Capture.

If I could have anything, impossibility set aside,
I would ask to have a camera set behind my eyes.

Lenses unable to blur void of tears, free of fingerprints and streaks of castoff memory life unrecorded. One mind can only store so many eyebrow scars and perfectly traceable lines found along the hardly predictable curves of uncharted territory.

Nothing, it seems, can capture the moon. Light gives between the accumulation of so many sunny, cloudless days. The city lends a hand, sheeting the stars with opaque halos, each its own. Imperfect views hindered by power lines and oil on car windows become hazy mental pictures we couldn't adjust lighting, lenses, and technology to store for us. Every night we look up at the same moon. It appears in different shapes according to pattern and keeps company with varying swirls of the weather while we guard silence and fluttering eyelids. Disregard dollar signs; the most valuable memories never will be those with witty captions on public profiles.

Few remain as clear as brown eyes lined with tears as a brow-brushing brunette holds a rain-soaked page containing far more than words on college ruled lines. The moment you learn what it is to love and lose is one of the last things you give up to age. As detestable as love is, the portrait of its first appearance is each owner's best kept secret. The way you wear the blank peace of sleep unraveled the complicated ambiance you worked so hard to build; youth makes us honest, and we're all the same when we're set to dreaming, forgetting. I have so much of you figured out; game over. Catching you off guard, voice lighter and eyes less hesitant, letting a smile spread from your eyes to your lips, keeps the assurance that you've embodied honesty.

The shame in this mental memory card is the slowly dissolving past, like the way ambition colored your skin and broken bits of leaves catching along the beaten strands of carefree hours. Missing everything about you doesn't prevent me from coating old memories with a rotation of seasons. I'm in constant motion as the colors I've memorized blur around me. Each second stored away runs into the next, and it's moments like these that I wish could be immortalized outside the confines of blurring pasts and prominent presents.

Approach wishing your time away slowly and keeping a sharp mind earnestly. Therefore, I want to line my walls with the exact images my eyes take in between rapid-fire blinking. I wish only to remember in motion.

Stereotyping.

I get pretty sick of being grouped with my gender.

Stereotypes: Females are emotional, clingy, hold on easily and let go almost never. I've seen screaming fights, pathetic letters, and unhealthy relationships that have me unable to debunk these completely, and this is my hang up. My best friends and I are constantly reminding ourselves through burps, beers, and I don't cares that we have a tendency to defy our anatomy.

Beer over a pink martini. Hookups over relationships until the right one comes along. Not caring if they want to see you again. Self-respect is my most prominent female characteristic, and yet, it's hard to come by in your true bred drunk slut. Just another way we females like to mindfuck.

I've decided to quit my player mentality. After my own taste of colossal failure in the face of love, I couldn't do it anymore. Emotional detachment and devious smiles were the norm for awhile, and that kind of power is hard to throw. I once wrote I'd hate to see what happens in your mind when my face flashes within it. I'd leave you for dead with no second thought.

Now, it's time to quit being a coward and start utilizing the optimism I was blessed with. It's time to stop being so damn scared. I think I'd like to figure out exactly what I've been hiding from.

Post.

"The only reason I'm letting you back into my life is because I know you'll fuck it up again, and frankly, things have been boring."

A long time favorite in a long forgotten pastime. This is how I've grown used to operating, but today, this serves as my reminder that one burst of thought is turning into a brand new mindset. I'm not the same person I was when I first read those lines. I refuse to identify.

I needed to say this, if nothing else but to keep believing.

Mix Up.

Something new for your viewing pleasure. Poetry/song never has been my thing, but I caught a stride with this one. It's still in the works, so expect a finished product on an as of yet undetermined date. Feedback is very, very welcomed. Disclaimer: I've just been a bystander for most of the bits that inspired me.

Why do we insist
on believing with all we've got
that love's worth searching for?
Seems like every time I chase it
I come out worse for wear
The bearer of broken hopes
and wasted nights

Yet it's the one thing we hold closest
The one thing we really know
Waking up with bruised eyes
Under sun stained skies
We remember what it is to fight

I've found the best part of this time of year: You see exactly how much you have, and if only for a month, you don't take it for granted. I know I'm packing up to head to a new room and eventually, to head home, with a far great understanding of exactly what this life is all about, the most beautiful part being that I would never want to fully understand it. There are people I intend to get to know better and those I hope will stay right beside me no matter how far away they may geographically be. It's times like these where I let myself dream up big hopes and no plans. Sometimes, everything just falls into place. Sometimes, it just takes a few words to stop sweating a lack of them.

Sometimes, you need nothing but yourself to feel completely, falling asleep with a smiling face happy.

Pocket Change.

This familiar routine never ceases to seem like anything less than a miracle. Crack open sleepy eyes and unlearn the hazy off position. Five minutes to departure are motivation enough to roll out of sheet-covered feet and a warming collar of bunched-up fleece. The cold creeps on from bottom to top, and it's easy to dress on a time crunch with such an eager opponent. Eyes still weak, body still dented from folds in blankets, it's time to trek in unkind sun.

Hands find a home in designated pockets and assess their contents. One all-important cell phone, one addictive device aimed to feed an obsession with instant gratification. We're constantly reachable and usually prefer it that way. Do you ever ignore the ringtones you've memorized? Opening beats and jingles send your most convenient hand flying to its cradle. Sometimes, I tune out and turn off. If only for an hour, it can wait. Our ability to stomach such a word is incompetent at best. Slow down; for once in your life, taste the air you breathe.

One balled up gum wrapper long kept in your pocket, the by-product of three extra steps worth of laziness. Cast out and ranked by numerical value, yet kept to remember every time your hand falls where its been forgotten. You underestimate the value in things that seem so easily crumpled between your fingertips. Daily, we're possess by an unexplainable pull to cut corners and easy ways out. My friends call me out on my shit; where's your moral compass when it comes to this? It's hard to be humble when you're anything but honest. Go all out. Get caught up in the details. Someone's bound to notice.

Fidget your left hand, fitted around a loop of fabric, college's favorite way to remember. Identification is everything, even two years shy of the age that seems to define it. Identity is access, strength, and food. More than a number and less of a prominent presence your own hardly ready, confusingly sideways smile keeps you honest. Passing glances remind you where you call home, where you fall asleep, and the undeniable reality that they've grown increasingly plural. Home is where you make it. Appreciate the places your skin can settle and raise with ease. You'll find more than just a place to pass the time; you'll learn who deserved to be called family.

I'm learning to take notice of every change of scene, color, and shape. Surprises have always been a personal favorite, so I'm letting the smallest discoveries surprise me. The choice I made one year ago is creating an increasingly endearing location to drive this state of mind that's sewed to my skin. Sense is easy to come by these days, and ease as a result is simply sensible. I can handle anything that is to come from situations I've just begun, the ones I'm knowingly continuing, and even those that I'm completely unaware of. Shape yourself to the lines carving out my palm, and I'll carry you.

You and life remain beautiful.

Muster Up.

Have you ever just had too much to think about? Where you just can't isolate one thought, one hope or crisis, and give it your full attention. At times like these, I let the songs I hide behind do the talking for me.

"Tonight I'm finding a way to make the things that you say just a little less obvious, I confess. Tonight I'm dressed up in gold; you've got me fucked up and sold. You talk like you're famous; you're shameless."

There's a point between want and need that is nearly impossible to communicate. I'm amazed at how many hours of the day we spend playing games. Straight answers are hard to come by when everyone is just trying to say the right thing. To dreamers, it's taking a leap without the fears we keep in purses and pockets. To the critics, it's letting the pain set in, swearing off and finding our way back, using the trials to make art worth believing in. To cynics, we forget and keep to ourselves. One storybook ending is sure to leave someone disappointed.

"We dance along to empty beats, filling time with body heat."

All that really seems to matter is this mood that refuses to be shaken off. So much sunshine's reflecting off my teeth despite the covered ground I woke up to. Don't take my first words of the day as my state of mind. Every single menial task you fill your time with now will save you some sort of trouble later, so stifle your sighs and shoot an energy drink to spite those sleepless eyes. Time is hard to come by with the last days of knowledge drying up. What's the use in suffering through completion?

