1.30.14.

Tons of editing. Whoo hoo.

Essay writing.

So I'm writing an essay. But unless you really want to hear why I'm qualified for the Honor's program, I don't think you'd be interested.

Tell Me Please

All my thoughts are on the heights above
My heart is fixed on lofty dreams
My mind grows weak and weary with the very coming of the sun
And my soul cries out for peace
When there is none

Oh, tell me please
What can I do?
What song to sing?
Won't You show me where
 I'm meant to be?
There's a place inside
And it's growing deeper and deeper within
I can't let anyone in
Only You

All my fears call out
And I push them down
But only dread and doubt
Remain when the day is done

And I know You're there
I still remember the days
I believed with perfect faith
And gone are they, but You won't go
No You'll never leave me alone

I long to hear
The words You say
But Your voice is masked
With the light of day
Don't let me be, no I can't be free
I'm a slave for You
Tell me what to do

Let me see the will
Of the Highest One
Only You can save
Only You can save

Won't you tell me please
Won't you help me see
When the day comes up
Will I see the Son?

I can't hide my face
But You won't let me turn away
Let your plans fall out
Oh show me God
Where am I meant to be?

You're inside me now
I know you're there
Even when I doubt
How can I despair
Every song within
Declaring You
Let your Grace fall out
Let me speak the truth

Oh won't you tell me please
Show me who to be
Let my feet follow You
Let my feet follow
There's a path You lead
Help me find it please
Then there's hope for me
Always Hope in You

Excerpt from NaNoWriMo

“This has been wonderful,” Gracie sighed as she leaned back against the slick leather of the booth. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and stared across the table. Graham nodded in agreement, his eyes shining with purpose.

“It has been. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better these past few months.”

“So have I,” She reciprocated cheerfully.

“Then, will you go out with me again? Any time you’re free, I’d love to have dinner, or see a movie.” The words tumbled out in a rush, but not an undignified rush. He was eager, not nervous. Gracie nodded, feeling eagerness bubble up inside of her as well.

“I’d love to.” She said warmly, adding, “After all, you’re my publisher, not my boss.”

Graham laughed. “One would be more likely to guess that you were my boss.” Gracie nodded, combing her fingers through her hair. Graham extracted his phone from his pocket and started flipping through his calendar.

“Well then, Gracie Allen, what about next Saturday? I’ve got a business dinner that night, but I’m free for lunch.”

Gracie opened her mouth to reply, but felt a sudden tap on her shoulder. Turning, she glanced back to see the man sitting on the other side of the booth staring at her intently.

“I’m sorry, did you say Gracie Allen?” He asked. Gracie flushed and lowered her eyes, grinning foolishly. Her success had become more widely recognized every week, but she was unused to being approached. There was an undeniable sense of satisfaction in it though, and she secretly enjoyed the furtive stares and whispering.

“That’s right.” Graham replied proudly. “You’ve probably heard of her book, over one million copies sold. In fact, we’re having a celebration.” He beamed at her and Gracie blushed even more pinkly.

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” The man replied dryly. Standing, he straightened his collar and came around to join them. He was tall, dark-haired, and well dressed. The subtle lines about his eyes and mouth made her guess that he had a pleasant smile, but he was very stern looking now with his lips set in a grim frown. Looking up at him with sudden interest, a spark of recognition filled Gracie. His face was unfamiliar, but his eyes somehow spoke to her, even in silence. Their intensity and sharp blue color hinted at the familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

“You’re the author of this book, yes?” The stranger held out a somewhat dog-eared copy of Road to Rosshill, an unusual sight what with the book being so freshly in print. Gracie nodded, her smile fading slightly, for something in his tone was ominous. But she thought she understood the reason for his seeming so familiar. He spoke with a thick Irish accent, and in spite of his tone Gracie couldn’t help but feel a warm, comfortable pleasure in hearing that lovely twang again. Aside from the accent, his voice was deep and gravely and again, she felt herself become queerly curious.

“Yes I am,” She answered. “You’re from Galway I think. Have we met?” She smiled pleasantly again, glowing over the memories of her stay across the sea. She was anxious to make friends with any native from the place she had come to love so much.

“No, not that I’m aware of. I do seem familiar to you though?” He replied, raising a dark brow.

“Yes, but I’m not sure why. Unless, I guess it’s possible I saw you while I was there.” She replied brightly.

“Unlikely.” He answered with stiff gruffness.

“Sorry, who are you?” Graham questioned, smiling with an overly patient air, irritated at having his date disrupted by this strange man whom Gracie was looking up at with such unveiled interest.

The only reply was, “I wonder if I might have a word alone with your companion?”

Gracie was taken aback.

