The very first thing I learned about you was your ex-communication from Mormonism. Did you really try teaching a preschool class that Jesus was a Rastafarian? Or was that one of your many big fish tales told to me over the years?

This was when you were only a mischievous high-schooler. Not the cynic you are today, worn down after choosing the safest choices life can offer. When did a clever person like you acquiesce to such homogeneity? Somewhere between your Economist-reading days in undergrad and law school? I know you claim the reason was something about getting your heart broken one too many times. And yes, I know I whacked it around like a pinata... as you did mine. Because that's what reckless kids do. Will you ever accept this as an excuse? Or will you always use it as the reason to avoid my calls?

Back at the age of 15, though, you could do no wrong. A shy smile was all you'd see from me, but I'd go to bed dreaming of all of the clever things I wanted to say to you. My friends would later say you exploited your teaching role as my debate tutor... but me? I was totally, utterly, and blissfully enamored by your explanation of Foucault and FoPo. I'm convinced the reason you fell in love with me was because I wrote a letter to Crayola pretending to be 5 in hopes of getting a free pack of crayons. You liked that kind of smart *** behavior because it was the kind of stuff that made you come alive. Which reminds me... do you still have the "#1 bestseller" sign you swiped from the grocery store? You wore it in your back pocket while wearing your "I spoil my grandkids" t-shirt.

How appropriate that our first kiss was on the debate room couch. I'm glad kissing was, in fact, better for you with your braces removed. And how appropriate that my first date was you taking me to the high school musical, "Kiss Me Kate."

What is it about first loves that make even the most mundane so magical? I can't tell you the number of times I looked out the window in hopes of seeing your red Ford Escort pull up. It took my breath away more than any Mercedes could. Who knows what we'd do when you did come over--probably play Donkey Kong Country, or watch some ironic movie like Donnie Darko. If nobody was home we'd make out to the Disney "Fantasia" soundtrack.

Back then you were always intrigued with the whimsical. Nowadays it's 1940s classics, malt scotch and Coachella concerts. I think your career ***** you so dry of life that you overcompensate with your expensive tastes. The wildest you'd ever get was smoking a hookah. But the guy I remember? He liked pocket watches, Rufus Wainwright, and Harry Connick Jr. I know you're a responsible tax-paying adult now, but I still see you as the wild-eyed wholesome troublemaker you once were. I prefer you that way, even if it's mentally dishonest of me.

Since you, men have wined and dined me at world-renowned resorts and have taken me to presidential *****. But none of these dates have given me the same rush of euphoria as sneaking out and spending the night with you in the home you were house-sitting: That night, we were a pair of 16-year-old rebels. At least we didn't get caught by the cops making out in the high school's agriculture department parking lot. That would happen in a few months' time.

Then you left for college, to gain an education and have experiences that sounded overwhelming for my sheltered ears. It didn't matter that I left for Europe that year--you had left for college, which was a distance in my head that couldn't be measured geographically.

I could recall a thousand barbs exchanged from then until we both finished college: you dated her. I dated him! We made promises. We broke promises. You'd come home for summer. We relished in the relatively new-found art of *******, mostly perfected on each other in our youth. We'd hate each other. We'd love each other. Your friend would hate me; my sister would hate you. On it would go.

But there were such sweet times. We saw Harry Potter together and we sat on my roof, imagining that one night could stretch til forever as we looked up at the stars. It was then that you dedicated Coldplay's "Yellow" to me. And no expression of love was greater than seeing you in the back of the auditorium, waiting to drive me home after my 6th period drama class.

I honestly don't know the person you are today. Sure, you give me snippets. Usually when some girl breaks your heart and you need to vent. In truth, I know you saw me as your plan B. Always. Shame on me for playing that part so beautifully for so long. Could we have worked out, you and me? I smile, knowing that some things from the past should stay firmly rooted where they are. There would always be a part of me that would feel like that freshman trying to impress you, a senior. All the while I wouldn't feel funny enough, cool enough, witty enough by comparison. No, we simply wouldn't work.

You know the rule, about loving your family because they're the only one you've got? I think the same is true with first loves. When I reflect on our oh-so-ordinary relationship, you--I mean, US: we weren't so great. Nothing special.

