Sometimes I write poetry.

I work my days for you, 'cause I love you. Boy, I don't want you, I need you. I can't see no other way. 

It's what you spit out and not what you mean,
And it's what you see, not what's meant to be seen,
The people you touch, not the ones that you don't,
The looks that you give, sometimes the ones that you won't.
It's the sun overhead, and the grass underneath,
That moves like wild fire beneath your bare feet,
It's the stars when they shine, not the darkness you feel,
The music of traffic, and the embraces you steal.
It's your bed in the dawn, in the arms of a man,
The way you keep going, when it's more than you can stand.
It's the breeze and the leaves when they turn green to red,
How the snow falls to the earth, when the leaves are all dead.
It's the way life is uncertain, and not when you're sure,
And the places you'll go, not the debt you'll incur.
It's the times that you waver, and the times you stay strong, 
It's the times that you're right, and even times that you're wrong. 
It's the silence that rings in the dead of the night, 
The blood in your ears that lets you know you're alright.
It's a whisper, a word, or a beckoning call, 
Or a song, saving grace, in the heat of it all.
A million reasons to smile, a million reasons to not,
But this one beautiful life is all that you've got.

Posts through the ages

I mean after two and a half years you begin to forget the whys and you're just left holding onto something because you'd feel empty without it. Maybe because it's really just easier to fall back into loving him then to move on and live life.  Maybe it's just reliable or the way I feel when he's around. It used to be the way his lips curled when he smiled and the depth in his eyes... it used to be butterflies but now it's just familiar. I think I'm just so caught up in the chase that... that it doesn't matter if the destination is wrong for me, my legs just keep telling me I've got to keep running.
-March 10th, 2007 (17 year old me was so smart)

There’s nothing to write about anymore.

A few years ago tell me to write something and I would pretentiously go on for hours about the colour of the sky. Now the sky is… it’s just the sky. It’s beautiful and it’s simple and when I look at it I feel at peace . That’s all. I don’t feel small in comparison or lonely or isolated when I see how vast and open it is. I don’t feel anything but contentment, a mere satisfaction that I’m alive and the sun still shines and the snow still glistens under it. 

Maybe the reason is because I've stopped caring. Things just happen. Good or bad, they happen and that’s it. I sit idly by while things materialize, transpire, flourish into greatness and wither away. Anything that happens in my life stops happening eventually, and everything's always in and out and changing too fast that I don't have the time to care about it all . So when great things die I don't feel an ounce of remorse because I do nothing to keep them around. At the same time I don’t feel resentment towards life when something bad happens…. Because just like good things, bad things stop happening too until it's all just nothing.

I do my best to stay at a distance, unattached, because everything always goes away whether I want it to or not. Boys will like me and eventually get bored. Friends will be made and unmade, or just drift away. People will pass in and out of my life and I’ve tried hard to hold on to the good ones but they all move on to bigger and better things. I’m so tired of trying to make things happen because if I want it to happen it won’t. So I accept things the way they are and let things just happen the way the world intends them to. 

So I’m content.

I’m content because in my world everything is just as it should be.

I’m friends with everyone I need to be. They’ll leave eventually, everyone does, but the space will be filled with something new.

Everything I need in life I have. I don't have a car, or an ipod, but I can live without material possessions because I know that true happiness isn’t defined by them. I’m not defined by them. What matters are my actions, the relationships and bonds I manage to form, and my attitude towards life. That’s all; things aren’t going to make my life better, I can make it better simply by believing everything is okay, or it will be when all is said and done.

And with all of that I know I'll always be content because the prairie grass still glimmers in summer’s sunlight, and the snow still floats down to earth with such grace and such certainty that the ground is where it needs to be, it’s hard to be anything but grateful of life.

I’m grateful to be alive.
So I don't need to write 10 pages on the colours of the sky, I can just look up at it... and feel certain that life is just simply beautiful.

-November 29th, 2006

If I didn't love him before, I know that I do now.
Is that weird? Is that weird to love someone that you barely know?
Can you love somebody who doesn't love you back?  Can you love somebody and not know why?
Why.  Why.
Why.  Why.
Why.  Why.
Why.  Why.

I want to be able to answer the question.  My feelings are real, I don't have to defend them.
I need to know why. . I need to make sense of whatever this is so I can get over him. And if I can't get over him... well I will graciously except defeat and tell him. "I... hey... I love you.. And I know that you will never return the feelings, and I know that I will never let mine go...  but I need you in my life. So please just... look at me? Look at me like you used to, Please!!"

He drives me crazy.
He won't even look at me.
I love him and he won't even look at me!
I LOVE HIM AND HE WON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME!

-September 22nd 2006

I'm sort of a pig.
And my hooves hurt from dancing.

And I love you.
Still. I'll say it again.
I love you.
Because when I say it to the air... well at least I'm saying it.
And you'll love me back one day.
Well maybe not you. But somebody like you... and that will do.
For now I think I can be content alone. 

--September 19 2006

Ponder this and go inside, and when you think you've caught me at a lie, then come and tell me I'm not fit to prophecy.

I wish I were made of sugar plums.

--When did I write this and where did that first part come from? Oedipus Rex?

I was waiting for the 66 to suburbia when half inch plugs walk up attached to the earlobes of some tall dark and handsome. Then it hit me like a 200 lb bus battery.

I was really craving peanut butter and jam.
Potentially between two slices of rye bread, with a 60% chance of melted chocolate chips, and a definite possibility of a glass of skim milk.

Of course I haven't yet satisfied said craving, but oh well.

