eighty eight

Even the simplest things I do are invaded by the depth of the universe and the life that surrounds me. I'm eating toaster waffles, because it's all I can stomach at 8 am, but that's not the point. What I suppose could be a peaceful morning routine is time for me to collect my thoughts in a poem or throw them away in a song. I can't ponder it all, I can't understand it all, but I'm trying so hard, reaching so far, out into something I can't hope to explain. Though my life has become considerably less complicated over the course of me realizing I have less time to be stupid, it still all boils down to two struggles, two opposite but equal planes, two parallel lines running side by side connected only by my spread-thin bones.

I'm forcing the waffles down now, because I know everyone says I'm skinny, so I probably need to sustain my body though my stomach is protesting. It makes me think, will I be able to eat when she dies? Will my brother be able to eat when she dies? We are both prone to skipping meals when the casserole someone brought doesn't look appetizing.

I wish I didn't think so much, but then again, I would prefer it any day to not thinking at all. There are pros and cons to everything.

eighty seven

Do you see it the way that I do?
Death like a silence reaching towards you
Everything'a moving but we're still here alone
Counting your breaths like a way to reach you

I'm twirling my ring like a carousel
Clockwork to note all my nervous heartbeats
Dad is a ghost still trying to win the game
Every wall chains me in and I can't tell the difference

This is a new year, or so they say
Do you hear me trying to save you?
Trying to fix it all?

This is a fresh start, or so they claim
These are my tears trying to tear this all apart
A million reasons why you're gone from me
One ill heart that might stop beating

I know it's summer where you are,
I know it's summer where you are,
I know it's summer where you are,
I know its summer where you are.

Catch your life in the palm of your hand,
It might stop running,
It might stop running.

eighty six

I felt more at home in a phone call
Than in my own bed,
I guess that says a lot,
And explains the fact that I'm not sleeping

eighty five

I can't stop thinking
About how it will happen.
I can't stop imagining
Black and white scenarios
In my head.
Will there be a piano
For me to play
When I miss you telling
Me not to?
Will there be that dress
For me to wear
Because you weren't well enough
To tell me it's a bit short?
Will Ben let me hug him
When it finally hits?
Will I say anything?
Will words come?
Tomorrow, cousin Will is coming
To put Christmas lights on our house,
And in January,
The Lin's are coming to visit,
And I'm overwhelmed,
Not really in a good way

eighty four

The paper was signed
Early on in July,
I knew what it meant,
But I asked him anyways.
It didn't make a difference
About what it said
But it made me feel better
It made me feel better

eighty six

I'm finding it hard

To stay silent these days 

When there's so much to say

But I can't seem to tell you any of it

Because I have all this good and bad news

It burns a hole in my chest like money in my pocket

And it eats away at my intestines, an incurable parasite,

I have all these things that I'm wanting to tell

And the only one I'm wanting to tell is you

---

If something were to happen to me

I like to hope you'd be the one to remember me

Exactly like I was, 

No stupidity or sluttiness or recklessness,

Just me.

Yes, the depressed, hopeless romantic who came over uninvited,

But also the honest, lonely writer who liked the little things

And cold weather.

If something were to happen to you

I know for a fact that I would remember you

Exactly as you were,

My person, my sister, my second home,

That is,

If a home can have eyes that sparkle like a good dream

eighty five

I am coughing up words like a virus, Mom

I visited a doctor and took off work, Mom

There is a bag of cough drops and fog outside, Mom

I don't know what to do with my head these days, Mom

Since repetition is therapy, I'll say it again, Mom

I'm wanting you back in a chorus of 4/4 time and useless rhyming syllables, Mom

These days Jennifer is cut to the crap mom

She's gotten to where she knows me like the back of her hand mom

Aunt Wendi is breakfast table wisdom mom

Mrs. Grey and Mrs. Snyder are safe place moms

Nana is the name on my tongue when I'm sick mom

But none of them replace you perfectly, Mom

I want you to be a part of my life again, Mom

I want to talk to you and let you give me advice, Mom

Help me pick out a prom dress and even tell me what to wear, Mom

Nothing feels the same around Christmas without a mom

eighty four

I am doubtful
I will ever be able to write like I used to.
My guitar gathers dust in the corner of my bedroom
Because I cannot come to terms with my voice,
And I stare out into the fog
Trying to simply explain it
But everything makes my eyes
Collapse in on themselves
In liquid road rage and salt,
I am in in control of it
I am not in charge of it

eighty three

"I will be with you in the nighttime when it's through
I'll go anywhere with you"

Passenger

eighty two

It happened in a phone conversation.

"Dad, can I go to prom?"

"I don't see why not," he said, and that was it. I bought my ticket, and now Em and I look at dresses online and talk about how kick-butt we'll be.

I guess it's not that big of a deal, an ordinary high school rite-of-passage that mostly everyone won't miss out on. I guess there will be crappy music and crappy food. But I just like dressing up and going places.

And I guess I thought that my mom would be helping me dress-shop. We would have a budget and Dillard's would be the first stop, but we wouldn't buy anything there, because it's too mainstream. It might have taken a while with her being ultra-opinionated, but in the end we would find that perfect dress. It would be like love, how everyone says you just know when you've found the one.

But now I go over to Em's couch and gawk over chiffon, or shop in stores with Emalie dragging me away to remind me of the Sonic I bribed her with.

All of a sudden it's not as exciting as I imagined.

eighty one

I don't think I'm going to be afraid anymore
I don't think I'm going to hate living anymore

I know it's easier said than done
But people say that a lot

eighty

I don't think you know
How much you mean
To me

seventy nine

When you find what you're searching for,
Please don't forget.
Please don't forget
The way my hand felt in yours
And the way your chlorine smell
Got all over my sweatshirt,

You know,
Someday I think it will all be worth it,
But my heart still bleeds a little when I scratch at it

seventy eight

Hold your breath for a moment--
Then you'll see how I feel
Bracing myself for the inevitable,
Toiling under soiled sky
Breeding an unfixable daydream

seventy seven

The sameness kills me

The way you are stagnant

In your suffering

Maybe if you died

You would be at peace

Even though I wouldn't.