But my heart sure seems to think you were... even after all of these years.

I'm getting derealization twenty-four/seven;
Unreality has made alterations
unto my perception.

Donnie Darko awoke in bewildered displacement,
I too arose to this disconcerting amazement.
Found myself lying on green grass
at a golf course twisted by Alice In Wonderland.
Checkered tiles black-and-white
and pine trees swaying in the half-light.
Familiar faces put me at ease, an acid blotter
got emptied.
Got dosed in my dreams. Got on my knees.
Was tripping in my sleep.
What would it mean for when I woke up?

This dream didn't stop.
I woke up but my mind did not.
Reality wasn't enough.
Disassociation followed me home.

I woke up
but kept dreaming. The walls felt soft
and the colors were peeling.
I have felt this before,
Felt the days double over;
My mind lucid,
Fatigued no more.

fireflies only come out at night,
or maybe we just can't see their gleams of light
in the daytime

this was a lonely day
where my step father took me back to the western shore
to be alone again
companionship is not easy to come by these days,
buried in life's sad and sorry sands
regardless of all that has been good
there has always been the subtle reek of the bad

i don't know jesus,
but i hear he's a great guy
i don't know you,
but i know you're the only real answer, the only reasons why

and we pollute the rivers with reckless abandon,
and we let our children drown in it's poison
and when the sky opens up, there will be nothing left,
nothing but you, and him, and the lives that you have touched.

To an Alice that could've been: I toy with the idea of future memories, contingent to past moments. Let's pretend it fades in from white. Now, there she is, summer dress flopping up and down on the trampoline like the opening and closing of a sunflower umbrella. She is a chronic smiler. And when her mouth isn't smiling, you can bet her eyes surely are. Or maybe her 4-year-old dimples. Anyhow, you can always be sure to find it buried in some characteristic of that face so round from laughing and so familiar to her mother. She charms, she brings joy, she shows the love of love. She makes the moon shine and my sun rise.

To a Dakota that could've been: The fading once again comes to clarity. There he is. In some statement of fashion not yet fit for an eighth grader. He doesn't care. He would if his father didn't wear it. Look at him: screaming at his mom for space, for some angsty, undefined sense of freedom and individuality. He's inherited more than the tie clip.

To a Becca that could've been: You always were and always will be. There is no fading for you, only a dramatic finish: the curtains meet in the middle and sway for a few seconds while the audience continues to clap, continues to cry, continues to wait for another Act. There is doubt to whether or not the lights will return or whether the curtains will open again, accompanied by such fanfare as to be sublime.

To a Darko that could've been: Don't wait for me, please. You can truly be fulfilled without me in your life. Don't wait to grow your hair out. Don't wait to try acid for the first time. I won't be there to hold your hand, I won't be there to physically hurt you when you make me feel worthless as a parent, and I surely won't be there when you see your mom cry for the first time. You'll cry too. And I'll know why.

Make me proud, Dakota.
Make me smile, Alice.
Make me remember, Becca.

Make her happy, Darko.

It's
dangerous to be on anything that isn't a precipice.
**** your flat-footed surety!
Sometimes the
solidarity
you stand on
is far too smoothed over by
heat and applause
for you to try to
walk it without a razor-sharp railway
under you.
Like,
that scene in Donnie Darko where
the rainbow bubbles know
which step you'll take
to
the fridge, the couch, the TV.
I'm talking about irony!
How
it's the only way to not slip.
Someday you'll
realize
how the great Dog above
didn't always mean for us
to be so
literal.

sometimes it hits me really hard,
like in an instant, my world is backwards
and my heart is being squeezed too tightly-
just enough to hurt like hell.

i'm suddenly drowning in blankets
that smell like us
and pillows that have
blood stains on them,
my eyeliner is smeared and
my hair is a mess.
i'm back in your basement,
and i don't know how to leave.

we're eating dinner while watching
fringe, supernatural, chuck,
and your dad made me my own pasta
(i love that man to an indescribable extent).
i look over at you and suddenly something changes.

