All High Cheekbones

Simple sweetness to his face,
all high cheekbones and innocent eyes,
the way his bangs fall clashing with his eyelashes,
allows my heavy heart to subside; and now, it dries.

Growing Up (?)

winter.
This year I started out with my hair short and choppy. I was pretty sick all the time, my face pale, my insides nasty and crappy-feeling. I was angry, got intruduced to Brain Stew, and hated school. I despised anyone else who was happy, and wished that I could crawl into a cave (or, under my covers). I wanted to be someone else, someone new, reinvented, unlike any other costume I've ever tried on before. Angrily, screaming out my rage in silence, I typed up some of the best bits and pieces of my novel that still keep me awe-struck...

spring.
I couldn't move, couldn't go outside much, the sun hurt my dark winter eyes still too much. God, I want my hair grown OUT! I was still thawing out, still sick and tired. In gym, I continued to trudge along, behind the fence and into the baseball courts, where I round the bases, and sometimes, let a smile escape from inside of me. I discovered the potential outside forces held, and my love for Led Zeppelin (the band that makes me most happy). Gradually, I finally began to warm up again.

summer.
Let me out!, is what I have begun to live by. Restless, I began to see the potential everything has, which began to rupture some old memories that are still raw to this day. I want them back. Back. But I can't. I can only move foward. I hurt some people, yelled, screamed into pillows to get some of my built-up rage out of me, drying up and beginning to start over. You know the drill. This summer, I've spilled my heart out to this little blogging world of mine, the people I trust the most with some things. Chamomile isn't going to help this longing, heavy heart I have inside me. Only moving on can do this. And acceptance. My word of the season...

autumn.
This was a turning point for me. I grew my hair out some, found a great new friend, chased after what I have wanted, took some risks, met an artist, learned to ignore what others want from you. I traveled to the country to wind around back roads, got a new fuzzy friend :), and learned that keeping close, getting close to someone isn't a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.

winter.
Here we are again. Back to square one. I'm retracing my tracks, erasing some, and starting over, but in a clearer, healthier way. And I'm smiling, still listening to Brain Stew, but this time simply nodding my head along, not howling with it in rage. Now, I'm learning to forgive...

This has been my year. I don't regret one thing done. I needed all of these experiences to become who I am right now. Thank you, fate.
...Did YOU grow up a little this year like me?

Scream At Me Until My Ears Bleed

I've always considered myself seperate from everyone else, a sore thumb.
Q: Do you still think this now?
A: Yes and no...
...That's what I've always wanted someone to say to me. "Just tell me everything. Scream at me until my ears bleed." Basically, I just want someone to listen. I need to tell someone. And now, finally, after months of blogging about the fact that nobody understands me and the fact that I'm so different, I think someone actually does.
During this year, in one of my classes, there's this girl who's artsy and very particular about everything she says and does. And she sits next to me, so she starts to talk to me, gradually at first (Hi, bye), and then now a couple of months have passed and we've sort of become friends. I have other close friends, but this girl... she just understands me completely. It's an incredible feeling, knowing that there's someone out there besides your family that knows what makes you smile, your little quirks, and funny beta fish stories :) All my other friends are very different from me, and I know they say that opposites attract, but sometimes those differences make talking about deep things hard. My other friends aren't as deep as me. Just her.
Q: What kind of friendship do you like?
A: I love sleepovers, and telling stories under the covers, our heads hidden.I love friends that still ask you what's wrong......even when you respond, "Shut up, why bother?"
I love friends that know everything about you, even the most embarassing things that you'd never tell your mom.
I like friends that are open and honest, no worries, that tell you when something is ugly or if you're being a complete jerk. 'Cause that's just what friends should do.
I love taking walks around the neigborhood and just spilling everything to eachother, stomach in knots from laughing too hard.
That, to me, is true friendship.

Honestly, this summer was a turning point for me. I had to just deal with some tough things, by myself, and now, things have turned around completely for me.

...And now I'm screaming.

The Painters

It's like they're still walking these floorboards, creeping up behind me, their stories flickering back to life, hitting me hard. It's like it was yesterday, me in baby blue standing under dusty lights in a freezing room, everything the color of navy, ice, and lace. I still see her paint-splattered sweatshirt and her tangled mahogany hair, standing on the porch, and letting her smoky breath curl out and turn to feathers on that freezing night.
Life inside is warm and freezing all at once, because you can see your breath, but still feel that heat of the lamp hovering over your head. Tubs of white paint perfuming the air, making me dizzy the slightest bit. Frozen fingers, lightened souls, all huddled under that same flickering pool of light, measuring out fate, and then cutting it for use.