“What? Why?” Graham asked, disliking the newcomer even more.

“Because, according to Miss Allen, she and I are old friends.” Those blue eyes drilled into Gracie like piercing knives.  She couldn’t resist staring back, the intrigue of this shocking contradiction was too alluring for her to pass up. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind waiting in the lobby.” He added, glancing at Graham.

“But she just said she didn’t know you.” Graham said sharply, blinking in confusion.

“I don’t,” Gracie said, at the same moment that the stranger answered, “She does.”
Irate, Graham replied hastily, "Well I don't care what you want, I'm not going anywhere." 
"Then maybe Miss Allen would like some air?" The man asked her. The hostility in his voice slipped out more and more each time he said her name. Still unable to identify him, Gracie couldn't guess the reason for it. 

Her curiosity grew too great and she stood.

“Wait here Graham, I’ll just be a minute.” She pulled up her coat and purse and slipped out of the booth.

“But Gracie,” Graham protested.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be alright.” She assured him, turning to follow the stranger out into the lobby. 

Editing.

Yep. Editing. And lot's of writing.

11.25.2014.

Well I wrote, but sadly it isn't ready for other eyes. So yep.

Poem

Well, may I just say... uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhgghhghghgblehmehuulllllllggggg!

That was truly painful on so many levels. On a happier note, there is nothing quite so wonderful as the scream of relief let out by your toes after they are freed from the clutching bond of high-heels.

Black shores fall away

Deep in the shadow, I watch the straining sun fade

Ahead shines a glistening sky

Within golden clouds blossom, the petals of the past fall neatly into place

The shimmer of alluring words

Dancing lightning 

Dancing fire

Fireflies glowing 

The stars are all slipping into slumber 

As the night melts into dawn

And I rest in the peace 

Of a new day

Poem

Darling, don’t you be afraid

The moon is in the sky

And I’m forever by your side

The Heavens are not far away

And all you know is safe

And sound

Tonight 

Esssay

The ocean roared, a far blue canvas hurrying out to meet the sky. I closed my eyes and heard its murmuring voice, loud, soft, sweet and sad, heavy and grim, laughing and whispering. Fingering a strand of dark hair, I sighed at its hopeless saltiness. Everywhere around me was the essence of the sea.

The far off cries of laughter and shouts tickled my ears, but I pushed them quickly away. I had no room in my soul for humanity on this sunny seaside afternoon. They, with their pressing problems, and speeches, invaded my autumn rains and my winter tea-times, my spring smiles and my bridal Junes. Even my sprinkler and Popsicle Julys were consumed with the sounds of human voices. But August is a month which belongs to its own endeavors.

While here, in this magic place, I set myself free from the responsibilities I normally owe to other people, and I devote myself to the full time occupation of refilling my empty soul.

The beach is truly the best spot for soul-filling. There is something truly miraculous about that roaring mass of gray-blue ocean. Its allure is stronger than the tugging of the moon on the tides. And everywhere the eyes can look, there is some new treasure to discover. 

Me

I'm a writer. I do not speak. What wisdom, if any, I have to impart, is lost to the ears as they fill with the crackle of nothingness. To hear me aloud is to stare at a blank map, but if you wish to hear my voice, you must listen with your eyes and with your heart.

Solitary Soul

"Sometimes it is a beautiful thing to be alone. Loneliness, however, is a fate I would not wish on any man."

.............................................................

"I look at you sweetheart, all I see is a child gazing up into the sky, wishing she could leap up past the clouds. When the others walk by, I can feel you start to cry. Don't ever lose the way your hair falls in your eyes. And your heart, sweetheart, is a treasure even broken, for only gentle things are prone to cracks and snares."

1/22/2014

Oh how I adore the safe, sweet assurance of knowing exactly who I'm meant to be. Everywhere I look, I see the subtle glances, furtive smiles and blank stares. Sometimes I'm tempted to envy, but on nights like this, it is still a blessing to sit in a room alone, and know that I'm me.




   "Why bother staring at the stars? Only fools believe they grant wishes." She murmured softly, shaking her head with a furrowed brow. 

   "What you say may be true. Perhaps only fools believe; but those who never watch the stars will often find themselves lost. Sometimes wishing is enough in its own right, with no thought of the 'coming true.'"  

I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye!

Moving to Scotland. I love it there. No amount of logic will dissuade me.

Seriously.

Muse

“Who is she?” Bert asked, and I felt my stomach prickle with distaste and near panic as he held up one of my paintings. I hadn’t seen it in years. I hadn’t seen any of them in years. They were there though, lingering in the back of my mind from time to time, tucked away in that old black pleather portfolio. How he stumbled upon them, I didn’t know.

