flowers for a ghost

My sister is going to college next year. She's gonna leave the house, move out, be on her own. It'll be weird. Extremely weird. I've never given it much thought until recently. It still feels very distant, but it feels more real than before. Before it was just something that would eventually happen, but I didn't really need to worry about it or adjust. But now, she's got it figured out. She has all these acceptance letters from all these amazing schools with significant scholarships. It's great, my parents couldn't be happier. But it's also scary. And while I'm happy for her, it also makes me wonder. She's going somewhere, she's gonna be something. But what about me?
When I was younger I got straight As because it came naturally, it was easy. And then school started to get harder, particularly math, and I just gave up. My grades dropped significantly and I just consoled myself and said I'd do better next year. But i didn't, and then I told myself the same thing. I promised myself, and my parents, that this year would be different, I would focus more, care more. But I don't. And I'm scared that I'm not going anywhere. I always used to want to go to Carleton, but that will never happen now. It could've, maybe, but I just let it go. I have this attitude that I don't really care, and it's hard to change that whole outlook. I'm still in the top math class, but barely. I probably won't be for long and it's not even that hard, I just give up. I don't want to put any effort into it and now all this stuff is coming together for my sister, and it makes me wonder if things will ever come together for me. I know I need to change, I need to care more, put more effort into things, but it's hard. I'm too disorganized and too far gone. I've slacked for so long, I wouldn't really know how to not. And I know that's not an excuse, but it's all I have. What if a few good test scores and music aren't enough? What if I needed those great grades to go along with it? What if I don't become anything, what if it never comes together? And what if I do try, what if I do put my all into it, and I find out I'm just not good enough?

like a lightbulb in a darkened room

You're like the snow, beautiful and cold. And I'm like the flowers, only pretty in the spring. It's rare when we're both in sync. In fact, it never really happens. No matter how hard we try, it just cannot happen. Because I need the warm sun and the morning dew, and you need the bitter cold and the stale ground. You thrive on the things that wither me, and I thrive on the things that melt you. It just isn't meant to be. We're simply too different, as much as I tried not to be. I just can't survive in the winter, and you wouldn't last a day in my kind of sun. But we can still enjoy the memory, and the fact that we look up at the same sky and sometimes inhabit the same yard. Sometimes you'll even blanket me, even if only for a day. And maybe someday, in some place, we won't be snow and flowers. Maybe we'll be the lake and the sand. You'll cover most of me, letting me play hide and seek on the shore. Or maybe we'll be the moon and the stars and light up the darkness, then fade away and hide out, alone and together. Or maybe you'll stay the snow. And I'll stay the flowers. And we'll never meet. Won't ever get the chance to get it right. But for now, there's nothing I can do. No weather miracles I can perform. But I can still hope, still dream.

she calls herself maria because she likes the name

Everything happens for a reason, right? Every single little detail of your life happened for a reason. It's all part of God's plan for you, right? Even when you make a mistake, even a catastrophic one, it was supposed to happen, right? I sometimes think that that is absolutely true, then other times I think it's just something people console themselves with when life sucks. Most of the stupid things I've done have worked out alright, and led me to realize certain things or led me to something else better. But not all of them. Some are abstract paintings I haven't yet been able to find beautiful. And I just added one to the list. Maybe it's too soon to see where it will lead, but I doubt anywhere good. I messed up, made this huge mistake and I don't know what to do. At the time, it didn't seem so big, and afterwards, I ignored it. And then it just blew up in my face. I don't know what to do. I really don't. I explained things but it won't make it right, and I'm not even sure I want it to be. There it was, my way out, and I didn't take it. I made up some excuse and talked my way out of it. Why did I do that? I couldn't tell you. I don't know why I do half the things I do anymore. I just don't feel like I'm in my body. I feel like I can do whatever and it won't matter because I'm dreaming. And maybe, I am. Isn't that weird? Like, I could be dreaming right now and not even know it. I could be lost inside my mind and not even realize it. I could wake up sometime and none of this would've happened. Wouldn't that be amazing? If I could take it all back. But would I remember that it was a dream? What if I went on with my life thinking that all the things I had just experienced in my dreams were real memories? Sometimes I think I do that. Then other times I can't remember. There are certain things I remember from when I was little that seem really weird now. I can remember a few specific times that I asked my parents something and they gave me a totally false response. I don't know, I'm rambling. So I'm just gonna be done, and go to be.d. GOod night.