Realize This

Yeah, You Did

I got this award from Melanie (Purple Lab). And yes, you did tell me :) (Ha ha, and no, you're not annoying me. I love persistent people! I'm one of 'em.) And if you're reading this, I award...
That Blond Guy (The Nerd Archives),
Cassidy (The saga of amother American Tweenager),
and ching (the audacity effect).
You guys got awarded because you're awesome followers and always have something to say that gets me thinking. Thanks.
And now, I have a story to tell...
I saw him today in the hall last period
face flushed
smile brilliant
and a little bit more to his step.
Me walking by
head bent low
keeping to the ground
just to make it past.
He's talking it up
with a little bit more to his step
and that same brilliant smile
that gives me the chills.
Only...
he's rough
and mean
and thoughtless
and ruthless
and shifty
and everything else in between.
Who are you?,
my voice doesn't let these chains subside
just a bit.
Not even so I can
clear my throat
stand a bit taller
and look him
in the
eye.
Because I'm just a girl
just a poor little girl
who's still
thirteen
and shy
and scared
and thoughtful
and innocent
and everything else in between.
He's laughing it up
with her now
and that same smile that once
was for me
and that bit in his step that
gives me the chills.
Iced to my marrow,
I'm done with him
and walking away
unable to be seen.

Undiscovered Paradise

I'm the type of person who analyzes everything. People's expressions, the weather and how it makes me feel, art, music, everything. It's just who I am, and I've always been this way. Sometimes my mom will just look at me when I'm thinking out loud and say, "Why don't you just try to stop thinking so much?"
Why?
Because I love thinking about everything and everything. My mind races until I hit the pillow, and as soon as I wake up, it starts all over again. I can't help it. I love analyzing my life, and no it's not wasting it, because I'm loving every thoughtful moment of it. Analyzing is what makes me write, and I am so thankful. (Thank you, mind.)
So, today as usual, I was thinking. I was thinkingb about the fact that I would be driving soon (don't want to) and what my car would look like...
My car would be little and the backseat would be cluttered with pens, charcoal in boxes, paper, and lots of books, some dog-ear folded, others folded over. There'd be notebooks and CD's in the back, too. A miniature dream catcher would be hanging from the mirror, just because I think a) they look cool and b) I'm into that hippy-herb-smelling kind of stuff :) I'd have a small pillow in there for my back, because I slouch, and it just might make me feel a little warmer too. I'm the kind of girl that hates AC, and prefers to have the windows all the way down, the girl that drives around just because, finding small untraveled roads for fun (obsessed!), the one who immediatlely turns on her radio as soon as I'm in reach of it (kinda like Owen from Just Listen, only less angry). Music is comforting, sometimes better than talking, and for some reason, I always get some sort of inspiration or motivation out of it. (Do you?)
This picture below says everything about me. I'd rather be on a skateboard (without smashing my face, which is gonna be hard for me) or bike any day, but it's also pretty fun to be able to leave any situation you want, and enter into another one entirely. Hello, paradise...

Behind Those Eyes

Some girls don't know how beautiful they are.
I'm not talking about their faces, either.
What makes a girl pretty is a smile on her face, a genuine one.
Laughing.
Eating chocolate just because you want to.
Being nice to animals, loving frogs, saving spiders from something (or someone) else.
Reading and loving every moment of it.
Listening to the music you want to, not what your friends think is cool (this applies to me).
Loving your parents openly :)
Walking not to look better, but to find inspiration, to hum to yourself quietly.
Girls who play in the snow.
Wearing what you like.
Admitting to liking something when everyone else thinks it's stupid.
Drawing.
Being yourself.
Always aknowledging that you're pretty.

Because, really, we are.

Shatters my heart, seeing a pretty face that's not fully appreciated.

If You Could Only See

There are so many things people don't know about one another, it's scary. Even when people claim to be calm, cool and collected, they really and truly aren't always. I know this from experience. Why do I know this? Well, because...

Not my best picture OR writing, no, but it says it all. It's funny how much you can find out through an open window. A cracked-open door. Outside. Pretty scary. And amazing, all at once. It's almost wrong to know something else about someone that nobody else would even care to think of. And pretty chilling. Story of my life.

Does anyone else have insight, too? Or is it just me?

Aurora

Aurora's dripping down the walls
Into the melted sky
Mingling among the tattered shades
And all but one a lie.

