perhaps neither of us is ugly.
Perhaps... what happened
Was ugly.
But she doesn't listen to me anymore.
I'm the one that remembers,
And she doesn't allow herself to remember.

Until that one day...
I yelled until she listened.
And finally, she heard.
Me,
I would have broken down.
I would have cried, like a coward.
But she took it all in
And thought about it.

Her eyes see through mine,
And mine see through hers.
She is ashamed of me
Because I ran for all of those years.
She is ashamed that I am the part of her
That will always remember.

Sometimes You Can't Escape

2009-09-24T08:18:00.000-07:00

He loses himself in alcohol and pills,
Hides away his opinions with the remorse that he feels.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel tonight.

It's one of those moments when he forgets how to care.
He shouts and he rants and although people are there,
No one really knows what to say.

His breath is stained with the scent of his pain.
When he leaves I fear I won't see him again.
It's just one of those nights.

After so many times, you learn how to cope
With the way he holds on, the way he lets go.
His mind is an enigma in itself.

He likes to disappear for weeks on end.
You wonder where he's gone, but you have to pretend
That you trust him to take care of himself.

He's begging again, says he can't be alone.
If I could, then I would, but I can't leave my home.
When he's like this, he doesn't understand.

He'll rip you to shreds with the words that he says.
Some days he's happy, and even then he's a mess.
But I love him anyway.

These are the moments when we have to face life,
When the day before cuts through your heart like a knife
Because you thought things were better that day.

After a while, he can't help but cry.
He hates living this way.
It's one of those nights.

It's just one of those nights.

Just Look At This.

2009-09-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been walking somewhere with a large group of people, and you pass another large group of people? Whenever that happens to me, I always feel like I should be in West Side Story, and am tempted to start snapping my fingers. But this picture... this picture made me smile.

In A Rut

2009-09-23T16:07:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we take in too much.
Sometimes too little.
But even when we take in just enough,
It is still too much to swallow.

Sleep

2009-09-22T07:13:00.000-07:00

Your eyes are closed, but is your mind open?
I think it just might be.
You say that you stopped believing in everything around the same time,
But do you believe in me?
I need you to trust me on this.
Trust
That I will be there for you when things are hard,
And I'll still be there when they get better.

I don't think I've ever been one to believe that a mountain is too big for me to climb.
Not that I would want to do that literally of course,
Because my lung capacity fails me and my legs are not the strongest.
But figuratively, there is no mountain too big
For us to climb.

The sun is rising now.
Pinks and purples are highlighting the sky in magnificent shades.
You once said that you don't sleep,
Yet here you are.
Sleeping away.

The rain has stopped for a day, it seems.
You told me that it never stops, but here we are
Being showered in rays of sunlight.
And I'm the one staring out the window,
My mind running around in circles as usual.

Not a cloud in the sky,
I see what I've been waiting for.
The brilliant sun dazzles my unworthy eyes,
And I can't keep the smile from spreading across my face.
I make a note to apologize later that I've opened the blinds,
Which will most likely wake you soon.

But this moment is all I have right now.
So I hold onto it,
because you once said that there is no point in living in the past.
You know I always listen
To every
Word
You say.

At this point, the sun has reached its peak in the sky.
The amazing shades of color have dissipated,
Disintigrating into the light that now wakes the entire town.
Out of the corner of my eye,
I see you begin to fidget, fighting off the glimmering beams.
I chuckle to myself, knowing that soon you will wake up,
And ask me why on earth I have chosen to sit up and watch the sun rise.

I do this because I have only this moment.
Because in years past, I wouldn't have cared about the colors in the sky.
Because I now see what I've been missing.
Because I listen to you.

Perhaps someday you will listen to me,
And find peace with yourself.
I know how hard it is, believe me.
But your mind has always been open,
And you eyes have always been closed.
Can you not see that this is why you're so unhappy?