I learned today

That Charlie had to grow up fast--

And they shamed him into silence

So that's why

He doesn't say much

But he is so kind

And I know that Jenny

Hasn't had it easy

Especially when her mom died

Yet she sees the best in people

Somehow

Maybe,

If you left

I'd have reason to be sad

Instead of lingering in your hospital

Aimlessly

Maybe

I could learn to be kind

And see the best in people.

I've been told it's okay

To give you permission,

So even though you don't understand,

Maybe God will take this poem as a prayer.

It's okay. Don't be afraid to hurt me. You can go home.

seventy six

I don't know why I'm here. I could blame it on the traffic, or the fact that I'm lost, or on sheer rebellion, but at some point during the drive I must have subconsiously decided to come here. There's way too much mocha in this fappuchino I'm drinking, but I'm also missing her way too much, so it balances out. I guess the hospital validates my sadness.

The man in the parking garage elevator addressed me. "How are you doing today?" He asked.

"Alright," I replied, and I think I was staring at the numbers counting down the floors.

"You look sad," he said, "the hospital's a sad place."

It was at this point I teared up. "Yeah, I know my way around here way too well."

Now I am alone in Truett café listening to doctors chatter behind me. I don't understand how they do it-- work here. The stench of death and sanitizer is overwhelming and all I can think about is the months I spent here and how I miss my nana's hugs and how I hope God doesn't let her suffer much longer.

Mrs. Carla talks about quality of life, and assures me it's okay to feel this way. It helps a little.

I wish that I could get out of this place. I wish that I too could die. But then again I want to go home, I want to do my schoolwork, and I want to go to bed. The only disruption is the way her footsteps sound on the hardwood and how I can't understand her words.

Remind me why I'm here again? Right- I'm lost. And there's decent wifi.

I'm scared I won't get home in time to cover this up; I'm scared someonr will notice me again. I'm scared that this agony will never end.

I'm know I won't get her back again. Turns out the worst fears aren't even fears at all.

Portrait

Emalie: "ASS-ASS-IN'S CREED"

Me: "BUTT-BUTT-IN'S CREED"

seventy five

And every day
Begins the same
You're watching things
You don't understand,
You're saying things
We can't understand,
I'm not sure if you're passing
Faster or slower,
I'm not sure why our country
Is falling deeper and deeper,
I can't wrap my head around
The things that I'm seeing
And this life that I'm leading
I'm just surviving right now
Fighting for air right now
And every day
Begins the same
Another feeling,
Another change
Another inadequacy,
Another face
Another person I can't replace

Another sickeness I can't fix
Another love I can't reach
And I'm learning all the lessons they couldn't teach me
But it doesn't feel as good as I thought it would be

seventy four

I'm not sure anymore
Whether I'm okay
Or I've just gotten used to the way
Drowning feels.
The agony of her suffering
Never fails to make me sad,
I haven't prayed in a while,
Because I don't know how to pray for her.
I don't know if it will change much.
It's not lack of faith,
I only wonder if His plan is different than mine.
I miss her even more as Christmas comes around, a Christmas that will be more painful than the last.
It's getting easier for me to focus on the blessings,
But nothing changes the fact that she is dying,
Some days faster than others,
And no amount of blessings can shift my focus
When I have to see her daily struggling to stay alive.

When will it come?
Will I be with her or away?
Will Ben have to see?
Will it tear my dad apart?
Will Nana be by my side?

If I stop asking questions, I stop preparing myself.
I don't trust myself to be okay anymore,
I don't trust myself to be strong anymore.

Courtesy of my Brother

"I triple dog dare you to name your child Obadiah."

"Yaknow what my favorite game is? Call of DOOTY."

Me: "me too! I like Call of Dooty: Advanced Laxatives."

Insults with Ben 2.0

Me: *brings dad home a frappuchino*

Ben: "dangit baylie, he's trying to LOSE weight, not gain it!"

Insults with emalie (the part of the show where emalie comes out and insults people)

"If you weren't my sister I would noooooot be your friend" *giggles*

seventy three

"And I thought you loved the clouds
So tell me of a place that you just wanna go"

Raury

seventy two

When she said "love you too"
I thought about how
Her cares were followed with
A chorus of "not right now's"

seventy one

If my footsteps had been heartbeats,
They would have fizzled out by the end of the sidewalk
Like the way your words fade away when you realize no one is listening.
I'm not sure what your heartbeat would have sounded like that night
But I have a feeling it felt like the hesitant wind through the trees
That couldn't quite ignore the falling leaves,
I can't help but imagine your breath sounding like coming back to life
But not wanting to be there,
And I can't help but recognize the way I've adopted a similar practice
Of coming fast and leaving early as if it will make a difference,
And on the sidewalk my breath came like a pain pill to the addict,
Because withdrawals are nice when you need to feel something,
Even though it's the last thing you want.
Can you tell me it's going to be okay?
I won't even believe myself these days.

seventy

This morning is shouting your name like a headline
And it's almost easy to mourn
As long as I don't dream of better days.
But both hurt just the same.
If I am feeling guilty for having a little bit of hope,
(Not saying I'll admit it)
Maybe that's why it's hard to get up on days like this
When it's apparent I'm a failure
And I haven't spent time on my facade.
I wish I could say I'm sorry for all the feigned confidence,
I really can't help it sometimes, it's more of an obligation to society than anything.
Plus there's the lie that I'm weaker when I fall apart.
However, since we're doomed to beat around the bush,
(Because after all, talking is the unforgivable sin)
I guess I'll have to leave my apologies and my coded messages to poetry on a blog I doubt you read.
I don't have much to say.
But silence is better than stupid decisions,
And that's one lesson I've failed to learn.

