I ask her to describe her mood
By color
& she said*  *"blue"
& I asked her why she's sad
She responded

*"I'm not,
I just love the way the ocean makes me feel
I love the water
So therefore I'm blue"

Will it really matter?
In the end that is.
If you felt down a few nights during highschool?
If you don't get honor roll, or you don't play sports?
If you can't get up the courage to talk to that cute person at a party?

No.
It won't.
All that will matter in the end are those smiles.
Those good nights.
Those times you made someone smile.

All that will matter are the songs you heard.
And the times you danced.
The poems you read,
And the happiness you held.

So even if you're down,
Give time for the wind to pick you back up,
Because all that matters is that YOU get back up and be proud of yourself by the end.

i am sexually attracted to pencils.

I need you to understand that
the divine does not become divine
by sitting at desks
my double helix had light shining through the cracks
but that only explains why
there is an ache in my fingers
and a need to run in my feet
as long as there is not only darkness I can make my own way

a spotlight illuminates the desk
at which I sit
I am a soul being carried in a cradle
and my hands keep slipping
my eyes are starting to blur
and they just keep watching
sitting in a sea
whispering
shouting
I can't even hear them

I am writing a script at age 17 that I will refer to again
and again
until I am dead
I am writing my future
and I'm not sure who my arms think they are
but they write me entering stage left
and when I exit stage right my cells will have replaced themselves
and my arms will be different arms
the only thing I can hope for is that they will have held what they needed to

I do not know the girl I am writing about
but she knows all about me
she doesn't hate me
I know this because she smiles when she thinks of me
she loves me
but I am her burden
my decisions
affect her decisions
and that is so heavy for my pen
I still see her light shining slightly through the cracks

she will whisper to me
farther along
"It's perfectly okay"
"I was afraid too"
and we will take solace in our decisions
together

The script I'm writing is for both of us
I just hope we can meet
in the middle

My friend today passed by the place where her best friend crashed
"Hi" she said as she passed by
She laughed but I could hear the tears in her voice
She missed him more than anything

So you can understand my anxiety when you told me tonight that you crashed your car
"I'm fine" you said when you called me
You laughed but I could hear the anger in your voice




I would have missed you more than anything

Dear Dad,
I know that you're somewhere else,
hopefully somewhere beautiful,
somewhere where you aren't in pain anymore.
It all just happened so fast,
Christmas Eve I was out to dinner with you
later that night you were gone.
Trust me,
that was the worst present I've ever gotten.
It hit me
that it'll be 17 months without you in 10 days
and I still pick up my phone and try to call you
but then I remember you aren't there anymore
and I can't.
That's what kills me the most,
because the people that have their Dads to talk too
treat them like ****
because they don't know how it feels
when they can't talk to him at all anymore.
If I could go back in time
I wouldn't have treated you the way I did,
because I can't help but hate myself for not
hugging you back more and kissing you more
and telling you how much I actually care.
Ever since I lost you Dad
it's been really hard trying to let people in
I don't want too lose someone that means so much to me
it killed me inside
especially losing you because
now who's going to walk me down the isle?
or kiss my baby girl's head
and hold her like you once held me.
It's night like tonight
when I cry myself to sleep and ask myself
a million questions about why you had to leave me,
when I needed you the most
and how I'm going to have to get over the fact
that you aren't going to be there to watch me grow up anymore.
I know that you're my guardian angel and
that you look down over me
I just wish that I would've said I love you more
and got to say my actual final goodbye

Imagine this with your eyes closed.
These are the labored seconds before you open your eyes to the day.
A subtle ache hums in your bones and it takes an amount of effort to pull your eyelids apart.
And the light rushes into your eyes.

Being in an abusive relationship is like waking up in a plain white room that used to be full of color, and you look around wondering when it got to be this way. How could you not have noticed the color seeping from the drywall?
Did it happen while you were asleep?
No, you think, this must be how the room has always been. You must have imagined the color, colors are silly anyway.
No one else lives in rooms that are full of color, this must be normal.

There is an emptiness in your back that will not fill itself with your skin no matter which way you twist or turn and you vaguely remember taking a part of yourself and giving it to another.
Hushed whispers curl around your ears and for a second you can feel someones breath close to your neck.
The voices are familiar, loving, they caress the skin and if you listen close enough you can almost make out what they're saying.
"you're worthless lovely" they say
wait
no
that can't be right

See, what they don't tell you is that abusers are wonderful, you don't fall in love with monsters, they can be your best friend, your neighbor, the person who sits next to you in class.
The whole point of being with someone is not to make you feel terrible but to make you feel wonderful and that is almost always how it starts out.
After that it just depends on which side of the door you're on.

The wall is as cold and smooth as marble.
And you lay with your cheek pressed against it, as if listening for a heartbeat. Spreading across your skin is a numbness that can only be compared to sleeping with your eyes open,
Don't pinch yourself, you will wake whoever is dreaming.

In health class they aim to teach us about ourselves and others and how to interact and how to make good choices and outcomes of our problems but what happens when your health class illustrates your past?
I have yet to count the amount of people who have came out of that room with tears in their eyes, because they finally understand.

I UNDERSTOOD WHEN THE FIRST COLOR I SAW AGAIN WAS RED AND IT WAS AT THE CENTER OF HIS EYES,
I SWEAR THEY LOOKED SOMETHING LIKE FIRE,
WHEN HE ROSE HIS HAND TO HIT ME AND EVEN THOUGH HE DIDN'T TOUCH MY SKIN HE LEFT SCARS DEEP BENETH IT THAT STILL HAVEN'T HEALED AND WITH HIS HAND IN THE AIR AND HIS WORDS LIKE THUNDER I PUT MY HANDS TO MY FACE AND CLOSED MY EYES WHEN I OPENED THEM HE WAS GONE AND I'D LIKE TO SAY THAT I NEVER LET HIM COME BACK BUT I WOULD BE LYING TO YOU

imagine this,
but open your eyes because in this room 1 out of every 3 people will be subject to abuse and I am not just a statistic but a reason to never shut them again,
I had too many people say that when I was sick every time before I saw him it was butterflies,
and I've had one too many girls come to me crying because they finally have a word to call their boyfriends,
and I have been to too many doctors to call my physical condition a random happening of events,
and I have too many reasons not to be silent anymore
it takes an amount of effort to pull your eyelids apart,
but let the light rush into your eyes