Cross your fingers; count nothing out.

Covering.

Too many drafts and nothing itching for completion; maybe this is nature's way of telling me it's time for beginnings. I find myself adding to the work-in-progress total, spiting what is natural like the lack of snow in December. Weather may be inevitable, but I'm fighting its increasing layers. My creativity is caught up in creation; new beginnings should know they'll need a number. I think of you nightly -daily- I confess. I care. Cryptic and honest pens find their most fruitful battles here. You'll know what you're looking to take from it all.

I'll get these endings written, but the story between then and what's begun is worth delaying a finished project. I'll muster the courage one of these days unless you find it in you to beat me to the punch. This morning, I spit your name like a profanity. Tonight, I whispered it for shame in still giving it a home. Now it and I both need to sleep sound.

It'd be an honor to know you.

Chronoligical.

After three hours of rain, the water's up to my knees. The incomprehensible reflection takes me back to days marked by fast food habits and even nastier drug habits, for most. So many nights spend in opaque cars with three windows tinted and no one calling shotgun. The best things in life cost as much as two batted eyelash and one extra X. Cleaning was a professional sport, and the unraveling aftermath was the highlight of the did we get away with it? anxiety. Mind blown, eyes closed; drawing lines in your mind when everyone else thought you were down for the count. I always write songs I won't remember in the morning.

Movies and musings poke at the sides of your ticklish forgetfulness; they have you wishing for brown bits of paper and safety scissors. Something like arts and crafts on a Saturday night, seemingly innocent and utterly malicious, because we can hold onto the thrill. I am marked by old phone drafts and the list (or three) you wouldn't understand if you found them. From one-liners to unhinged songs, the only one I held onto. I delete the ones that shade my cheeks, the ones when clouded eyes turned stormy. Help me, I'd say, just to wake up and laugh. I needed nothing at all to be fine when I fled. I would do anything to make the most of time and place. Days go on, and I do within them.

It's almost been long enough to carry the worst case scenario to term. If I hadn't spent my dollars on you, I could've spent my birthday screaming out my worst mistake. We make mistakes when we're young, because we're stupid enough to make the wrong decision; there's an offbeat shade of beauty in this blissful ignorance. We are conditioned to exist. Do you see the way I've learned? Because the stories sell you out; you're one to make the same mistake twice, thrice, countless times until life has you following in your first role model's footsteps. Along white picket balance beams, you'll find me playing peacemaker to the oh so undeniably undecided. From here, your words are unmistakably readable despite near-blind eyes.

At night I sit down to homework and wish I could blur the edges. Passion in tracing sparrows, necessity in character analysis. I'd rather lend mine to unwilling, sometimes-present runners with snags behind thoughtful speech. The art I apply to culture is modern, not so still life, having nothing to do with those that reside in ancient hearts alone. I'll probably never know the passerby I see from time to time that has the same smile you once wore. Family teaches us how to grow up without growing old. Two empty triangular glasses, bruises, and a soggy deck of cards tuck you into bed at night; wake up smiling with a dry throat and consider yourself a success. You're what matters more than any schoolboy that gets my heart rate speeding. I always say my goodbyes in letters. The sound of my voice falters where words stand unrepentant. If you care to stay around, words are the well-lit path when midnight falls on me.

Vices tag along; we fight over beds and call our resting heads home. Despite a repetitive nature, we're never too bored to live our nights like we need nothing but a handful of bodies and a heart sloshing full. Worn out boots are nothing next to days when no one else seemed to draw air in. I don't mind sharing clothes and tuneless songs. I'd take your company over rainless days. I may stay curious despite being skeptical. If I ever find myself in your favorite space, I think I'd try on one of those famed shirts. Sleeves swallow whole what I'm dying to keep to myself. Every breath of summer takes me back to the way familiar smells were always lacing with the greenest landscapes. Even the slightest taste will be gone soon. Hold onto what you can; it's always the things you let slip away that you'll one day find yourself wishing back.

Save your breath and leave your mind. Send the one you want a letter; leave it unsigned.
If it's what you need, they'll know. If you're worth the risk; let go.

I'm Not Your Star.

I've been fighting this almost constant urge to unwind because I find myself more or less ashamed of the juvenile nature my thoughts have been finding home in. I've never been one too inclined to complain. What is feeling sorry for yourself, anyway? I'm not anxious to find out. I make the most of every single place I find myself, from 10 pm home alones to 4 am realizations. Compartmentalization always has been a point of persona strength. So tell me, why does every song seem to give me a reason not to leave you behind?

It's that time again. Weeks on fingertips mark the duration of time between the last wave like this, and already I'm staring a new resistance in the face. Never try to forget what it feels like to be helpless. It's more reliable than short circuit alarm clocks and faulty electricity as far as reminders go.

Days go by without word from you, and yet, you play house inside the sound heat of my mind. Curled up in comfort, unmoving; I can't give away what was never unoccupied. Sometimes I wonder if my words give me away, and you sit on sidelines, behind computer screens, cracking a half smile at the shape you have me in. I'd find it hard to believe that you're clueless as to the condition of my mind whenever your name chooses to swim through its quest for tranquility. Failed missions fall at deadly feet. The confines of thought are a dangerous place to live.

I am momental. If left unwritten in the moment, thoughts and acts alike will remain so long after. Inspiration in cardboard cutout pieces. I have no clue what I want to say to you. More to the point, I have no clue what I can say to you. Lungs fill every day without new air. Maybe I need more than you can offer, but I don't think I want anything less. I'll be one more burden on your countless big things happening.

Given In.

I'm back.

One gust of wind sends my hair from the accidental void between collar and neck, craving body heat as they trail behind beaten. Another brush has my hands fitting mittens from the give of my waist, pulling at fabric so readily left unattended. A window-view morning couldn't prepare sleepy eyes forced wide, squinting in the solace of the darkness they had kept minutes before. Layers are closing in. More and more rapidly as time grabs the part of me inviting breath heats, more welcomed than any effort at wind resistance.

Begging strands of castoff curls kiss ears and an unsound mind; a constant reminder that my skin is staying cold. Still exposed, vulnerable to every bit of battering natural breath can carry to a microscopic solitude. Not completely unwanted; neither sought for nor evaded. I could build an army, a circle of walls, and swear off this sole responsibility, but I leave my arms at my sides knowing that focusing on surroundings means a crumbling foundation, a leaking roof. I'd find myself left for elements, my inside out umbrella helpless to newborn raindrops finding home in increasingly damp hair. Twisting and fighting to swear off sickness like my logic around rectangular worries. You'll catch cold if you go out like that. Well I don't think I care.

Drop some yellow over my waves and call me fit for a blizzard. These are the things in life that I can control, like the textures I run my fingers through and the holes in my baby blankets. Things that should be shelved when the comfort is historically outgrown. I lower my face as bravery runs by in a t-shirt and shorts; I take my time. I've grown out of rushing as segments of days run together for most; you don't remember the colors on long-haired temptation and fair weather friends as you set your mind towards seven hours away from what will be a ten difference day. Circle left corner of your mouth, the buttons on your shirt, and one pair of shoes. Circle nothing of my attire. Again this control is one guaranteed multiple choice answer.

Paste on the muted textile and cover modesty and insecurity. This water could turn to ice at the turn of your memory. Will I be the one left doorstepping, surrounded by silence and closing walls without explanation? One word to silence my speculating strands. Tide me over with a mail-in picture of burning wood. I stop and look up; my halting sends soldiers colliding in their warpath footsteps. I'll be the first to shake this monotony. If only you let curiosity get the best of your unoccupied, frigid hands. I won't stop my eyes as I fall back and let this current take me through the convolution of lowering. This overprocessed mind can follow close behind; elude at will.

Do you know how to lose your mind?

Short Breath.

I can't decide what I feel. Last night had my body and mind drained in completion, for the first time since days when, looking back, the reasons seemed simple. I've lost my will to make sense of it, and given in to simply forming sentences from pictures. This failed me last night. Breathing speeds when your heart gives way, and without a lifeline, there's no hope for caught breath. You're the only one I wanted to be bothered by. Simple banter, simple caring. My breath caught somewhere between lungs and mouth, but you had my heart beating double time; the short breaths I could steal from the air were a work of your art. I wish you knew that you do this to me.

