1,2,3 Breathe

I'm in pain. 

There is a war being fought inside of me that I never asked for. 

The pain is always there, 

but intervals of excruciating and almost unbearable pain come and never seem like they will go 

(even though they always do (but they also always come back.).) 

And when these intervals come, I almost always find myself forgetting to breathe. 

I'm not sure why. 

But maybe, just maybe, i do it because cutting off the oxygen supply to the enemy inside me might  stop the war. 

Stop the pain. 

And I don't want to live with this pain anymore.

Sleeping Just's

I've been sleeping a lot lately.
Not so much as an effort to catch up on sleep,
but more as an effort to mend my brokenness.
Because my brain took a sick day when Hunter did.
And my heart took a sick day even before that.
And the only time that they don't ache is when I shut my eyes.
Shutting my eyes makes everything stop moving.
Things stop changing.
Good things stay, and bad things float away.
Memories aren't just memories,
dreams aren't just dreams,
poems aren't just poems,
promises aren't just words,
moments aren't just moments,
and smiles aren't just smiles.

But when my eyes aren't shut, that's all they are: Just's.

I'm going to have to wake up someday,
because sleeping doesn't last forever.

Red

My head is beating to a drum I've never heard of.

My brain is crammed with too many equations. Too many emotions. Too many of your I love you's that I haven't been able to feel lately. But now they've sunk to my heart. And to my surprise it's now throbbing worse than my head. 

Thump Thump

It's bruised. 

Thump Thump

It's leaking.

Thump Thump

But above all: 

It's. 

Still. 

Red. 

Red: the color of hatred, 

the color of rage,

But, it's more Red: 

the color of desire, 

The color of happiness, 

the color of love, 

the color of blood.

My veins are full of the deepest of reds.

1.3 gallons of red pump through my body every minute.

Most of it isn't for me. 

It's for you. 

I'm giving it to you, but nothing is coming to replace it.

And I always knew that without enough red, I'd start growing pale. 

My red might actually be turning blue.

Blue: 

The color of winter,

The color of cold,

The color of sadness.

My fingers and toes are going blue.

Numb.

Not enough red is flowing in. 

I need more red.

Shadow Man

There's this picture nailed into the back of my mind. It's a picture without him in it.
Everything seems so much brighter now that she has her smile back.

You see, he stole that smile, and hid it in the stars.

And without that smile, she wandered around with no true sense of direction or happiness.
Lost.
No one could seem to find her.
Even on the brightest of days.

But now that his shadow has been lifted from that great big fiery ball in the sky, she has found her way back home.

And the stars returned her smile. Not for the lack of luster, but only for the reason that the sky isn't ready to hold such beauty yet.

And now that her smile has been reinstated, so has mine.
Because now, the feeling of being close to her isn't just a memory anymore.
The shadow man isn't keeping her locked up anymore.
She doesn't have to plead with him anymore.
She doesn't have to beg to be loved the way she wants to anymore.
Because she found her voice again.
The one that cried out to him in the dead of night.
The one that he heard, but never listened to.
That one that he tied a rock to, and sank in the deepest part of the ocean.
And she had to fight off sharks just to get it back.
She may have come back with cuts and bruises, but she got it back.
And once she removed the shadow man from her life,

she sewed her smile back on,

and she gargled with her voice until it stuck inside her throat.


The shadow man is still a shadow.

But now, a shadow, she is not.

A not-so-poetic letter to a not-so-present step mom

Last night, I had a dream.

Most of the time, it wasn't very pleasant. And most of the time, it didn't make sense.

But when it was pleasant, and when it did make sense,
You were there.
Sitting with me.
Side by side.
I was surprised you could tolerate touching me for that long.

You were there.
Talking to me.
I was surprised. I had forgotten what your voice sounds like.

Most of the time, it's all me. I sit here carrying on a conversation that only one of us will contribute to. And that one of us, isn't you.

Most of the time, I sit here sending out apologies in the dark. Apologies that have no meaning to me. Because I have no idea what I did to make you hate me. Apologies that haven't been accepted over the last two and a half years. I hope there's a good reason, because that's a hell of a long time to hold a grudge against someone who's brain isn't fully developed yet.

Most of the time, I get scolded for not reaching out to you. But this isn't a one way street.

