crash.

experience allowed her to foreshadow her heart's future.
she could feel it coming towards her before she ever saw it.
she would feel the rattle in her bones, look up, and watch it approach.
a swift sweep across the horizon. a tidal wave.
coming for her.
and she was helpless.
simply had to float there and await its impact.
most of the time she could find land before it submerged her.
she learned to read the signs.

but this, this one, was a silent wave.
slow and steady.
this was altogether something new. different.
this had caught her by total surprise.
she turned around, there it was.

and her intuition was blurred by his captivating demeanor.
mischievous side glances.
a carefree disposition. convoluted conversation.
long eyelashes sprawled over eyes that showed years of always getting what they wanted.  

her head should've caught up to her heart.
he was good. cunning, almost.
unequivocal. quietly radiating.
intriguing.
insouciant.
and she wanted to touch it.
she wanted to reach out.
place palm against chest.
to know it with her fingertips.
to let the burn transform her cynicism into ash.

but she knew.

wherever--however the attraction began.
despite pure intentions, it carried in it the seeds of heartbreak.
and she had loved so often. outwardly. in so many directions at once.
been forced to patch her heart together with nothing but scraps of twine and discarded thread.
and so she couldn't imagine.
couldn't imagine how heartbreak was not the inevitable end.

so, she closed her mouth. stopped talking. bent her head as he approached.
tried desperately to preserve what little she had.

and yet.
she wondered.
if he might show her.
an alternate ending.

fresh start.

"of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "it might have been."

 Kurt Vonnegut

a reminder for myself.

"Why do you think you're here, Oskar?"
"I'm here, Dr. Fein, because it upsets my mom that I'm having an impossible time with my life."
"Should it upset her?"
"Not really. Life is impossible."

extremely loud&incredibly close

until they sparked.

i looked down the line. faces from my past rushed at me,
some with their smiles, some with their hands shoved into the pockets of their jeans.
i saw brunettes and toe-heads,
their heights and eye colors ranging from one end of the spectrum to the other.
i don't repel guys, i realized with slight surprise, scratching my head.
quite the contrary; i attract them and then have no idea what the fuck to do with it.

a world full of first kisses, both drunken and sober, a stomach full of butterflies, the awkwardness of intimacy, and the heart shattering moments of secrets exist amongst this group.
it is what ties them together, permanently bonded by at least one thing:
me.
i am what they have in common, whether our time together ended well of with jagged edges, dropped like a careless glass bowl.

i run my eyes over their faces, locating where each of them hits me;
my heart, my brain, my fingers. feelings lighting up in patches all over.

they are waiting, for something.
not for me, but for me.
what is it? i rack my brain as they wait, patiently, for me to understand.
they are not waiting for me. i don't want them, and they sure as hell don't want me.
yet still they stand there, feet shoulder width apart, looking like they know, just know,
it will come.
and it does.

it hits me like a truck, nearly knocking me off of my feet; i lose my breath, my existence temporarily suspended.
they are not waiting for me. they are waiting for me to realize that they are not waiting for me.
i should not be waiting for them. i should not be waiting for anyone.

smiles crease their faces.
they turn and shake hands, like doctors who have finally diagnosed a patient after years of not understanding the symptoms.
as i watch, they file silently out the door; some throw a wave, some don't even look at me, some give a lingering glance,
and my breath comes back to me as they leave me, as much as they can.

this is where i find myself slightly giddy at the thought of having no one in the room with me.
what have i been waiting for? what am i waiting for? have i just been too damn stubborn to listen?
yes, i answer softly, with a chuckle. of course.
and i stand here, on my own two feet. this is me, and you know what? i am damn proud.

i hear life is a journey, not a destination. my anziety riddled days have been haunting me, leaving me speechless, wandering aimlessly down streets and avoiding eye contact with those who have discovered this lesson.
i am young; but not so young that i should be here still. so what?
tomorrow is a whole new day. and really, that's all i have to worry about.
time to take part in that journey,
throw my hands up like a rollercoaster and remember to breathe.

hopeful with a side of caution.

i felt it today
 the fear sliding up
 my neck.
i took a deep breath
  and my heart lifted;
  dangerous.
      this is dangerous territory.
i've long since disconnected
  the wires between my
    overly analytical brain
     and my
  always hopeful heart.
i stopped signing up
for the service.
   but the lines
  sometimes
   cross; i find myself
curious.
   this is dangerous territory;
i know.
 and yet my heart
     just keeps
  lifting.

lock&key.

i tried the key in all the doors,
even though he said he didn't recognize it.
it's not that i didn't trust him,
because i did.
it's that at the end of my search
i wanted to be able to say:
i don't know how i could have tried harder.
[extremely loud and incredibly close - jonathan safran foer]

nash.

so i guess this is the part where i say

home sweet home?

yes.

home sweet home.

