crash course on death

I'm always hiding underneath the waves, or chasing the clouds away with flailing arms and a baseball bat. One foot on the ground, and the other who knows where. My head may be stuck in space, but you'll never catch me thinking about death.

This is a crash course on freedom, because even a lifetime isn't enough to explain its complexities and definitely not enough to know all its simplicities. This is a crash course on drawing blood and giving it away to the world. You've got a heart of gold, but you've broken it up and forged it into all sorts of pretty trinkets. That'd be okay if I ever saw you giving them away on street corners.

And right now I'm going to do something catastrophic, so you may want to pop a squat and fasten your seat belts. I'm going to put both feet on the ground, and it will send ripples through the earth and the tectonic plates won't even be able to handle it. I'm going to ponder death for a moment, I'll ponder it so good.

The way I see it every single one of us has got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.

Death isn't that subtle, is he?

trumpets and xylophones

I wonder sometimes what I did to make you so bipolar around me. One second you're leaning elbows on my knees and the next you're leaning away - eyes averted, bitten tongue, stiff muscles and crossed arms.

You make me feel uncomfortable, but that's not a bad thing. I'm scared of putting my head on your shoulder, and that's okay. I'm scared of your embrace, and this is a good thing, really. Can't you see that means I care in intimate ways that fool others of indifference? It's hard liking you, but that's a glorious thing and the future will have written songs with trumpets and xylophones about this unrequited love.

I close my mouth and think too much around you, now that's a bad thing. Horrid, really. I should tell you how it aches to see her running petite fingers through your hair. Because one second you're leaning elbows on my knees and the next you're leaning into her hand - eyes closed, lips quirked, at ease and completely smitten.

to you

Hey, you.
I just wanted to say that I could've sworn there was something. Maybe you missed it, or maybe I was just getting my hopes up again, but you don't go for midnight swims with just anyone. And I'm packing up all my things and putting them in cardboard boxes just like I've learned to do all of my life. I read somewhere once that long hair intimidates boys; for that reason, I've been aching to cut mine. But you told me not to, and somehow that gave me insight to a million different things about you and about me and about how I'm starved for affection.
I was wrong, I guess.
I got my hopes up, I guess.
A nice trim will do, anyways.
It hurts, but it's time to move on.
A nice trim will do.
You and I are not to be…
Why isn't this ever easy?
Sincerely, me.

how to be a nerd

I'm real nerdy.
I spend my weekends playing Super Smash Brothers with my other nerdy friends.
I'm in love with several different fictional characters, most of them superheroes. 
Speaking of which, I own twelve different superhero T-shirts. An Avengers shirt, a Justice League shirt, two Batman shirts, two Spiderman shirts, two Ironman shirts, a Superman shirt, a Deadpool shirt, a Wolverine shirt, and a Joker shirt. I also have Batman pajama pants, a Batman watch, and even a Batman wall decal in my room.
I know the DC Universe better than you do.
Oh, and let's talk about how I draw my favorite characters better than you.
I will pour hours into leveling up Pokémon.
I know everything there is to know about every single Kingdom Hearts game that has been released. And I once beat Sephiroth on my first try on Proud Mode in Kingdom Hearts II.
I've beaten Ocarina of Time at least 20 times.
I've also beaten Windwaker, Twilight Princess, and Skyward Sword multiple times.
I probably have too much Zelda dubstep on my iPod.
I was Zatanna for Halloween this year.
I think I'll love you forever if you know who that is.
The only TV shows I watch are Avatar: The Last Airbender, Teen Titans, Legend of Korra, Young Justice, and Arrow. Oh, and The Universe every now and again.
Most people just think I'm trying to be hipster, but I wear glasses and they are prescription. I can't drive legally without them.
I won't marry a man who is not half as nerdy as I am.

natural man

Humans strive to be better than human. And we fall and scrape our knees more times than we probably should. But there will always be someone there who will forgive you. Whether that's God, or your brother, or your best friend, you're not alone. I firmly believe that we can be better than what we naturally are. I think that's something most people can recognize. Yet society would have us believe that our carnal instinct is something to indulge. That sensuality and pride is something not worth fighting against. Because it's who we are.

There's not much argument to that, I think, except these words of warning. If you let the world mold you from what you are, you'll never learn, you'll never grow, and you'll never change. Use your own hands to mold what you are into what you can become. It is then that you find what you truly want.

"I desire the things which will destroy me in the end." -Sylvia Plath

astronomy made simple

The stars speak languages like dusty attics and childhood memories our yielding adult minds can't comprehend. The stars can stare straight into your pupils from lightyears away. The stars see the future and the stars see the past and the stars never bat a lash. The stars live a thousand lifetimes and the stars understand everything from day one. The stars flicker but never faultier.

The stars aren't always floating in the sky like forgotten balloons innocently released from the hands of children. The stars walk the streets of Temecula, California. And the beaches of Amelia Island, Florida. I'm confident that the stars roam these streets, even the streets of Cedar Hills, Utah. Call me biased, but the stars are in my bloodlines. The stars care and the stars will never stop being. The stars are and the stars will never stop caring.

S I C K

I'm writing about chopsticks and how I'm quickly getting sick of Panda Express. I'm getting sick of wood and the rice never being sticky enough. I'm sick of reality TV.

I'm sick of everyone owning smartphones. I'm sick of this world and it's mindless technology. I'm sick of work. I'm sick of stickering things, but I love the company. The people, that is. Not Seagull Book. I'm writing about feet and how I'm sick of standing on them all day.

I'm sick of the same old writing. My same old writing. I'm also sick of trying to be different, yet here I am. I'm actually kind of digging this 'writing every thought that pops into your head' idea but I'm sure tomorrow I'll be sick of it.  I'm writing about words and how I'm sick of the bad ones.