Hey, You

Every time I'm walking down the hall, I keep seeing two faces in my mind.
The first one is easy to identify, like the back of my hand would be. I've heard this voice so many times, it's incredible I still blush around him. Bright blue eyes -intense- like my own, and rosy cheeks that get pink when he laughes, and a head of light brown hair that looks a tint blonde and red in the sunlight. He's the quiter one in his family, the one who watches everything while the rest of the world goes on around him. But he always smiles at me when he sees me in the hall, sometimes just saying my name, other times walking right up to me to talk (or ask for gum). He's the kind of guy you'd be willing to wait for out in the freezing rain if he asked you to. The kind of guy that would turn anyone's world upside down, the arms you'd want to fall into if you just needed someone. And it would all be worth it.
But the other face, the other lingering pair of eyes in the crowds that catch my own with a lurching feeling in my stomach, is a boy that is like a mismatched pair of sneakers clashing with a dress. Different. A musician, and a writer, a lover of all music (who happens to worship Green Day, too). His dark eyes are deep and intense, catching my own occasionally, and he has a full head of dark dark brown hair, and pale skin. The desk drummer, is basically what he is. Last year we sat together because of my other friend (who's loud), and at one point he just looked at me and started talking. He was nice, but just so serious, as in passionate and deep about everything. A person just like me.
Two faces. Two pairs of lingering eyes. One girl.

One.

Tell Me

"You know, you're different than most girls. You don't care about makeup and guys all that mush. But you're still... passionate, you know? You still care about the important things, the things that mean something to you. You might not care that you're not like everyone else, but something's gotta bother you. You're human. It's not possible to be chill all the time. I know you got more to you than you let me see, but that's okay.When the time is right, I just know you'll hand me over the key. But it's alright waiting. Waiting is nice. Always something to look forard to." ~ from my own book I've been writing lately

Go?

This has been the Big Question lately. Should I stay or should I go? Europe? Nada? Or yes? It's so far away from everyone I love, and lets just say that I get severely homesick. But hey, it's Europe, and a once in a lifetime oppritunity, right?
...Right?Last night I had a dream that I was walking through the pebble streets just staring at everything. It was even better than I imagined. What I do is imagine the worst usually, and that's a bad thing to do. Sometimes I'm worried that Europe won't be as amazing as I thought it would be. But let me tell you: this dream was amazing. God, wish I was there.
But should I really go?That's the question of the day for me.Stay?
Or go?
Me: No clue.

Music

This picture is the kind of thing I'd dream about. I love it.

I like music that's achingly beautiful and rock music. Any suggestions? (P.S. I am a Led Zeppelin, Cranberries, and Green Day fan, in case you haven't noticed already.) My hands ride across the keys, my mind accelerating, lips formed into a perfectly curled smile. Writing is love.

Candy Necklaces

Which do you think is better?

A. Traditional high school experience. Football games. Prom and a cute guy. SCHOOL SPIRIT!!! Happy-go-lucky.

or

B. Do what you want.

I guess I'm kinda in denial. I don't know. Something inside me says, "Just do what everyone else is doing. Go to prom. Participate during school spirit weeks. You'll never get it back."

But another voice inside my head, one a bit quieter is saying, "You're better off doing what your comfortable doing. Show the world just how much you're willing to stay true to yourself. Scare people."

It's just...

which one is right?

In Your Dreams

So lift up my chin

and streak my face with red,

then ask me what's said

and what's never said.

My life lies

behind

blue eyes.

Catch me

in your dreams.

Uber

I'm sorry. I'm hardcore about my music choice most of the year. I don't really need to listen to the new music all the time. I mean, I still like some of it, but it's just a lot more incredible to me to find some old 90's grunge song that's completely AMAZING. It's like digging for treasure, just on You Tube. But, when that certain time of the year starts creeping into my bones and tugging at my love strings, I have to listen to some Christmas music. No questions asked.
It's funny, 'cause a couple years ago I used to hate those people that start listening to Christmas music in freaking November. Ughhhh. I just didn't want anything to do with it. Christmas music can wait till, um, December 24 for me. But now here I am, listening to Carol of the Bells as I speak, on November 17, before Thanksgiving has even come yet. I guess I'm a hypocret (did I spell that right???).
So I actually started to secretly like it around two years ago at this time. We have this radio that only played one station, and at the time, it was Christmas music. Oh, goodie. Here we go.
Well, come to find out, I'm a sucker for anything Christmas-y that's on the radio. Forget Green Day! I want Frosty the Snowman!
There's just something about Christmas music that makes me almost a little lump-in-my-throat emotional. It's pretty embarassing. I have my reasons, though; a lot has happened to me during Christmas time, all good stuff, but it makes me teary-eyed. I dunno why.
My all-time favorite Christmas song is the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's version of Carol of the Bells. Love it.
You know, I should really just delete all this. But I won't.