But all of the time, I wish you would talk to me.
All of the time, I wish I could find a way to make you happy.
All of the time, I try to convince myself that your happiness shouldn't affect mine.
But all of the time, I fail.

Last night, I had a dream.

Most of the time, it wasn't very pleasant. And most of the time, it didn't make sense.
But I don't mind.

A dream is just a wish your heart makes.

And in my dream, you hugged me back.

My not-so-lady-like side

I've never been good at being a girly girl.
Bare feet, dirt, and mud have always been more appealing to me than any dress, piece of jewelry, or shopping mall.
Sometimes, I burp like a man.
I've gotten more scars than anyone has ever gotten beauty pageant awards.
My feet have more calluses than there are stars in the sky.
And all though I don't wear the popular cake on my face, or walk gracefully on 6-inch stilts, or stain my lips the shade of love,
I can still present myself with class.

Smiley faces

It's happening.
 My emotions have reached the finger tips, which are now refusing to form the smiley faces that a part of me still wants to get out.
But how can I, When the rest of me is so consumed in this darkness that keeps coming back to feast on the light that it left behind?
The slivers of light that have kept me from toppling over in a heap of darkness on the cold floor.
I've defeated this darkness before.
But this time it's different.
Harder.

I just want my finger tips to form smiley faces again.

My family is disfunctional

You were doing so good.

Now you tick me off. Stop fighting and being dramatic!

My childhood pet is mine. Not yours.

She's not a raccoon, she isn't meant to sleep outside.

Stop telling me she'll be sent to a shelter.

Just because she is maturing faster than you.

What's on my mind?

Oh how I wish that the world could see you through my eyes!
Even just for a day. Because,
instead of broken, they'd see healed and polished,
Instead of quiet, they'd see thoughtful and collected
Instead of seeing you for your past and what you used to be, they'd see you for who you really are, underneath the surface. For who you're trying to become,
They wouldn't pay attention to all of the lies that have been told, they would listen to and seek for the truth about you,
They wouldn't spend their time examining the little puzzle piece, they would look at the beauty of the whole picture. How every flaw and imperfection fit into the puzzle too.
They wouldn't judge you the way they do now. And it kills me to think that they can't see you the way I do,
Because these are my eyes.
And by doing what they do, and judging the way they judge and thinking the way they think, they're missing out on something someone amazing.
Something Someone I fell in love with: The real you.

You.
You're always running through my my mind, stomping around, making noise, and giving me headaches,
Headaches because you're always on my mind,
And even when I think you're not, I'm still thinking about you not being there.
You always seem to find your way back through the back door of my mind,
But you don't stop there, because to you it's not enough to constantly be the focus of my brain activity,
You have to send your army of butterflies to remind me that I'm falling... fast and hard.
Maybe it's that look you have when you're smiling,
Maybe it's your laugh,
Maybe it's the way you say you're proud of me,
But... It just might be... the way you say good morning...
or the way you say goodnight,
Or the way that you hold me. Safe and protected.
Or maybe  it's the way you make me feel wanted. Needed. Loved.
Maybe it's the stop lights.
Or the way you listen to me talk on and on about nothing, and still give me that look,
The one that makes my heart pound.

You want to know what's on my mind?
Well here you go.

It's been you all along.

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

You say you love us. And you say you love her. But all that seems to go out the window when one of us has a bad day. Because the only person that is allowed to have a bad day is you.

You say we don't respect you. But how can we respect you when you don't even treat our mom with respect? The respect she deserves. Because she's been through Hell and back. She's fallen over, and got back up. She's been pushed down and got back up. She's been told she isn't loved anymore by the person who was supposed to love her forever. And even then, she still somehow finds the strength to climb back up again. How? I don't know.

And then there's you. Shoving her over and shouting out daggers. And she gets back up. Over. And over. And over again. And somehow you still think that these empty apologies can fix it all. But apologies are supposed to mean change. A true change. Not this bullshit act that you put on. An act that you write and execute so precisely. But I'm tired of this never ending one act play that seems to go on forever.

Your empty promises always flow like music to the ears.

But actions have always spoken louder than words.

Adaptations

It's funny how adaptive a human can be. How once something creates a pattern, the human adapts.

At the end of winter, when the sun starts to shine, the human is so adapted to the days of depressing cold and wind, that it's hard for the human to comprehend the beauty of the sunshine.