part of this terrible mess that you're making

Do you remember when you used to build "forts" with pillows and blankets and furniture? Remember taking forever to build them and playing in them for hours? I remember taking forever to make them look just right and then being disappointed. I'd sit back and look at it and think it looked really cool, but then I'd get in it and it didn't seem so cool anymore. It was small and cramped and dark, nothing like I'd imagined. That happens with a lot of things, they look better than they actually are. Or they seem better than they actually are. I was in the doctors office today, way up high on the top level. I'm there once a month if not more, and every time I come, I'm amazed by the view. They have these huge windows that stretch from the ceiling right down to the floor. And you look out the windows, and there's Albert Lea. Almost the whole town. You can see the lake and the cemetary and the beach and downtown and uptown and trees. Tons and tons of trees. I never realized how many trees there are here. Looking out at it, our town reminds me of a cliche small town, with a pretty lake and cute little houses and buildings. From inside the glass, our town looks cute and perfect. I saw kids playing in the snow, a couple walking hand in hand around the lake and cars waiting at a stoplight. It seemed so cool, so cute. The streets, the snow, the people. But then I thought about what it's like to actually be part of it. To be walking on those streets, looking at the snow, interacting with the people. And it really isn't that cool. It looks so much better than it is. It made me think. I wonder if everything that looks good, isn't really that good. I mean, sometimes it's alright, but it's never as good as it looked. I wonder if all the pretty things aren't really pretty at all. And what exactly is pretty? What really consitutes beautiful? When it's people, it's usually superficial things like nice hair or a symmetrical face or big boobs or big muscles. But beautiful things aren't as easy to define. What makes a flower attractive? Is it the colors? The shape? The smell? Or is it a combination of all of that? Or is it simply the innocence of it? The fact that it grew, that it actually came to be. No one made it, no one messed with it, it just is. But then, wouldn't grass be beautiful? And what about trees? Snow? I guess it's all a matter of opinion. But if beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder, why are we constantly disappointed by what we have, what we think is beautiful?

for the tiniest moment, its not all true

I wonder what dreams are for. I mean, we lay our heads down every night after getting through an entire day of being awake, and we slip into a new world. Our own world, that our minds have created. We have no say in it, in them, they just happen. And when we wake up, we either feel amazing or depressed or nothing at all. I hate waking up to find out that all the things I just had, have now slipped through my fingers. We wake up from this dream where we have everything we want and then its over, and you realize it was just a dream, just a fantasy. I hate that. I really do. Lately, I've been having these amazing dreams every night. And when I wake up, I want nothing more than to just go back to sleep, to go back to the dream and live out the fairytale. I once heard that dreams are your minds way of dealing with things it can't handle or work out during the day. While that makes sense, I think I disagree. I mean, most of them just leave me feeling empty and frustrated. You JUST had everything you want and now its gone. It was right there a minute ago, a second ago, and now it's gone. And you're left with swollen eyes, an aching body and the knowledge that you have to get on with your life. Go to school, to work. No doubt something you're not looking forward to. And wouldn't it be nice if you could just slip back into that dream world where nothing makes sense yet everything feels right, and where anything can happen and routine is just a meaningless seven letter word.

I saw sparks...

If everything and everyone was gone, who would you miss the most?
If you had to begin again, redo it all, who would you want to be there to remind you of how it used to be?
If all of your memories were to be erased, which one would you want to save?
If you drowned in the middle of the sea, or even in your bathtub, who would miss you the most?
If you won the lottery, who would you trust enough to tell first?
If you could never feel again, what feeling would you want to remember feeling? and who made you feel it?
If you were falling, who would catch you?
If you were old, fat and dying, who would you want next to you? Who would want to be?
And if the answer to all those questions were the same, why?

don't tell me if i'm dying

We're too accepting. We really are. We take everything we believe in for granted. We believe that there's snow outside, that it's winter. And we believe that the two people that created us are our family. We even believe that the things around us are really there. We believe in what we see and hear and touch. We do it and we don't even notice or think about it. We take comfort in the routine of it. We take comfort in the fact that if we leave a room and come back, everything will still be there. We believe in what we're taught to believe in. But what if we shouldn't? What if the things we believe in aren't really there? What if we're taught to believe in something that isn't anything?

As children, we believe in Santa and the Easter bunny. We believe in it because that is what we've been taught to believe in. Our parents, whom we trust our whole minds with, tell us that it's true. They go along with the charade because that's what they have been taught to do. It's what they have been told to do. They lie to us. They flat our lie to us. Because that's what has been done to them. Later on in life, we find out the truth, either from them or from our friends accidentally. Most of us are devastated, some already suspected. But why are we so crushed? Is it because we feel betrayed by the people we trust the most? Or is it because something we trusted and believed in so strongly is now gone? Either way, it's a betrayal. But what if there are other things we haven't yet been told? What if there are other things we trust and believe in, that really aren't there? What if no one has been told the truth because they're too scared and we're too gullible.