(I can't help but wonder
What goes through your head sometimes.
But at the end of the day,
It's got to be the same sort of shit as mine.)

sixty nine

I'm trying not to feel lonely
I'm trying to act nice and polite
But when I weigh the pros and cons,
The "what ifs" and "what has beens",
Your face when no one else was there,
Versus your face when she arrived,
I see now
That I must not mean much to you
Anymore.
I didn't say goodbye, and I can't apologize
For your apathy and act like it was my fault,
Because it really wasn't, I'm just reciprocating the vibe for once.
What do you feel like it is?
When you stick your toes in the water, how does it feel?
Nothing but a lukewarm reflection
Of the friends we used to be, I guess.
Please remember me with a smile,
If you care to do that much,
I'm screwing up the lines I'm supposed to say,
I'll see you glancing back at yesterday

sixty eight

Steps to Coping. (For my own sanity)

Step One. Cut off your hair.
Step Two. Talk to one person.
Step Three. Do something stupid. Then forgive yourself.
Step Four. Get sick. Then get better.
Step Five. Pour your soul into something important.
Step Six. Don't accept friend requests on Facebook.
Step Seven. Only hang out with people who make you feel at home.
Step Eight. You can't cope. You can't live. It's okay to know that none of this actually helps at all with the pain you feel.
Step Nine. Try anyways.

Insults With Ben (the part of the show where Ben comes out and insults people)

"You're a butt. Maybe you are sick."

sixty seven

I am sorry
I did this to you

sixty six

I find lonliness in nostalgia.
That's why I don't like to look at old pictures
And think of who I've lost.

sixty five

I'm going to live tonight.
I'm going to live tonight.
I hate every ounce of feigned confidence
In my bones,
I hate the way they didn't care to say goodbye,
I hate this pain that I feel watching you
From across the parking lot.
I hate this sort of okay I'm trying to be.

But I like this Beatles song.
I like some of the dreams I wrote about yesterday.
I like hanging out with Emily and eating m&m's.
That's about it.
That's all it needs to be.

sixty four

I was standing right there,
Didn't you see?
Sideways glances don't capture it completely
But I'm not right in the head
To me at least

sixty three

"But if my eyes were on my back
I know what I'd be looking at"

Blind Pilot

sixty two

People can't hitchhike anymore, they say,
Because it's too dangerous.
Well I think I would like to hitchhike.
It's cheap travel and it's fun.

People can't play music anymore, they say,
It's too loud and wouldn't sell.
Well someday I'm going to play music in subway stations,
And someone is going to notice.

People can't write useless poems anymore, I know,
Because that won't get you through college
And in the digital age, people don't care to read that sort of thing.
This is a useless poem.
I like it.

People can't fall in love anymore, they say,
Because they don't like the girl he would date
And they don't approve of wisdom or folly.
I think someday I'll elope and move to the mountains with you,
And our wedding will be small, and we will only invite who we want to.

People can't give money to the homeless anymore.
They'll use the money for drugs or kill someone someday.
I don't know, honestly.
I just know Arlis, and he isn't all that right in the head,
But he just likes a coffee with 4 raw sugars and some cream,
And that tree over there to sit under.
He has an honest heart.

Maybe I'll live for tonight,
As long as these dreams stick around.

sixty one

I always know too much or too little.
Such as the way I knew you were gone from me
But didn't know how,
While I knew exactly what I was feeling,
So overly aware
Of the thoughts that I was feeding
Every comparison
Stung like a truth,
Stung like a truth
And yet I knew too little
About how I had lost you

sixty

I know two who feel
Just as left behind as me
I think that we should
Up and leave
It all

Just them and me

Maybe it would hurt less
If all the friends we've lost
Were far away from us
Maybe it would hurt less
If all those places we went
Were far away from us
Maybe it would hurt less
If I deleted these pictures from my phone

Will you promise to stay?
Will you promise not to fade into apathy?
Her promises meant nothing
When she faded away
Now I must try to forget all the promises
That I made her;
I can't keep them anymore
I can't save them for better times anymore.

fifty nine

If a song was a promise
This would be mine
But I can't tell you about it
Not while you're not mine
But this song is a promise
It's one solid truth
I won't tell you about it
Isn't that truth?

Since I can't promise much
These words are mine
I'm sorry, I'm sorry
We're both pretty stupid
We're both pretty stupid today

fifty eight

I wouldn't do this if I were you
She was born in June, she was born in June
And she was born with a bit more insight than you
Do you find her in corners that no one else sees?
Or do you see her in crowds when she emerges with me?
You must not know her, her words must be true
So I wouldn't do this if I were you

fifty seven

"You told me think about it, well I did
Now I don't wanna feel a thing anymore"

fifty six

Do I have the courage to forget about time?

fifty five

I wish sometimes she knew my name

fifty four

I am coming to terms with this.
This is the last time I will go camping with her,
This may be the last time I go camping for a long while.
She will soon be bedridden, I would not be surprised
If soon
Hospice will come make our house feel like more of a tomb than it does now.
I am coming to terms with this:
She is dying.
Somehow no matter how long dad cooks the bacon,
It still has no taste.

tonight

Why did it have to be tonight?
Why did I have to choose the night?
My thoughts collide with the car window
And my tears collide with my throat.
If I enjoyed it so much, why does it backfire after the fact?
How can a split second be partial to changing everything,
How is it that I am back and forth between beauty and hopelessness?
God, I don't know how I need You tonight.
Why did it have to be tonight?
Would you care to give him rest tonight?
God, don't tell him I'm afraid
God, don't tell him I'm afraid

This house smells foreign.
This skin feels old.
I am afraid that I will go to sleep tonight.
I am afraid that I will choose the morning.
I am afraid that either the sun will not be friendly to me or the stars will not be docile as they seem, I am scared that they will hear my wish tonight, I'm scared that they will take away exactly what I want or either put it in my hands, I am afraid that my mom is going to die and I will not have done enough to save her while I am busy trying to save myself.

