My name is Rachel
But others may refer to me as
Rach, Rachie, or Rae-rae.
I am nineteen years of age.
When I was a little girl
My smile was as bright as the sun
I ran and jumped and tumbled
I climbed trees that were so tall they touched the sky
And if ever I fell down
I picked myself up, still smiling.
It was when I was ten
That my smile finally faded
And my parents grew frustrated
And the day they told my brother, sister and I
That they weren’t going to be together anymore
Was the same day I fell
And wasn’t strong enough to stand back up.
Of complete and total darkness
Is what followed
And then half my face froze up
Stuck in a permanent state of nothing
A paralysis of the nerves
Labelled ‘Bell’s Palsy’
Was what finally motivated my dad
To get me out of there
And after a while
I must’ve been smiling pretty hard
Because the paralysis went away.
And now I’m here.
If I were to describe myself
I’d point out that I’m five foot, four inches tall, on a good day
When anxiety isn’t weighing me down.
Rarely do I ever stand up straight.
I have deep, dark brown eyes
That observe more than they can really see.
They remain hidden behind thick framed glasses
For they, themselves, wish not to be seen.
My hair is as brown and ordinary,
Long and untamed and always in the way.
I’d cut it all off, like when I was younger
But I look older this way
And my friends like it.
I spend most of my time blogging
Even though rarely does anything exciting happen to me,
But then, that’s what John Watson said
Right before he met Sherlock.
I love television and movies
I love video games
I love books
Because I love stories.
Listening to them
I’d never get bored.
I like books, their pages dry and crinkling at my touch.
I put more effort into procrastination than I do into any sort of work.
Death laughs, and life depresses me.
I’m afraid of a lot of things.
Sometimes I feel too much,
Sometimes I feel nothing at all,
And that frightens me.
My imagination tends to run wild,
And sometimes it’s beautiful
But sometimes it’s brutal.
Sometimes I’m just paranoid.
I think about thinking
I think about other people thinking
I think about other people thinking about what I’m thinking
I’m an over thinker.
Secretly I’m a hopeless romantic,
And I hope to fall in love without getting confused by the idea of it.
But that’ll happen when I’m ready for it.
I believe in the equality of all things, though I’m hesitant to say it’s achievable.
I know there’s good to be found in people
But I don’t understand why all I keep finding is bad.
I’m proud and prejudiced against prejudiced people
Jane Austen is my hero.
If you ask me my name
I’d probably stumble over it
Like I stumble over everything
Words seems to curl my tongue
They do wonders at the tips of my fingers
But die as soon as they cross my lips.
I get nervous when I have to speak
Or look someone in the eye
And I’m pretty sure my mouth has a mind of its own.
I like being alone but sometimes I get lonely.
I’m moody and temperamental, and a little mental
But those that care for me don’t mind.
I’m more inclined to listen
If I can sing along too.
I’m clumsy and uncoordinated.
I walk into doorframes and apologize.
I stub my toe and laugh
But other people’s pain makes me cry.
I know a few words in Italian,
Even fewer in Russian,
And they’re all slang or swear words.
When I blush my entire face is painted scarlet,
And my skin is so sensitive it’s sometimes a blotchy mess.
Unless I’m ranting.
Usually my thoughts make more sense
When I’m not thinking at all.
I am Rachel and this is barely scratching the surface of who I might be.
Someday I dream.... Someday I love...... I spend my time......
Thinking of...... wishing star.... please bring true.....
The Days and Nights .....
Of Loving You.
written by: Mechelle "Miki" Ann Hyatt
In Loving Memory of my Sissy <3 February 3,1975- July 7th, 2012
They danced on the steps
Of the first methodist church,
Not caring who watched or
How their young feet hurt.
When the clouds rolled over
The sun and the wind ceased
To be breathing, they
Stopped their tom foolery and
Accepted that life sometimes is still.
They walked to the water.
There they saw the ships bound
Across the waves like rabbits
Or horses through golden tinted field.
They were scared for the sailor's,
The sailor's never knowing they
Were thinking of them at all.
After the water, leaving the sailor's
On their waves, they wandered to
The fishermen's docks, where
Crooked poles and wavering hulls
Stood erect and set pointed to the sun.
These were the men of patience
And respect, feeling death and life
Around them in dualistic harmony.
Because they held no lure or pole,
They watched the masters work as
Masters usually do. The sun trickled
Through thin white cloud and the
Wind pushed the twos hair over brow.
The masters were discontent
In their catch and their day. Their frowns
Showed their failure and they wished
That the cold winter weather
Would soon pass them and go away.
The two thinking of two different things,
Then conversed on where they should
Go to next. One said the tower, where she
Had never been before, and the other said
The park, where he had been many times.
Their differences were their love and
Their love was what kept them entwined.
Just then, in the heat of silent argument, a
Master pulled up hard on his bamboo like rod.
"A catch," the man screamed in his native tongue,
"I've got a catch here! Won't you see! Won't you see!"
The two scurried over to where the master
Stood, their eyes peeled to the end of his line. And
As the man reeled and reeled and reeled, he
Soon did reveal a battered tin can and a weathered old boot.
The master plopped the two on the crooked
Wooden dock, cursing to the God in his mind.
The two picked up the boot and the can and said,
"Thank you" and ran up the salty concrete strand.