Much like the human adapts, so does the heart.  Hearts adapt to the feeling of being broken. They adapt to people letting them down. And they toughen up and build up calluses. They. Adapt.

So when someone comes along with more of a potential to fix it, than break it, what does it do?
What does it do when someone comes along and treats it better than all of the heartbreaks?
What does it feel when that someone pulls it out of the darkness that's been holding it back and compels it to leave the broken and battered pieces behind, and move forward?
What happens when that someone starts patching up the holes?

When that someone makes the heart beat 3 times faster, does it realize that it's falling? Beating faster and faster every time they touch. Falling harder and harder every time their eyes meet.
Does it realize that every time their lips touch, the same three words run through its mind over and over again, until they can't be held in any longer? Until they have to be shared. They have to be free.

Because the words I Love You shouldn't be kept a secret.

Especially from that someone.

I save my wishes for rainy days...

                  Today was the day that I was afraid of...

                                     The day that i'd need to use all of them....

I sit here writing.
Not knowing what to say.
I want to write something with a hidden meaning that only few can decipher.
About sweet creams, dreams, prophecies, and somedays.
But everything I write, I find myself erasing.

Maybe Someday I can learn to speak my feelings.
Maybe Someday all these outside forces will leave me alone.
Maybe Someday things can work out the way I want.
Maybe SOMEDAY this thing, whatever we call this, can be something more than just a wish that was saved for a rainy day.
Because promises weren't meant to wait for forever.
Promises were meant to be kept!
And if someday means that that promise won't wait until eternity has come and gone, then Someday it is!

Because if this is what someday looks like,

Then someday is worth waiting for.

Someday

Tonight i saw it.      What i was dreaming of.       Of all the possibilities that tomorrow brings.        I caught a glimpse of what it could one day be like.. of what i'd like it to be like...   

But for now, I like where I am, and this will have to do.

But...

 Someday. 

I ain't never scared...

I'm scared of snakes. Of being bitten by a snake. Of your words that can be just as hurtful and venomous.

I'm terrified of sharks. That's why I swim close to the shore and keep my knees tucked close to my body.

I'm afraid of scorpions. The ones that look harmless, are the most deadly.

I'm scared of getting too close for eye-contact. I like eye-contact. 

I'm afraid of dancing with people. I'm scared of dancing close to someone because it feels awkward. 

Awkwardness scares me.

I'm terrified of awkward silences. That's why I ramble. I ramble to fill the silence. Though I might not make sense, I ramble.

I'm scared of being insignificant.

I'm scared of the unknown. Of not knowing how something will affect my future. Of the fact that tomorrow never comes.

I'm scared of being left behind. Of being abandoned. Of someone caring about me, and then just dropping me flat. Why shouldn't they? You did. You did it to all of us.

If You Really Knew Me

If you really knew me, you would know that I wish I could live in a real home. A place where you can make it your own and not an apartment where you have to follow someone else's rules. A place that you can make your own rules and have all the pets you want. A place where you can paint the walls.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I have separation issues. You'd know that this is the reason why I get homesick. The reason why my parent's divorce was so hard one me. The reason why I cry over a missing pet. The reason why I don't do well with death.

 If you really knew me you would know I love Autumn. You'd know I love all of the colorful leaves, the sweater weather, the hot chocolate, and the days perfect enough to go to Gardner Village, and the beautiful drives up the canyon.

If you really knew me, you'd know how excited I am to one day be a mom. You'd know how much I love kids. You'd know how hard it is for me to put down a baby. You'd know how excited I am that I am finally an aunt.

 If you really knew me, you'd know how much I love food. You'd know that I love cheesecake, bacon, and goldfish, and cereal, and homemade bread, and homemade jams and jellies. You'd know that I love rain. And that one day I want to live in Oregon, where it rains all the time.

 If you really knew me, you'd know that I love sunny days with a cool breeze. Days that you can hear the fall wind blowing through the trees. Days like today. You'd know that I love the changing colors of the leaves. You'd know that I especially love aspen trees. Those trees that remind me of those family trips to the cabin during the Fall.

 If you really knew me, you would know how much I love nature. And those days that we went camping. And the other days that we went to Lake Powell. You'd know how much I love music.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I love to sit and think. Daydream. You'd know how much it calms me.

If you really knew me, you wouldn't judge me the way that you do now.