I am scared perhaps most of all
That the fear I don't tell you
Will be the one that comes true.

But don't tell him tonight, God?

fifty three

I can't seem to write anything that's not cliché. If I could free myself from this bondage of being excellent, I would say that everything is changing, and it makes me so uncomfortable. I would mention again the fact that my mom is dying, and leave out the fact that my Dad loses hope every day. I would write about how Rion is leaving Starbucks and wish I could tell him thank you for things like calling me ma'am and having great music taste. I would pen stories about how true love isn't dead [just dying slowly] and I would sing songs with predictable rhyme schemes without wanting to shoot myself in the process. I guess you could call it perfectionism, but with me, I don't care to be perfect, just a bit better than mediocre.

I wish I could make good grades these days and ace the SAT in two weeks, but you know, these things don't matter as much to me in comparance to the artistic things in life. (True love and poetry and paint and wanderlust of sorts.) That's the thing with law school, I'd love to go but I'd much rather settle down and have a family in the mountains somewhere. Or become a lonely artist in NYC with a bachelor's in something completely obscure.

But there I go again with obscurity.

I'm going to say something cliché, and it's going to bother me, but it will mean something all the same.

I long for better days.

fifty two

Tomorrow is Friday.
Friday will hurt the same as today.
Yesterday's hurt or the present tears,
I must take my pick.
Choosing one will eliminate the other,
Until I start to feel it all at once.
And all at once tomorrow is Friday,
And another Saturday things aren't better

fifty one

Things aren't like they used to be.
I thought in that moment,
Maybe things will be like that again,
Maybe I won't feel that same ache again,
Because amid the laughter, I didn't.
But there is always disappointment
Snuggled up against me in the restaurant booth,
There is always that one picture of her
Taped to a nearby wall,
There is always a question he doesn't ask
And a tear I fail to cry.
I won't ever be as close to them as I was,
As much as I'd like that to change.

Some things still
Never stop
Making me sad.
There are still
Songs
I can't listen to
Without breaking.
Part of me
Wants to stop living
Like she's already died,
Part of me
Wants to stop breathing
Like love is a stupid lie,
But I have an organ that beats
When it still shouldn't be
Part of me
Is hospitalized right now,
I'm sorry I can't fix
The way I play with my ring
And my other nervous ticks
The way I write
Is painful for me
Because some of these notes
I should not be playing,
She told me it shouldn't happen,
That she would like to take my place,
But it should be
That certain things
Won't cease to make me break
For it's still hard to sing
He's perfect in all His ways

I'm holding up my half empty glass--
A toast--
Until it's easy.

fifty

Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality

fourty nine

Are you feeling all the hurt I hide?
My heart could lie a thousand times
But I swear to you this time I'm right
It's okay, It's okay, its's okay, it's alright
It's okay
It's okay
It's okay
It's alright

July 28, 2016

You're my default mode
I think of you when I'm not even trying to.
Maybe it shouldn't be that way.
Maybe the color of your eyes or
The look on your face that night
Or whatever is on your mind
Shouldn't occur to me as miracles,
But they do.
And while I am supposed to be paying attention in this large room right now,
I'm drifting in and out of focus
Like a shaky camera lens,
I miss you for reasons I cannot pinpoint,
The mental pictures I took don't suffice
For five days awat from seeinf you that night,
And my default mode is being sad
So I'm sorry if envisioning you hurts kind of bad

I won't address the fears forming
In the alphabet soup of my brain,
Because the longer I stare at the floor,
The more it starts to resemble the bumps on the ceiling,
But I can't quite forget the feeling of your gaze
So that's difficult too.
I used to think missing someone was having the emptiness inside where they should be;
Today I realize it is also having too many full memories of someone to haunt you late at night or in the morning.

One last thing--
Your ghost smells like chlorine and stares at me when I pretend not to see.
You see?

fourty eight

Who would've seen it coming?
Who would've seen it coming?
I'm collapsing from my fervor,
I'm falling from the sky
If you'd look up at the buildings,
Would you see my death wish?

fourty seven

"The shame of it was that they loved each other, but they were both too young to know how to love."

Someday, my rose, we'll figure it out.

Perhaps in the span of fourty four sunsets.

My migrating birds will lead to you, I know it.

Don't forget;

fourty six

"Swallow a drop of gravel and blacktop
Cuz the road tastes like wintergreen"

Owl City

fourty five

Next time I'll let it kill me
Next time I'll stay silent

fourty four

I am at the chinese restaurant that somehow stands a part of every kid's childhood. My siblings are waiting at home for the enormous amounts of fried rice I've been tasked with buying, and it probably won't take as long to drive home as I want it to.

Mom and Dad are on a date somewhere in Dallas, and we are going to rent a movie like we usually do, except tonight ot won't be the same. Mom will return just as sick as before and Dad will walk in the door with that tired look on his face.

I am contemplating this on the "spinny chairs" at the bar where you can watch the chefs fry up some rice and lo mein. 

I guess I like being out of the house and alone a little too much these days. With everything going on in my head... well... maybe it's easier to think about the tough stuff with a constant change of scenery. Either way it hurts. My head is a broken window and my face has become the duct tape attempting to keep out the wind. It's scattering the scraps of paper I hurriedly write songs on, it's picking up dust and pulling it back down, creating chaos where I haven't broken things already.

