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Grace Jordan Feb 2015
Like always, Grace never can get it straight, as the girl from wonderland wonders if wondering is her fate. But here she is quoting love songs as if she truly understands them. For once, maybe she does. There’s a swelling in her chest and butterflies in her head and everything is all cabobbled in a cacophonous mess that she cannot comprehend.

The furthest distance she’s ever known was her head to her heart, they never seemed to work in tandem. One would act, another would scold, making her wary to be impulsive when it came to love. She had been hurt more times than she could count, and that unfathomable account made her fearful. From her head to her heart, it seemed like she was doomed to always run away.

Then you came along.

No doubt, the poor girl wanted to run the second she felt a hint of emotion towards you. There was many a time she could feel her heart starting to turn, starting to flee, away from everything she had ever been frightened by and all the love in her heart that had been rejected.

You scared her.

She looked into your eyes and knew your logical head and stubborn heart were things she could fall for, things so very unlike her that she could admire them, want them, love them. Between her flittering heart and emotional mind, she needed someone like you, and she knew it. But she also knew you could break her, and she could break you, and breaking had been done enough through years of falling through windowpanes.

For a good while, she resisted you. She tried not falling for you, she tried to not make it serious. Yet then you looked into her eyes hundreds of miles away and told her to not be afraid to fall for you. And what did she do that second?

Well, that scared little girl fell. She fell hard.

Ever since the age of four she was always a strong young woman externally, while her innards were stunted to that scared little girl who never could let go. It broke her, melted her, molded her into the woman you love today. Or girl. Depends on the day.

Beware, for you hold that scared little girl in your hands. She no longer holds that part of herself internally; it and her heart are now yours. You dared her to fall; she did. You begged with your eyes for her to stay; she did. You smiled and tricked her into those three terrifying words; I love you. But your daring and begging and tricking are things she does not abhor you for, rather, she loves you more because of it. Because only a lovable thief could steal such an iron locked heart.

There it is, master burglar. She loves you deeply and you have caught your prize, the safeguarded heart that many before thought they could lock pick. Never knew kicking down the door was an option, but you made it one.

So what are you going to do with it? I pray you hold it close to your ear, hear her whisper her love over and over again, hold it close to your mind, feel her feel the deepest way you will ever feel, and hold it so close to your own heart that you can acknowledge they share beats. Goodness knows she’s known for some time.

As you fall asleep before her, like you do every night, I hope your subconscious can feel her kiss your cheek and her confidently terrified voice say how much she loves you. She’d name the stars after your eyes but your eyes are too loving to be so far away. And even when the waters get rough, and the seas get salty, and the games get brutal, think of that occasional nighttime ritual you never knew about and hear her whisper silently,

*I love you
Grace Jordan Feb 2015
We met when I was very young, and I loved her in an instant. Everything about her was magical; the touch of her skin, the words on her lips, and particularly, the way I could talk to her. I could talk to her like I could talk to no one else.

My mother introduced me to her, in the playtime hours of my youth, and I was quickly enamored. She was fun and unique and something I could make all my own. We ran together for hours and hours, laughing and crying and feeling everything life had to offer. Even as I grew older, she was always there, making me squeeze out every bit of life I had in me and make me taste it. She was beauty in sadness, in a world other than my own, but I fought with all my might to spend if only day on her planet. We were not in love, but we loved as if in love, with all our hearts and all our tears. There was not a romance between us, but I was hers. I’d like to think that in some ways, though she was ethereal and grand and far too good for me, I held a little bit of her too.

I never quite knew what led me to her, be it fate or destiny, but once I found her, I knew she was where I belonged. She was home. I could walk a thousand miles, and maybe even a thousand more, but I’d still belong as long as I was beside her.

She’s had many who loved her, over decades and centuries, but somehow she was still innocent and new to me, and while we grew up together, she stole my heart more than I could ever fathom. She was there when my brother died, and those times when I was abandoned by the persons I loved most, and when the shackles of madness caved in on my soul, she was there. There are a few who love me and stand by my side, and I adore them for it, but none stood by my side like her. She has never left me, and I hope she never will.

When I lose my words, I look to her. She is the solace in insanity, the wonder of my wonderland. I can always feel the beating, the hands on the door, begging to break me, to shake me, to destroy all I have ever fought for. It’s in time with the beating my heart, because god only knows it’s my own hands beating. But in the darkness, she holds my hands tight and begs me to stop the destruction and saves me from whatever I am.

I’ve changed many a time throughout my time, hell, I’ve changed at least three times this morning, but she is always there to care for me regardless is I’m up or down, sad or mad, or simply insane. She is a rock, no, titanium, something not weathered much by time, just always there, always watching, always caring.

She is my purpose, she is my soul, and though those statements seem outlandish, I truly believe them. I never would have made it to today if it wasn’t for her. She is my love and my writing. And now, here we are. On the precipice of the universe, and she’s offering me all I could ever dream of. My future was always a mystery to me, but now with my eyes wide open, standing next to her, I know she is my future, and she was my past, and in an odd way she is everything to me, It’s been a complex voyage, true, and I’ve had much opposition to my affections. Many have spoken of how it is a selfish dream, a fanciful dream, a dream that will be unlikely to come true. But this is my choice.