I'll call and ask about weather, tell someone to talk so I can think. I think about remembering to push my stomach out when I scratch a sorry excuse for oxygen. I think about how badly I wish I could walk to your door. I nearly asked you if I could come over because your words seem to make sense more than most. The way we talk is less than a game and nothing of an act, but I grapple for understanding and pass my time analyzing like I've found it common practice to do. You're the words I sit down to express and can't get out.

This escape of mine isn't a hobby; writing is a necessity. When I say therapy, don't assume a metaphor. This is my very literal "how does that make you feel?" These are the words I need to hear to unlock that sentence I've been trying not to speak. These deepest confessions form tears that come from countless failed attempts to just cry them out. The most meaningful tears I've cried feel like they're being pulled from my veins, drying up to a very empty shell. After nights like these, there's nothing left to run through me. Tears of blood begin to make far more sense when you don't just take religion's word for it. There are things in life we feel we can't lose, and yet, when you have nothing, you'll still be alive. When nothing makes sense, you'll still know the music you rely on by heart. Nothing is irreparable. Making 15 phone calls could leave you with nothing where that one where you had to make yourself hit send was all you needed to hear. Break down.

Honesty at its best is telling anyone who wants to be in your life exactly how you feel. If you belong here, you won't run away. You asked if this was typical, and I kindly directed your attention to the likes of words like these. This is why I don't have to lose my breath. "Your brain has control over your stomach." If only I had expanded beyond the stop hurting me and I'm sick of feeling like this statements, I could've saved my parents some pocket change. I start with one line and form a page. I start with a page and form a novel. I haven't written one in awhile, but I feel the tide changing with every familiar motion my six or seven fingers make.

I think I just might need you in some way. It could be that I'm just be passing time with you, but I can say this is entirely unfamiliar to me. Just fitting your name into conversation sends excitement streaming from the butterflies in my stomach to the curve of my lips. When you're around, this is redefined. Slightly off-limits and constantly surrounded by mutual acquaintances, I hide a secretive smile and thoughts of my head on your chest. This is a mental battle at its finest. When we're this young, we really do have nothing to lose. I don't care if the end is a little closer for you; you still can't claim discounts in lines of retirees. Life is just beginning. Just take your time. The timing may or may not be right, eventually; I don't mind. Your mind works double time over me; I reiterate my lack of worry and enhance your own. I'm letting go. I'm letting go of worrying about what everything means, because as long as there's a smile on my face, I have what I need for however long it lasts. Leave fear and caution behind.

I'm letting go of optimistically looking for loopholes in the letdown. I'm learning how to inject optimism into downfalls instead. I don't say sorry as much anymore, because I've learned that more often than not; I'm not. I don't take back anything I've ever done in eighteen years and eleven months of life. I don't regret being a worry-filled smiling half breed as a child, or a slightly out of touch nearly adult. In one year and one month, I can claim two decades. I don't consider this time a guarantee after seeing so much loss. If I live to see my own real love, I'll cherish the fact that I got to know the way it feels. I want this for you, because now I live for both of us. I want so much to live because I know that every day I have is a gift; I look around at this place filled with red-eyed kids and blow-off beef heads and know that they don't understand. They think time is a right. They think growing up to a dream job, true love, and a family is exactly what their future holds. I don't know if I'll live to see tomorrow, but if I do, I'll wake up and kiss the sky.

This life is imperfect, but it's everything I've ever wanted. This life, filled with cruelty, beauty, evading love, and frivolity is mine alone to known like the way words connect in my mind. It doesn't matter to me that I've never seemed to be worth the full attention of someone's romance. This only gives me hope that however much time I have left will see the day that I'll be taken by surprise. It doesn't matter that I've been disappointed, hurt, and lied to, because I appreciate the moments where I was shown complete trust and shared happiness so much more. We wouldn't recognize anything, anyone as beautiful if we didn't know its antithesis.

Can you watch while someone struggles to pick up the contents of their spilled life? Or do you lend a hand, if only to bend down and offer them their offset lipstick and throw in your own reassuring smile? You don't know how many people you've saved by simply smiling as you walk by. Here, everyone holds doors. Most people say thank you and you're welcome, and the parents of this Nick Jr generation would beam at the sight. It's not just a mannerism. We don't say it because mommy's standing over us with stern, thin lips insisting "say thank you" like it's a threat. We left them behind and learned what it was like to mean it. Say what you want about youth, but I see every day ways in which we're learning to be influential. It starts with the simplicity of an open door and goes on to the metaphor of countless more.

I may not have many I can run to here, but I've learned to appreciate both the few and the new. We need far less than we've grown accustomed to. I used to love going out into the woods by myself, and all the adults would yell at me when I slipped away. That little delinquent was onto something. I've become far too affected by safety, and now I can't let myself walk in the dark without being aware of every presence in the air around me. Do you ever just want to throw on something colorful and walk through the leaves in your bare feet? 1 AM had me dying just to explore. The better part of me knew this town of young targets made my aching less than favorable; I just wanted not to care. I just wanted to forget my shoes and count on nature to keep me. I didn't want an arm to hold. Two layers and a handful of hopes form one impenetrable cloud.

I keep getting up because I can't keep anything in. Some days, I feel so good about myself, and others, all I can do is critique. I do not enjoy being a cookie cutter female, so the first likes to take over when the second tries to cut in. I prefer it like this. I could define wasted time as time spent thinking you are anything less than beautiful. You have something within you that no one else possesses; I know it's been placed on repeat for so long that it seems untrue, but it's what I wish I could say if the world was listening. Love yourself. No one else can love you quite as thrillingly as you can love yourself, and I'm a firm believer that in order to love another, you must first love yourself. Don't let gender roles define your worth. Don't let spiteful comments, usually hidden in shades of jealousy, color the way you look in the mirror. It doesn't matter if you're five pounds heavier than you want to be or you have a quirk you're ashamed of.

You aren't perfect, and who would want to be? Think of the standards, the expectations. Everyone deserves a vice, and we're equal in our downfalls. Love your own, and as a result, you'll be able to fully love someone else's. Never tasting true love allows you to define it more clearly and appreciate it more fully. I like to think I'll be thrown upside down one day with my thoughts still in line. I think to think I know everything just to learn I know nothing at all. You would kill for this, just a little bit. For now, I want to spend my time telling myself everyday to sing like no one's listening. I've always been shy when it comes to my voice, so I make up for it in words. It always has made the most sense to me jumping from a page. This carried me from booksmart to passionate. Sometimes seeing the lists of interests others contain makes my one seem so insignificant, then I remember the days I've gotten by only because I had it, and I know I could make a list pages long. There are others, but none as influential as the two gracing my last hour.

I won't spend my words on the despair of 20 hours ago because I know it won't wrap around me again. I understand how beautiful it can be to break down; it was the clarity from chaos that I just hadn't understood. I'm not worried about you being okay. You're better by these challenges that have seemed absolutely unfair, and I see positivity as far as my premonition will take me. Hang in there, for me, for you. I need you every second of every day. I won't fail you. I could add an again, but I know you won't let me. I've never needed a singular energy more than yours, and you've proven to be the exact brand of confidence I need. I'm going to do my assignment in this to make everything alright. We'll make everything alright. Look at this as the beginning, because we've never allowed or needed our starry eyes to see the end. You're why seven months have seen me turn from fetal position weak to internally strong. You built me up, and I'll do the same for you, from the inside out. This is looking to the future and laughing at the memories. I need these pages I've bound to keep me honest.

After hours of being unable to comprehend beyond the pages I didn't study for yet still somehow understood, I am finally starting to make sense of this. It's the countless, limitless emotions that hit all at once and the many targets that inspire them. If I could define the receiver of my ever-present use of that elusive word you, the list would be as long as the paragraphs they fall in. I am patchwork of influence and individual. I need every piece. This is how every breath tastes as sweet as the first I ever took.

I'm in love with this messy life of mine.