I'm rolling down the windows of the car, I'm letting my hair get tangled.

Only in my dreams.

fourty three

"Why is it I need a thousand lives?"

Local Natives

forty three

you have a beautiful thought process.
even the most depressing ideas have meaning
when you write them.
i can't help but be sad knowing that you are sad,
although your words are oh so lovely.

forty two

I guess I paint pictures now
Because the words don't form easy in my brain.
Maybe it's lack of sleep.
Maybe it's lack of love.
Maybe it's lack of heat,
The house is so cold these days
It almost emphasizes the fact that you're dying.
Don't act all surprised,
We all know it's coming one day or another.
Every MRI says the same thing, and there's nothing they can do.
The medicine at least slows it down, Dad said.
I didn't know how to reply,
But today I painted the way our hallway looks
Now that I can't play piano
And the clock in my head chimes too often.

And now I'm feeling nostalgic,
Because the words don't form easy in my brain,
I'm not saying all the things that hurt the most.
I can't help but wonder how you're doing
I can't help but miss your smile
I can't help but think about you every waking moment,
I can't stop it.
I can't stop the pain from forming into pictures,
Landscapes of you.

forty one

This is not applause for my sadness,

These words about broken downs cars

And cancer-soaked houses and the way

Things used to be before the earth turned.

This is simply the fact of life:

That mom is sick and she’s not getting well,

I guess Dad is stressed and he won’t admit it,

My best friend is dating and I feel alone sometimes.

And sometimes, the world turns faster when I glance behind me

Than when I keep my eyes on the road.

Does it make sense to you?

Does it baffle your being so as to upset your stomach?

I guess that mine is weak.

I would like to explain to you why I write,

As this is not meaningless rambling

And not consolation for my sins, because

It only ever does half the job.

I write because my life depends on it.

The pain intertwined in my shoelaces

Is perpetually too much,

And I hear beautiful things

Just to feel compelled to create,

And though better is a concept I haven’t quite grasped,

Maybe halfway better will suffice as good enough

For a split second.

The earth freezes under ink, haven’t you heard?

It seems that mom has frozen too.

It seems that dad has frozen too.

Now what’s left but applause for the things they will miss?

I promise I’ll miss them more.

forty

if this is a new beginning
it is all too anti-climatic

and everything feels the same
even though it isn't

thirty nine

I feel like a foreigner,
Not quite strange,
Nor familiar,
I sit alone and uncared for
It's better this way,
But still I wait
For something to happen
Aside from the rain

thirty eight

"Well I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I built my life around you"

(Fleetwood Mac)

thirty seven

How is it
That I am most at peace
When I am unnoticed?

How is it
That I am most in pain
When I should be
Okay?

How is it
That I am both happy
And in grief?
How is it that the sky today
Is both light and dark
Just like my head?

The pain is dull now,
I'm switching perspectives,
I am choosing to flip on the lights.
If I am so calm,
How is it that I am also panicking?

It is all such a contradiction.

Good thing I am unrecognized in at least this instant.

thirty six

These are words
For when words won't come.
I am forcing confidence.
I am forcing myself to be the same sort of happy
I was yesterday.
I am forcing myself to love
This sad song.

I don't want to lose you.
I don't want to feel this pain.
Yet today I will fight with the energy of yesterday;
I will be okay with not knowing.
I will be okay with not having control.
I will wait.

This is a tangled knot of uncertainties
Binding my every limb.
I won't speak plainly,
I don't know if I can.
But I will wait.

I am no longer certain of the outcome.
I am no longer sure of my next step,
I cannot trust those I once had faith in.
His plan is unclear to me,
But His promises are laid out before me
Like a map I can't read;
I will try.
I will wait on His timing.

I am swallowing this lump in my throat.
I am forcing myself to be okay.

I am telling you a secret:
I am forcing myself to wait for you,
Only you.

thirty five

The house is frigid like a hospital. Dad says that's the way Mom likes it; I know it's just that she has gotten used to the way Baylor chills your spine and paints goosebumps on your forearms.

I am shivering, but the blanket is too comfortable. I am sad, but sobbing means giving in to grief. I am tired perhaps, but sleep is impossible when my mind is ecstatic on hopelessness and my stomach growls with a void junk food can't fill.

I don't know what I am mourning anymore, I am simply thinking of you. I want you to be happy, I want your heart to be free from the burdens that your soul feeds. Is that miracle too much to ask for? Too late-- I already did.

(For the first time since February the pain feels like I am being stabbed in the gut. It won't go away, I trust my Savior but the ache remains lodged in my throat when I try to say certain things. I would stab myself to mimick it all, although I know it wouldn't make things better. Hah, I have already been killed.)

I was drawing another picture to add to my sketchy collection of art that i began this morning, and I was thinking of what "I'm sorry" looks like.

All that came to mind was you.

So I'm sorry.

thirty four

dear older brother,
this won't be the end
love is a hell on which your heart won't depend
maybe there's a hole in your universe
you don't yet understand
maybe there's a gap in your thinking
maybe there's a place that you miss
a time you can't return to,
in the midst of it all you are hugging a sister
who never knew she was feeling so alone,
until she came back home
and you're leaving again
the new stage is set
are you feeling like this is a set-up?
me too,
me too,
me too.

dear younger brother,
you're much older than me.
you say you don't know where to put
all the broken pieces of yourself,
let me set your mind at ease
with something you already know
deep inside.
there's power in prayer,
even though i don't prefer to believe it some days,
it's uncomfortable to feel it some days.
i looked up at the stars one night,
i laid in a field looking like a complete idiot,
i learned about surrender a week late,
i put the broken pieces of myself in the hands of someone better,
and i think that you'll be doing better than me
don't ever close your eyes when you're needing sleep.

thirty three

[things I'm thankful for]

[and people watching]

- the old people in mcdonalds at 6 am

- Jenny's kindness 

- the fact that no one is on the highway at five in the morning so I'm free to go however fast I want

- going to the store with my Dad

- pumpkin. 