“Just a muse of mine.” I replied, suddenly remembering that questions often require replies.

“It’s a good painting.” Bert stated solidly, in that candid, Spartan way of his. I couldn’t help smiling. Several of my friends, most of them girls, had looked over a few pieces of my art work and claimed that they were fallen stars from heaven. My mother had raved about them. My little brother had assured me that I was bound to be remembered alongside Rembrandt and Michelangelo.

But, “It’s a good painting.” Said Bert. His was a far more accurate assessment, as far as I was concerned.

“Thanks.” I answered.

“How many are there?” He asked me, pulling the portfolio up off my desk. I swallowed, feeling nervous again, resentment rising. Those paintings were private. The oil on each canvas was infused with lost memories that I didn’t dare tempt into resurrection. Something about them made me uncomfortable.

“Not many,” I said, moving to take the portfolio from his hands. I tugged, but he resisted with surprising force, startling me into letting go.

“Come on, let me see the rest of them.” He jostled the case out of my hands and slumped down onto the chair with it on his lap.

“Don’t you want something to eat?” I muttered, a tickling twinge of anger creeping up inside me.

“Sure. What do you have?”

My voice was flat. “I meant go get something.”

“Oh.” He said. “No thanks. But I’ll take a beer if you’ve got one.”

“Beer.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Sorry, I think I’m out. But how about a nice Cabernet instead?”  

“Sure, that works I guess.” His reply was absent as he bent over the painting in his hand. Bitterly resenting wasting a good Cabernet on Bert, I poured him a miserly amount and then a served up a generous glass for myself. I handed him his and sat down in the chair across the room, where I didn’t have to look at my paintings. For a while, Bert said nothing. He went from piece to piece, studying each for a moment before returning it to its place in the portfolio, and selecting the next. When he came to the last one, he lingered, fixated on its image for a full ten minutes. Cross and jittery, I poured more of my Cabernet and played merry-go-round with my glass, brooding while I waited.

“You’re sure she’s not real?” Bert said at last, his normally deep voice sounding suspiciously hollow and tight. For a moment I thought he would start to cry. Panicking, I stood, avoiding his eyes.

“She’s just a muse.”

“But she looks so real.” He said. In that moment, I dared to look down, back at her face, back at eighteen, back at loneliness and back at confusion.

She did look real. And not real as if the lines in her face all matched up exactly right, or real like the catch lights in her eyes were accurately portrayed.

She possessed real emotion. As if, inside of her, was a real, tormented, heartbroken soul. There was something so sad about her that I couldn’t explain it away as the mere whim of a troubled young artist. And though I hesitated to acknowledge it, Bert’s innocent commentary had struck and old nerve.

The truth was, ever since I’d painted her, I myself had had the lingering impression that Muse was somehow real.  

Goodbyes

I hate goodbyes. Oddly enough, I've never minded the fade-outs. There are always those friendships where nothing happens for a few months. A phone call here, a text there. You meet up for coffee after a long while has passed, exchange stories and discover that you have absolutely nothing left in common. After that, a few more texts, and then nothing. That's always been fine with me. I'm not sure why goodbyes are so much harder, when the end result is the same. Maybe because when you say goodbye, you know. All the other times, you leave off saying, "Talk to you later! :)" or, "Let's hang out again soon!" Even if subconsciously you both know you probably won't, it's somehow okay. The Curtain hasn't dropped. Rather, it has been gently lowered until you got bored watching it painstakingly fall inch by inch.

But goodbyes.
Goodbyes are different. You know. Because saying "Goodbye" is basically the same as saying, "Just in case."

Just in case we never meet
just in case I don't ever see
just in case...
just in case goodbye is forever
just in case this is the absolute eternal end.

Some goodbyes are just like that. To me, the only thing worse is not getting to say goodbye at all.

Editing today

So today I'm just editing. I add a lot of words usually, so I'm still writing plenty.

1/18/14

waiting for this day to end
waiting for the newest trend
waiting for our lives
to finally begin

day by day and year by year
we wonder what we're doing here
just mulling over matters made
terribly unclear

we're asking why and rolling eyes
exchanging glares and petty smiles
staking claim to do or die
just desperate to survive

sitting in the corner chair
we're judging strength and weight and hair
all claiming, lying, making like we just don't care

every day we're suffering
pretending it's enough and we
all lie inside to keep our egos up and running

x and y and butterflies
and chemistry and grammar lies
and waiting for the clock to strike
3:45

we sit and stare and try not to think
pretending like we don't see
the way the here and now will keep
making us who we'll be

we try to say today won't matter
amid the mess of endless chatter
the shunning and the running
and that nauseating playful banter

through it all maybe we'll actually learn something
every moment in this world is a choice

and through it all maybe we're finding
we've got the strength to get up off the ground

so while I'm
waiting for this day to end
waiting for the newest trend
waiting for my life
to finally begin

I'll put aside that age old lie
choose to break free and fly
up and up into that
bright blue sky

I'll smile when I mean it
and even when I cry
knowing it won't be the last time
at least I'll be living
more than the shadow of a life

Ouch, my back is splitting in two.