I'm so sick of you. I'm sick of myself. Choking here, honestly. Hacking up apologies like it's our usual disease. It's disgusting. Why can't we wake up and be completely heartfelt? Sometimes my heart feels anger, I'm sick of the way I hide that from you, I'm sick of the way I make excuses to reassure myself. I'm writing about you and how you've got me taking medication to make the sickness go away. It never goes away.

fears

i'm afraid that if we walk off into the sunset we'll get burned

that if we stargaze for too long we'll start to suffocate

and every single romantic cliché will always be cliché

scars are scars

He's in my head the way marbles aren't in my hands
The way I'm in this Utah isogloss (and I get the way I talk from New England)
The way IV's settle into veins
The way death settles into dusty tombs
The way eyes settle on eyes
And I think his eyes are telling me something

The way I feel around him is glass
And the moon is glass
He makes me feel like the moon
And there's glass around my feet-
no, the moon is at my feet
He makes me feel like the moon is at my feet

He's in my head the way sanity is out of my grasp
The way caves are in mountains
The way darkness is in caves
The way darkness blankets me at night
The way darkness wraps it's arm around me
The way darkness entices
The way darkness trembles

And darkness trembles at his voice
And I would run away into the darkness because he makes it feel so safe
I've wasted space thinking about him
I've wasted time longing for him
He's in my head the way gold is in the earth
So deep
So covered in murk
So never being mined

I need my space and I need my time
He's in my head the way roots settle into dirt
The way blood washes away
The way blood dries up
The way scars form
The way that scars are scars
He's in my head and I want him out

apocalypse

The end of the world will be full of I should have's

-I should have given money to the hobo

-I shouldn't have cared when my words came out incoherent

-I should have been a little more spontaneous

-I should have, I should have, I should have

-I should have made peace within myself

-I should have finished that painting

-I should have called my sister more

-I should have, I SHOULD  HAVE, I SHOULD HAVE

-I never finished the Bible, and I SHOULD HAVE

-I never got close to Grandma Smith, and I SHOULD HAVE

-I never bought a telescope, and I really SHOULD HAVE

-I never went to Paris, and----------

The end of the world comes all too quickly

words you should have said

And pretty soon it will be tomorrow. Yesterday won't mean what it means to me today. It'll just be the past; just like everything else. Like that moment your voice got caught in your throat. Maybe you were a coward. Maybe you thought you could handle it. Either way, words were left unsaid. I bet you can't even remember what they were.

Walk with two things on your mind: love and yesterday. Because tomorrow's yesterday is today. And when you walk, don't you dare leave a trail of chained boxes behind you unless you leave the keys too.

astronaut phrenology

what is it with my insecurities

why does the time pass so quickly sometimes and so slowly others

will i ever see space from, well, space

if i brought up your past would you care

and if you did, why should that stop me

wouldn't that make you open up, wouldn't that help me open up likewise

why do people care if music is made by manipulating a computer versus manipulating a guitar

where are the wild things

why haven't i found them

or have i been searching in all the wrong places

why does time pass at all

can the moon see me, and does it find me mysterious

are you listening

does the wind really whisper my name or am i imagining things

why do i always move to places colder than the places previous

why do i dislike the cold so much

could i pick you out in a crowd

could you pick out my voice in a choir

is time even tangible

catching up to the hourglass

Earning the days 24 hours at a time - that's the life. And it's the same for everyone.

The wealthy can't buy more time, and the poor, as much as they appreciate it, can't appreciate it enough to make it more than what it is.

Grind your teeth and count down the seconds. You think this is bad, imagine taking on the sins of the world. We can only imagine.

Smile widely and count down the seconds. You think this is euphoria, imagine death. I'd imagine she's got a beautiful face.

At any moment your world will crumble underneath your fingertips. I can only help pick up the pieces, but I'll never be able to put them back together for you.

Earning the weeks 7 days at a time and earning the days 24 hours at a time - that's the goal. It's no different for the beautiful. It's no different for the ugly souls.

Keep up the pace, or time will waste you away.

Show time how hard you're ready to work, and she will give you the rest you deserve.

You think this is dystopia, imagine the apocalypse. Meteorites and zombies and global warming and fire and atomic bombs and black holes and what is happening and where has all the oxygen gone and I should have repented when I had the chance.

Earning the months weeks at a time, earning the weeks 7 days at a time and earning the days 24 hours at a time - that's the ritual.

Never forget the steps you've taken - the backtracks and the confident strides. Because we're earning the years 12 months at a time, and I can't imagine the world ending at Christmas time. Or at Easter. And if it does, it's only because people have forgotten.

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?

the imbalance of all things finite

"The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once." 

-Albert Einstein

I've spent my life weaving layers over my heart and bones and wondering why it's so hard to connect with other hearts and bones. But don't ever say that my heart isn't pretty. I wanna show it to you raw and bloodied, but first I've got to peel away the linings.

Judge the world like a grain of sand and not the beach. Judge a grain of sand like the world and not the trees on it. Judge my eyes by my pupils and not my irises. Pupils are a gateway to the soul. Irises distract and make a dark thing beautiful. But we're all dark creatures on the inside.

Judge the moon by the way it outshines the stars, but judge the sun by the way it looks into your soul and blinds you.

Injure the odds. Fall head first knowing everything is going to be all wrong. Invest in shiny metals that perish in time. At least they last for now. I'd be lying if I said I was being honest.

I'm being honest.

I feel like I'm living off salt water and kool-aid.

Judge the leaves by the holes in them. Judge me that way too. Invent something new and give the credit to someone else. Match the stars with something other than a mirror. Like a canvas, or a beating heart, even the world itself.

I'm peeling the layers off my heart, and you better be here when I'm done.