As I walk in from the back door, and kick the snow from my boots, my mother greets me.
"How was your day?" She asks, smiling at me from the kitchen. A warm smell wafts to my nose from the crock pot. She's been cooking all day.
"Fine." I say, and I put on that grin, the one that is plastered to me.
I let my backpack hang like a brick from my right shoulder and I stumble up the steps to the loft. I bump my bedroom door open with my hip as I attempt to detangle my earbuds with my fingers. I sigh and drop my bag to the floor with a heavy thump.
My eyes land on my bed, and desire to lay down overcomes me. I fall face first onto the blankets, and I am greeted by a mouthful of fuzz from the fur pillow beneath my face. I pull the hairs off my tongue, and plop my face down once again. I sigh deeply, almost melodramatically.
I pull my buds from beneath my legs and pop them into my ears. Without interest, I slide my finger across the iPod screen until I find a song that catches my interest. The music starts to ring into my eardrums, and I lose my gaze up to the ceiling.
I seem to have forgotten how exhausting love is. All my emotions have drained right out of me, and dripped onto the linoleum floor of the school hallways. I was too tired to clean them up. Too lost in some fantasy of him. I forget these things, you see? The right One only comes along every once in a while.
I sit up, and hop off my bed and step to my mirror. I peer at the girl looking back at me. Red hair, blue eyes, earbuds peeking out from beneath her hair, a bored look on her face. And I wonder if that's what he sees. I know he can't quite see me, through the mist, and I suppose, neither can I. Oh, and where's her smile that is usually grinning back at me?
My face is now close up against the glass, focusing on her pale eyes- and my thoughts drift to his earthy eyes, and I feel like someday, maybe, I'll lose myself in them. But for now, he can't see it, he doesn't even know.
I let myself lean against the wall, and slowly lower down to the fuzzy rug under my toes, my back remaining against it.
And my mind starts to play like a symphony- a symphony of seamless hopes and dreams. And in a rapid flash, what we could be flashes through my mind.
Someday, I hope you he and I will dance to the jazz of Tony Bennett. I hope he'll will write me a masterpiece, and maybe he'd will play it for me. I would listen silently with admiration and watch as his fingers fly across the ivory keys. On hot summer nights we could enjoy the indie concerts downtown, both of us with Ben & Jerry's in hand. We could sit on the old bench beneath the oak, his fingers weaved into mine, and people watch, amusing ourselves at people that walk by. We can lay on the green grass field behind my house, and look to the sky at night. He'll laugh as I insist that I see a constellation- even though we both know that I don't. As he walks me back home, we'll stop at the corner, and he'll pull back the stray hair that falls into my eyes. He might tell me that I'm beautiful, and I'll protest it's not true. We might just stay there to forget everything. And stay in that moment.
Maybe someday, he'll will be mine forever. Maybe someday.
Lately I feel like nothing is important. Nothing makes sense anymore. Maybe it's because I lost something, a part of me. You were always here for me when I felt like this but even you left. Why did you leave? You told me it was because you had no longer feelings for me, you didn't love me anymore. You told me I wasn't good enough and that you doubted every feeling, every spark you ever felt for me. But if that is the truth why did you put up with it? Why bother? Do you like to see how I'm drowning in my misery?
It's is making me so angry. I can feel the anger inside of me at this point I'm even scaring myself. Can't everything just go back to how it used to be?
Somehow you are still the first thing that comes up in my mind. I miss you every day, the feeling does not go away. I'm afraid it's going to last forever. I can't forget you. I keep fantasizing how you walk into my room and tell me that everything is alright, everything is better than it ever was. We can get back together again and love will never define itself so good. But then I get smacked in my face by reality because you're not here and you don't love me anymore.
What happens when we let go? Where is the memory going? I've been thinking about this for such a long time. I figured if I hold on to the thought of you, you will stay with me, only in my memory but maybe that's how it's supposed to be. Just because I'm no longer with you doesn't mean I will forget you. But once you give in there is no way back, I'm not sure if I'm willing to take that risk. I'm not sure if I want to let go.
You will always be with me in my memory and I will carry you in my heart, even though you broke it.