It's almost like if one day someone decided that Santa really was real. If they set out cookies every year, got excited, even put the presents under the tree themselves because they were too scared to let go. They trusted in it, believed in it, even did the work to keep it up. Because they were scared of what might happen if it wasn't there. Maybe we're all scared. Maybe we're all too accepting, too trusting. We believe in certain things because we're scared of what might happen without it. What would happen if desk we're sitting at, and the computer in front of us, wasn't really there? Or the colors of them, weren't really colors at all? What if we couldn't trust anything, especially not ourselves? What would we be left with? I guess just our feelings. And our feelings are the only thing we don't trust enough. Because we can't really see them, we can't touch them. But they will always be there, even if all our other surroundings were gone.

picking up the pieces

Have you ever been afraid of the night? Not the dark, but the night. Have you ever looked outside, at the sun fading and the air growing crisp, and felt sick? Your hands feel clammy, your stomach knotted and twisted into a maze and an awful sinking feeling taking over. And then a few moments later, it's gone, forgotten. And when you ask yourself why it even happened, your mind draws a blank. You can't think of one reason why you wouldn't want it to be night. After all, night has always been your favorite, right? Night is when all the best things happen, and the worst. Your best memories and your worst regrets all happened with the sun gone and the moon glowing. I suppose in a way, the sun and moon are like your conscience. During the day, the sun shines bright, reminding you of who you should be and at night, the moon is merely glowing. A brief, almost dull reminder of what you are to become. And at the same time, leaving this huge darkness for you to figure it out yourself or to hide in the shadows. You can forget who you are, you can become uninhibited with the lights off. You can hide from the moon and take shelter in the darkness, escaping into the darker side of yourself. Or you can seek out the moon and follow the stars, finding your inner colors without it being told to you by the truthful brightness of the sun. It's not real life in a way. It's like you're given this blank coloring page. And you can fill it with whatever colors you like, you can even choose whether or not to stay in the lines because no one can see it. The darkness hides your flaws and even your beauty. So the question is, how do you color yourself in when you know no one will be there to see it?

I thought I knew you for a minute

I think we're all at our most sensible when we first wake up. We've had the whole night to dream and think and sort things out in our heads while our bodies rest, uninvolved. We don't have to think about thinking about anything. Our brains have time to digest all the days activities and sort through the complicated problems we can't handle while we're awake. And I think we're at our least sensible at night, I think we're at our deepest stage. You know when you stay up really late and you feel almost drunk. I think its called "punch drunk" maybe. I don't know. But we just say anything that comes to our mind. I can usually write my best at night because I'm not thinking about how dumb I might sound.
Anyway, it's almost eight in the morning and I just woke up with all these new thoughts and feelings and resolutions to my problems that I don't remember thinking last night. I woke up kind of suddenly and I felt almost free. I remembered conversations I had last night, some pointless but most were meaningful. And I realized that everything I was hearing was true. I mean, of course it's true, but I guess I just wasn't ready to accept it. But it really is. And I've been holding onto something that was never really there. I mean, sure you put in the time and effort and planning, you made the promises, but you never ran the race. And I've been running the race the whole time, by myself, and not with you. I made you up in my head. I really did. I made up this unrealistically perfect guy that understood me and truly, unselfishly cared. I convinced myself that you were this perfect guy because it was easier. It was easier to ignore problems and other people by escaping into this obsession with you. Yet it was never you, it was the you that I made up. The real you isn't even half that guy. The real you doesn't care at all and never did and I wish I could've seen it before.
But I fell for your poetic words and adoring looks, your "game", and I became exactly what I hate. I became one of those girls thats blindly in love with a game-playing, stupid, hormone driven boy who thinks he knows exactly how to handle her. And I guess it was good in a way, because I'll never fall for that again. Or at least I'll try because it's not worth it. When I looked at you, I thought I saw something. I thought I saw something more, something deep, something understanding, something perfect. But it was never really there. It was just a figment of my imagination. And I guess thats all we ever were. So the only thing I'm holding onto is myself, almost like my imaginary childhood friend. I'm holding on to you because you're comforting, you're routine. And it's hard to just let something like that go. But it will come eventually, just like I got rid of my imaginary friend, I'll get rid of you. One morning I'll wake up, and you won't be there.

"It's like the smell of burnt toast. You made the toast. You looked forward to it. You even enjoyed making it, but it burned. What were you doing? Was it your fault? It doesn't matter anymore. You open the window, but only the very top layer of the smell goes away. The rest remains around you. It's on the walls. You leave the room, but it's on your clothes. You change your clothes, but it's in your hair. It's on the thin skin on the tops of your hands. And in the morning, it's still there."

cause i honestly believed in you

It's kinda like you know those days where you get everything right? When you take your time doing your hair and your makeup and everything looks perfect? It's really a great feeling. But what about when you get it wrong? When you mess up your makeup or your hair or whatever and you don't look the way you want? And no matter what you do, it still isn't the way you want it? But it's just one day. Just one bad day. And you can get through that one day looking not quite good enough because you can fix it by making up for it tomorrow. Because tomorrow you get a fresh start, a clean slate. You can wash off that makeup and redo your hair and and get an extra hour of sleep. And everything is fine again, and you'll have other bad days like that but its fine because you know they can't all be like that. But what if they could? What if everyday sucked? What if everyday you woke up and realized that no matter how much sleep or how much makeup or how much hairspray you use, it still can't be fixed, can't be good?
I wish I could wake up tomorrow with a clean slate. I wish I could wake up tomorrow and not feel like this. I wish I could wake up tomorrow and not even remember who you are. And I wish I could wash it all away. But I can't, because I could stand under a steaming hot shower, and I could get rid of all my makeup and all the hairspray from the day before, but I can't get rid of you. No matter what I do, that imperfection is still there. I can't fix it, can't wash it off. And it sucks, it really sucks. And I don't know how to fix it, because I've tried everything and the only things I believed in, don't make sense anymore. And it all happened so fast that I don't even know what happened, much less how. I want to go back, more than anything else, but I can't, and I know I can't. And god, it sucks. It's the worst thing in the world. And I wish someone would tell me what to do, but then again I don't because I wouldn't listen anyway. And I want to scream, but I won't. And I want to cry, but I won't. And I want to just melt into the ground, but I can't. And I want it to go away, but it won't, and it can't. But more than anything, I want you. And it wasn't supposed to be like this, what happened to all those promises?