-July 22nd, 2005

There's fear, sure.
And there's unknowing... okay, I get that.

But there's life.
There's a blue sky outside of my door.
There's yogurt for lunch. There are birds chirping and children playing.
And there may not be a meaning we can see.
But it's beautiful.

There may be people dying. Or crying. Or prying, lying, denying. 
Or an insatiable hunger for power.
But then there's life.  

There may be misery.
And fear, and want, and loneliness.
But there's laughter, and love, and hope.
There is faith, imagination, drive and ambition.
Patience and consideration.
There is unity between man.
Maybe we haven't found a reason.
Or a purpose. But we have found life. And if after everything the world has been through people are still smiling? 
Well then it's worth it.

No voice is too small. Or weak.
And there is no such thing as just one person.
People are out there and living and if everybody thought that they were just one person....
There'd be a lot more people starving. Not just starving for food, but starving for something real.
Starving for somebody to just care about them. 
So there are bad feelings in the world, and bad thoughts, and bad actions, bad people with even worse intentions...
But there are good. There are good intentions, and good actions done by people who decided that life is worth living even if the end is unforseeable.
Balance is not unjust.

It's natural to be scared, disappointed, angry, or sad.
But you put yourself out there and you live.
If you expect the worst, it'll happen.
You'll be miserable from the moment you started preparing for it to the moment it happens and the dwelling moments that preceed it.
If you stay positive, and keep smiling, there's nothing stopping the worst from happening but at least you gave it your all and had a good run.
Then you get back on your horse and you keep smiling and keep staying positive... 
Things won't always go the way you want. Sometimes things may NEVER go the way you want.
But create something new for yourself and find the beauty in whatever happens.
Smile. Smile if only for the sake of smiling.
Because there may be no point in living... but there's even less point in dwelling about it.
--April 27th, 2007 (wiiiissse beyond my years)

July 19th, 2007

Calculate Precipitate 

There's something to be said about, 
the way some days words just run out. 
Then he tilts his head to face me when he has nothing left to think.
He said "there's something to be said about, 
the way you make me melt throughout.
You turn your head to face me, now there's nothing left to think"
Then I shudder.
And I stutter. Stomach Flutters. Words are muttered.
And yet silence still rings clear, rings in my ear, clear in my ear. Ring Ring.

There's something to be said all right, 
I wake up sweating in his arms at night. 
His eyes were pale, lifeless, deep, what more is there to dream?
I HEARD "there's something to be said, you're right, 
a smile will help me sleep tonight.
Your eyes are like a sunset, so what more am I to dream? 
Then I stagger.
And I stumble. Stomach rumbles. Words are mumbled.
And a pattern is mapped out, mapped in my doubt, out in my doubt. Out Out!

There's something to be thought or felt, 
that's rarely ever about how you melt, 
but more to do with comfort that I hadn't seen in years. 
He said "there's something, always, to be felt, 
your words, a touch, a moment dealt, 
but it's more to do with comfort in which I think that you deserve."

In that, I don't think I deserve

Our existence relies, 
On this thin region in the stratosphere,
Highly concentrated as it is...
With ozone. That's three oxygen atoms for every molecule.
And a holiday in Athens relies
On these wispy little clouds at the top of the troposphere
And oddly enough the water vapour and carbon dioxide 
That everybody seems to make such a fuss over.

Ocean circulation,
Is part of a much larger picture
A system of interconnected components
Working together for the stability of earth's system.
But you only feel the sea breeze,
Gently blowing on your face.
And that`s as good an answer as any.

The continents are moving
On average 1-15 cm/year
and will continue to move
Until they collide into each other
To form a new Pangea. And sometimes I wish I could be alive to see it all.

My life relies... my life relies
On you, this multi-cellular, heterotropic being
Highly concentrated as you are...
With love. Thats fifteen more heartbeats for every minute.
Thats my whole existence. That`s a reason.
That`s everything. Fifteen more heartbeats and a reason...
I may see the continents collide after all.
--October 20th, 2007

I am an analogy.

June bug.

Some months ago.

Someone came on the bus today who had no limbs. None. And so I am sitting there, riding the 99 B-Line to school, my bike strapped onto the front, feeling sorry for myself because the guy I like doesn’t like me back, and because I’m in a financial hole, and because I’ve gained ten pounds, and this guy, seemingly content and at peace with his fate, wheels onto the bus. And he doesn’t have any fucking limbs. At one point he was probably faced with the uncertainty of death. He probably clung to every fiber of his being, hoping that whatever took his limbs didn’t take his life. He persevered. And now, that smile drawn across his face when it has so many reasons not to, that smile reflects a strength of spirit and a depth of character that I can only dream of. Because here I am feeling sorry for myself because someone made fun of my outfit. And instead of making me feel better, instead of thinking "life's not so bad, at least I have all my limbs", the light in his tender eyes just mocks me. His polite smile a reminder that, every time I fall it gets harder and harder to get back up.

The truth is, I can't look on the bright side right now. The truth is, it just makes me feel worse that strong people like him are faced with such incredible suffering and are able to stay positive- when I buckle under the slightest of criticisms or vow to stop moving because I haven't had a boyfriend since the last one cheated on me. The TRUTH is, my friends and my family, my tiny kitten, the food in my fridge, the roof over my head, my four limbs that can climb up mountains and pedal my $1000 bike, my limbs that can run and jump and DANCE, they're just a constant reminder that right now I am a sad fucking person. I am a sad person sitting alone in my sad fucking apartment, feeling sorry for myself. How fucked up is that?