Minority

There's this tree near my house. It's a twig, basically, barely the size of a branch, and it's bright yellow-orange, the color of orange juice. The funny thing about it is that all the other trees around this one colorful one are dull and their leaves are gone. But this one just doesn't wanna let go.

I don't know. There's just something... I dunno, rebellious?, about this tree. The way all the leaves are still intact, while everything else is huddled close and shut up for the winter. This is what I think: If everyone did as they were told, did what was accepted, then we'd all be living in winter for the rest of our lives.

"A face in the crowd unsung, against the mold, without a doubt, singled out the only way I know." "Marching out of time to my own beat now, the only way I know." ""One light, one mind flashing in the dark, blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts."

Saddest Picture of the Century

I read that somewhere. It said "Saddest Picture of the Century", and above that advertisement was a man who had dark hair and dark, but warm eyes and an achingly kind smile spread across his face. A shark tooth necklace hung around his neck, and he was unshaven. Something about this picture sent a tremor through me. He just made me so happy inside, and I immediately got this good feeling about him. But why "saddest"? Of course I didn't want to know. I don't want to ruin the picture with some ugly and raw past about this man. But really, what is sadness?

Is it a painful smile spread across your face through a bad time?

Or is it the sharp movements of someone hurrying through a crowd?

Maybe it's not even that.

Maybe it's just us thinking.

Drooping Leaves

{I don't care about impressing you. Let me be.} Today an artist told me I have natural talent. "Your work is tenative", he said. "You're going to be an artist someday, you know that, right?" I nodded. "You're going to be an artist for the rest of your life." Whenever he said this to me again, I couldn't help but feel sick to my stomach. But in a good way. Because when he says it, I know he's not lying. He doesn't give out compliments for nothing. "You're not here to make pretty pictures all the time", he said, "You're here to learn from your mistakes. Be crazy, because it's the crazy people that make a difference."

Outside the Lines

I'd like to be many girls that I'm not. The girl with the bright personality, the boldness, or the sincere kindness. Or maybe the girl who's daring and not afraid of anything.
But you can't be all of them, though...

...Or can you?

I didn't know the answer to this a couple years ago when I started to wonder about this. To me, at the time, it was either this or that, black and white. Now, though, I understand that people are sometimes a little gray here and there. It's okay to go outside the lines. So, my answer is this: YEAH! You can be all those girls. Every one of us is. Now my soul will rest in peace.

Whoa

Sometimes I look in the mirror and just shock myself. I wonder who is that girl looking back at me? Sometimes I disgust myself, other times I don't . It all depends on what day you ask me. It shocks me to see the changes in my face, the sharpness of my cheekbones that I don't remember being there a year or two ago. Or the fact that every winter, my freckles fade more and more, and now I have to squint to really see them. I'm changing. And I'm not sure if I'm okay with it.

Spiked Adrenaline

There's something so chilling and exciting about being thirty feet up in the air, my sneakers pressed up against only the wild breezes that creep through your bones. Maybe it's because the only warmth and comfort is the person to your side, and you finally have an excuse to just hide in their shoulder. Or maybe it's the wonderful feeling of my teeth chattering in the cold. Whatever it is, I could be up in the air forever, living on only hope and the feelings of trust in the ride, and myself. I just have to do that. Trust.
Yesterday I met an author. She had stiff white hair in a funky pixie and warm pink lipstick and a kind smile. I was telling her about how much I wanted to write books, and she looked me right in the eye and said, "Well, I love writing, but the only negative is that you can't retire." And she laughed, leaving me puzzled.
Well now I get it.
She meant that she loves writing so much, and it's totally addicting. I want to feel that way someday when I'm older, too.
Q: Why are oldies songs only and always about love? Can someone please answer???!
Guess I had something to say today :)

Meeting Up Again

I used to have this friend.
She used to have this wide grin that took up her whole face.
She moved awhile back
and our friendship shifted to the backburner.
Well, now she's back.
And now I'm stuck.

Blisters

My cousin has this tire swing. It's a worn-down black rubber tire so thin from years of tugging and hanging onto. Since it's been up for more than ten years, the tree branch that it's tied onto is kinda crooked and bent, hanging over us lifelessly. We used to twist it up till the rope was all bunched up, and then one of us would jump on it while the rope untwisted at what seemed like a hundred miles an hour. My cousin and I were best friends. She used to have this curly hair that was always wild and unkept, and she was always stringbean-thin, yet Coke was her heroine (and still is). But now, we don't even talk.My cousin, to say the least, got caught up with a bad crowd. We don't even say "hi" much when our families get together at Christmas. Mostly, because we're totally different. And now I feel so much younger, even while she's really younger than I am. But she doesn't even know that I miss her, and love her. I don't want to see my cousin hurt herself like this, but I don't know what to do. I can't tell her what I think, because I haven't seen her since spring, and she avoids all eye contact with me. I may say that's fine with me, but here I am, still young and innocent, left behind, rocking back and fourth on that tire swing still.