you are the face of a faith I love

How can I make them understand when I don't even understand, myself? And how can I make them listen when their minds are already made up? How can I accept the change if I can't let it go? How am I supposed to surrender when my feelings won't retreat? Am I just supposed to bottle everything up and keep it locked away? What if I don't want to? What happens when the only thing to do is the only thing you can't do?

I know it won't go away, it can't. It's more than just a feeling, more than just a decision. I don't how to turn it off, I wouldn't even know where to begin. Because I've found something in you that I need, I've found me. I've found the person I want to be, need to be and I can't just let that go. And even more than that, I've found you and I found what we could be. So what now? Where do I turn when every direction leads nowhere? Who am I supposed to be, when everything I thought I was, is gone? And how do I know where to go when the light at the end of the tunnel is shut off? And why would I even want to keep walking through the tunnel when the things at the end that I once yearned for, have lost their meaning? Can't I just stay here, lost in the middle?

You offered an escape. An alternative to the sickening routine of everyone else, of the chase. I've let myself become this new person, this better person and now what? I've realized how tiring and pointless everyone else and everything else is, how my entire life has been centered around something that lacks a deeper meaning. And I don't want to take another step, another breath without you. Cliche as that is, it's true. It's like you're this big, warm blanket sheltering me from the harsh cold of reality and now I'm being stripped of it, and I have no idea how to weather the cold. And I'll probably survive, but at what cost and with how much frostbite? How much of the person I once was, will be gone? Who will the girl be that comes out of it, and will the person I am now adjust to her and what shes done to still be here?

it never would have gone away

you're not sorry by taylor swift

All this time I was wasting hoping you would come around
I’ve been giving out chances every time and all you do is let me down
And its taking me this long but baby I figured you out
And you think it will be fine again but not this time around

You don’t have to call anymore
I won’t pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don’t want to hurt anymore
And you can tell me that you’re sorry
But I won’t believe you baby like I did before
You’re not sorry no more, no

Looking so innocent
I might believe you if I didn’t know
Could have loved you all my life
If you hadn’t left me waiting in the cold
And you got your share of secrets
And I’m tired of being last to know
And now you’re asking me to listen
Cause its worked each time before

But you don’t have to call anymore
I won’t pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don’t want to hurt anymore
And you can tell me that you’re sorry
But I don’t believe you baby like I did before
You’re not sorry no

You had me calling for you honey
And it never would’ve gone away no
You use to shine so bright
But I watched our love, it fade

So you don’t have to call anymore
I won’t pick up the phone
This is the last straw
There’s nothing left to beg for
And you can tell me that you’re sorry
But I won’t believe you baby like I did before

There's really nothing I could say that could make more sense than this.

someone like you

I feel like its gone. Everything we used to be, everything we are now. The connection broken. The strings pulling on my heart, now suddenly strained and wearing thin. I can't explain it, couldn't describe it if you asked, I can just feel it. There is something missing. Something I thought was always there, but really never was. I used to see your halo and now the light has burnt out, flickering on every once in a while when I change the light bulb. I don't know what happened. Something changed. It wasn't you, it wasn't me, it was someone else, a different me. With each new phase of life, I become a new girl, better than the last. And she sees it, us, in a different light. Your once meaningful and adoring words, have now become just words. Words likely muttered to some other girl, some other time. Sweet nothings. It all seems very rehearsed. You don't feel real. The once invisible marionette strings on your limp limbs and mouth, now bold and visible. Your secret discovered. And I can't believe I couldn't see it before.

time is going to take my mind and carry it far away, where i can fly

So I'm reading this book, for the second time. I read it about a month or so ago and now I'm reading it again. The second time is always the best because although you already know the ending, you can really take it slow, page by page, paragraph by paragraph, sentence by sentence, word by word. You can appreciate the long descriptions in the middle of the suspense because you aren't desperate to figure out the ending. This book is by far the best I have ever read. Every single word is perfectly placed and thought out. It's probably the deepest book I've read. I admire the reader more than I could express.
However, this is her first novel. Which may mean that her next could only be that much better, but what if its not? I have always kind of wanted to write a book, or just write in general, and I could only hope that if I do, it is half as good as this. But as I read about her on the back inside cover, it seemed to me that her life was a bit like the book. Which is probably why its so good. But it also makes me wonder, what if we only have one story? What if, when we write about something thats real to us, it's only a one time deal? I'm always afraid that I will put my everything into this one amazing book, and then that will be it. I won't have anything left to say, anything left to think, to feel. And then what? Maybe thats why there is only a handful of really deep, really thought-provoking books.

