life lessons.

the most important lessons i’ve learned so far in my eighteen years:

  • you are your own person. things like boundaries are boring.
  • life is too short to not pick wildflowers.
  • or to smile at strangers in cars.
  • if someone says you can’t; you might as well do it.
  • love who you love, even if it ends badly…
  • fight for what you love. but, also know when to peaceably protest for what you love.
  • never tell people how to live their lives; only supply guidance. they’ll listen to you more.
  • break the rules. don’t capitalize letters. don’t do things because it’s orthodox.
  • maybe the things you want don’t want you back. that hurts like hell.
  • rejection is unavoidable.
  • if someone leaves; no one made them,
  • and you are not responsible for that.
  • friends are soul-mates. platonic love will you make you feel alive.
  • cry tears of joy/pain, but always drive somewhere with music loud after you’re done.
  • suicide is never the answer and should never be an option.
  • get help. talk about mental illness. open up. open up. it will save you.
  • and once you think you are done with the person you are; look in the mirror once more
  • because who you are is beautiful
  • you are changeable, melding, and you are always seeing the world in a hue of color someone doesn’t know about.
Advertisements

don’t beg.

my mother taught me from a young age to
cross my legs and not to wear short skirts
don’t ask for it
but i think i should’ve been taught to tell them
don’t beg for it; don’t take what’s not yours
i am not a store for window shopping and stealing
when i am closed
it doesn’t mean open for five more minutes

i am exhausted of living in a world like this 

 

 

 

rearview mirror.

i’m tired of looking

at myself in the rearview mirror of the car

wondering

waiting

watching

for a sign i did something right

and if nothing else, i just want to prove to myself there is something i am good for

besides breaking

crashing

wrecking

the lives around me.

 

nothing changes, except everything…

you never plan to live your life broken and torn, it just happens,

nothing changes except everything.

and, people are telling you’re not what they expected when they see you after ten years.

you wonder if you should take that offensively, but you just smile and brush it off.

the house you live in has new creaks in the wooden floors, and the windows don’t open as easily. the people around you are more prone to yell, because you’re older.

and, you’re yelling back.

fighting in the dining room; clenching your fists and counting the seconds, one, two, three…

your father, the one who took you for go-cart rides, and bought you a 100-pack of waffles for your birthday, is asking what you were thinking…

your mother, the one who took you to the library and let you have how-ever-many books you wanted, is shaking her head in disapproval.

you drift apart and there’s nothing to do about it, because you aren’t little anymore.  you feel a simple bond, and you try to reach out to save what you had…but it’s not the same.

so, you pack your things. you kiss their cheeks, and say you love them. because, you do, but something hasn’t been right with you for a while.

and, then you’re gone. eighteen years. that’s what they gave you, and you repay them with, goodbyes, frustrations, worries, and hurt.

you wipe the tears as the drip down your face. you let the emotion seep onto the concrete, and eventually it will evaporate into the stars.

 

 

cynicism.

I think it’s sad,

that some people never look up at the sky anymore,

that they never talk to imaginary friends, instead they let the silence drive them insane.

that they will let the light leave their children’s eyes, and accept it as ‘reality…”

that they will forever wonder how to pay the bills, how to make the next paycheck count,

cynicism is a sickness,

and many of us are unwilling victims.

cynicism is a sleepiness,

and many of us may never wake up…

 

innocence.

Her hands have a slight tremor. “Stop that; I am in control,” she whispers to them. They have words written in pen–smudging on the ends–all over them. People tell her the ink will poison her, and she just laughs.

Her eyes are held open by mascara and cups of coffee. No cream, no sugar, she likes the bitterness.

She hums something under her breath. A song from some distant memory. That Ben Rector song that made her smile and cry at the same time.

She’s been heartbroken, but the broken heart is fixed with a little tape and glitter glue.

Her taste is eclectic; never fit into a box. Her room is littered with pictures of old memories; movie tickets, polaroids, letters, journals, and glass figurines. Her stuffed animals lined up on a shelf, and she kisses their cheeks when their eyes droop.

Maybe, she never grew up. She got taller, wears makeup, smiles when she’s told, strives for better grades, fell for boys, and felt her friends maturing day by day.

But–she would still hug the tree in the front yard, or dance along to her favorite songs when everyone else told her to stop.

She watched the city the other day. She drove her mother around, and she realized how alone she felt now.

So many people were gone; some by choice, and some because life is full of chapters. It seemed the town’s population of kindred spirits dwindled daily.

And, tears blurred her vision as she sped along the highway.

Growing up wasn’t what she always expected it would be…maybe she never would be everything they wanted. Maybe, she would always push boundaries, and always get cut from pushing the envelope too much.

That was alright. And, maybe people would keep leaving, because of college, jobs, and responsibility. And, maybe new people would appear and they’d make unforgettable memories together as well.

So, she still hummed the Ben Rector song, and tapped her trembling fingers to the piano playing in her mind, and tried to think of a time where innocence and happiness were second nature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

resuscitate.

someone give me life,

because lately I’m having a hard time staying awake

I laid in my bed–mid day–

and stared at my ceiling in silence

my sweatshirt doesn’t keep me warm anymore

I’m chilled to my core

there is a lump in my throat,

I tried to wash it away

but it’s latched on from my lack of tears

no one seems to understand it,

neither do I.

the basslines in my headphones,

resuscitate me long enough

to keep breathing.

 

 

fight time.

We sat side by side in the dressing room,

tears streaming down our faces,

broken, bleeding, crying for help;

you held my hand, and said we had to stay friends,

fight time,

fight the impending pages rustling by quickly…

too quickly.

I want to freeze time and stay with you.

I want to miss you every time I see a blonde;

to keep writing you letters with ‘I love you,’ implied in every line.

Life is cruel.

I won’t let it take you from me.

I love you too much.