Scatter.

If you must know, you have me struggling to form coherent paragraphs. One-liners and pictures I can't seem to translate into words enchant my mind whenever you choose to grace it. Out of sight, out of mind? Not even a little bit. The drafts are piling up and you have my wordy ways clamoring for a thread to piece them together. Would it be so wrong to say that I'll take what I can get? This isn't a marathon, and my pace is as faulty as my thought process. One I can't write without selling myself out, none too honest. This admiration is childish at best when nature comes into play, but stripped down to nothing, it's a curiosity, and I'm insatiable.

You spend your time thinking and I spend mine attempting to. The most typical way to say it; you keep me guessing. My brain could begin to wrap around a fingertip, one piece of your mystery, and your words send it scattering, unsure. I'm just as susceptible to a challenge as I am to issuing them. My first guess is fear. My second is sensibility. My third is that I may not ever figure it out. If this was your goal, mission accomplished. Mundane conversation is a duty I've forgotten about, because it's something you avoid at all costs. I don't pretend to understand because finding you out is one confrontation I'm hardly used to. I'm in no hurry to be the stars when the sun keeps me singular.

Case in point, having you around is as valuable as the conversational skills everyone takes for granted. A part of me wants to see you without the clouds in your eyes; you're protective, and I'm resilient. I'm not a number of years, just a soul. Time is of little importance when you look at the way singular moments seem to drag on with the duration of countless wasted days. Moments create definition; it's the time in between that you should call the enemy.

This mix could burn a hole in anyone.

10 Commandments.

As an assignment for my Honors 201 class as we study the Old Testament, we had to write our own ten commandments. I decided I'd put my own spin on the ever cliche first date rules. I wrote this in 30 minutes, but I love the way it turned out regardless. Enjoy!

1. Thou shall be on time.

This is absolutely crucial. In fact, you should not only be on time, but you should be at least five minutes early. The person you’re going on the date with is already going to be anxious enough; showing up late will have them sweating bullets. So, if you have any interest at all in your fellow dater, you will do them the common courtesy of respecting the time the two of you decided on. If you have some sort of car trouble and absolutely MUST be late, call them. Let them know that you’re not leaving them hanging on purpose. It’s only polite, and you’d want the same courtesy.

2. Thou shall look decent, smell nice, and dress for the occasion.

It’s as easy as this: shower at least 24 hours before the date, and make sure the clothes you wear are clean, neat, and free of holes. This isn’t a lot to ask, and will definitely go over much better with your date than if you showed up looking like you were taking them panhandling. This by no means is to suggest that you should cake on the cologne or perfume, or wear layers of makeup. Dress nicely, but not overly so, like it says, for the occasion. No guy wants a girl with a faceful of heavy clown makeup, and no girl wants her guy to show up smelling like he bathed in aftershave. Moderation is key.

3. Thou shall let the boy be a gentleman.

I know this may seem like it doesn’t need to be said, that most of you are probably thinking a big, loud DUH. However, it’s a lot more common than it seems. Don’t hurry to the door before him if he seems to be eager to hold it open for you. Guys really do enjoy showing the public that you’re their date, contrary to popular belief. Don’t pretend like you want to pay or ask how much you owe him if he takes the bill, instead, say thank you and make it known that you appreciate their thoughtfulness. Don’t EXPECT these things of your guy; instead allow them to surprise you. It’ll keep the both of you smiling.

4. Thou shall be yourself.

This is a dating cliché. Everyone says it, and almost no one does it on the first date. Instead of pretending to like his favorite band or looking up his favorite team on Wikipedia and memorizing the stats, don’t pretend to be an expert. He’ll get a kick out of telling you all about his favorite things, and you can in turn fill him in on yours. Respecting your date’s interests doesn’t mean making them your own. You don’t want to date yourself; that’s the reason why you’re out with someone else. So let them be different from you, and embrace all that you have to learn from each other.

5. Thou shall not be an expensive date.

If a guy takes you out, most likely, they’re going to pay. It’s just the way things go. This is very kind of him; so in return, do NOT go all out. I’m not telling you to order a side salad and water and starve, however, you should never find it appropriate to order filet mignon, dessert, an expensive drink, and so on. Keep it simple. Again, moderation is your best friend here.

6. Thou shall not reveal your entire life story.

If you have any intention at all of creating a relationship from this first date, I am begging you to show a little mystery. Obviously, there’s a lot to cover on the first date, and you’re bound to end up talking about your family, friends, and some funny stories along the way. Don’t get into your deepest secrets, or tell them things you’d only entrust to a best friend. In a successful relationship, you learn something new about your partner everyday. If you tell them almost everything there is to know on the first date, what’s the use in pursuing you? Take your time introducing them to your life.

7. Thou shall ask thy date questions about themselves.

This goes hand in hand with the last one. As opposed to talking about yourself the whole date, ask your date about themselves: who their friends are, what they like to do on the weekends, all the basics. These will lead to tangents, fun facts, and stories that will have both of you in stitches. In this way, you can both get to know each other equally.

8. Thou shall not text while on the date.

Period. AT ALL. Not even a quick text under the table to your best friend telling her how hot he is. Texting or talking on the phone while with someone is like saying you’d rather be anywhere but there with them. They should be your only designation for attention, and you should be focused on getting to know them. You can’t do this if you’re carrying on a text conversation as well. Put that phone away in your purse and turn it on silent. You won’t regret it.

9. Thou shall not be gross.

Sometimes I’m sorry this even has to be said. Just like you should bathe and look nice for the date, you should also use the basic manners you learned as a kindergarten student. Don’t be rude to waiters or attendants of any kind, chew with your mouth closed, and if you must burp, at least say excuse me. Try to hold in any gas until you’re a little more comfortable around each other, and take smaller bites of food. You don’t want to turn someone away simply because you looked like a caveman when you were stuffing your face. It’s okay to talk between bites and pace yourself.

10. Thou shall not be clingy after just one date.

Just as you should keep your mystery on the first date, you should also not throw yourself in headfirst when the date is over. No matter how well it went, no one is going to like being called every couple hours just to talk. There’s no harm in sending them nice texts or calling them a few times a week, as this will help you to better get to know them. Keep asking questions, but don’t get too personal too fast. Dating is a game, whether we like it or not, and it takes time to play it out. Even if your heart bursts at the mere sound of their name, keep your head on your shoulders. Infatuation is hard to hold in, so let it drive you, but don’t let it take you over.

Noise.

Are you aware of the way the air envelopes the world around you?

Call it a case of the Mondays, but I'm more or less down and out. Premonition is an unwelcomed gift. Have you ever felt like something is about to go terribly wrong? Or perhaps the process has already started. Maybe it's as simple as bad news. It could be a loss of interest or an unrequited gain; it could be a failing grade or misunderstanding. A silver lining falls in the form of the future. No one can tell it for certain. I, for one, am bent on making my own happiness at every turn life throws. This feeling is more of a challenge to my will, and I'm finding new ways to overcome it with every trough. Don't wish for winter just yet. Don't count yourself out or make yourself too busy. There's too much life to be lived in the simple spare moments you take for granted. I fit my days around them. I'll fill my vision with new faces and old faces in new light. Don't let this chance pass you by; life is just waiting to supply you with a pleasant, unlikely surprise. Fight for it. It's yours if you don't turn your head.

Even pounding music some floors down couldn't shake this. I talk myself into strength and find my days amended. The floors, walls, and ceiling of this square are beating like a drum set. Other can be a nuisance, but find your light in them anyways. That annoying neighbor who sleeps with the TV on or the one who enjoys some intense boyfriend "cuddling" on a seemingly endless basis: they may make us want to pull out every hair on our head, but we'd never know peace if we didn't know their disturbance. So smile when you'd rather be bashing faces, and look fifteen minutes into the future. We take too much for granted. Noise is around to cover the thoughts we need not waste our time with, and silence lets us delve into them. There is a time for everything.

I saw you last night, and the words you told me will never leave my mind.

"Sometimes fun can lead you to great places. Don't grow up too fast."

I'd missed your voice. It was good to see you.

Breaking Blocks.

