reel in the real talk

I made a little decision about two seconds ago. I probably should have done this when I was still taking Creative Writing. Better late than not at all. I have to write this now or I'll chicken out. This is real talk, and it's for you.

-

I probably should have a little more sympathy for alcoholics, but really I just think they're stupid.

But I have sympathy for my brother. And maybe alcohol ruined his life directly, but the indirect stuff was the biggest push off the cliff. I was eight years old and already deciding that I would never let alcohol consume me.

Now I'm nearly nineteen and just barely deciding that I'm never going to let anything ruin me.

I draw the line two steps in front of me. Not a lot of walking room. But that's not for me. I can run for miles if I want to. Two steps is for everyone else. I'll give you a wider space when I feel like you won't abuse that privilege. Too many have done so before.

The ones you love make you cry the hardest. Nothing a stranger said to me would ever break me. Two steps, that's it.

I love superheroes a little too much, and honestly I wish they were real. The same way I wish Link were real so I'd know there was a human being out there that has the courage to face everyone who thought he would amount to nothing.

I can't eat sweet things without a glass of milk. I love dark chocolate, and that makes me wonder if my taste buds have matured faster than I have. Wouldn't that be something.

Not gonna lie, I used to judge people extremely harshly. Especially by first impressions. I'm not like that anymore. Or so I would like to think.

My craziest dream is to one day step foot on the moon, looking up at you all and waving and smiling and feeling my heart beat on something that's not earth. My fondest dream is to get married to someone who'll never make me want to run away. Or maybe they will, but not running for my life in terror kind of run away. Run away with me and forget the city kind of run away.

My secret dream is to be able to sing.

I used to hate my eyes because they were brown. Now I think brown eyes are beautiful. They go splendidly with my red hair too, so that's a plus.

I wear baggy shirts to hide my stomach.

Love whispers to me. I want it to yell so that I can at least know what it's saying. I want it to write my future husband's name across my wrists. I want it to stop terrifying me. I want to love love. And there are so many people that I wish I would have loved but didn't.

I want love to tell me if that was her fault or mine.

not even a speck on a map

when something is infinite like the universe

even something as big as our galaxy

is not even a speck

but i'm here

and that somehow matters

it amazes me that you're not even a speck either

but you're one of many who mean everything to me

and somehow that matters

my skin is solid

my mouth has it's agency

so does my mind

and my hands ache to be held

i'm not even a speck

and somehow that doesn't matter

i fear

Honestly, I'm terrified of becoming too comfortable with another person. That once I get to that point, they'll get bored of who I really am. That they'll miss the front I put up. I'm terrified that I'll always put up that front with every person I ever meet.

I'm scared that people will hate my taste in music.

I don't really understand why that matters.

My heart beats and I think that's the best song you could put on your summer playlist.

Truly horrifying, the way I get attached to people in all the wrong ways, makes this pit in my stomach swell to the point that I feel it all the way to my toes.

It's not death I fear, but what's waiting for me afterwards.

I used to love the color black, but now it just frightens me. Black to the pitch. Where you can't even see your hand in front of your face. And no matter how long you sit in the darkness, your eyes will never adjust because the room is truly bereft of light.

I fear that someone out there is reading this and not feeling what I am feeling.

I fear the cracks in the road, and zombies. I'll act tough around them, but I fear spiders. I fear talking in front of people. I fear that one day my mind will fade away into dementia. I fear that I'm not always being honest. I put the front up anyways.

i'm all carbon

insides a wall painted with blood cells and cholesterol

insides a liver - i think

i'm not all that sure, actually

the inside is a place i've never been, even when the outside is so familiar to me

insides a room with a brain, and it's so cramped

inside drives me crazy

crazier than outside

and that's something to say

what with magazines and photoshop and body image

but back to the inside crazy

where i run for two seconds and the inside wants to throw my lungs outside

where i stand up too quickly and the lights turn off in that room with the brain

where there's pain one day and the next it's gone

why can't the inside just relax?

insides a network, or that's what my biology teacher told me

insides a frame that holds me up

you can call it my bones

or you can call it my crutch

it answers to anything

that liver, i'm pretty sure it's there

but there's still that doubt because it doesn't pound against my chest like my heart

it hasn't inflamed like my appendix - what used to be my appendix

but i function right, so it's there

right?

insides a whole lot of uncertainty and this yearn for Paris

combined with this confidence and homeostasis

insides a heart

it's beating and i'm breathing

for now

but the trickiest thing of it all

is that insides a heart

and it's beating and i'm breathing

and it's all happening right now

and i can feel it

i can feel it under my fingertips

but i still don't know who i am

wonderwall

I did something spontaneous just because you smiled at me

You remind me of something familiar, but I don't know what

I think I could watch football with someone like you every day, and I hate football

It's guy's like you that break my heart at the very beginning

It was worth it

the years are gone

You're laughing off the chaos, but praying no one gets shot. In the end we go back to beginnings and wonder who started it all. I take credit. So should you, but I wasn't the one laughing in the introduction. And the middle. Laughing all up until the climax, right? That's how you do it and, really, I'm not all that surprised.

I pray nightly, but I somehow forget about the mornings. Too eager. Is there something poetic about admitting that we can't sleep? Because I can sleep; I just choose not to. You've said that you can't sleep, but you've conked out on me during every single movie night we've ever had.

You're laughing off the big bang like it never happened.

Brushing off the snow, but getting your fingertips wet.

You hit the curve when you parked, but I admit that I sometimes participate in backseat driving. It was me again. All me. I can see that you're about off your rocker, but you laugh it off like a pick-up line. And when's the last time we rushed out to chase the ice-cream truck?

That dumb welcome party warned us about this. Unfortunately for me, I missed the welcome party. Or maybe that's fortunate. I don't know.

As soon as you care about the mainstream, you stop caring about what you really want. That's for the hipsters too. Stop turning down the music and just listen to it. Overplayed isn't a word in my vocabulary. And are you still laughing off the chaos, or has someone finally been shot?

I'm sorry. That's morbid, and I'm usually oh so optimistic.

Roll up the inches on the meter stick the way I roll up my pant legs. Maybe then I'd feel closer to you. And when you held my hand, I swore I flew up into the clouds and had stars in my eyes. When did you stop being the one taking up my thoughts and who is this new person and when will I finally get to really know him the way I kind of knew you.

And why did we stop trading Pokémon cards? Why did the years run off, and where did they go? When did I gain confidence. Really, when?