"so this is my life.

and i want you to know that

i am both happy and sad

and

i'm still trying to figure out

how that could be."

[perks of being a wallflower]

currently.

"she was in a bind.
she couldn't stay.
and she couldn't bear
the thought of leaving."

[marisa de los santos, belong to me]

tell it like it is.

my life is my art.

i have made a decision to live
fantastically, phenomenally, ridiculously.
there is not enough time.
there is simply not enough time.
so many words, so many thoughts,
so many visions that jolt from my body,
that rattle my veins and brain and bones.
i can't type them fast enough,
i can't count the lose papers, ripped and bent,
my moleskines, and napkins,
that litter my floor
and my head.
they are covered in sketches and scribbles,
notes for the future and reflections on the past.

"my life is my message" said gandhi,
and though i'm no example for the the world
i will write that on my arm until i remember.
i can't get everything inside of me,
the worry, the anxiety, the excitment, the hope,
out fast enough.

there is not enough time to give life to all i see.
and so my life will be my art.
an ever evolving, growing, changing, wondrous,
terrifying masterpiece.
i am at a frightening moment where i feel as though
i can physically shape my world,
create it.
life is an experiment.
one of those fantastic explosions you created in chemistry class.
full of light and color so magical
you want to forget how you got there
and just stay
frozen in that heat,
in that feeling.

you must create that feeling.
i must be that feeling.
be the light,
be the heat.
people will want to be frozen in your moment,
in the time you shape when you are around them.

look at your life.
look at it in the expressions of those faces around you.
realize what you can create,
who you can become,
who you already are.

time to pretend.

i am pretending to be..

a writer.
in a world with constant background music.
a gypsy.
a reader.
an artist.
a person who lives her life without regret.
and a person who lives in love.
and it's true -
i think i am pretending less
and becoming more.

attitude is everything.

why can't we all be this happy about everything?

simple thoughts.

i'm a fairly simple girl - it doesn't take a lot to make me happy.
i think that every day is an exercise in being content
and it is something that does need to be mastered continually.

the all-powerful 'they' say that familiarity breeds contempt --
and i would have to say that the mysterious collective is right.
we are surrounded daily by so many wonderful things
that we take for granted the little luxuries - the things that make up the good life.
and once again, 'they' say-
if you blink,

you just might miss it.

i think one of the things plaguing our society is that
we are always trying to meet someone else's definition of
happiness, beauty, wealth, success, intelligence, etc..
creating definition of the good life for yourself is two-fold.
it allows you to be satisfied with what you have created for yourself

while freeing you from trying to meet others' expectations.
this in turn frees you to notice all of the other great big
and little things around you that truly make your life great.

what does happiness mean to you at this point in your life?
make a vague overview
and some slightly specific goals
and change them as you see fit.

find the good life in the present.
if you need a house of your own, a nice car,
a killer career, a packed closet, a rock star husband,
 perfect abs, a full passport to feel fulfilled -
MOST OF YOUR LIFE WILL BE SPENT WAITING.
this doesn't mean that you shouldn't be striving for the future

and moving towards your goals,
it simply means that they should only be a part of your current contentment.
all small victories you are achieving now deserve to be celebrated.
as for your failures?
celebrate them too.
for each one will bring a lesson to you and perhaps
even further create your future and character.

pick one thing that makes you tingle and make sure you do it everyday.
this way, even if you're financially or logistically able to
devote a lot of time to your ultimate goal or purpose at the moment,
you will find happiness in the present.
and be nuturing the simple part of you that belongs to joy.

surround yourself with people that make you happy.
encourage, exude and drip passion from their pores,
inspire creativity, nourish your spirituality,
cause laughter to leap from your lungs,
and uplift you.
place people around you who are fiercely positive
and will help lead you to the places you want to go.

do.not.compromise.

it adds to the value of your life exponentially
to add the value of those lives around you.
volunteer in an area that makes your heart beat faster,
mentor a child, feed the homeless,
donate cash to a worthy cause - you get the point.
and once you do get that dream job,
land a record deal, find the perfect pair of jeans,
manage to cure cancer -
be the kind of person in someone else's life that you had in yours
and got you to where you are.

be able to find the small things enchanting.
and allow yourself the small indulgences.
what is that little luxury that's worth indulging in now
and not waiting until you 'make it'?
what can you give youself that nourishes every facet of you?

define the passage of time.