I really hate it when I want nothing more than to write and the words will NOT come out for the life of me. My solution to this problem is to start by writing about how I can't think about what to write. This could be terrible or turn into something mildly readable. Fingers crossed for the latter? Yes? Yes.

Today fall set in for me. You would think the past weeks of jacket weather and rain would have tipped me off, but my body was oblivious. My eyes didn't connect cracks in pavement to the telltale reds and yellows enveloping every inch of nature. Some days, all it takes is five extra minutes of walking and a set of eyes lifted from the ever-elusive footprint soon to be made. How often do you look down? Everything's happening ahead of you. Settling for misery as you greet air one temperature too cold is the easy way out. I've taken to t-shirts in makeshift ten degrees and light footsteps. I could pass off credit, but I'm not too quick to bet it all. Risk takers and moneymakers are really just optimists in business casual.

Cold bites skin red as it pales from lack of exposure. This is not the antithesis of beauty. You wear your accessories like a part of you and I for one can't find an uninteresting aspect about you. October's vice is curiosity. No matter how it may apply to you, remember this: take chances. Ask a question you normally wouldn't, just for the thrill. White picket fences might be ideal, but I've never been a big fan of that which is safe. You are given to youth to redefine it, so for God's sake, do your part. Go crazy for life before it gets away from you. It will.

If morning's too cold, use every blanket you own. Wake up five minutes before you leave and wear what you slept in. Make up is not a necessity. Just one of the guys; never did sound like a punishment to me. School nights and weekend nights blur. Study with your motivation 4 inches to your left. Get the grades and go out. The best part about forgetting to do a big paper until the night before is the way you feel when you're done. You are capable of pages without even knowing it.

Everyone's worth a chance. Who is yours coming from?

There's nothing like knowing a week is about to completely knock you off balance and with that in mind, not caring at all if it does. I really can't see anything but shades of green, anyway. Coincidentally, it's getting harder and harder to come by these days as the red and orange of this season I've always loved take over. My mind's lost out the window on days where most people don't want to be outside.

Week.

I wronged you, you wronged me. Consider us even. I owe you nothing. Hope this is what you wanted, because at this point, it'll never be any other way. This is a sideways approach to what I am attempting to make truth.

You intrigue me in most ways. The ability to carry on a conversation is the easiest way to captivate attention; consider me your audience. This new life of mine is nothing I could've set out in scrapbook pages of everyday life, but I'd never want to live that way. I get down, but you don't let me. I could get used to living like this.

You need to know that you really came through for me this week. I saw a fire in your eyes that I haven't seen in awhile, and I was very near tears at the sight of you. I am so proud to be around you, and when you don't chase your light out, it's hard to believe that anyone else could shine as bright as you. I understand now what you are capable of. A little easy living never hurt anyone. You have your things in check and a lot on your mind, but the person I love has never left. We'll always be two halves of a whole. I like it best like that. You keep me honest.

I'm realizing that in the face of hurt, you are dared to shine. When nothing seems right, everything in life is begging you to make your own happiness. I never turn down a dare. If I have to make the sun from scraps of yellow construction paper, I'll hang it somewhere everyone can see it. I'll never settle for personal happiness when I believe there's enough to go around. Lean on me.

I am so proud of you. Emotion is healthy, and you're not too tough to know that. Watching you grow into the adult you are now has been such a privilege. I have a lot of faith in you. Heal at your own speed, and carry him with you every single day you live. That laugh will make your days lighter. I don't know if you know that you are one of my heroes.

I know who I love. Family is one of the most important things in life. Spending weekend nights watching movies with the people who have known you for every single one of your waking days is hardly the definition of wasted time. I want so much for myself because of the four of you. I couldn't have gotten luckier, and I am so thankful to be stuck with you.

Don't forget to remember. Crying will keep you healthy. Smiling will keep you young. This life thing is so much better than everyone makes it out to be.

When you have nothing else to live for, live for yourself.
Because you deserve every second.<3

Someone worth missing.

Words cannot describe the moment after that phone hangs up. The second before that first tear falls, all you can think is no, not him. Please God, make him call back and say everything's okay.

Then reality sets in, if you let it.

That boy I knew since he was just over double digits and I was still shy of them. The boy that became a fixture in my house for a majority of my life. I always called you my big brother, because I didn't know anyone could be as protective as my own brother, but you were. My very first Homecoming dance had me going with a boy I liked, and you said you were going to sit on my front porch with a gun. No boy was good enough for me in the two of you's eyes because that's what big brothers do. I saw you on spring break, four boys just hanging out, yet still not too cool for their little sisters. You'd invite us out to sit with you while you told your stories.

This is what I thought of.

Reality cannot scratch these from my mind, and I'd never let it. I don't understand why you had to leave. I know it's said that God works in mysterious ways, so I'm searching for His light. On the day where Betty, who left this earth last April, would have celebrated his seventeenth birthday. He would be basking in the rays of the R rated movie screens, and you would be laughing like you always were. You never did let me take myself too seriously. One day, you stumbled up two flights of stairs just to tell me we were going to get married one day. I remember telling you, "Of course we are; you'd scare off anyone else I tried to marry!" Then I led you by the arm back down to the basement while you tried to fall headfirst on all those stairs.

Because I knew you, I can smile.

You liked to have a good time, and that's how I'm going to remember you. I'm going to remember fist fights you let me win and rides in my brothers car. I'm going to remember the way you called us family, and meant it. I'm going to remember believing in you. It's hard not to focus on the justice you haven't gotten, and how dare that man or woman run away. But although they took you from us, I still got nearly a decade of good years to know you. That is a gift. You really did make me stronger, and I'm a better person from the years I could call you my big brother. No one can take away the things you taught me. For that, I am thanking every star in heaven, including the one you find your home on now.

5/30/87- 10/5/09
Andrew, I'm going to miss you so much. I'll carry you with me every day. I love you, my second big brother. Thank you for blessing my life. I can't wait until the day I get to see you again. < 3

For we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him.
Even when it's hard to understand. My prayers go out to everyone mourning.

Truth.

I know that I'm not exactly known for this brand of honesty, but I'm giving it a shot in the name of this month and what I feel.

When you walked into that one motorcycle, one makeshift table, several bodied room, my heart skipped a beat.

Just so you know, I don't take anything back. Those words may have been dancing in the bubbles I took in, but when my mind cleared, I remembered every single second. Do you know how badly I didn't want to leave that spot on the floor?

You wouldn't want this anyway.
But if you did, I know I'd let you.

I say.

You said, "Have you ever felt like you were losing the most important person in your life?"
Well I'd tell you, "Every time you walk away"
If it would make you stay.
But I know it won't
So I tell your back that I love you
And will you to be okay,
But will you find your way?

Season.

I think I wold die happy if someone wrote me a song like "I'm Yours Tonight" by The Academy Is... (The Academy Is... what? GAY?! You know you were thinking it.) It's just such a genuine song. It's not a cliche, cheesy love song. It talks about his insecurities and faults, the things he fears and his hopes that she'll never leave. Yet it also delves into the security of being in a stable relationship, knowing she'll stay. I believe love in completely imperfect, and I would define love as being able to think the world of someone in the face of their every imperfection. This is altogether too rare these days. Few people would pull the stars down from the heavens for an empty sky. Good intentions can be enough, if you let them.

I'm in a rare form. You will catch this mood from me for one month only. For one month I stop running while I run a new frame of mind. Octobers are the best times of my life. T minus one day and some odd hours, and I am already in my favorite place. Heavy jackets cover heavy loads and baggy eyes shadow a color of stress. I just want to spin in the street, barefoot, in a yellow dress. I don't want to be the picture of dragging day weeks and headache weekends. I'm weightless, and I want everyone to know. I wore my jackets, my long sleeves and warm shoes, with a smile on my face. The cool flush in your cheeks is my favorite color of beautiful. It looks good on everyone. Cool air can warm your face, if you let it.