I have literally nothing to say again today so I'm just going to start writing and keep on saying random pointless stuff until something comes to me because when in doubt just start writing and this sentence is really long so I'm going to end it. Well. There we go. Nothing like a really long sentence to make you feel proud and slightly ashamed at the same time because come on, we know it is incorrect but it is still awesome. Words are awesome. Spelling is not though. Spelling is hard. But it is important. I'm in so much pain right now I just want to melt away like a Popsicle. If I was melting, it would be sunny which would mean it wouldn't be freezing and cold and darker than the flip side of the moon. Which would also be mysterious. And manly. Because somebody else already figured that one out. But anyways. I think melting away sounds nice because it would be sunny and hot and I would not longer be cold or in terrible pain. So that would be nice. I'm so sorry about this post. Let me just apologize for these silly, silly words. I think the word apologize owes me an apology for being so hard to spell. I always, always, always misspell that word.

Okay I think I'm going to be done now. This rant is going nowhere. At least it is full of words I guess.

Possibly the strangest post of my lifetime O__o not sure how this happened....

Editing NaNoWriMo is like wading through a chest-deep, muddy river carrying a bi-polar person on your back.

I love butter.

Butter is just so amazing. It is velvety and smooth, and its color is synonymous with basking in a golden pool of gentle, warm light, possibly surrounded by the delectable aroma of popcorn. Butter is like all your hopes and dreams combined into one easily transportable stick. Also, if I had a cow, I would name it Butter. Because that would just be the cutest name for a cow. I bet it would also be the cutest cow ever. I don't really like cows that much, but if one was named Butter, it would be the most original and spunky cow on the farm. That cow wouldn't care about all the other rude cows pointing out her flaws. She would just work hard to make lots of butter and hold her head high and try to have a more thorough hygiene regimen than all those other silly cows, no matter how much they laughed at her for it. And she would be awesome. And she would wear high heels any time she felt like it because she would have that kind of confidence and never mind all the negative, logical comments that the other cows make, like, "You can't wear high heels, you're a cow."or "You'll fall over." or "You look moooopid in those." (Because probably cows would throw in their own lingo.) But Butter the awesome cow would just smile and trot away, or clip-clop, because clip-clopping is the most preferred method of transportation. And no one could ever convince her that she wasn't a perfectly lovely, unique and individual cow even though she might be considered a little strange.

Just me being me

Can't write tonight. I'm broken. :P Sometimes that happens I guess. So I'll just rant instead. Ranting can be good. 

Blah blah blah. Is anyone else ready for summer? Somehow that always happens to me. It's not even about not having any more school, but once the Christmas part of winter is over, I am just instantly ready for the sun and the Slurpees and having fun with mis amigos and not staying inside all the time. 

Yep. Summer is good. 

You know what else is good?

 Cheese. Cheese is good. Think about it, it makes people smile. "Say cheese!" It is the very commandment that is 100% guaranteed to create smiles. Cheese is seriously the best. 

Cheese doesn't ask silly questions. Cheese understands. 

I realize as I write this that I'm basically giving myself a heart attack someday in the future. Maybe lettuce will understand too. 

Next time I want a smile though, something tells me lettuce isn't going to bring on the chuckles and the grins. 

I'm so sleepy. Sleep is also good. 

You know what, this began as a rant, but as I keep on going, it is reassuring to know just how many things in this world that are still good! Cheese, lettuce, summer, sleep! They're all so great. If it only takes a few minutes to find four good things, well then there must be a few more out there for me to hunt up during the next few months. The world can seem like a very dark place, but as long as you keep looking around for nice things, they keep turning up. I guess that's pretty encouraging. 

Another thing that is good is writing. I would have never noticed all the other good stuff if I hadn't begun typing away on the old HP. 

HEY guess what! I won a thousand bucks today. That was nice. I like winning a thousand bucks. Maybe I'll use it to study abroad in Ireland. Or Italy. Yes. This is a great plan! 

Planning is good! I like planning. Sadly though, I had better leave this amazing world of imagination and go finish planning for my presentation tomorrow. After all, that presentation isn't going to present itself!  

Time to go have an amazing journey to dreamland! Wishing the same to all of you! 