I've recently fallen into an elite group of individuals: youth diagnosed with depression by their mothers.
I can't argue with her; she is licensed.
But I can't help but feel that my case is different, minor in comparison. I'd like to call it loneliness but it's more developed than that.
It's like a cancer that started in my fingertips when they realized there was nothing to hold on to, and has since spread to my heart or my brain, whichever is responsible for the distribution of numbness to my bones and vital organs.. I'll call it 3rd stage loneliness. I'm saving calling it the 4th stage for when it starts to feel terminal.
"Lonely" is kind of a slut of a word, like "love," or "beautiful." I think people like to use "lonely" like teens use cigarettes. It taste good when it falls off the tongue. And by my observation, they both cause cancer.
Everyone wants to be "lonely" but no one wants to be alone.
So I've put it upon myself to separate loneliness into subcategories, based on mortality rate.
If you're wondering why I'm lonely, don't bother. I'm wondering the same. I have friends a family that loves me, and the rest of the chemo-esque shit that's suppose to nurture you back to health. But
I've still got that tumor buried under my skin where no one cares to look.
I ain't got many friends I can talk to.
I've concocted a list of side effects of 3rd stage loneliness, if you're interested:
1.) Insomnia - the inability to completely shut the third eye on your skull because it persists on looking to the future.
2.) Selective Hearing - the inability to listen to supposedly happy music and instead sulk with the sounds of Bon Iver or Bright Eyes ricocheting through the canals of your brain. Music your friends "probably haven't heard of"
3.) Loss of Appetite - Don't worry, you still crave food and other survival necessities. You simply lose the appetite to expand through the universe. Loss of Ambition, as the form would say.
4.) Improved Acting Skills - You'll eventually learn to manipulate the stringy muscles in your face to pull up the corners of your lips when you feel you are expected to. Not all side effects are bad.
I am not one of those darkly dressing teenagers that complains with visible angst about being misunderstood. But I do have the hair for it.
I am not suicidal. Maybe I would be, but I seem to have been struck particularly hard by Side Effect #3.
But at first mention of depression you can see their faces squirm and contort to resemble a clumsy soldier tap-dancing through a minefield, while simultaneously conducting open-heart surgery on himself.
This poem is not meant to sadden, to depress. It is simply for the public awareness of 3rd stage loneliness. If you know someone suffering from this disease, please call this hotline:
The more you know...
The whole world looks like a Christmas card
With glistening snow and shimmering stars
From jingle bells to silent nights
To all the sleepy-eyed little tykes
Hopes and dreams reach euphoric highs
As the excitement of our spirits fly
Peace descends upon this world we know
Warmth and love every good parent shows
Mercy and forgiveness fills our Christmas hearts
Families come together who’ve long been far apart
Except of course us black sheep lost to time…
Such memories I still hold dear
And the magic of the season shines
And a hint of hope within my lines...
Home is were your heart is protected.
Home is were your talent is and were your love is
HOME is were you are protected and
IN our home let love abide and bless all who step inside
IN our home share special time together
IN our home show that you love people
By Chris Conyers
if in this moment I could form speech
not of religion nor politics would I preach
all whispers of death or life left behind
I would not mention once, I would not feel inclined
to bring up common opinions to debate
nor any tragedies glaring from newspapers' front page
see, if in this moment I had the ability to speak
here's exactly what I would do,
what I'd say
I would wrap my breath around my promise to keep
with the phrase
"I'll love you,
forever and always."
The past is the time that we have lived already; the times we've made our mistakes and the times we've created memories.
The past is the time that doesn't last.
We only know how important is was after it's done.
But why can't we just realize the good things while they're happening?
If we could freeze time, everything would turn out perfectly.
Our past consists of many moments we reminisce of, but those moments wouldn't have happened without some people.
The people we create bonds and friendships with, and if you're lucky you'll create the most amazing friendship with one person; and you never know, but that person might just end up being your hero.
You'll love everything about them; their smile, their personality, their words or even their voice.
You'll share your interests such as songs, poems or even just whatever makes you H.A.P.P.(Y)
These people are the people that you would do anything for.