When the wind dies down, this is all I need. Today consisted of dreams of picking apples, new fish and a giggle at the name, and an excuse to make art. You know you're in love with the future when doing homework three weeks in advanced excites you. I've never been one to worry about my credentials. Leaders are born. Success is made. Who said it had to stress you out, anyway? Try finding joy in the mundane. Today, a gust of wind caught my back and the tree to my left, and within seconds, leaves were flying overhead like countless colorful birds. Still more seconds later and they settled to the ground. Subtle can speak volumes, if you let it.

If nothing else, let yourself get swept away every now and then. Makes the most of life; make the most of time, because no one is going to do it for you.

Someone will prove to be worth your time, if you let them.

Make War.

I'm in a fantastically devious, Fall Out Boy sort of mood tonight. That might be due to the fact that I just listened to Infinity On High, From Under The Cork Tree, and Folie A Deux in their entirely tonight. Factor in my mindset, and you have a winning combination.

I've been thinking about love a lot lately. And when I say a lot, I mean that it dominates my thoughts when I'm not being told what to think. I keep thinking about the people I love now, the people I've loved in the past that aren't around anymore, and how it has defined me. I think about how it's defining the people around me. You'll find me to be generally cynical when it comes to love.

I know, it seems out of place when you look at my sunshine and rainbows way of living life. But really, that's kind of the reason. I like being happy. I like enjoying life, and I like living life. I'm happy every single day to be alive. Even days that I spend in bed feeling like crap, or days I make bad decisions or days when I'm stressed out, because at least there's breath in my body to be feeling all those things.

We don't give feeling enough credit. It's something we tell men not to acknowledge and allow women to misconstrue. But it's something that is a part of me every single second. Everything I write comes from feeling, all 100something entries in here, not to mention the even more intense personal pieces. I overthink and analyze, and I let myself because I love to feel. To me, hell would be the lack of feeling anything.

Contrary to popular belief, feeling nothing but negative emotion isn't a complete hell. Is it awful to say that I don't mind because I look back at times like that and I realize I made them into something beautiful? They say that the best art comes from pain, and I wouldn't be inclined to disagree. I never write when I'm nothing but smiles. The line "I could write it better than you ever felt it" comes to mind. I do not accept the phrase that tells us to make love, not war. Instead I accept make art, not war.

Get raw. Get mad. Write it down. I can name no other personal effort that has kept me as healthy and sane as the screen in front of me. I find myself completely enveloped in conversation when it's around. If I could have one wish, it wouldn't be to read people's minds, it wold be instead to understand why people think the way they do. I'm constantly fascinated with trying to figure it out.

I wish I knew why love at eighteen was worth it to other people. I know it's fun to have someone to kiss and cuddle with, but I also don't find myself hurting for someone to pin my happiness to. I wear my happiness, and it's something I don't like to share when it comes to the controls. I love making people smile and cheering people up, and with someone to be wholly dependent on, I couldn't be as free to do that. It's a point of pride I wouldn't sacrifice for even the finest of lookers. I do not readily argue. I'm just here to have fun. Why would you want anything less?

I think there's few things more beautiful than two people truly in love. I can separate (The spelling of that word annoys me. It should be sepErate. Just saying.Anyway, sidenote!) this belief with the fact that I'm not cut out to be starry-eyed just yet. It's that classic make two lists, pros on one side, cons on the other method. It always has seem foolproof. Case in point: My cons outweigh my pros. You may be different, and I think that's fantastic. This really is a love song in my own way.

Dear you,
Love made you lose your guts. Stupid.

Dear you,
I think you're interesting, oddly enough. Stick around.

Dear you,
I can't decide if I think you're really cool or just a kid that whines a lot.

Dear you,
Don't doubt your beautiful little self.

Dear you,
You're a hypocrite and I've never really liked you that much.

Dear you,
I had no idea you were more than a party animal. It's been a pleasure getting to know who you really are.

Dear you,
You're heading in the right direction. I'm glad we see eye to eye.

Dear you,
I think you're going nowhere in life. Get it together, loser.

Dear you,
I'm worried. Your mind is so cryptic to me. Come back.

Dear you,
I think I finally hit the age where I can say you're my best friend and it's okay. I love you!

Dear you,
You're my family. Thank you for really helping me find my way here.

I love you all in one way or another.

Beginning to End.

I tried to sum up the way I'm feeling into words, and I can't.
I can't make this into something beautiful.
Beautiful drowned in glass bottles.
Bottles you pressed to your lips.
Lips that scarcely move in wonder anymore.
Anymore nonsense would be too much to ask.
Ask, but expect nothing.
Nothing is worth giving into.
Into the airwaves.
Airwaves contain my feeling.
Feeling lost carefree in its vocabulary.
Vocabulary is redefined when the words lose meaning.
Meaning doesn't matter anyway.
Anyway to get to you.
You always were my rock.
Rock until day breaks and never a second longer.
Longer than I should let this feeling stay.
Stay around, for God's sake; I need your help.
Help: something you forgot how to ask for.
For days on end, I'd give for no return.
Return to me the person I used to know.
Know that everything could be okay.
Okay, if you let it.
It could set you free.
Free feels fine when you're home.
Home is found.
Found somewhere you least expect.
Expect more of your life.
Life is meant to be spent alive.
Alive.

Sometimes I wonder if you really are.

Unending.

My declaration: I'm not dating until I am at least 30. The only exception to this rule being the event that someone comes along and has what it takes to prove me wrong. I am not looking for this person. You're best off not even trying. I'm happier on my own. I have gotten seriously swell at running away from happiness in any other body.

You're just a letdown; another one of my mistakes. I did love you, anyway, I always did and I always will. But not in the way you think, you and your constant overconfidence. You might say I don't know what I'm missing, but all I miss is you then. You now sucks, a lot. But I'm sure you're miles past reading this and further past caring even if you did. You're a failure.

Dear substance abuse,
You can go fuck yourself. I hate you for stealing amazing people and character traits in the people I love. You're not that cool even though everyone thinks you are. It's not finding religion that makes you mean, it's the things you take. Things no one can get back. You're a cleptomaniac, and you steal more than just cheap earrings and make-up and clothes. You take things that are supposed to matter. You take people's ability to be honest; you take all likelihood of people being able to actually keep plans. You make forgetting okay, and bad decisions funny. You make people stick in high school mentalities, and summer spills into fall. If I could sell my car or keep it far away, I would. I'd take any excuse not to leave until the day thankfulness translates to gluttony. I hate you being accessible. I hate you tempting people away from where they should be. And I hate you for making people forget who they really are. You're a killer. I will never be yours. Hunt someone worth your spell, because everyone close to me is too good for you.

There are days where I wish I could go back to the day I began thinking poison was okay. I lost my grip for awhile, but I found it. It's not so much that it changes only the habits of those that overenjoy it, it changes personality traits. People lose their regard for things that are important and their ability to not break dates. People and things become important that shouldn't be. Kids under 21 start to idolize the losers that supply their needs. The strength of the people you love's ambition gets weaker. Home stretches. Stomachs turn. Eyes turn into sprinklers. It's a heartbreaking transition. I am effected, but I'm done letting it. It's easy to let yourself fall to the typical side effects. Start fighting. I'll help you, anyone who needs it. Better yet, we'll help each other.

I spent $50 this weekend on essentially shoes and movies and food. Before that I hadn't spent much money here. I like that about this place. I still feel the push to get a job, but now I see that it's okay to kick back, and that I'm not going broke anytime soon.

I really do just want what's best for you. We're two different people with one uncommon bond closer than any I've ever know. I understand we're in different places; let me into yours and I'll help you find home, okay? I want you to be happy everywhere you are. I want you to know what it's like to be in love with time and place, and you can show me that it's worth being in love with person. I think you can really help me, and I'm stuck. I know I can help you too. Your three rules are very true and I intend to abide by them. I know you do too. I love you, for everything you do, for the success you have and mistakes you make. You've taught me more about the world, people, and myself than anyone else, and I'm not done learning. We can tear this place up. Why not start now? You'll always be the stars over treetops to me, my hero.

This is the part where you find out who you are. These are your friends, those who've been there from the start. So to hell with your bad news, dirt on your new shoes. We do more than get by. We run faster than life ever will; this way it can never beat us.

Here.