you are my everything, even with nothing to say

Love. Butterflies. Lust. I don't know what exactly it's called, it's almost more than words. But he looked at me. And it wasn't just a look with his eyes, but a look with his soul. As if he could see right through the surface into my depth. And then he kissed me. And it wasn't just a kiss with his lips, but a kiss with his whole heart. As if I was the only person he'd ever want to kiss. And it felt amazing and it felt right. He felt right. Not in the way that a pair of jeans feels right but in the way that when your mom hugs you, it feels right. And my stomach fluttered and my fingertips tingled and goosebumps popped up on my arms and legs kinda like when someone blows air on the back of your neck, yet it was totally different. Different from anything I'd ever felt before. And I didn't want to scream or cry or jump or laugh, I just wanted to look at him. And it wasn't cliche or cheesy or corny, it just was and I can't explain how great that felt.

Is it worth the struggle?

A highly discussed topic at my church recently has been the sermons. And not for good reasons. Our pastor seems like he's "losing his mind" and getting too old er whatever. His sermons aren't good. He stutters and mumbles and talks in circles. No one really comes out and says it, but they're pretty dang bad. People have stopped coming because they aren't getting anything out of it, and I agree. I don't see why I should get out of bed at 7 to go to a church service I'm not gonna learn anything from, other than town gossip. And trust me, I'm not one of those people who goes to church and pretends to participate and zones out during the sermon. I really actually enjoy listening to the sermons and whatnot, so when they started to go downhill, I just made more of an effort. I would even write down the one or two points he was trying to make, but it didn't add up. Needless to say, I was pretty disappointed.
However, this morning was different. The sermon had a good title, as it usually does, but this one caught my attention. It was called "worth the struggle". While he did some of his usual things, like making the same point five hundred times and forgetting what he was saying, it was decent. I could follow if I tried pretty hard. He repeated something about how all of us there were "the faithful" because we came every Sunday and everything. He also repeated an analogy about how easy it was to walk through those doors on Sunday morning and how hard it was to walk out "walking the talk, walking the walk". I'd never really thought about that before and it was a great thing to consider. I sat there for the rest of the service and the ride home and the rest of today really, thinking about that.
What I got out of it was that its extremely easy to be "faithful". I mean, it requires some amount of effort, getting out of bed isn't always easy, but its not that big of deal. And I think most people do it because they want to claim to be Christians. They want the title and the reputation that comes along with it. They want to think that they're going to Heaven someday, which they might, but I doubt its just because they come to church once a week and be "godly". Because, when they walk out those double doors an hour or so later, what are they thinking about?
Likely its not God. Likely its the plans for the day, making a grocery list in their heads, etc, which is perfectly normal, I'm not saying thats bad. Its just human nature. But what I think he was struggling to say though was that its easy to walk into church once a week and participate in church activities, but in the long run what does that really mean? We go out into the world every week after church and lead our lives. But where does God fit into our lives? How many times a week do you do something "Godly"? How much of a factor is He in your decision making? Where exactly is God in our lives? Some people may argue that they are too busy to think about God. Or that he's never present in their daily lives.
But heres the thing, God is EVERYWHERE. You can feel his love everywhere, all the time. He's the feeling you get when you look lovingly into your significant others eyes. He's the hug between a father and son. He's the cute little thing your dog did this morning. He's the "on-top-of-the-world" feeling you get when things are going great. He's all the blessings we have, the people and things in our lives we like the best. And most importantly, he's each of us. He's the thing we're good at, and we're all good at something, whether we admit or not. He gave us each a special talent, and by not doing it and using it for good, we're being ungrateful. And when we aren't "walking the talk, walking the walk" we are letting him down and letting our lives go to waste. I strongly believe he has a plan for all of us and we just need to go with it and let him take over. Because when you really sit down and think about it, optimistically and without judgment or anger anyway, we can really see all the good things he does for us, and what great things we can and should be eternally grateful for.

just let me sing you to sleep

I'm so tired. Completely and utterly exhausted, spent. Not in the physical sense, but the emotional and logical. I'm tired of thinking, and I'm tired of feeling. It gets me no where and everywhere at the same time. But the places it takes me aren't anywhere near where I want to go. Its as if I've thought and felt and confused myself all the way to the other side of the world and not even realized it. And when I do finally realize it, I want nothing more than to go home. But the journey home isn't as easy as I'd hoped, I can't figure out which way I came or where I live and its all my own fault. I wrote the map inside my head but I can't remember it with all these words and feelings floating around. Every one of my thoughts and feelings create a bigger road block and I can't get home. I can't get back to where I feel comfortable, where I feel okay. I can't get back to the only place I want to be. And I wish I could just stop thinking and feeling because thats the reason for this unbearable mess. If my feelings and my thoughts just ceased to exist then I could go home, I could be okay again. I could feel normal again, maybe even feel good. But I can't. Its not that simple. I can't just stop thinking and feeling. And I most certainly can't fall out of love. So what can I do?