A random description of my puppy dog :)

My puppy smiles up at me, eager anticipation glowing in her dark eyes. Her little mind is spinning, running after sheep and clouds up in in the sky. But it's winter and she's waiting, hoping that I'll notice and play with her. Or maybe she just wants food. I'm not sure. Now she's sleepy. Her eyes are almost closed. But I know all I have to do is say her name and her ears will prick and she'll be wide awake. She sees me looking at her now. Curled up in a heart shaped pillow of fur (the annoying kind that clings to every black item in your wardrobe) she is trying to decide whether or not I'm going to play with her. She seems to have (wisely) decided that I'm not going to. Now those little ears are drooping, and her puppy eyes are filled with sleep. Goodnight.

....

wherever you are tonight 

know i'm   h e r e 

i can feel that hope within
calling me to call to you
to feel your soul and know 

you are somewhere in this   w o r l d 

Hope

Somewhere there's a road I long to walk. It is wide and full of others, faceless people all running towards the end. I feel them calling me to join them, and I see their smiling faces, masks against a backdrop of secrets. They have intrigue and they hold power over one another. I watch them and I long to follow.

My road bumbles a different way. Its rocky crags slice into my flesh, feeding on the weariness of my crumbling bones. I walk on, towards a golden haze drifting in the distance. Every so often, the voices of the the other road grow softer, and the golden haze grows clearer, and I feel warmth creep into my tired toes.
Far off, I catch a glimpse of a fleeting silhouette. Another is on my road. Smiling, I call out to him, the voices fading entirely. I feel a strange bubbling joy well up in my heart.

Hope.

1.12.2014.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, "Sometimes the world feels just a little too big and scary. I look at all the places I long to see, but I can't help believing, they're just not meant for me."

"I know sometimes, it's easy to run away. But if you always stay, if you always wait, you're going to end up always being afraid."

"I just can't. I don't want to wait here forever of course, but anything else just feels like more, more than I can take. I'm not right for the world. I don't want to make a terrible mistake."

"Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, you have to learn to stretch the lines. You can't always be blaming everything on you. If you do, no dream will ever come true."

"But that's just it, you see: I don't expect them to."

1.11.2014.

These lips have no words tonight.
Only silent prayers that speak nothing aloud.
Inside, the hush of life's sweet sorrow breeds only ancient misery within me.
Sleep is far off, and peace rides ever elusive from my side. But for the echo of aching raindrops on the sill, the house and heart stray softly from any ghostly song. I am left with only tortured memory.

Yay!

Once upon a time
I was accepted to college and now there is hope.

The End.

1.10.2014.

"Shh, stop laughing!" Mace hissed, raising his eyebrows. He watched his friend keel over in a spasm of cackling giggles. Brandon was too out of breath to reply.

Mace rolled his eyes, going back to his homework. "You're going to get us kicked out." An older woman squinted over at them as she stacked children's books into a pile. The library was hushed and silent, except for Brandon's stifled laughter and the occasional wind thrown up by the turning of a page. The boys were the only young people around as far as they could tell. There was the Wednesday Afternoon Ladies Book Club meeting going on downstairs and a few strays. Other than that, the only other people in the new Vancouver Library were the librarians.

"I can't help it," Brandon gasped under his breath. He pushed his phone across the table and Mace glanced down at the screen. It was a status from one of their friends, an all too predictable attempt to start more drama.

"You sure called it." Brandon said, shaking his head.

Mace smiled, remembering his words from the previous afternoon, indicating that a similar status wouldn't be long coming. His grin fell off his face as he saw one of the librarians in a stiff pleated skirt giving them the stink-eye.

"Shut up. She's going to come over here. Look like you're studying."

"We are studying." Brandon replied.

"Sure we are." He replied sarcastically. "Seriously dude, when's the last time you held an A in Ms. Langley's class?"

"The first day of school. But that's typical. Nobody in that class has an A. Not even Becca Muller, and she's practically a genius. Nobody gets A's from Ms. Langley."

"Well what do you have?"

"A D." Brandon grinned sheepishly, flipping through the pages of an anatomy book without even reading. "These pictures are gross. What's the point of learning this anyway? I know I'm not going to be a doctor."

"Maybe someday you'll need a doctor, and then you'll want to know what he's messing up inside you."

They laughed again, trying to stay quiet as the thin-lipped librarian started their way.

1.9.2014.

She giggled.
That inane sound scraped across my eardrums with agonizing madness. In imagination I saw myself leaping out of my seat and delivering a perfectly executed monologue of sweet satire that would peel away the remnant of that giggle from my memory. I longed to do it. To silence the sound that reeked of superficial desperation. She was so transparent it was almost painful. Every giggle was a pis aller. Her eyes batted coyly as she begged for attention. The need to have us watching her---wondering, guessing and admiring. She craved it. It was her game.