Seems like everyone has bigger and better things to do these days and I'm sitting on the sidewalk while the colors blur on the streets. I could count the number of ties I willingly hold onto on one hand. Is it so wrong to want so little from the places I came from? Everyone has someone out there, but I can't say that I do. I have a friend back home that I miss more than life and wish like hell would come here next year like all the crazy plan we've talked about. I miss you, and I'm sorry I can't be there in presence just yet. You're one of the few things I come home for.

I miss my mom and dad, but I call them everyday and it makes them more happy to know that I'm enjoying myself than it does to know that I miss them. I'm making a new life for myself because they taught me to. And I couldn't have asked for better guidance. I'm in love with my surroundings because all of my life I've been told it's okay to accept change. I adapt quickly. Move around a couple times and you learn that going someplace new isn't such a bad thing. I'm resilient.

At times I feel heartless because there are few things I miss. My closest friends have love to miss and time to devote to them, and in a way, I'm jealous because they have something so deep worth missing. I know I'm not cut out for that. Maybe it's selfishness that has me wanting only what's in front of me. When given the option of here and there, wouldn't you rather have what's more easily obtained? All this written to the tune of smacking lips and hearts beating louder than their ears can handle. Mine beats off pattern.

I don't know if I'm meant to be alone so much as I'm meant to be independent. I'm okay on my own. I don't want to be in love, and my constant talking about the lookers is a clear indication. Girls just want to have fun. Girls do what they want; boys do what they can. I do absolutely everything and spend hours doing nothing but watch my favorite show. I love living life like this. I love being able to go do something whenever I want, and I like being able to give blood and lay in bed for three hours. I would be perfectly fine if I could never go anywhere else but walking distance. An occasional visitor is all it would take to define personal perfection. Even in a crowded, booze-soaked stadium, in shuttle buses and cop lined villages, this place has the spunk to keep me captivated.

I'm home, and I'm eager to get even more settled in.

New Perspective.

Little is left to gain. I know who I am and for the smarts I've got, you'd think I could figure you out. I'm senseless. The last time I felt this unrelatable, I was a completely different person. This time around, I can handle it. I guess you could say I've learned how to trust myself. I like to talk, and I like to unload. I'm getting tired of feeling like a fool after hours of rants and I'm hiding from the people who are supposed to know me best but that's okay. You have no idea, but I don't think you care, so I'll keep my smile painted on. In no way should you take that to mean I'm unhappy. Here, I am happier just being than I was for most of my eighteen years, and I'm a generally happy person. A statement like that speaks volumes to the effect of a scenery change. Location, emotion, dedication.

Consider me a changed person. Consider my hobbies change. Consider me new, because I'm sick of being typical. I'm sick of overeating and oversleeping and getting really dizzy. I'm ready to wake up at eight and fall asleep at midnight. Early to bed, early to rise. I find myself increasingly interested in criminology, and it scares me. I've always wanted to do something happy-go-lucky with my life- what if my resilience is a sign that I'm going to need it later in life? I have a knack for bouncing back. Maybe my stomach's stronger than nightmares and red painted walls. Or maybe I'm just a fan of a TV show.

The track I'm on is dismal according to that professional. Would I have to bounce from station to station with the rest of the tattoo loving hipsters? I'm not really special, I guess. When it comes to the scene, I'm really just another face. This doesn't make me sad. I'm okay with not standing out. If feather boas were the trend, would you sport one everyday? Would you come home itching your neck and think it was worth it? There's a reason the basics will always be around. Decorate yourself, but don't be gaudy. Show what you value, but not through the newsletter that one hot famous guy runs. I'd rather stand for nothing than be told what to stand for.

My values are stronger than they've ever been and I never knew eighteen could mean church twice a week, but I love it that way. I'll take handshakes over headaches. I'm saving myself no heartache. I'm hopelessly devoted and undeniably lost and only one voice can register the tune I've been humming. You, on the other hand, don't understand, but I don't expect you to from your view on the fence post. I'm direcionally challenged and I back down when I try to speak up. Even the people I love bully me but I don't pity myself, because having no fight is a part of me.

Through all of this that may seem negative, I know who I am. I realize my faults and flaws I can't count, but I know that they make me up and therefore I don't fight them. I'll try to be better but I won't be different. I'm not changing, and that one's for you. You are changing, and I don't know if I can keep up. I love you anyway. I can't complete. Bright eyes and me are completely different wavelengths and I guess bright colors are more fun anyway. I'm content from my safe place. My opinion doesn't mean much anymore. If I lost my voice, maybe you'd hang around.

I'm curious about you, and all I know about you is your name. This is my habit. It has never failed me before, and that same premonition is lacing its fingers around me again. You make me feel every point in my body where my bones touch. There's nothing I'm too tired for.

All I can say is I'm sorry. Ask your best friend where the pieces go. I forgot well over a year ago when you threw it off the table. There always is a piece or two missing after you put the puzzle together enough times. Guess I better get to looking under couches and behind dryers and pray to come out with more than socks, lint, and a quarter. All I need is two dollars to stay warm.

Thank you for not letting me frown and for filling me with energy and sugar. Life's meant to be skipped through no matter the walking surface. I don't need shoes, just one or two tones of laughter and thirty seconds to run around in circles to an orchestra of car horns. I'd watch the stars if they let me. I'd let them get out of their cars and join me. Nowhere should be so urgent to get to that you can't take five minutes to look up. We all need reminding that we are smaller than our surroundings and bigger than our problems.

Grab the hand of the one you love, and flail your arms proudly on your own. No one said it took an other half to feel complete. Sometimes, best friends are all it takes. Sometimes, you need nothing but a Sunday morning walk with only the sound of your mind unwinding to keep you company.

The second you learn to love yourself is the very moment you will understand what it is to feel beautiful.

Beautiful.

Do you ever get hit over the head with a feeling of being completely unique? It's rare in this world where originality is a race anymore. Today, it's who's wearing the weirdest clothes that everyone secretly wishes they would've thought of sooner. It's finding bizarre bands and rare gems of talent and putting them on parade rather than genuinely taking them to heart. Being genuine takes a backseat to being original. Why? Honestly, I'd rather be regarded as genuine any day of the week.

Originality fades when its source spreads. You're as original as the hoodie you're wearing and what's cranking through your headphones. You're as original as the drugs you're doing and the liquor you're downing. I want to be something without making a conscience effort. Positive press shouldn't be sought for; it should be an honest practice. Being regarded highly should be a reward for being nothing but yourself. Not the yourself that has neat tattoos. You have to paint those on your body. Beauty is skin deep. Bullshit. Surfaces lie.

Beautiful is a soul that sings without being scared. Beautiful is a mind full of sunshine despite clouds being all the rage.

Originality is a trend. I'm sick of hearing that you liked bands two months ago so you're a better fan. I'm sick of one-upping and a cashflow road to fame. Learn to say that it's great that we like the same music, regardless of who found it sooner. Learn to compliment without justifying it in your mind. Compliment someone daily. You'd be surprised how much you can make someone's day. Leave a dollar more than you usually would at a restaurant; you just turned someone's $49 into $50.

Think of someone you know that's holding on by a thread. Think of someone that lives compliment to compliment. I remember pink ladybugs and colorful smiles and that's one part of my past that I'm proud of. Thank you for coming in. Are you enjoying this nice weather? Small talk makes a low hourly wage seems more worth it. Get to know someone, for god's sake. Let someone in; lay it all on the line. Since when did our generation get so cautious about everything but sex? I promise you, you'll still be beautiful if you gain five pounds. I promise you'll live if you're single.

Take pride in your weakness; find strength in the ones you rely on. After all, it's prefectly alright to rely on someone. When you find someone you can talk to for hours on end and know they're listening to every messy, disorganized word feels better than four words and a blue linked name on a website. Try turning down a date with someone you'd usually fall for and giving someone you never expected to matter the time of day. Don't limit yourself with a type.

The arts are beautiful, but they don't own you. Find a creative outlet and don't give a damn who else is using it. You're just as good as them. Confidence is rare, and that makes me sad. Don't be afraid of it. It's pretty neat once you give it a shot.