your eyes have gotten darker,
your hair is knotted and your face older,
your laugh has faded away.
you went and grew up without me.
you make me nervous, sweets,
and i know i've already lost you.
you scare me, kid.

i'm trying to leave,
trying to hurry past the quilt on your wall
and the screaming cat on the stairs.
i'm attempting to escape the fear
that you've instilled in me.

but i realize that the thing i fear
is a whole different person
than the one i ate pretzels with
and fell asleep with while watching
donnie darko and **** bill.
he isn't the one who
sang songs to me, or
tickled me until i was sobbing, or
looked at me as if i was
the best girl in the world.
this was a whole new person.
and i didn't know a single
thing about him.

so now when all of this hits me
and i realize it's completely real,
that i lost my best friend and
the man i wanted to marry,
i realize that i've been
mourning this for a year now.
i lost him a long time ago.
i've dealt with this already.
i can smile now,
i can laugh.
i can finally be me again.

and while i know i'll always love him,
i can just remember those better years,
when we'd watch scary movies in the dark
and play myst and nancy drew in my basement.
i can just remember him as the boy
with summer across his cheeks
and a grin that made me giddy.
he was the healing i always needed and
i can never thank him enough.

quote
"every living creature on earth dies alone"
word to donnie darko

and i can no longer endure the limitations set within the confines of this unrelenting soul
unwilling and yet eternal slave to capitalism with a damaged price tag
therefore,
i am unfit to be sold

but **** it,
grab your coat cause you better believe it's gonna get very cold
while we take a stroll
through the catacombs of our infrastructure
but you should be very wary of corporate black holes
where i hear democracy is  supposed to console

but alas,
im out here and im ******* white water rafting in student loans
humans living on south congress without a place to call home
meanwhile we're ranting and raving about the newest iphone
and totally unrelated,
but i swear to god rick perry is the ******* antichrist
he may possess some obscure remnant of a mind but he does not possess a soul

so whilst immersed in melancholia,
i guess i will simply enjoy my cup of tea
within the mists of burning buildings
i hear hell is a place devoid of logic and reason
and if that is true, then so be it
i decree
that this plane of existence is the epitome of pain and suffering with no guarantee of alleviation, comfort, or consolation
just death, ****, and disease
oh this life,
this life that we lead is vacant of any inherent meaning
and everything that you could possibly see is the product of absurdity

but as for me
i am but a hallucination, delusion, or fabrication
either way you spin it i do not actually exist
and with that as a matter of fact i am very complacent

i am cynical and consumed with self-hatred
but do not be mistaken
**** your scores i am not here for commiseration
simply put, i just needed somewhere to say this

I'm watching Donnie Darko with the lights on
And I'm thinking about all my old friends
And how I've wasted all these years, but I coped with most of my fears, and you know: things seemed different then.

And if you fall apart, the bottom is a good place to start when you have to pick yourself back up again.
And if you're falling down, when you hit the ground, give it a kiss and realize this: you know, it's not too late to be the end.

And I fell in love with all the things that make me human. I forgave myself and everyone else too. And I stopped looking for the answers. They're still there, but they're different for me and you.

And if someone tells you no one cares, please know that that's not true.

An image or a shadow, I can’t make out which,
Is moving in a Donnie Darko style time portal
Out of my chest in front of me.
And I’m forever thinking, will time and space ever merge
To create moments like those again?
Or will it forever be replayed in an Arthaus theatre in my stalling, staring head.
Is it always my burden to bear? Of course, I damaged you like nothing else had.
The face behind the camera peers out of objects you gave me and it has never left.
It’s no longer sharp or clear, not biting or ringing,
No surprise, no puffy, love-broken eyes  
Yet still it tears me apart.

how to clear polluted air
in darkness i sit and i stare
at my wall and at my bed
there is a man in a bunny head

he watches me sleep every night
i lay awake awaiting fright
the bunny man can clearly see
how terrified i am to be
sleeping in a room with him
exposing me to all his sins

i need to find a way to ****
the bunny man who wants to fill
my brain with all these eerie thoughts
i see my body
my flesh rot
i know with time i will decay
the longer that bunny man stays
i need to accept im alone
and maybe that earth’s not my home