If the moon fell down

Guilt is a weird thing. What is it exactly? It seems kind of like sympathy but then, what is sympathy? A feeling? And what constitutes a feeling? It's all very confusing. Feelings in general confuse the shit out of me. Who named them? Who first felt them and what right did they have to classify them? I don't think they should have names. I know we need words to describe things to other people, but can't we just stay private about some things? And feelings like guilt and sympathy and love deserve so much more than a vague few syllable word. Plus, how do we know that the word we're using to describe a feeling is the same word someone else is using for a completely different feeling? What if what I feel and interpret as guilt is what someone else feels for and interprets as apathy? When you think about it, that can apply to everything, especially colors. How do we even know anything for certain and how can we trust everything for real?

sensible

In a few months, I won't know you.
Your soul living and experiencing without mine.
In a few months, I won't hear you.
Your voice won't sing to me.
In a few months, I won't touch you.
Your fingertips won't make me flutter.
In a few months, I won't see you.
Your eyes won't lock with mine.
In a few months, I won't taste you.
Your tongue won't send sparks along mine.
In a few months, I won't feel you.
Your body won't entangle with mine.
In a few months, I won't know you.
Your body, or your mind.
In a few months, it will all be memories.
And maybe thats all it ever was.

The Chase

We are endlessly chasing. Chasing something better. In our heads, we have this image of this "perfect" person that we think we, ourselves, need to become. And so we chase. We chase the things we think we need to become this "better" person. We chase material things, such as better clothes and "toys" and we chase things we can't touch, like better grades or reputations. We even chase people. And so the question arises, why do we chase?
The answer hangs in the balance. The balance between want and greed. Its so much more complex than wanting and so much simpler than greed. Its something like avidity. A big part of it, is becoming what we think we need to be so that the people that "matter" will be pleased, and the people that don't, will be pissed. But why do we need to be better? Really. When you think about, it shouldn't matter. What happens when you become better? You get invited to more things and have more friends and more opportunities to go places and be accepted? That seems like a lot of work for a lot of nothing.
But what happens when its not material things we're chasing? What happens when its people? We now not only want things, we want people. Better friends, better significant others. So we can rise higher in the social order of things. But what happens to the people we have now? Do our friends get tossed aside, thrown back, or do they rise with you? And what about our significant others? Are they chasing too?
The real question is, what happens when we get everything we were chasing? Do we sit back and smile and revel in our happiness? Not usually. We usually find our that everything we were chasing, wasn't worth chasing. And even if it is, we can't just be satisfied anymore. We've trained ourselves to think that we can get anything we want and go after more. So we won't just sit back and be happy when we get it all, we'll keep chasing. And maybe thats good, maybe its bad. Either way, its what it is. And what can we do about it?

"I've spent so much time chasing what I should be, that I forgot what I am."

then comes the sun

Today I was faced with a big decision, and I was at a loss for what to do. Seeking guidance my friends couldn't offer, I decided to read the bible. I rarely do this, except for Psalms and I was genuinely surprised at what I read. And guess what I found out? I don't believe in God. Nowadays God is made out to be this all-forgiving, father figure of sorts. But from what I read in the bible, he didn't sound like this. In the fifteen or twenty pages I read, he gruesomely killed people who messed up once and unleashed a swarm of horny angry men on a prostitute. Does that sound like the God we've all been hearing about? It certainly doesn't to me. It sounds like some very "tough love". I mean, they messed up once (excluding the whore) and they were killed. How many times have I messed up? Will I be eternally damned for a few sins? I guess what I'm trying to say is that I believe in God, but not in the Bible's God. But is there really a God outside of the Bible? Maybe he was made up to give struggling people hope and to give sinners a reason not to sin again. But if this is true, wouldn't everyone be damned to hell? Which raises the question, how much room is there in hell? and how saint-like do you have to be to get a spot in heaven?

as you breathe out and i breathe in

Questions. It feels like everyone has all these questions. Questions I can't answer, I wouldn't even know where to begin. I wish I knew what to do and I wish I knew how to do it. Whatever happened to "let go, let God."? It's so much more complicated than that. It really isn't about what I want, its about what everyone else does. And when finally I pour it all out, tell him the reasoning behind my hesitation, its not what he wants to hear. So why even ask the question? Why do we ask questions when we know that the answer isn't going to satisfy us? Is it because we need some kind of closure? Is it because we know, we just don't want to? And when its all out there in the open, where do we go from there? When either way will make me happy, which way should I go? And when the final answer is I don't know, is that an automatic no?

so there goes my life...