- thinking about the holidays and getting all warm and fuzzy inside

- nana's hugs

- the McDonald's worker who is whistling whilst cooking breakfast right now

- Hope

Sidenote: *i think the man behind me has fallen asleep while eating breakfast. I can hear him snoring, and I'm dying. XD*

- Rion's emo kid goals (except he's like thirty years old)

Sidenote II: *this dude just walked in with a freaking NEWSPAPER RESPECT-- can I be him when I'm sixty omg*

- vans being the only acceptable shoe to wear for all occasions in life

- sunrises (though I'm always too grumpy to appreciate them)

- unexpected answered prayers 

- the peace at Grandma's house

Sidenote III: *and world record for world's shortest body builder goes to the dude who just walked into McDonald's! Congrats! Your muscle tissue is thicker than the incredible amount of butter I am slathering on my pancakes!*

- getting up early at hotels with Grandaddy and killing time until the fam wakes up 

- DBP.....

- Kaitlyn's glorious hair 

- going to Kroger with Maddie and ranting about how stupid people can be

- Maddie being my favorite person to talk to especially when there's an errand to run and a secret to keep

- going to the sketchy dollar movie with my sisters just cuz we can

- all those times I used to go to the homeschool book fair with my mom and walk around for hours on end discussing which new books to buy for school, and trying to find her friends when there was no cell service, and people watching with kassidy

- Northpark mall at christmas-time

thirty two

I am backed into a corner,
I am forced to listen to lectures
From people I trust
Who trust I am doing the wrong thing,
I am forced to set aside the realities
I was sure of deep inside
And substitute a thought
Inconsistent with the way I'm wired.
I guess, something that goes against every fiber of my being
Must be the right thing, right?
Perhaps not always.
I'm already driving on the opposite side of the street,
I am already sacrificing passion for the sake of honor,
And yet I am backed into a corner,
To be told I'm just a runaway who needs to confront
The loss of hope everyone so skillfully clings to.
Who am I to listen to anymore?
Surely not someone so biased as yourself.
Surely not someone so messed up as myself.

I think that what I need is a clear head,
I don't care what you think of me anymore.
Maybe I'm the slut you seem to believe I am,
Maybe I'm the insolent rebel you label me as,
Although I prefer the term free spirit.
Someday these scars will only serve as reminders,
Not as blisters that keep breaking open when I twist my hand a certain way,
Now excuse me while I walk away
From all the hurtful things you prefer to say--

thirty one

"failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, missing me one place search another, i stop somewhere waiting for you"

~ walt whitman

thirty

I am plagued with a case

Of perpetually broken lungs,

Even here I feel stifled by unknowns

And the sad beauty of the trees

And a song I don't know yet. 

The sky contradicts your eyes

As I'm pleading for vacant chances,

But the spaces are full,

The spaces are full;

Can't it be enough to stand away

Though the future is tomorrow but theirs is today? 

twenty nine

I will never wash off the paint on my shoes,

The dirt that coats my sun dried fingers

Fades with every tap of my thumb onto the screen,

And I am ashamed that the lonliness inside of me

Manifests itself in tears rather than 

Burying itself in the beauty of a life I have yet to live. 

I am on the edge of a cliff and He is beckoning me to jump,

My heart is beating too slowly and too fast,

Because I am scared of all the things I need desperately

And torn from the ones I love,

But on the brink of insanity little infinities

Make the blisters seem less painful

And more likely to scar. 

My older brother must know this feeling,

Except he is better than me at masking

The hurt underneath. 

Even through the wounds he wraps his arms around me in protection

And laughs with a confidence that he isn't finished yet. 

Something finished this week,

It stirs up the dust in my stomach

From my tainted water. 

Something also began. 

I saw my younger brother cry for the first time,

I tried to bandage a bullet I couldn't explain,

Maybe it will heal even despite the monotony we return to. 

My brother at home has been thrust into change

My sister's voice mimicked my mental vision of her face

And I'm finding myself missing an odd sort of blood-stained home I never thought I would. 

Maybe with the fresh discrepancies in my mind,

Maybe He will give me clarity. 

I am a lost soul wandering amid many and yet all alone,

I don't know where I feel safe these days,

I can't run away,

I can't run away,

And I would wash off the paint, but I fear my heart's stained 

twenty eight

"I was blessed with bad eyes"

twenty seven

"They're sharing a drink called lonliness but it's better than drinking alone"

twenty six

show me your ways,
show me your ways,
i don't want to stay the same

twenty five

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

I wear this sadness like a tattoo

I can't wash off the fear like I can the saltwater out of my hair,

Here everything is close. 

The sand to my feet, the tide to the sand, the rain to the tide. 

Wind, wind, wind, grabbing at my hair, slinging umbrellas across the shoreline;

When, when, when, grabbing at my mind, slinging thoughts across my skin;

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

I'm standing at the ocean,

I'm waiting at the shoreline,

I'm letting the waves crash into me as words,

Never, never never,

Sorry, sorry, sorry,

Words don't change anything, do they?

twenty four

I saw a partial smile

Clawing at the edges of your mouth,

It spoke of pain gnawing,

Twisting at the deep parts of your soul,

But also of a partial light

At the end of the tunnel

That seems so dark when 

You think too hard,

And now I'm thinking too hard--

twenty three

Don't tell me things will be okay; 

I won't believe you.

I am sorry for my constant skepticism 

Of every blessing, 

But by the time I figure out how to treasure a moment,

It is gone. 