Me and her against the world, and I wouldn’t have in any other way.
Grace Jordan Jan 2015
Its five am with so many thoughts through my head that my tongue cannot articulate and my only hope is my fingers on a keyboard.

I'm yawning and I'm tearing up but not from pain oh not this time, just from sleep deprivation caused by my love and affection and affliction against slumber.

Not far from now I'll likely nap on the couch, sincerely because I have nothing better to do, but for now I will write deliriously in hopes to make sense out of my late night or early morning musings, whatever you prefer to call this time of day.

My hair is soft and my eyes are heavy, heavy with the weight of the world and myself and all the madness surrounding me.

Why do I wake so early, why do I let things get this far?

Because I'm crazy. I could always go back to sleep, but I'm crazy. Maybe not exactly a bad crazy but the type of crazy that keeps you on the end of your seat and keeps butterflies in your stomach and keeps air in your lungs. I'm the living, breathing crazy, the fun crazy, the crazy he loves, and I don't understand it but I accept it.

That's the crazy thing so far about this year, I've been kicking the bucket when it comes to overcoming the crazy. I just seem to accept it more. So many things have happened outside of my control, and it stirs up the crazy, but there's nothing I can do. I just have to breathe that in and out until I am filled with it. Sometimes there is simply nothing I can do. And that's ok.

The trees are dark outside and I'm tired and alone and my eyes need resting and I'm still crazy.

But all of that is acceptable, as long as I manage to rest my weary heart and, just for a little while, sleep at 5:30.
Grace Jordan Jan 2015
Everything in my body is weary, my bones don't feel like mine anymore, or real anymore, just simple slugs in my limbs begging me to move slowly and slime upon everything.

I'd rather hide in my sweater than face the world today, and I daren't try to hide my yawns and my sullen, sunken face, bare to the world that I am broken and sad today.

I want to be asleep, where I have a chance of waking up and this being gone. But I cannot do that, not yet, I must fight and live to die another day. How somber.

My hair is a frizzy mess and my makeup must be a disaster, I am sure. The lights dance just out of reach, out of touch, out of my way as i wander along the lonely dark path today has for me.

Tomorrow. I want tomorrow, where I can sleep and dream and beg for a life more than my own, to beg for some magic that will magic away these feelings of sorrow and unworthiness. I just want to be better.

At least my sweater keeps my cold heart warm.
Grace Jordan Jan 2015
I've found it hard in my life to feel like I belong somewhere. Sometimes its just a person that makes you feel safe and comfortable, sometimes its the place. But eventually you find that one place with those people with the right environment that is just it.

Its home.

I found home in his deep brown eyes when he just looks at me and stares and it irritates me so much but I could never want anything else.

I found home in the snowy forest, where I can barely breathe I'm so cold, but my music is blaring and my cheeks are rosy and all I want to do is dance.

I found home in a phone call that matters so much, just because she's thinking of me, and its more than I could ever dream for.

I found home with new friends who smile and laugh and call me their favorite and a world destroyer, depending on the day.

I found home in the day at one place, and home at night at another, and some may find that hectic, but I find it perfect.

I found home away from the home I thought would always be home, and that astounds me more than anything else.

I found home in the company of writers and environmentalists, all dreaming big and wishing hard, all just like me.

I found home.
Grace Jordan Jan 2015
So you're asleep.

I hope its a beautiful sleep, with all you could ever dream of, for because of you and my endless stubbornness I have exactly that. I have you, I have my friends, I'm doing what I want, and I have happiness.

Sometimes I truly wonder if I'll wake up and all this wonder will have just been a dream. The best dream I've ever had, a dream which I don't want to end, a dream I'd cherish, but a dream nonetheless. Could you be real? Am I really holding your hand close to my heart or is it just air I hold as I slumber, only to wake from this magnificent dream I am learning to love.

I love my life.

That is something I rarely have been able to boast in past years. Between diagnoses and ruined relationships and crashing and burning and all of it, its been hard to love the hand I've been given. But with time I am learning to love life, love me, something I never thought would occur.

I hope you sleep well, and my typing does not bother you. I hate to bother, even though I know little I do truly bothers you. You take my bad and my ugly and care for it and I've rarely had someone do that.

I miss my dormouse and my white rabbit, but you, the one I never expected, are making sure the hole in my heart does not consume me.

I'm going to sleep soon, hopefully to wake by your side again and feel cared for and wanted. You're all I've ever wanted, even though I never knew what I wanted, and  I cannot fathom the person I am right now without you.

Sleep and dream, and I hope no matter how wonderful the dream is, you'll still want to come back to me.

Goodnight, for now, without fear, I sleep.
Grace Jordan Jan 2015
You deserve
So much
Better
Than
Me
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