Beautiful is a dotted white tightrope. Beautiful is a radio louder than your thoughts.

Beautiful is you in your element. Go on, be beautiful. Nothing's stopping you.

Let's Get This Over With, Already.

Let’s get a few things straight now:

A lot has changed in the past year. I can tell you that about six million things besides my age have changed within its borders. That includes physical, emotional, spiritual, you get the picture. I’ve been places that are sketchy and probably terrible ideas on my behalf, and places that I never knew could make me feel so good. Mostly I’ve been everywhere in between. But still, we’re one year removed and one year changed. So, if everyone that has survived the crazy span that has been one year in countless lives, why is it that I’m seeing things that just don’t fit in the here and now? Why do I see words that don’t make sense in this context?

So once upon a time, I went to a place with my best friend 1000 miles away to see kids that meant a lot to us. Yes, it didn’t make sense to almost anyone. Obviously, it still doesn’t make sense to you. I could really care less if it makes sense, because the people and experiences I gained from it far outweigh the crazy stares I got then and lingering comments from you. I am really not interesting. AT ALL. And you insist that we’re not worth your time or thought. So please, by all means, don’t freaking spend it on me, it’s as easy as that.

My best friend and myself really do not think about you. We wish the best in the life that we’ve never been a part of and leave it at that. We never created a friendship, and that happens. Sometimes people just never get around to being friends, case in point with you and I, I guess. It’s not that I ever had a vendetta against you, it was just nature. No hard feelings about it. I don’t think less of you for it. I don’t care if you don’t like me, and I don’t care if situations have caused that. I’m sick of hearing about the latest shit you’ve spun about me. Have you run out of things to talk about? Seriously.

Like I said, I am not interesting. I am not cool. I know that. So… what more do you want? Is it that once upon a time I dated a boy and it didn’t last? I’m not ashamed. Long distance is hard, and him and I didn’t have the energy to make it last. Apparently the friends that I so surprisingly have here were enough for me. You do not know what happened between him and me, so don’t pretend to know. When it comes to you, I know only what I have heard. When it comes to me, you know only what you have heard. I speak of you only when asked for advice, and it’s been a good couple of months since that’s been necessary. I try not to get too involved simply because it’s true, I do not know you. I don’t know your favorite color or what you like to do on the weekends. I don’t know who you are to yourself, who you are to your friends. I can’t say I’ve ever even had a legitimate conversation with you. So why is there this insane hostility that has you thinking of me, “Hi, I’m a fucking creep that lives far away and hates your guts.”

That hostility, that tension; I don’t give a shit about it. I wish it didn’t exist. I do not enjoy knowing that someone out there dislikes me. I like it even less that you have to be so goddamn public about it. Do not talk shit about me to my friends. Do not talk shit about my friends. I’ll admit that what I have seen of you, I do not like, because you’ve really been giving me nothing of the positive side of you. Not that I expect anything from you, or expect that you care what I think. I just want you to know that if I am so lame and friendless and pathetic and creepy and bitchy and terrible, then keep me off your mind and out of your conversation. It’s not worth the hard feelings it causes.

And if you get off on stirring that shit up, that’s your problem, and you have a blast with it. But if you’re a better person than that like I hope to God you are, leave me in the past. Leave my best friend and me in our state 1000 miles away from yours. This petty shit is just stupid, on both sides of the goddamn divide. I have words I’d rather write than this. It doesn’t matter to me if you read this and this it’s a load of shit; I've just had enough. I think it’s awesome you have things going for you there. I think it sucks that you probably have your down times too. I think it sucks when anyone has to go through shit that sucks, and I think it’s awesome when anyone is having the time of their lives. It can be as easy as that.

Don’t think less of my friends there because they’re friends with me. I promise, the apparent poison doesn’t infect my friends. I’m not a shitty person, contrary to what you may believe. I was born with ten little fingers and ten little toes. I’m the youngest of three. I’ve always been a dreamer and I’ve always been scared of the dark. If you hate that, if you hate me, that’s okay. All I ask is that you give up the grudge. I’m not asking you to be my friend and I’m not telling you that you’re not allowed to think I suck. Go for the gold, seriously. I’m just saying that I’d appreciate it if you let go and I promise I will do the same. I put this here because this is the only place you might see it. I have no other way to reach you.

I don’t know what I did to make you feel so strongly about me, but honest to God, feel free to let me know. Feel free to let me fucking have it. It would be so much better if you sent me a ten page long letter telling me why I suck than just telling all your friends about me. Go to the source. Man up. If you have beef with me or my friend, then take your beef to us. I’d really rather hear it from you.

So bring your issues to me, or leave them in the past and forget about me. I’m ready to be done with it when you are.

At Full Speed.

I wish I had a story to tell. I wish I had a story I was dying to translate from mind, to lips and fingertips. Do you ever just want to write something that won't leave a single reading eye dry by its conclusion? Do you ever just want to say everything you've ever held back, no matter how much time has aged it and removed it from memory? I've been cursed, maybe blessed, with an excrutiatingly strong ability to remember. What I had for breakfast three days ago, if I tried hard enough, what happened to me on significant dates.

Dates. The tricky thing about remembering everything and associating it with its slot in the calendar year is that with every month or two or three or four or week or year you remember again. Like that week. It ended eight days ago, and for nine days before it, I remembered. Every second of every day. I remembered grilled cheese and ice cream and day long video games and a yellow dog and a wet driveway and a chlorine covered t-shirt. July 20th had me breathing clean air. Today I remember the way things were three months ago. A mess. I learned that you were gone, farther away than 1000 miles, farther away than I could ever touch with my feet on the ground. You mended so much more than the broken hearts of everyone who lost you that day, just so you know, if you can hear me. I know you would've liked that.

Lucky numbers: 2, 10, 16. Yet 13 isn't bad luck for me, see otherwise: 6, 19, 24. So where the hell is this story I'm dying to get out? If this story's in the making, I'm giving myself nothing to write about but days on repeat and lifeless timepassers. I find light in dark, it's not much of a resolution but it makes me laugh a lot. You can tell this story, because you're giving it life. We're shameless This is what this summer is supposed to be. This is where my story is coming from. Why'd it take me this long to realize that letting go of control is everything I need?

I've been hell bent at staying positioned behind the controls of everything, every aspect, obsessive about making everything go right. This is why i sleep all day, and I'm ready to sleep when I'm dead. I'm ready for things I can't predict. Ready is the last thing I've wanted to be, but ready or not, it's how I want to be now.

Not alone, on a road going somewhere. At full speed.

Whatever.

This time last year, I was in love for the first time.
This time this year, I don't even believe that love is worth it at eighteen.
Today I lived in the past.
I can't decide if I want to keep remembering.
I think I just want this week to be over.
I think I just want it to be July 20th. Or maybe August 19th.
I don't like living on pause.
But the sunlight, sunshine will come out.

Nobody expects to be half a world away at times like these, so I sat alone and waited out the night. The best part of what has happened is the part I must have missed, so I'm asking you to shine it on and stick around. I'm not writing my goodbyes.

Does anybody remember back when you were very young? Did you ever think that you would be this blessed?

I run.

Dear future reference,

Apparently there's some things I forgot to tell you. I have a boss that loved me days ago and hates my guts as of 8:34 am. I can't say I'm heartbroken; I never was into cults anyways. These days, you can't even get your teeth cut out in peace. Salaries and comissions and time pick a limb and pull and I'm thinking that by this time tomorrow, I'll be feeling the pain. You are a huge tool, just so you know, and maybe the biggest asshole I know, yet you try so hard to be everyone's best friend. I'll start respecting you the second you start accepting questions. Where do I sign up to get out, bossman?

I've found myself in far more compromising situations than the one close at hand, but left and right simultaneously felt like my head was resting on a broken swivel. I much prefer left, sorry right. It's like the song I heard that made me spit. What you're thinking and what I'm thinking are far from inches away. Fresh start in T minus 42 days; do you hear me? 42 too few to something worth running away with. It's so goddamn amazing how much I can love my shadow, yet I still find myself trying to run from it at every offhand chance. If there's any chance I could talk you into holding it down for me so I can escape, it would be appreciated.