That's why the soundtrack to my life is entitled "brevity"

And they will throw my body in the ground with a "big hoorah"--

The only time I really appreciate things is afterwards. 

By the time I learned to listen to my mom

She drifted away,

And by drifting away I don't mean getting sick,

I mean staying sick,

Drifting in and out of mental and physical stability

And keeping her daughter and her husband on their toes

Because accidents happen,

And August 14th must have been one of them. 

She can't help it.

I guess I can help it if I cry or not, though,

So I must choose to hold in the emotion 

For a while longer while the saltwater

Stings in my mangled facade. 

I was determined to stop being angsty

And dramatic with my poetry

And my life in general,

But after a while sorrows catch up with you 

And these happened to crash land

Now. 

I am supposed to be building sandcastles,

Instead I build endurance as the tide rolls in,

While she's practically being carried across the beach,

Smiling and stumbling over her own feet

To just smell the waves,

She tells me where to find a beach towel

And i can't understand a single sentence she pieces together,

She doesn't understand that my dad is trying his hardest,

Working so hard,

Fixing her plate before his,

Helping her to the car and down the stairs,

Wrestling the pain away from her,

She doesn't understand why I am so tired all of a sudden,

She doesn't understand how I look at her and feel so deeply sad;

I don't understand either. 

I don't  understand any of it.

I am far from home tonight. 

twenty two

She knows what it's like

I see it in her eyes;

Painfully blue,

Beautifully sea-like,

I'm thankful for every mother-figure I get

twenty one

It's funny how everything tends to glow under starlight and smoke. Your hair is the color of the sparks dancing off the firecracker, my ears are ringing with the noise and the little boy calling you dude as if you were his bestest friend. The smoldering stars almost tint your voice with magic as you sing. Maybe I'm breathing in too much smoke, maybe I'm taking another sip of absolute crap just for the hell of it, maybe there's a smile on my lips, 

Maybe Fourth of July is my favorite holiday. For a few memories I forgot about everything except now. 

I wish now were infinite, because now I want to spend a while more with you. Now is a cute dress that smells like smoke and my breath blown away with the wind. Now is a chair with a cushion.

Now don't stay awake too long, although my thoughts hate to leave you there, glowing mournfully in the grass;

twenty [song prompt from em's blog heck yes]

A song you like with a color in the title: Navy Blue by the Story So Far

A song you like with a number in the title: Millions by Gerard Way

A song that reminds you of summertime: Anything Can Happen by Ellie Goulding

A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about: Gravity by Sara Bareilles

A song that needs to be played LOUD: Take a Walk by Passion Pit

A song that makes you wanna dance: ?

A song to drive to: Shiver by Coldplay

A song you never get tired of: Springsteen by Eric Church.

A song from your preteen years: The Saltwater Room by Owl City

One of your favorite 80's songs: The Boys Of Summer by Don Henley

A song you like that is a cover by another artist: I don't know, Nick sang Cancer by My Chemical Romance once, and it was beautiful. Does that count?

One of your favorite classical songs: Sous le Ciel de Paris by Jacky Terrasson

A song from the year you were born: Oops I Did It Again by Britney Spears

A song that makes you think about your life: Glory Days by Roo Panes

A song that has many meanings to you: Piano Man by Billy Joel

A favorite song with a person's name in the title: Cleopatra by the Lumineers

A song that moves you forward: Desert Soul by Rend Collective

A song you think everybody should listen to: Hello My Old Heart by The Oh Hellos

A song that makes you want to fall in love: A Message by Coldplay, Song for Someone by U2, Wake Me Up by Ed Sheeran

A song that breaks your heart: Everything's An Illusion by Mayday Parade

A song by an artist with a voice that you love: Drugstore Perfume by Gerard Way

A song that reminds you of yourself: Silhouette by Owl City

nineteen

When will the wind blow slower

So i won't get swept away?

Tell me why I'm not tired at two in the morning,

Tell me why I feel so free yet so entangled in love;

eighteen

dig up the graffiti of your soul,
unleash the ugly kept hidden all this time
sometimes I want to see everything the way you see it,
I want to put your point of view in a gallery
rather than let it rot on the side of a train,
for we are wanderers,
but not quite lost;

seventeen.

his guitar string breaks,
he keeps playing.
she does not want to leave,
i do not want to sleep,
but somehow we both do.
she sees so clearly some things
and yet falls into traps,
she has grace, lacks wisdom,
but often that comes with years.
she feels but cannot find,
such is the fate of a few.
his heart is at home, but he has been lost,
or maybe it's the other way around.
maybe we are all brain-dead in the sense that
we are so sure of ourselves yet all at once falling to pieces.
we paint our stories in black,
maybe they are color.
i can be so confident,
but my mind undecided.
spin me around in circles, dizzy my thought process,
maybe my priorities will level out again.
he speaks, and everyone listens
except for himself.
he does not know his worth,
they are the same in that sense.
i must numb one part of myself,
i must create bittersweet,
i must live a contradiction,
i must keep playing.

and you are impossible for me to reach;
some things are alright to be.

sixteen

across the world
along my veins
you leave traces
in the daily,
memories in the
sounds

while you're gone
i'll find my way
just promise me
you'll find yours

fifteen

I want to go away now,

Unrecognized

Slip into the background

Blend in with the wallpaper of a city

I want to escape now,

Completely

Forever forget the things that I've seen

People I've touched,

I would tell you you're losing me,

But that's a bit too much

So I'll wait a while longer,

Drifting,

Drifting,

Drifting,

Sifting through the files of memories trying to piece together what went wrong,

I am knit from the ink of tragedies,

I am consumed by the prospect of anything 

fourteen

You can't get it back 

Once you give it away

To adorable boys

And rainy days

I wish I had spare time

I wish I could change

All the hours I cried

The hurts that I faced;