pick a bad experience.
let time blur the details and shift the focus off the pain.
write about it in a new voice.
mature the wisdom of understanding.
see what was once a mistake as an invaluable part of life.
view what was once ugly from a new angle,
so that it becomes beautiful.

that old song and dance.

it’s strange how some songs can make your stomach spin or your heart jump into your throat, how just hearing the first note brings back everything you thought you stopped feeling, a familiarity for something you didn’t realize you still longed for.
it can change a mood instantly, it can turn the curve of the corners of your mouth up or down depending on which memory comes to mind first.
and sometimes the sound can make you feel like you’re drowning as it plays on, and you start to sink deeper and deeper in it as the beat as it gets louder and louder, so loud you can’t even hear your heart.

but sometimes it makes you want to dance between the words and surround yourself in its warmth and blanket yourself with its metaphors and similes that only you can understand.

it seems like there’s always that one song that does this to you, no matter how new or how old, it overcomes you and overwhelms you and all you can do is let it swallow you whole.

random. but do you expect anything less?

1. a baby is born with 300 bones, but an adult only has 206. if someone wants to explain that to me i'd appreciate it.
2. the truman show. sometimes i think i might be truman. you'd tell me if i was truman, right?
3. ugh. i hate when my hands swell. and they get all tingly from celiac crap.
4. big&rich. hinder. shania twain. celine dion. creed. nickleback. ugh. ugh. ugh. ugh. ugh. ugh.
5. favorite number.
6. sommmmeeeebody trade intestines with me. seriously. anybody.
7. i still believe i'll be a cosby kid or a soul train dancer when i grow up. oh and i'll for sure be married to joe jonas.
8. lawd, i love a list.
9. i got back from chicago 5 days ago. my left calf muscle is still sore.
10. speaking of obession, i'm infatuated with anatomical hearts. perhaps it's just the word anatomical.
11. wait, you'd let me know if i really was truman, right?
12. oh i suppose you need to know why my left calf muscle hurts. i got lost for 3 hours. and what i mean by lost is, i walked for 3 hours. in the cold chicago rain. my toes were bleeding. and i was attacked by a vicious wolf/dog and he ate my hand off. okay, one of these statements is false. and according to terry, all of these statements are false.
13. my ocd/anxiety is just not going to let me post a number 13.
14. why do all my friends call/text/bbm me to diagnose them? and why do i always know the answer? i think i'm a hypocondriac.
15. my therapist says it's good for me to write these lists because they help me worry less and they tone down my OCD rituals. however, i'm going to make #15 long just because 15 is a nice well rounded number to end on. so much for toning down my rituals huh?

worth it.

i'm not a patient person. i want everything.
i don't want anything.
but when i do find something i want, i find a way to get it.
i can play by the rules,
but i've been known to bend them from time to time
when it counts.
it's a way of saying
i did not come here to lose.

i brush my teeth when i'm upset.
i have too many moleskines i will never fill up.
i can't hide a smile.
i'm never hungry.
i giggle and i'm goofy.

this might not be pretty, and it might be a bumpy start.
but my roads are always paved with good intentions.
and i have to find a way to fight, to beat the odds
to prove i'm worth it.

i am learning to
quiet my thoughts.
be in the moment, not analyzing the moment.
find the wavelengths, and sync mine to yours.

but you have to attempt what i cannot conquer..
patience.

i could walk away and forget you. the same way i've done every other person.

there's just one thing.

i don't want to.

one more letter.

dear molly,
if you need a reminder.. click here.
i miss you already.
you haven't even left.
you'll be home every weekend.

thanks for picking me up from the airport.
i'm glad you were the first person i spilled my feelings to.
and even though i read a magazine the whole way home..
your passenger seat was full of friendship happiness.
one more thing..

i roll the window down

and then begin to breathe in

the darkest country road

and the strong scent of evergreen

from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

then looking upwards

i strain my eyes

and try to tell the difference

between shooting stars and satellites

from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

"do they collide?"

i ask and you smile

with my feet on the dash

the world doesn't matter.

when you feel embarrassed then i'll be your pride.

when you need directions then i'll be your guide.

for all time.

just a few.

dear bankplus,
 seriously?

dear room,
 clean yourself.

dear b,
 please stop throwing gang signs you learned from the alternative school kids in public.
 p.s. i also regret showing you the shocker. that is also inappropriate in public.

dear tire that keeps going flat,
 give me a break here. my funds are limited.
 (see first letter.)

dear kristen stewart,
 i know there are a lot of people that don't like you. however, i am not one of them. i love your awkwardness. and the way you slouch and play with your hair when you're uncomfortable.