As they reached their bus stop, they realized
What they'd done and started to laugh at all
Of their fun. The two giggled and cackled,
Screamed and roared, until the two could no longer
Take anymore. After a minute or two, the sky
Straightened out, turning full blue, so the birds
In the sky who soared and cooed, showed they
Really had no rules they were forced to uphold.
The two agreed for home. When their
Bus appeared, they both felt the same, seeing that
Living together was a much better game.
Tomorrow would be another start, just like
Today was another part of a puzzle never
To be finished, only taken to heart.
Who are you suppose to be when your only fourteen?
Back when things were fuzzy
And we knew nothing
But you keep on breathing
Even if your not living
Good thing time has a way of changing things
I know you can tell I've been thinking
But I don't think you know that I'm sinking
And I couldn't give you a reason
Maybe it's just the season
I'm looking at you with red eyes
Trying to get away from the routine of life
Since it's so fleeting
And all they want is money
What happened to the meaning?
Born into a world
You have to pay for
We spend it trying to make a living
Then retire when your sixty
If you make it
And the blizzard
I'll never forget
How cold it could get
That icy snow froze me to the bone
I thought I would never see the sun again
Cause and effect manifest
Your conclusion has to be your very best
Your heart's a tarnished gold.
Life passes you in a flash.
You zip past, thinking only of you,
And it's hard because I exist too.
I love you but it's difficult
Because the end result
Is you over me
And you just can't see
That it hurts.
At the top floor of the skyscraper that touches the sun
A man sits with his bourbon in hand, looking out over his creation:
The world in which people shine like glass
Something in that dark yellow of the bourbon reminds the man
Of that time he saw the world’s last tree
Twenty year before it fell.
It was when he was still young and naïve,
His visions of eternal life and glass people,
Still on the brink.
Some instinctual twitch in the back of his brain,
Passed down from the apes, guided him to climb it
But the first branches were too high
And so he cried,
Like a child who cries after stubbing his toe.
It’s while he’s still thinking
Of that first and only time
Seeing a tree beyond a screen
That the man takes his final sip of bourbon,
Though the glass is still half-full.
With the first gunshot in two thousand years,
The bourbon drops to the floor and
This Christmas I will be thinking of all those that have lost everything in the floods, rains and storms. Thinking of those that have lost everything when their house fell over the cliff on the east coast of the uk. Thinking of those alone and suffering. Thinking of those facing uncertainty and dread. Thinking of those not able to walk. May you all have a good Christmas and may you all have a peaceful new year. And I hope Santa will bring a smile to all the childrens faces this year. Happy Christmas everyone.
Well I don't know what to say,
I'm almost glad you didn't stay.
This way I'll have never disappointed you.
At least you're far away,
While I keep my demons at bay.
In my head I've already anointed you.
Canonized in the depths of my mind,
Somewhere I thought no one would find.
I guess I'm not as clever as I thought,
I didn't learn the lessons you taught.
I still have myself fooled into thinking that someday you'll come back, homesick for what used to be.
Fuck, I don't even if you could find the time to think about me.
I'd be shocked and speechless should my ears ever find the sound of your voice somewhere behind,
Coaxing my life back to juvenile delinquencies when I didn't have half this fucked up mind.
I guess what I'm trying to tell you,
What I no doubt know you already knew,
That I still think about the past.
My fingers raw from counting the days,
long now passed in a vicious haze.
well the fire we started just turned to ash.
so this hole that's been burning in the pit of my chest has done nothing but eat away at my ribs and lungs.
It's been burning away since the days we got lost when we were young.
Just like the house we saw on Graham,
With the burned out windows and it's blackened walls,
I hear the aching in my heart, so lonely in this empty flesh,
It sounds like a ghost as it calls.
I keep calling your name, but you'll never answer.
The sooner I accept that, the better.
Just know I'll pick up where we left off.
I'll try to move on, but I don't think I'm that strong.
Somedays I feel free of you.
Going almost full weeks without thinking of you.
Somedays I know I'm better off.
That you weren't who I thought you were.
Somedays I feel angry at memories of you.
Hating what I went through.
Somedays I almost convince myself that I hate you.
You entered my life out of nowhere and disappeared just as effortlessly.
Somedays I'm bitter because you never really cared.
Wounded over the fact that you didn't seem to want me back.
Somedays I feel sick thinking about how I was so easily broken by you.
I don't remember ever hurting like that any other time in my life.
But there are days like today.
Days I regret because they show how crippled I still am by you.
Days like today when I almost burst into tears because I miss you.
At least this insane idea of you and how I used to feel.
But everyday I think of you,
I remind myself that I shouldn't care at all, you didn't.
Everyday its the people like you from my past,
That make me refuse to settle for those that don't give a damn.
And I wont waste more than I need to, especially on people like you,
I have to be worth more than that.
At least I hope I deserve more.
I hope I meet you sometime in the future
We'll bump into each other in bookstore
Or a coffee shop
And we'll hug and make small talk
All along I'll be thinking
You were the first person I ever loved
You were my first everything
And then we'll talk about our lives
And all the great things that have happened
In the end you'll tell me you think about me once in a while
And I'll say I think of you too
And then we'll go out separate ways
And I'll think to myself
I hope I meet you sometime in the future