Chex Mix and Pies

There's just something about that March that was so amazing. Was it the fact that I was carefree and just so bold? Or was it because I met two of the most incredible people out there, looking in at their worlds? Maybe it was because I didn't know things were gonna be amazing. Maybe it was the chilly air. Or the smell of his hair. Or my sneakers that I adored and yeah, ruined from wearing so much. I don't know. But I do know this: I can't stop thinking about that winter.

Come On

To You,

I don't want to be judged. Well, I guess I do. Judge me head-on. Let me scare you with what I'm capable of, what I know that you think I don't. Let me show you what I know, let me take your hand and let you escape into my world with me. Come on.

Is it that I'm different than the kind of girl you're used to? You know what girls I'm talking about, the ones that let you talk about other girls in front of them, and let you slip a hand around her waist, such an easy guesture. I don't hate them for being the way they are. But guess what? I'm just not one of those girls. So why are you trying to make me become one?

Or wait. Does it scare you that I'm so sure about myself? Maybe you've just never met a girl willing to turn your world upside down, not the other way around (cliche).

Welcome to my world.

~Me

P.S. Sorry for not posting my artowork like I said I would. My computer's acting funky on me at the moment.

...

To me, painting and art in general is another world for me to explore, to touch and make my own. I love just sitting around, the radio blasting in the background (for some reason when I draw, only tropical-y music is good. Or some classic rock), I feel nothing except my fingers warming up under the pressure against the paper. I don't feel worried. My brain's not going at a hundred miles an hour. All I care about is what I'm drawing or painting. I love the rich smell of the oil paints on my pallet and the presise line an ebony pencil can make. If I didn't have any love or skill to write, I think I would marry a paintbrush. Or even a pencil. I think that when you love something that much, that you'd be willing to do whatever it is for four hours straight, it has to be a good thing.
Right?

A Telephone Invasion

Sorry I'm not home right now
I'm walking into spiderwebs
So leave a message
And I'll call you back
A likely story, but leave a message
And I'll call you back

Now its gone too deep
You wake me up in my sleep
My dreams become nightmares
'Cause you're ringing in my ears...

...Communication, a telephone invasion
I'm planning my escape...

I love the song Spiderwebs by No Doubt. To me, it has a somewhat spooky feel to it at one point in the song, and the rest is kinda girly. It's funny, because I usually like guy bands like Nirvana and stuff like that, but I just fell in love with this song. I haven't heard it in awhile, so when it started playing last week on the radio, I was just so happy to hear it. It's been stuck in my head ever since. Its just been ringing in my ears.

Lists

Sometimes, putting things into lists always make me feel better, knowing that everything's organized and well thought out. Even while life's well, a beautiful mess, it sometimes makes me feel better to pretend that things are organized. What I want in a friend:

1. Someone I can cry my hearts out to, and not expect them to say anything, instead only nod and hug me back.

2. To laugh with her so hard I can't breathe.

3. Someone who is okay with silence sometimes.
4. Someone who's not a mean girl.

5. Somebody who doesn't judge by appearence.

6. A girl who I can spill everything to.

7. The kind of girl that'd rock their Converses with me at prom, even in our girly girl dresses.

8. Someone who considers sarcasm another language that they're fluent in (just like me :)).

9. Who's not a cookie-cutter type of girl- and is okay with that.

10. Someone who loves to take walks and talk on the trampoline.

11. The kind of girl that makes time fly.

12. A girl who's a girl-version of Ducky from Pretty in Pink.

What I want in a guy:

1. Someone who's also my friend.

2. The kind of guy that'll give me his sweatshirt to wear.

3. The kind of guy who knows that he's not my number one priority, and I have a life besides him (doesn't that sound harsh? Whoops...).

4. He's not going to be mean to my friends and other people.

5. A guy who doesn't care about my looks, and will offer me an Oatmeal Cream Pie, even while other guys won't feed it to their girlfriends cause it's "fatening". Yeah, see how that goes.