I feel like you're dead. I feel like you're something I could never actually touch, only dream about touching. Its as if you died and I wrote your eulogy and I told everyone how amazing you were, and still are, if only in my dreams. And I could not utter one single bad word about you because it would be disrespecting your memory. Not only that, I would be looked down on for my bad taste. And afterwards I would be looking at you, dead in your casket, solemn and pitiful and unmoving, words of your greatness, my words, would be running through my head. And I know they aren't true, can't be true, no one is that perfect, certainly not you anyway. But I believe them anyway because they were said, because someone somewhere believed them and because on some level, it made things easier. Its easier to tell people you were obsessed with this god-like person and not just a regular person walking by you on the street, but a person with depth. And after a while, the words really sink in, the lie becomes truth because who's to prove it otherwise. And I'm still standing there looking at you, looking at the body you used to inhabit, the greatness floating around your casket and making me feel breathless. And I'm suddenly overcome with the need to touch you, the need to touch your greatness and your depth, but as I reach out to do it, as my fingers tingle with anticipation, a glass window slides over you, blocking my touch, destroying my courage. And suddenly you're awake, alive, moving and looking at me as though you've never seen me before. And it's all gone, its all over and I can't remember how it started.

gravity

Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.
You hold me without touch.
You keep me without chains.
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your reign.
[CHORUS:]
Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.
But you're on to me and all over me.
You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.
[CHORUS]
I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you're everything I think I need here on
The ground.
But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go.
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down

These are lyrics from gravity by sara bareilles and they fit everything I'm feeling right now better than anything I could say. Seriously, they're perfect. Sometimes I really think that music is God's way of helping us cope with all the emotions and feelings we struggle with. Whenever I'm in a bad mood or a bad situation, I always seem to find the perfect song with the perfect lyrics to explain how I feel and these are seriously perfect beyond belief.

Its the way that you blush when you're nervous

I wonder how it feels when everything falls into place. When you find everything that you've been looking for, yet never knew existed. When you find out that love is more than just the initial butterflies and that whole can't-stop-thinking-about-you kind of thing and more than just good sex and someone to fill that void. I would think that if you've found all that, you would feel very complete. I imagine that you would feel satisfied and everything you used to fret about would suddenly be seemingly unimportant. Most people meet someone who is everything they think that they want. Maybe they want someone with a good job and a steady income, or someone who is gonna make something of themselves or someone who is good looking, and when they find someone who meets these expectations, they date them. Likely they find this person somewhat interesting and attractive. And then, when they start having sex, they think wow ya know this person is great, they're really attractive, great in bed, blah blah blah...suddenly they think they're "in love". So they get married because thats what people in love do, right? Then after a few years and after they've had sex with this person a few thousand times, they realize they have nothing in common, nothing to talk about and, with the initial attraction and lust gone, they get bored. I think that is pretty much why over half of people get divorced or whatever that statistic is, I'm not positive. The point is, its sad that more than half of my friends parents are divorced. It scares me to the point where I don't even want to get married; what if I choose the wrong person? I don't want to be divorced. I've heard that you usually turn out like your parents and I really hope thats true. My parents are still insanely in love with each other, even after 25+ years of marriage. I wonder how that happens, I wonder how they knew? Of course I've asked them this but their responses were nondescript. My dad said he knew from the beginning that this was the woman he wanted to marry. When I asked him why, he said it was "because she was, and still is, the greatest person I know. She's put up with all of my shit for all these years and I don't think anyone else could. " When I asked her the same question, she said she wasn't sure, "he was young and goofy, kinda wild and arrogant. However, I knew he was pretty intelligent, just kind of lazy. He asked me to marry him numerous times before I said yes." Theres nothing fairytale about their responses or the story of how they met, but maybe you can't have a fairytale, maybe you're stuck with what you have and you have to make it work. Whatever the case, it always amazes me to see them still so in love, kissing and hugging and laughing and arguing and just being dumb together. When I get older, I want what they have more than I want anything else. I want, after fifty million years, to look at him, whoever he may be, the way that they look at each other. I wonder what that would feel like?

you're captivating while evading

I've thought about it all day. Sometimes just for a few moments and other times for a good ten minutes straight. It won't go away, it just sits there in the back of mind, taking over whenever it feels necessary. Sometimes I feel good about it and sometimes it feels wrong. Sometimes I feel giddy and can't wipe the smile off my face. Other times I feel guilty and push it out of my mind for a while, but it always comes right back. I haven't accomplished anything all day, even focusing on my book was hard. I'd read and then a word or phrase would make me think about it and I'd go off thinking about it and have to start over. And the worst part is, is that I think that everyone knows. I feel like they look at me and they can just tell, like they can read my mind or something. I feel as if I'm as transparent as the water bottle on my desk, my expression as readable as a John Grisham novel. It has morphed me into someone I don't know and created a distance between me and everyone else. And yet, its nothing. Its everything and its nothing. Its embarrassing and its completely normal. Its one little thing yet its ten million huge things. It changes every time I think about it and I don't know what to make of it. I'm not even sure it happened nor have I decided what exactly it is that happened. But....it doesn't matter what it is, what matters is that I've never felt this intensely in my life and its amazing and its horrible. In any case, I'm sick of trying to define it and make it into some perfect little paragraph because its not working.

but is this real?

