Denial

I pretend I'm not sad, but inside I'm screaming.
5 days.
I knew it was a bad idea,
I know.
I should be able to get over you faster the second time, but you brought back those feelings that I guess were there all along, as much as I wished they weren't. You made me feel pretty. You made me feel worth something, and not in a super romantic way, but kind of, I love you, I really do.
So how can I blame us?
Of course we didn't work out. I thought we had changed and belonged together even more....maybe I'm kidding myself.
But i want to kiss you again.
I can't do this.
Love sucks.




I ruined everything, didn't I?


APRIL FOOLS

Paper Cranes

Are those goosebumps on your arms? I'm sorry, maybe I'm making things a little cold, and even though it's out of my control, let me see what I can do. There must be a thermostat around here, somewhere.

Oh and if your warm I'll hold your jacket, and get you a glass of water.

Because that's all I do really. I make sure the doors are locked and everyone's asleep before I dare lay down and force my eyes closed. Maybe because I'm making up for all my mistakes or trying to make you like me. Probably I'm too afraid of living with guilt that I take every precaution to pretend it's impossible.

Either way, really.
All that matters is you, anyway. You're hungry? Here eat this taco I just bought. You're stranded? Wake me up, dear. I'll be there in 5.

This will probably never get published, it's more for my own personal collection of rantings, but what I really wish I could say is this: I will always do you a favor, but sometimes when I end up tired and alone, I wish you'd never asked. Because you never ask me to dances or even invite me to your parties. And you when you say "How are you?" I know you don't really care. Here's the catch: I care. I want to know how you are. I want to hold you when you cry and hear about your first kiss.

I've folded you a thousand paper cranes. My fingers are bleeding, covered in millions of paper cuts. I tried different patterns and different sizes, but none seem to make an impression. One day these cranes will fly, and you'll wish you'd held on. Oh, how my fingers sting.

And I keep crossing my fingers and looking at the sky whispering "karma karma karma" but it doesn't really seem to be working.

I'll see your heart, and I'll raise you mine.

The Signs of Drowsy Driving

I can't focus. I make to do lists and tell myself over and over again to be productive, but all I can think about is the boys who spins me around in pizza parlors and how desperately I want him to notice me. There's monsters pulling on my eyelids, telling me I can't do it. Go to sleep. Forget it ever happened. My contacts are dry. Was I staring? I'm sorry, but the way she cries has a beauty about it. I can't help but watch. 

Life isn't as good as my dreams. And the worst part is I can't tell the difference. My days are foggy around the edges and my nights are clear as crystal. My skin was made for Summer. My hair was born in the sun. My fingers were designed for digging in the sand and my feet don't fit in these shoes. My voice was made to scream.

The miles pass. The days, the decades. And suddenly I can't remember how old I was when I got my ears pierced or my 8th grade class schedule. Please don't ask me my address, the numbers and letters are blurred. I'm begging you to tell me where I am, and how in the hell I got here.

When I sing in church I just end up yawning, and I'd like to rub my eyes but my little brother screams every time I transform into the "human raccoon."

Keep your head up, they tell me. Well I'd think you'd have trouble too if you had this much hair, and this much wait pressing on your shoulders. My bones are trembling under the pressure. I didn't know bones could tremble. I'll lie down on the kitchen table just for a second, wake me in five. 

Things are getting restless. I find myself clenching my teeth and whispering inhale. But right as I'm about the exhale someone hands me a mint, so I hold my breath and wait for them to pass.

I'm supposed to be in seminary, but I think I feel closer to God when I'm writing. No one knows my name anyway. I'm drifting back and forth, and someone better catch me soon, or I fear I'll slowly fall off of skyscrapers and into the hands of those who want me for their own. Maybe I'm waiting for that red-blue blur they call "superman." Maybe I'm waiting for you, I don't really know. So if I'm getting too close push me away, I'll bounce back. And if I go to slow pass me by, everyone else has. 

It's getting late, dear. I'm sorry.

I think I'll stay home and try to figure out what a priority is.

-M

Three pointing back at me

I keep feeling that I'm to blame. It's my fault, all of it. It's my fault I didn't have time to dry my clothes in time for the basketball game, they were only a little damp. Of course it's my fault I can't sing or curl my tongue. It's my fault that I kissed someone I definitely shouldn't have. And I'm still trying to figure out who to shift the blame on to. Parents are the obvious choice, but my mom is too fragile, my father too defensive. It looks like it's all on me, folks. 

You're free to leave. You're free to laugh at me instead of with me. And you're definitely free to tell me it's all my fault.

But no matter what you do, I'll reply with a simple "I'm sorry," and move on. Do I really have another choice? Even if I did, and I chose it, that would be my fault too.

So I'm just trying to stay safe. I threw on my chain mail, and took off my shoes because with them on  I couldn't feel where I was walking. And now I'm silently tiptoeing down the path of my mistakes into battle, squinting my eyes and praying no one notices me, and that it is all my fault.

But I stop, and my eyes refuse to blink. Because I'm staring at all the beautiful people floating past. I close my eyes again because if they notice my faults, it'll be the end of me, I swear. This is their territory, not mine. 

This is war. There's no room for lipstick, or even for the ACT. This is purely about survival, and I don't bother signing up for a gym membership because I'll never be the fittest.

I think it would be easier to give up. Am I right? I could use phrases like "zip me up" or even "unzip me"I could kiss boys just because it's their birthday.I could lie and cheat and win. Maybe I could change into one of those 20 double takes on average, wears sundresses, magnetic kind of girls. I could even hide things from my parents.

I could, but let's be real; I think I'll read about it in books instead.

I'm afraid of personality quizzes, because they seem more powerful than Zues. And the Zodiac Signs have me in handcuffs, telling me I have no control of who I am or who I love. Please, I am begging you, let me choose. Let me choose who to put everything on the line for, and who to see when I close my eyes. Let me choose, and I swear I'll take the credit. I know it's all my fault.

-M