6. Not to care about physical looks, but I would love to have a dark-haired boyfriend with pale eyes.

7. Someone that will treat me like a friend, not just a girl. You know what I mean.

What I want on my bucket list:

1. Color my hair purple or anything else colorful.

2. Travel Europe. Didn't see that coming, huh?...

3. Publish a novel.
4. Create my own line of clothing.

5. Meet someone worth remembering.

6. Hug Billie Joe (slim chance of this one. Like, .00001%)

7. Own a house on the ocean with a cat as my companion.

8. Own a bunny.

9. Eat a whole pack of bubble tape in one sitting. I've wanted to do this since I was seven :D

10. Marry my best friend... when I find him.

11. Knit a bag.

12. Design my dream house.

13. and whatever else comes my way

Paper-thin Communication

Some say the walls between earth and the other side or elsewhere or whatever you call it become so thin that the two different worlds sometimes morph together into one. This is where the ghost stories come from. Its always sounded so amazingly chilling to me, and it always makes me excited. Forget Christmas. I absolutely love Halloween.I love all the rituals there is with it. Eating candycorn. Apple-picking. Carving jack-o-lanterns, your fingers squishing together in the goop while trying to pull out the flesh and slimy seeds (sorry for the morbid-sounding visual). Spraying your hair with strong-smelling temporary hair dye. But my favorite part is the fact that people say that during this time of year, communication between ghosts and humans is paper-thin. You can believe what you want about this (kinda controversial) subject. This is just what floats my boat.
To me, blood and gore is not what Halloween was intended for. It's about your relatives that have died, and about honorng them.
Anyway, I was tagged by the inspiring Francesca (Pigs Flying). I just need to fill in Cassie's Therapy Video. But you know what? I want to twist the tag around a bit, make it my own.
I've always seen her therapy video as, well, kinda depressing. Why state all the happy things that make you smile first, then the sad stuff? Soo, why not put the hateful stuff first (to get it over with), then the happy stuff. A lovely little happy ending. I know, I know, I'm not supposed to mess with a tag, but I cannot resist. So, on my own, here we go:
I hate this, wow...Sorry.
I hate girls who think they're better than everyone else.
I hate steak. Period.
I hate humidity.
I hate seeing people lie to my face.
I hate seeing someone with a good heart cry because someone hurt them in the end.
I hate the saying "Children should be seen, but not heard".
I hate M.C. but in a way I like her, because she teaches my how NOT to act.
I hate country music.
I hate getting so angry that I start sweating (this really happens to me).
In some ways, I hate everything. It's less, it's less of a thing to hate, it's less distinct, it's less particular. I hate things that I hate, but I like everything. There's more choice in like cos even the worst things have things you like in them, I don't know what you mean about things I like.
I like boys with a heart and girls who rock out to guy music and wear oversized hoodies.
I like art classes.
I like blasting music when nobody is home.
I like sniffing candles one after another in the store.
I like John Hughes movies.
I like eyeliner and teased hair.
I like yard sales.
I like the feeling of butterflies whenever I see him.
I like rainy days.
I like getting inspired so much that I start smiling uncontrollably.
I like the smell of leaves.
I like family get-togethers, even when I claim not to.
I love spiderwebs.
Today I did what I felt like doing.
Acabadabra, wow!
I just think ending on a happy note is always great. What can I say? I'm a sucker for happy endings :)
Those tagged are... Steph (1001 ways to be more lovely) because her posts are oh-so lovely!, Reina (the splendor she spills) because her pictures are so inspiring and amazing, and Taylor (Blank Memories) because she's an incredible writer.
You can choose to do the tag the regular way, or my way.
...You choose :)

Space

Sometimes, I just wish I could take everything out of my room and start fresh again. I want to pull every trace of furniture out, rip down my curtains and photos on the walls, and paint everything white again. I'd like to leave the windows open all day on the coldest day of winter to let every trace of the past float out the window. Then, in a freezing room, I'd come in with a big sweatshirt and curl up on the floor, the tips of my fingers blue, wanting a second chance. Basically, all i really want is for my life to rewind two and a half years, then hit play. And live up the time of my life all over again.

Short hair, fillet-o-fish commercial, him, my oversized hoodies, the snow, gasoline, freezing cold fingers.
Yeah. That was my life. And I miss it so much.

Swimming in Scarlet and Aquamarine

It's all so pretty, being thirsty for color. I'm so dry I could drink some scarlet or shivery aquamarine or even lime green and orange. I could just sink my teeth into a vivid flower, I swear. Or swim in a puddle of lavendar water.

Sorry about that. I guess I just got a little too poetic and writer junkie-ish for a moment.

