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.

Just A World Away

We're two worlds away, yet I can still relate to you. Maybe...
we're not that different than I thought we were.
"Knowledge cannot replace friendship. I'd rather be an idiot than loose you." ~ Patrick and SpongeBob in SpongeBob SquarePants

Take Me to the Place I Love

Today in art class we had to draw a sketch of a bike. It was spray painted baby blue with the rust peeking through in some places and propped up on a desk, one of those old-timey bikes that you'd see the paper boys riding around on in the neighborhood, tossing papers at people's doors. My teacher said we could draw any big of the bike we wanted, the handlebars, spokes, crank, anything. As we huddled around the bike with the lights off (better to see the shaded areas), I couldn't help but feel so vivid and alive. And whenever I moved my head a bit, I'd be able to see pieces of the other kid's faces as they searched the bike like I was.
Because every part of the bike made me think of something in my life. The handlebars made me think of a girl in my class who used to always sing, "I can ride my bike with no handlebars". Over, and over, and over.
The tires made me think of my brother when he was little, always burning out in the driveway, killing the rubber on them.
The peddles and spokes make me think of him.Nobody else was ever allowed to ride his bike. It was a black BMX bike that he had built himself with Christmas money and extras here and there over the course of the year. Nobody was allowed to touch it, and whenever he was done riding it, he'd run his hand over the frame carefully, checking for sand or anything that would scratch the paint.
Only once he let me ride it. Just handed it over to me, and switched bikes with me so I could ride his. I was surprised by how lightweight it actually was overall (25 pounds), yet so sturdy. I gripped the grips, the warm rubber pressing against my palms, as I rode home with him slowly and carefully, feeling all fluttery and excited inside. I felt special. Liked. It's an incredible feeling, knowing that someone would choose you over the rest of them.Back in the classroom, the darkness soaking into my skin, remembering all these things makes me happy and teary all at once. It's funny how just one object, one snapshot of your life can take you back to the place you love. Again. Again. And again.