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.