I think flowers are gourgeous. But I also think they're dainty and delicate, easily bruised if you rub a petal too hard between your thumb and index finger. Last night I had a dream. I was walking on some sort of white background that looked (and felt) like some sort of parchement paper. All around me were flowers feet high up, almost like a tree. Their petals were transcluncent and juicy-looking, dew dripping off the edges. I was a little girl in my dream, about six or seven. I thought like a little kid again, and saw my parents again as such strong guardians, protecting me from all evil, preserving my innocence once again. I was crying and laughing and smiling in this dream. And there was music, too. I woke up humming it. And the scary part? It was a real song I'd heard the other day. I just wish I could replay it all over, swimming beneath a pool of lucid, vivid flowers.

Cracked Up to Be

I feel sorry for people. I feel sorry for girls that feel like they have to be thin and gorgeous otherwise their worlds will fall apart. I feel sorry for girls that have become so shallow and self-absorbed that they forget what's really important. I feel bad for girls that feel like they need a guy to support them at all times, even when they're cocky losers. I feel bad for those girls that forget how they got so bad. I feel bad for pretty girls, because sometimes, popularity's not as beautiful as people make it. It isn't as cracked up to be. I've seen pretty girls at their ugliest, and even while they claim to hate you, I feel bad for them. Because they don't hate me. They just hate what they've done, behind their beautiful, eyeliner-framed eyes, eyelashes fluttering to hide what they know. Because what they know and see and feel is something truly, unbelievably ugly.

Dandelion Dreams

Kiss her g'night,
Tuck her in,
Leave the door open a crack
The way you know she likes it.
Shake your head,
Wonder why
The seeds shall fly
Shall fly away.
To distant lands.

We rock the coast
And pass it by,
While deep deep down
You wonder why
The seeds shall fly
Shall fly away.
To this distant land.

Coloring
On our walls
With a look of glee
And then a shriek.
Kids, you mumble,
Even though
You wonder why
The seeds shall fly
Shall fly away.
Away.

Painting makeup
On her face,
You instruct her
To sit a bit still,
Even through the butterflies.
She used to hate him
And now it's different;
She's got new eyes,
Some vivid eyes.
You now know why
The seeds shall fly
Shall fly away.

Now it's different
The tides have changed
She kisses you g'night
Just like she's been smiled at
All those times
So long ago.
Mama, she's saying
Please don't leave me.
Don't let me go.
But I know.
The seeds shall fly
Shall fly away.

The tides have changed,
The wind stronger some,
But I now know
I'll stay planted
Here forever
Even though
The ground's swept
From below us.

Define "Awesome"

It just seems like lately, everything's good in the hood (except for in my head, ha ha). Knock on wood, it just feels like everything is coming my way, and I'm just taking advantage of it all, not appreciating anything. So right now, I'll just shut up, wake up, and smell the coffee. Cause life (even as much as I deny it and claim the opposite to) is pretty good.
Why is life so amazing?
1. Seeing your sixtysomething year old great uncle sliding down the slide with his grandson. That's pure awesomeness all on its own.
2. Another grandfather saying within my earshot, "I'm not an adult. I'm just a really old kid." I love this one. That's something you'd read in a book for sure.
3. This (if you can read through the crummy quality of my laptop):

~ Uncool: A Girl's Guide to Misfitting In by Erin Elisabeth Conley p. 77. She's, like, God to me :)

4. My mom jamming to the kinds of music we listen to. I mean, my friend's mom listens to this old y'all-every-other-second Country. Excuse me while a barf into this bag conveniently located in my hand.
5. Awards!
I got awarded today by the amazing ~Abby~ ("A Little Bit of Randomness"). This is my first award, and honestly I almost squealed. Yeah. Pathetic. Anyway... I just thought I'd never get an award cause I thought my posts were a bit weird at times. And dramatic. So thanks, ~Abby~! If you haven't, you should visit her blog.
So now, I get to award three other people. So, I picked these girls, just because they've got a lot to say.
1. laura marie (a diary of little things and curiousities) She's the most positive person I know, and I love her "Today I Believe" posts. They always put me in a good mood.
2. Teresauras (LIVE LIFE IN CAPS LOCK) All I have to say is read her post titled, "Cafe Caramel". At that moment in time, I fell in love with this chick's blog.
and 3. xoxo, Hannah. (Perfection.) I swear, Hannah is the sweetest girl. Her comments just make me melt :)

