searching, looking, chasing, waiting.
where has she gone?
i havent seen her in so long.
where did she go
i love her, does she know?

she carries a yellow umbrella
have you seen her before?
each passing day,
i miss her more, and more.

she walks beautiful & tall,
walking against the rain.
but each day i miss my chance,
the only thing i feel is pain.

her yellow umbrella, beautiful and bright
i wish i could see it through this rain storm,
to guide me with its light.
watch as the image of you forms.

you stand on the street
with your head held high
your yellow rain shield is a treat
to protect you from the crying sky.

i've been searching
i was looking
i am chasing
i'm still waiting

she carries a yellow umbrella
have you seen her before
each passing day,
i miss her more and more.

where did she go?
i love her, does she know?

The sun is hot this summer
Like it was last summer
It's too hot to play indoors
Let's don trunks and sandals
For our journey to Turtle Rock,
It's not too far a walk.

Wild carrots grow along hot asphalt
We're chewing Queen Anne's lace
The journey offers time to talk
We talk and walk at our own pace
I see Mosby Creek through the trees,
We're getting near the place

Cruise down the path
Rotten egg's always last!
We're barefoot before the first bend
Look out, leaves of three!
Poison oak let us be!
Lay down our towels
We're here my friend

Me first! Dibs! I call the rope swing!
I shout, jumping over that tranquil spot
Y'know the one, where you go over the creek,
Because of that awkward rock
I grab the rope, run round to the edge
And launch myself sidewards right off the ledge!
Ker-plunk! Time to swim,
Summer's here, life begins.

What the **** am I doing with my life? A question I don't think I ponder enough. Whenever this question arises I simply reply to myself. "I don't ******* know?" and continue on with my day not thinking about it again until my broken record of a mind wants to stick on that subject for hours on end, making me replay every decision I've made up until this point and oh ****... am I ******* failure? I have no clue what I want to do with the rest of my life, what if I wanna have kids or get married or be successful? WHAT THE **** AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE. "I don't ******* know" and I think thats ******* okay because **** I am only 19 and I'm not like Ted Mosby who thinks he has to be married by thirty.... ****, do I even wanna get married? The only thing I'm sure of in my life that stays is this pen and this page, these fingers and this rage and this insane desire to eat bacon at least once a day. I am ******, but I mean that's okay because I'm doing my thing, working it all out as I go. I am inconsistent and I change my mind more than most new parents change diapers, or housing, or credit cards when trying to pay for their groceries. I will never stay the same and that's one thing I can say for sure won't change. I'm okay, and I may not know what I want to do with my life but there's time for that. I have more walls to punch holes into, more nights to spend drunken slurring more secrets than I care to recollect, and even more nights spent alone crying into my pillow wondering why the **** no one treats me with the same decency I treat them. I guess this is growing up and **** I think Blink 182 depicted it better.

Nothing good ever happens after 2 AM.
You should have gone home,
Poured a glass of wine,
Listened to Ted Mosby
As you watched HIMYM.

You should have refused
That cup of coffee,
Exposing your heart out
In the process of enjoying
Whatever ‘that’ you have.

It’s past two in the morning,
Hug that pillow, go to bed.
Sleep now, peacefully
And rest well my heart.

[  ] i am Diane Nguyen
[  ] when the lights are off and the room's too quiet.
[  ] when i start spiraling over nothing,
[  ] but pretend i’m just tired.
[  ] when i swallow the urge to say, “i’m not okay,”
[  ] because i don’t want to ruin the vibe.
[  ] i get her.
[  ] she writes things she’ll never publish
[  ] and calls it healing.
[  ] me too.

[  ] i am Flame Princess.
[  ] masking my heat with forced politeness,
[  ] but the fire kicks at the cracks in my voice.
[  ] i was taught too young that my feelings were too much
[  ] so i bottled them.
[  ] and when the bottle breaks,
[  ] i’m the villain.
[  ] one day you’ll get it
[  ] that’s never who i was.
[  ] i’m just a girl who’s overstimulated,
[  ] trying not to combust.
[  ] trying to regulate in an unadjusted world.


[  ] i am Kirk Gleason,
[  ] Full of chaotic side character energy.
[  ] i tell stories with weirdly specific details
[  ] so no one notices i’m actually unraveling.
[  ] being silly is easier than being seen.
[  ] i make people laugh so noone ever stops to ask
[  ] The dreaded "are you okay"
[  ] I make people laugh because if they’re laughing,
[  ] they’ll stay.

[  ] I am Jake the Dog,
[  ] soft and simple.
[  ] i love hard and think deep.
[  ] i hold onto weird metaphors
[  ] about cups and pillow forts
[  ] I tell myself not to get hung up on imaginary things
[  ] because that’s how i understand the world.
[  ] i just wanna chill,
[  ] but my brain won’t always let me.
[  ] yet still I try, cause to love life you need problems
[  ] And i am determined to live to my to its fullest

[  ] i am Ted Mosby,
[  ] annoyingly romantic.
[  ] the kind who falls in love in soft, slow ways
[ ] not with only with grand gestures, but with quiet familiarity.
[  ] The type to romanticise shared eyecontact and exchanged looks
[  ] i write poems about people
[  ] who don’t know they broke my heart.
[  ] Though i still think love is worth the mess
[  ] Even when i doubt myself i always know
[  ] Loving someone is never a waste

[  ] and i’m Periwinkle.
[  ] the soft, sparkly part of me i locked in a box
[  ] when life got loud.
[  ] When life didn't understand I was only a child
[  ] i still believe in her.
[  ] i still believes she's there.
[  ] The little kid, with not so little dreams
[  ] she danced in the frost and thought the world was kind.
[  ] she’s quiet now,
[  ] Her sparkle not so bright
[  ] but she’s not gone, just dimmed
[  ] she still hides in old drawings and weird dreams like buried sea glass on a beach

[  ] i’m not all these people all the time.
[  ] but they live in me
[  ] in the sighs i swallow,
[  ] in the jokes i tell too loud,
[  ] in the poems no one reads.

[  ] i wear them like second hand hoodies,
[  ] hoping one won’t smell too much like someone else.
[  ] some days i throw them all on at once,
[  ] just to feel something that fits.
[  ] some days i stare at the pile
[  ] and don’t even bother.

[  ] i just want someone to notice
[  ] without me having to ask.
[  ] someone to say,
[  ] “i see you , even the parts you hide.”

[  ] until then,
[  ] Ill keep hiding my true self,
[  ] Untill I'm truly seen
[  ] Piecing myself together with glitter glue and stubborn hope,
[  ] soft rage and borrowed words.

[  ] and maybe i’m still becoming.
[  ] and maybe that’s okay.