But I wasn't playing anymore. I rolled my eyes, half hoping no one would see, at the same time knowing they would. I was tired of the never-ending cycle of manipulation. Watching flies fall into her net one by one was getting tedious. Still, a small, insistent voice from somewhere in the better half of my soul prevented any words from escaping my lips. For now, I would bite my tongue and grit my teeth, content with my imaginings.

She giggled again.

147

Every single day.

275.

Now 147.

I'm so close.

So far.

So desperate.

So lost.

So found.

So ready.

So almost there.

And for the first time in forever, I think I'm actually going to make it.

A Song

i lost something special 

on a cold autumn day

kept pushing through life

but it wasn't the same 

a part of me left 

when you looked at me and said

"goodbye, my darling, goodbye" 

and it turned out to be the last time

people called to say 

whatever it is they

always say

the phone kept ringing 

days and days 

but there was only one voice 

i wanted to hear

so i looked out my window 

and whispered in the air  

"hello 

I'm still here waiting 

you said you'd see me

again, God willing

Well He wasn't 

but i just can't say goodbye

so "hello darling, 

how's Heaven tonight?" 

well i can't forget 

but the world don't remember

so i watch them laugh

and soon its December 

all the lights on the tree 

seem dimmer than before 

but it must just be me

and i can't help watching the door

people take pictures 

dancing in the lights 

there's one on my dresser

of us dancing that night

sometimes when no one's watching

i look up at the sky

and say

"hello 

I'm still here waiting 

you said you'd see me

again, God willing

Well He wasn't 

but i just can't say goodbye

so "hello darling, 

how's Heaven tonight?" 

through each year

the world still stays 

wrapped in my fears 

but i learn to laugh again

every time the clock strikes 

11:05 

i stop and wait for just a moment in time

i remember your eyes 

looking at mine

and i say

"hello 

I'm still here waiting 

you said you'd see me

again, God willing

Well He wasn't 

but i just can't say goodbye

so "hello darling, 

how's Heaven tonight?" 

ten Christmases later 

i'm watching the snow

our little girl lays her head on my arm

she's not really little anymore

and she doesn't remember before

she takes my hand

and whispers

"hello

I'm still here waiting 

you said you'd love me 

for the rest of all time 

so, mom, i'm telling you 

he's not coming home; 

can't you say goodbye?" 

later that night

i'm sitting alone

in front of that Christmas tree

humming that song

it used to make me cry

i pull out an old box

wrapped in red paper 

i dust of the top 

and pull out your letters

i smile and i laugh

and tears slip on by

i cry and cry 

when i finally find

that letter you wrote

for the very last time

"Darling, tomorrow we fight

but the real battle's won

because i have your heart 

and there's no one can take it away..." 

So once more I say

"hello

i'm still here waiting 

you've still got my heart 

deep down inside

so don't worry

but darling

i think it's time...

i'll always love you

but I have to say

goodbye

so farewell, my darling,

goodnight"  

1.7.2014.

"What do you want?" Spencer remembered his steady voice saying.

"The world." Came the reply. Ellie grinned up at him toothlessly.

"That's a lot." He had answered.

"You can do it."

"You think so? I'm not sure I can get the whole world for you."

"Yes you can!" She insisted, brown tendrils bobbing on her shoulders. She blinked wide eyes and they crinkled when she smiled.

"Listen to me," Spencer remembered saying seriously. Ellie's smile fell and she nodded, struck by the deepness of his eyes.

"What?"

"If I could, I would bring you every good thing imaginable. But you wouldn't want the whole world, okay? There are many wonderful and beautiful things in this world, but there are also many bad things that aren't good for you."

"Like sugar?"

Spencer smiled. "Things a lot worse than sugar. Sugar ruins your teeth. Many of the things you find out in the world today can ruin much more than that. So you be careful, okay?"

"Okay. How will I know when something's good or bad?"

"You keep reading that Book." He tapped the faded cover. "Then you'll know when you find bad things. A little voice in your head will tell you if something is right or wrong. That's called a conscience."

"What if the voice breaks or something?" She fiddled with the slice of bread in her hands.

"Sometimes that happens. Then you just have to listen to your heart. And you'll remember what I've taught you."

"Okay." She smiled and tossed the crust of bread into the wind. It landed on the sand and a hungry gull swooped down on rushing currents of wind. "Look!" Ellie pointed, conscience forgotten. She no longer wanted the world. Only to watch the gulls.

Spencer savored the way her eyelashes fell across her pink cheeks. Innocence was woven into her smiles and her eyes. It would fade someday. There would be harder questions to answer. He closed his eyes.