Fork Stuck in the Road

Today, I woke up with this ache in the side of my head. No, my ear to be exact. It's the kind of pain that feels like someone's twisting a pen or something sharp inside your ear, and it's still killing me as I write this. I walk into school today, and the one thing that I've wondered about but never wanted to think was true happened to me.
I saw him. With his arm wrapped around a girl's shoulder. And he was smiling, leading her through the crowds of people around us.
At first, my stomach just lurched foward and twisted into something rearing and ugly, making me feel like I was about to throw up. Or cry. Or both. It was one of those surreal moments that slows the world around you down for just a split second as you realize what's happening. It was one of those moments that makes me want to be swallowed into the floor below me, or to shrivel up into a dry raison and be stepped on, where nobody can see me. It was one of those moments that makes you wonder What does my face look like right now? It was awful. And then I heard his voice, that same velvety calm voice that I knew so well, the one that I replayed in my head all day just to comfort myself when missing him got ugly and pathetic. He said, as if he was laughing at how stinking cute she was. "Megan", he said, wrapping his arm tighter around her skinny frame again, leaving me there with the sensation as if I had been slapped across the face. I wanted to claw her eyes out, to be completely honest. I'll admit it. The only thing I wanted to do was drop everything there and just run. Run away from here, from everyone, where I could just scream and tug at my locks of hair in frustration.
The next class, I got back a quiz I had taken earlier this week. 12. I got an F on something I'd studied forever on. All I could do to keep sane at that moment was bow my head and blink slowly to avoid crying in front of all these kids around me, and my boring history teacher that knew nothing about me. Now, that ear pain was ringing.
But now, at this moment in time, I'm okay.
I keep thinking back to what I liked about him so much, and then I think quietly to myself You like the eighth grade boy still. In your mind, you love him from when he was in eighth grade. And now he's a Freshman. You. Need. To. Move. On. I've come to realize that I liked him when he was still a boy. I love him in my memories. It's such a confusing thing, liking someone. And then I ask myself Why do you like someone that makes you feel the pain?
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know. Really.

It still hurts.
But you know what?
I'm gonna live through this.

Creeping In

When I was little one of my favorite books used to be Too Many Pumpkins! If you haven't read it yet, it's about this lady who used to hate pumpkins her whole life, and when she was an old lady she had a truck that had tons of pumpkins on the back smash onto her lawn, basically covering this poor old lady in pumpkin mush. Furious, she buried the pumpkins remains with dirt. In the spring, they came up. Then, she yanked the pumpkin branches out of her yard and threw them away. They came back. Pretty soon, she stopped looking out her front window for months, and then one day forgot and came back to see something like this:
Crazyness. So she decided to make pumpkin soup, pie, seeds, anything and everything else and sold them. The rest, she carved out of jack-o-lanterns. Overall, she grew over her hate of pumpkins and started to love them. Sorry for this, but I just had to share.
Something about the fall makes me shiver in this excited way that melts my soul all at once. What does fall make you feel like?

How can you not love this picture?

Among the Smiling Spiders

Relentless taunting in my ears,
A sheen of sweat across my face,
Spiders waltzing on the walls
In a dress of dusty lace.

"Will you ever learn?",
One with heavy eyes asks. "Such a waste."
And then she saunters off
In a dress of dusty lace.

My eyes whirl around like a spiral slurpee
And my fingers fall across fate, a damp ace,
Peering up at me from below, a sly smiling spider
In a dress of dusty lace.

Jaded rhinestones bounce off the
Chipped up window sills lacking grace
Lining up among the spiders
In their dress of dusty lace.

Liquid eyes line up in my face and say,
"Live it as it is, and quit that restless pace."
And then in a puff of sparkly smoke, she's gone
In a dress of dusty lace.

School. Hectic.
Sleep. Nightmares.
Homework. ...
Even though hectic, I'm still moving
moving on.
Sorry for being such a slacker with the blogging.
Shame. Shame on me :)

Pick Up the Pieces and Go Home

People say a picture's worth a thousand words, but sometimes I wonder if a word's worth a thousand pictures instead...
I've been wondering.
And have gotten no true answer yet.
Enlighten me?
Anyway, why not combine pictures AND words to spread a message, small as it may be. These are to people in my life, and some of them are super personal, like you'd never imagine, even while some of them are funny. Because some of these things make me cry. But I still have to be able to pick up the pieces and go home, otherwise I'll be a pathetic mess everywhere I walk. So here I go.

Right? I mean, c'mon... Just need to get this off my chest for the great M.C. (hear the sarcasm?): C.M. To mom, dad, and my principal. Daddy, I just thought this was so... you. Hehe, T. F. Sweet revenge, huh?Grandma. I say this 'cause I love you.What are you, Music? Well...For you, even if you don't know it.Just to let you know, J. B...For Z. B. and I, and all the others rocking to their own drummer.Thanks for teaching me this, mom. Story of my life.