I am not as pretty

As he told me I was

Because I wasted my good heart

On bad times,

And some of the songs

I can't listen to now

Because all I can think of is--

thirteen

Someday I will figure out why

My brain plays tricks on my eyes

twelve

it is time for a change
my brain is tired
of hosting the rage
my heart is exhausted
from numbing the pain,
i can't do this anymore
i can't do this anymore
i told myself,
i won't take this anymore
i won't take this anymore,
i told myself.
but pain is in the way she clambers around the house,
hurt is laced in the face i see tangled in the mirror every day,
hard is waking up in the morning,
fear is going to sleep,
i keep myself up so the demons won't get in
and i'm tired of watching useless movies at three am
i couldn't see God,
so He showed up;
but the tears are still real
there is still healing i seek
this house is aching for it,
this street is longing for it
this city is dying for it.
for some reason i find myself unable to keep it together when something wrecks me
i'm connecting to everything, i feel things so deeply
and i guess the medicine is supposed to numb the up-down-up-down-up-down
but i always wonder if it's hormones or heartache or i'm bipolar
and i believe in God's power but where's His power in me
because as much as i experience Him, i don't have faith in His healing
and i need it like i need water, my breath is failing me,
i gasp for His presence, my watered-down soul thirsts for his sustenance
and i'm not going to sugarcoat it anymore
i'm sick of painting over the pain to make it seem pretty and cutting down my God sculpture to fit all my issues and my pride,
i want to give Him my all, because i've got nothing to lose
my world is a wreck and it's better that way
it is time for a change,
my brain is tired.
i don't care who sees anymore, i want to learn to see God through all of the hurt i am feeling,
i want to learn to let Him heal the bitterness and the sadness inside me,
i want to love genuinely, i want to be kind,
and yes, i may be experiencing a bit of self-hatred and i may be a bit depressed
my brain is fogged and tired and my heart is loopy with the ache i can't pinpoint,
i am as broken as broken can get, and i'm falling and i'm fighting,
but maybe, maybe
He isn't through with me yet

eleven

i'm falling apart

my plans and my hands

can't grasp the point

but there's a mission

on my bedside table,

there's a freedom in my soul,

i'm falling apart,

i have a feeling He knows

ten

You took some steroids

That almost ended your life

He held you away from

The end of the knife

You screamed from the pain

He inaudible cried

I remember one of the nights you almost died

I sat with Ben harboring watery eyes

Something wasn't quite alright

nine

I can't talk with you anymore

Without fighting back tears

Has it really almost been a year?

I miss you, I miss you.

Is healing possible,

Like they all like to say?

At least Izzy gets it,

At least he asks if we're okay.

I'm missing Madison

And I never got along with her

Until now,

But I need to be there for her

Because she's growing up,

And I don't want her to end up

Where I was. 

I remember living at Nana's,

Being bitter and sad,

Listening to Death Cab for Cutie

Because that one song

Was the only one I could relate to,

I remember not wanting to watch you die,

I remember the kindness of strangers

And eating my feelings away

In the hospital cafeteria. 

And now we're going to go on vacation,

And I'm determined to have fun

But I know it won't be the same 

Like I want it to,

Nothing will. 

Because you aren't the same anymore

And you are a gap I can't fill,

You have a hurt I can't heal,

You can't walk anymore,

You can't pour cereal,

And I'm stumbling away broken

Because I can hear you coming

From miles away,

I can feel the weight of it wherever I go,

And home isn't home anymore,

I don't know where I can go

To rid myself of the feeling

That there isn't any hope

eight

I'm scared to go to sleep at night,

Get a full eight hours,

Stare at the ceiling,

I don't want to let my thoughts get the best of me

This is where I want to be;

But my shaking voice doesn't sound convincing

Teach me to believe,

It gets harder and easier. 

seven

I would like to say thank you

For these four days,

I still don't know what to think,

They still taste bittersweet,

But there's a song in my heart

That won't go away. 

six

I listen to the sound of my breathing

And think of what will help the ache

Deep inside. 

Maybe since I've gotten in the habit

Of telling myself I'm happy

And pushing love away,

I can fold the pain into something useful

Deep inside. 

five

"there's no comfort in the waiting room

just nervous pacers bracing for bad news

then the nurse comes round and everyone will lift their heads

and I'm thinking of what Sarah said,

love is watching someone die,"

four

she told me i was searching for love,
i told her i felt so lost.
she told me He gave me a guardrail,
i knew she was right.
all the pain will fade with light,
i'm looking up for once in my life
i want to be better, make me okay
because i can't listen to love songs
i don't want my hope to fade
the tragedy of everything must go away

"you'll never find the answers till you set your old heart free"

three

I drift steadily, almost peacefully

Down the street

Too fast to take notice, too slow to ignore

The pain

Stumble-trip, stumble-trip, stumble-trip

two

I try to forget, but

It is hanging above my head,

It is pouring through my headphones.

I try to remember, but

All my sanity lies in an instance it didn't touch,

A graffiti park in Austin, 

Walking the stairs of a hotel,

Lemon water slipping down my throat,

one

it is good to go unnoticed--
i am a fly on the wall,
a wide-eyed child,
one of the crowd,
a scream at a concert,
i am nothing; i feel everything.
no one knows me here,
they do not see the sorrows that
i hide under my beanie,
they do not know the treasure
of dark coffee to tired soul.
or perhaps they do.
perhaps that is why they play this unknown song overhead,
perhaps that is why he woke up a goofball,
perhaps that is why that is painted on the wall,
they know the bittersweet of
sunny morning and dark roast.
i wrote a song two days ago
that may have been prophecy,
little did i know i would
tell my own story.
girl walks into coffee shop,
she aches for her love and she's not done yet:
tell her to drink black coffee
it makes her feel tough, i bet.