"Spencer?"

Spencer opened his eyes again and looked up. White teeth were shining down on him.

 "Time for your juice." They said cheerfully and the bitter taste filled his mouth to the brim.

Spencer

"Help me," He garbled feebly.

"I've got your juice Spencer," She said cheerfully. Her teeth shone brightly, blindingly. They were too white. They reminded him of a commercial for those new kind of lights that made every room feel like a hospital. Ellie said they were going to stop making the old kind. Christmas wouldn't be the same. Spencer blinked.

"Drink up." She said, her smiled drilling into him with a fierce intensity.

"Help me." He pleaded again.

"All the way." The young woman shoved the glass into his lips and tipped it back, drowning him in a harsh orange liquid. They called it orange juice, but it wasn't. Spencer knew. They couldn't fool him with all the powdered flavor in the world.

Poem

I want to hide 
But I know I can't 
I've got the Light inside 
And I'm running towards eternity

It's my job to go
My path to follow 
I can greet each day
Because of what You've done for me

And I'll keep on smiling 
When I feel I'm falling
Cuz with every failing 
I remember You 
And smile 

Inside I feel
That terrible greed 
And this waking fire 
Burning through me 
Every single deed 
I fall down
I'm lost without
The power of Your might

But I can see the Light 
And I can feel inside
It's there within me 
Growing and I feel it rise

Stronger and stronger 
I can hear the beating hearts 
And my soul reaches out 
Because we all feel that need
To find something 
Stronger than our pain

Deep down in me 
I know there's still hope somewhere
Don't let me go
I'm begging You
Don't ever leave me alone 

Whatever I deserve
I know I have a life
Even though death is my hiding place
I can still climb out of 
This hole I've dug 
Only with Your hand 
Pulling me up
Up, up, up

1.5.2014.

I don't stay indoors because I'm afraid of the world; I do it because I'm afraid I will continue to fall short and the world will see me fail.

Poem

freezing sunshine chilling everything
underneath that blazing sun

don't fall away

in the music i can hear your voice 
don't let me forget again
the way i laughed when everything was fi-i-i-ine 
everything in this world is mine

so don't you start again
don't get me laughing now
now isn't the right time

for me to fly


i've got my hopes set
and i've 
never felt so free
packing my bags so don't let me fall
away tonight 

1.5.2014.

  "I always forget how lonely a house can suddenly seem." Amy murmured softly, laying her pleather jacket on the back of the sofa.

   "It won't feel as lonely tomorrow." Nell replied, combing her fingers through black hair. She glanced around aimlessly. Amy was right. The house felt suddenly empty and too big. She bit her lip, the sting of guilt prying at her stomach. "Will you be alright by yourself?"

  "I guess so," Amy said, smiling.

  "Do you need me to stay with you, just for tonight?" Her friend asked worriedly.

  "No, no, I'll be fine. But it was nice of you, anyways." Amy kept smiling, and Nell audibly breathed in relief.

  "Okay, if you're sure." She started for the door.

  "Do you want dinner before you leave?"

  "No thanks. I'm going out later. You're welcome to come if you want," She extended the invitation as an afterthought. Amy shook her head, knowing she wasn't wanted, and knowing she wouldn't have fun even if she was. They weren't her kind of people. The fact was, Nell was different. She was different. Things weren't the same as they had been, and both were tired of avoiding the change.

   "I think I'll just stay home tonight. Have fun."

   Nell grinned. "Thanks. I will." The heavy door swung shut behind her, and silence settled over the room. Biting her lip, Amy turned on the tv for company. But the isolated sound of her own laughter at the end of each punchline chilled the air.
 

The way you look at me

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"I think it's something."

"No, it's really nothing. Only--"

She smiled. "Only?"

"Only, you look beautiful tonight."

From the Corner

You whisper and laugh
That beautiful smile
And I catch a glimpse of your sweet heart
As it lurks beneath a mocking grin

Your eyes tell me stories
I remember the past
And I smile too
Because I'm finally free

I watch from a distance
All the dancing flames
And I know I'm not meant to stay long
Your eyes meet mine, but you don't hold my gaze

My fears chase me down
But I'll find a way
Fly away
And I won't be looking back
To the way things used to be

To you
And that beautiful smile

It was a February Afternoon

 I remember I was with my sister that day. We were busily cutting out doilies and red paper hearts for a Valentine exchange later that week. My dad was blowing his nose, tired out by a head cold that had hit him hard, and my mom was watching the local news. It was a normal, average, safe, comfortable day in my normal, average, safe, comfortable life. But it was the last day I spent as a little girl.