You would do whatever it takes just to make them happy.
And this person would give up their happiness just to see you smile.
I guess my point is: memories would not be made without the people who mean the world to us.
Don't get me wrong, I love my life and how it's turning out, all I'm saying is that I think it's okay to re-live those moments that gave you butterflies and shivers.
So take the risks;
ask that person to dance at the school dance,
tell that person how you really feel about them,
make pacts so that you know your friendship will last forever.
Take the risks, before it's too late.
They say "you can't start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one"
But the truth is, I don't know if I'm ready to let go of the past, and frankly, I don't know if I ever will be.
It's okay if you keep remembering the past, nobody can tell you to let go because ultimately it's your decision and if you forget about all the good times, then will you be left with any good memories?
Seducer of young men and women.
Shaking hands at ten bucks a pop,
Then pulling them in to an embrace they cannot escape from.
Even if they'd wanted to.
You are the green outsides when
Their insides are blue.
You promise them solution,
But rarely follow through.
YOU are something I despise.
am not just some prep.
Some pot-head-hating bitch
who knocks it before she's tried.
to hang on, that is.
While you pulled them away from me.
I'll never forget the look in her too-red eyes
when she told me I couldn't stay.
That she'd made other plans that day.
That day and every other from then on.
I could smell your perfume tangled in her hair.
When she hugged me good bye.
That's twice now.
Twice now you stole my best friend
With promises of popularity and good humor.
That's twice you ripped out my heart.
Twice too many times.
I've written sobering rhymes against you.
And they were not the first.
I know I can't blame you, completely.
You didn't take their names.
You didn't make them make the choice,
You didn't force their voice to strip me down to tears.
And you didn't tell me to say no, when I had the chance
To dance with you.
But you gave them the option to,
All the while,
Whispering sweet nothings into their ears.
Pulling at their fingertips.
Promising gifts you could not guarantee.
And last night,
I could taste you on his lips.
I could see your shadow forming in his lungs
As he spoke.
So, Mary Jane.
I am begging you.
Don't show him that their is no other lover better than the company of you.
Don't show him the side of you that only
One who'd tried it could know
And let him love it.
I don't think I could take another blow
of your breath in my face,
With diffident intentions,
He turns away.
Your hands are on my hips
And my hands on yours
I wrap my hands around your wast and I press my head up to your chest
I took a decent inhale of your shirt
To only be pleased by the smell
I pulled away and look up
To see your eyes
And you looked down thew the frames of your glasses
to see me
After several long moment of intense eye contacted
I fealt a rush inside me
Something I’v never felt before
I knew what was going to happen
His eyes told me every thing
I didn't have to think
Because his eyes told me what to do
I was so over wellmed
I knew what was going to happen
The eye contact was so intense
And for those last few seconds of the eye contact
I knew it was true love
Because then, there
I feel head over heals
In love with you
You broke the eye contact so you could tilted your head
But then we brought it back agean
I closed my eyes
The anticipation killing me
I could tell how close you were
To receive the soft touch of your lips to mine
There was a slight pressure
When our lips met
But the second we broke the touch
I missed what we just had
You took your hands off my hips
You wrap your arms around my back
To press me up agents your chest
And I did the same
You rest you head on top of mine
As I stand there in your arms
We heald that for a while
But the whole thing was remarkable
As I continued to think of what happened
I turn my head and close my eyes
With my face against your muscular chest
I could feel your heart pounding on my cheek
I tightened my hug
Only to tell him that
I loved him
And to ease him
And he returned the favor
I pulled away and looked up
And you looked down
You could see me but wanted to see me better
You put your hands on the middle of my back to pick me up
I wrapped my legs around your wast
And there we could see each other at the same level
I wrapped my arms around your neck
And stared into your eyes as they told me another story
Love is global.
There's not a place you can't go.
Or country you can't visit and not find it.
It's revealing and easy to recognize.
Sometimes it standing right before you eyes.
Love is noticeable.
Yes, approachable to them that's approachable.
If you show it.
It will be shown back.
It's just an attraction to us.
An satisfactory to many.
Even to those that want it more.
Love is relentless.
This I know.
Because love is global.