dear hair and rainy weather combination,
 seriously?

dear uncertainty,
 thanks for also being a possibility. i'm alot more into you when i think of you that way.

dear saved text messages,
 thanks for making my stomach do flips. please don't accidently delete.

dear curse words+dirty words,
 you are consistantly fun to say but sometimes you really get me in trouble. however, few words feel as good coming out of my mouth.

dear heart,
 i appreciate you being so big and ambitious, let's hope the rest of my body and life catch up soon.

for you.

you make me nervous in a way that makes me like being nervous.

heart flood.

i'm never at a loss for words.
the wheels in my head never stop turning.
except now.
all i can do is cry.

my heart is broken.
nashville will never be the same.

my heart is flooded.




history is flooded.

 

 memories are flooded.

this city is resilient.

sunday secrets.

postsecret.blogspot.com

you should be warned.

i have been hurt a handful of times.

 but like any girl who has opened her heart,

i am not special or unique to a broken heart.

it is not hard for me to be open,

but it is extremely difficult for me to trust.

i have fought hard for my heart.

taking every measure to not allow it to harden.

it is always a risk to continue to give your heart away after each disappointment.

but there are days like today..

days where i feel like locking it up and running in the other direction.

matters of the heart can be scary. what do you do when your heart is begging you to be brave, but you aren't sure how or if you can at all?

heartsong.

yesterday he looked at me
with a tear in his eye and said i'll always tell you you're my friend.
i hope i don't have to lie.
cause it's clear you love another man.
i said... "you're damn right"
and he said

he said it's crazy
how love stays with me.
you know it hurts me
cause I don't wanna fight this war.
it's amazing to see me reading through this scene
of love and fear and apologies.

he said it's crazy
how love stays with me.
you know it hurts me
that i didn't figure it out before.
and now it's too late for a soliloquy
it's way too late for dignity
it's time for apologies.
[grace potter and the nocturnals. apologies]

thank you.

"i like to hear the highway sounds.

and I don't think i'll ever settle down

got a little wild streak in my heart

got a little threadbare gypsy soul"

 [pat green. threadbare gypsy soul]

i'm jumping..

"there was excitement and the air was filled with the vibration of really joyous life that knows nothing of disappointment and white sorrows and all that." -kerouac

[...so that i can live. there comes a point when you realize that you are no longer sure about anything anymore, but it's okay, because that is where you needed to be all along. the uncertainty of where everything stands is seemingly chaos, but after taking a closer look, there is a beautiful, sentient order to the mystification of love and passion. and i finally feel... okay. with not knowing. with not needing that affirmation.]

run.

whatever that may mean to two people in their 20s.
be it, "can we go somewhere and get lost?"

 i will take either.

wait here.

i am chasing a feeling.
that i am unsure is even possible to get back.


a feeling, hidden among nights in foreign cities.
tangled in phone lines and cool bedsheets.
beginning in the bottom of my stomach. 
i'm not sure where it’s coming from.. 
or when it even started.
but i know i never want it to go away.


you are stuck in my head.
along side a combination of trite song lyrics.
and the lingering thought that this is all a lost cause..

one small move, one big change.

i’m really amazed by human language sometimes.

and tone.

one change of pitch,

can make a word take on a whole new meaning.

one small move of a word,

one small emphasis of one word over another,

and everything changes.

and sometimes that’s all it takes to change a relationship.

or to start one.

or end one.

98 and 6 degrees of separation.

"the way to my heart?

 just be different.

 am i lonely?

on such a fundamental level it’s ridiculous.

i’m dying from the inside out

and only music is my savior.

and the more i hurt,
the more you sing along -

so beg or choose, but pick one."

- john mayer

our words are our past.

i want to collect all my words, written and unwritten, spoken or unspoken, finished and unfinished, words held captive in drafts being erased and jotted back down in different ways over and over again and slip them into your mouth, make you have a taste of what you never knew, what i need you to know. i want to take every consonant and vowel of the alphabet yet to be strung together and turned into something that makes sense to you from me and make you listen to the sound of each syllable you need to hear in order to feel what i feel. i want to take all these dear-you’s and dear-me’s and dear-us’s of the future and past and pack them away in one huge envelope filled with all the hugs and sealed with all the kisses we missed out on having when you decided to walk away and have you read the thump-thumps of my heartbeat. i want to have my language be your language and to understand what i mean when i say all this.. or do i have to spell it out for you? my words are no longer meant for you.

sweetest downfall.

here please.

points if you know where this is.

love.

this is pure happiness.

i've come to the conclusion.

sometimes it's just that simple.

we're all the same.

and kids should rule the world.