Growing up, everyone I knew played the piano, and I had never been anxious to be the same as everybody else, even at a young age. I always had just the smallest bit of a contrary streak, and I wanted to be unique and individual. I decided to learn the violin. However, shortly after I procured an instrument via doting grandparents, and began lessons, I discovered that I had little talent. From then on the only time I truly enjoyed playing was the golden hour spent on Tuesday afternoons taking lessons in my teacher’s music room. There, Angela and her crooked smile would always encourage me that somehow my fingers, eyes, brain and soul could all reach just the right combination and create something beautiful, no matter how often I failed.  Angela was like that.

So, on that February day, my mom called me out into the living room. With tears in her eyes, she told me that Angela had been killed by a drunk driver.

I remember feeling numb at first, almost indifferent. There was a moment, a small, quiet moment in my heart where I felt saddened, regretful and sympathetic, just like I had with every other death that I’d ever experienced, before it struck me that this was something different. This wasn’t a distant acquaintance or faraway relative. This was a friend that I had known and loved, and after that first moment passed, I realized what it cost me to know that I was never going to hear her voice again.

I grew up in a conservative, Christian household. The only time my parents drank anything stronger than Mountain Dew was Thanksgiving Day. Even then, all they had was a half-glass of wine. The idea of a drunk person getting into a car and killing another human being was absolutely foreign to me, a sheltered young girl who knew little of death and even less of law-breaking. The news of Angela’s accident hit me like a wall. Everything I had known up to that point seemed vague, fuzzy, and far away.

From then on, I began to notice differences between me and my peers. I felt continually unsettled and disjointed whenever I spent time with friends, and at first I couldn’t understand the sudden shift. Gradually I realized that the change wasn’t in them, but rather in me. I had grown up. Most of my friends were still bound in the safe world of innocent childhood. But for me, everything had changed that February day.

Angela was twenty-six years old when she died. She was married. She had three little dogs, and a hive of students who adored her. She loved God very much. After seven years, I can no longer remember the details of her face, only blurry outlines, but I haven’t forgotten her golden blond hair that curled crazily, or her crooked teeth which rarely hid behind her lips. Angela never let little imperfections stop her from smiling.

After she died, reality scared me. The idea that other people I loved might die too, scared me. But that’s the world: bad things do happen. People get sick, grow old, let you down, and leave you. As a child I was sheltered from such things, but growing up means dealing with them, and learning to smile anyway. Through Angela I learned that life is full of imperfections, but you cannot let that stop you from living. 

Not Alone

  "Can I help you?" He asked, his vacant voice trilling absently through the cold winter air. City lights flashed behind him, and I heard the whispered wail of sirens in the distance. 

  "I'm lost." I said, folding my crinkled map back up. I tucked it snugly in my pocket. 

  "Lost? Where are you trying to go?" He looked up at me and smiled in a way that said, I know just where I am. You'll never be lost once you've found what I have. 

  I hesitated. "I don't know. Somewhere better than where I left. Can you tell me where I am now?" Flustered, I drew out my map again, holding it out to him. He didn't take it.

 Instead he asked me, "Who are you wandering with?" 

  The word "wandering" took me but surprise. But as I thought about it, I realized it was true. He was right, and I grew suddenly serious. 

  "No one." I said. Sadness welled up inside me. "I'm alone." A tear slipped down my cheek, sprung from a sliver in my breaking heart. 

  He took my map in his hands and set it aside. Tipping my chin up, he looked at me and whispered, "None of us are alone." 

Blah Blah

I wrote some stuff.

Goodnight and New Dawn

Goodnight year. 


I waited there in the dark, watching the the shadow of the flames on the opposite wall. Outside a northern wind slithered through the dark, and I wondered whose ears that wind had tickled.


Well drat. My neighbor just set off his cannon, which means this is the new year. Which means I didn't get this posted before midnight. Welp, happy new years to y'all. #yolo2014 

lol my sister has said that all day. Here we come. K, anyways.


I remembered. I tried not to but I did. My memories haunted me and I wished I could escape them.

Me again. Hi. This plot has officially become so boring I think I'm literally going to fall over and go to sleep with boredom, except now all the dumb fireworks are going off and my dogs are barking, making sleep impossible anyways. Hmm. 

It appears we are at an impasse. 

Anyways, time for some random poetry. I'm sorry this is like the most sporadic post of my entire life. 


Goodnight
sleep like no one is waiting for tomorrow
your whole life
is waiting but there's nothing to this moment
alone and wondering
what this is even about
will you ever know
you never know
what tomorrow will hold
but for now
just sleep in peace knowing
that the world is waiting
for you
all for you
and your dreams still have chances
always hope
they might come
true <3


Happy New Year!