I remember everything about it, every feeling. Every single little detail, from the kind of gum in mouth to the giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach to the smell of the night air. But did it really happen? I remember what I did and I remember what I said, but was it really me doing it? Sometimes it feels like certain things I've experienced were just a vivid dream. It's like watching a movie or reading a book and feeling vaguely connected to the main character and knowing what they're thinking and doing but never truly knowing how they're feeling. Sure you can write a feeling down or try to portray it in a movie, but you never know how it actually is until it happens to you and sometimes not even then. What if it didn't happen? What if it really was a dream or some figment of my imagination? What if all of my personal memories aren't really memories at all? What if they're all just a jumbled mess of things I've read in books and watched on movies?

two twenties and a ten

I've felt off all day. Actually, I haven't really felt all day. I don't want to actually do anything, I just want to watch everything happen. I vaguely remember the events of the day and especially of last night, it feels like they happened to someone else, and not to me at all. Pretty soon I have to go meet my friends at this thing, and its the last thing in the world I want to do. Well thats not entirely true, but it's definitely not my first choice. I would much rather just sit outside and stare at things and people, it's amazing how real everything looks. I love doing that when I'm in weird moods like this. I don't have to talk to anyone or act a certain way, or pretend to listen and be interested in the things they're saying. I can just be. Around them or anyone, I'm a different person than how i am when I'm alone, even my way of thinking changes. Maybe everyone does that, or maybe it's just me. Maybe that's why I'm extremely shy at times or maybe it's just simply because I'm insecure or whatever people say is the reasoning behind shyness. In any case, I wonder which person is the "real" me, the one I am when I'm alone or the one I am with everyone else. I suspect that its the first, that would be the most logical answer because when I'm alone, I'm not influenced by anyone else. Also, when I'm with other people, I'm censored in a way. I have to be on guard. I can't say whatever I want. But when I'm alone, no ones there to judge what I say because I don't actually say anything, I just think it. In my head I can be whoever I want, think whatever I want, feel whatever I want. And when they're just thoughts, even if they're "wrong" or "mean" or "bad" or "weird", does it really matter?

Used to be

Earlier today i was looking through some old saved conversations between me and a certain boy i used to really like. They were from last year from October to around February, less than a year ago. As I was reading over these, i was really in awe of how much different i was then, compared to how i am now. It's weird how everything changes and we don't even realize it. I used to think I was "in love" with him, whatever that means, and that he was so perfect and so amazing. Now i look back on that and realize how wrong i was. I mean i'm not saying he's not a great guy, because he is, i'm just saying he's not as amazing as I built him up to be and his interest in me is really clear to me now, whereas back then, i thought he genuinely liked me. The point of this is that its weird how feelings change. I ran into him a few nights ago, I hadn't seen him in a long time and i didn't really think i would ever see him again since he moved er whatever. We started talking and i felt nothing. I was looking at this boy i used to be obsessed with, yet i felt nothing. I was talking to the same person, looking at the same familiar face, hearing the same familiar voice, but my heart didn't race, my fingers didn't tingle and my stomach didn't do the usual flip-flop. It was just like talking to any old person and it was really kind of scary. How can you feel so strongly about someone, then feel nothing at all?

Heaven?

Have you ever thought about what happens after we die? I'm sure the thought has crossed your mind before but have you ever really sat down and thought about it? I don't think about it as much as i used to and maybe thats because it gets tiring because we'll never know the answers until we actually die and who knows how we'll comprehend it. I don't really believe in heaven with the stereotypical fluffy, white clouds and the pearly gates, but i do believe in God for the most part. I think that when you die you go to like the next level of earth... like another earth where we are born again with the same knowledge we attained in our previous life, and we learn more, love better, make mistakes and teach others... and then we die and the process repeats. I think thats a really cool concept, that we keep going up, that one day we'll all be sophisticated and intelligent and able to enjoy every little thing in life. Maybe its too much of a fairytale ending for some people but i like to think that everything we're doing here builds to something, although i tend to contradict myself often after some thought. I don't see how some people can think that everything just ends after we die. If thats true, that we actually do have an end, then whats the point of a beginning? Its weird to think we're all on this never-ending time line of trillions and trillions of years and only a centimeter of this eternal time line is ours. Thats all we stand for, all of our accomplishments, all of our relationships, all of the things we thought were significant and worthwhile mean nothing. It makes me wonder why we're always striving to do better, to be better, to accomplish more things. I mean if, in the end, none of it matters and everything we've worked for has brought us nothing more than a few minuscule trophies and momentary satisfactions, then why does it matter what we've accomplished and what we have to stand for what we were? I just don't want to grow old and realize that all of my hard work has gotten me no where. That all the times i've struggled with grades and went to bed early instead of having fun with friends got me no where, that i gained nothing more than a good GPA for it. And all the times i've tried to be "good" and made "good choices" have got me nothing more than my parents approval and a good reputation. When you really think about it, it seems so pointless. When i'm old i think i'd rather say that i had a lot of fun and laughed a lot rather than i had a good GPA and went to a good college. And maybe you can combine all of it, maybe you can have a lot of fun and still be "good"...but i guess we'll have to wait and find out.