My Thoughts Right Now: A List

My 3 best friends...

• You're not a bad friend
• Thanks for being there
• I'm sorry I disappointed you
• I won't bother you again
• Don't tell me I didn't dissapoint you
• How could you do that to me?
• Why aren't you more sad?
• I want to comfort you
• Don't let me comfort you
• Don't let me get close to you
• Just push me away
• If you like me how come you never like liked me?
• I'm sorry your girlfriend got in trouble
• I don't like her
• Sorry, I mean she's really nice and cute and favorites my tweets: I love her!
• Who is still reading this?
• Literally no one
• I'm so glad you're my best friend
• I'm so glad we get each other
• I'm sorry I can't understand what you're going through
• You're doing the best you can, you're remarkable
• I hope you know what color you are
• I hope you know I appreciate you
• It's funny how I didn't even realize how hypocritical I was being
• I'm the worst
• I hope you find a job you like
• I hope you find a girl that respects you
• Take me out for ice cream
• Stroke my hair
• Tell me I'm pretty
• Why haven't you told me I'm pretty?

I guess I should say I'm sorry if you read all that.

The Second Star to the Right...

Don't you wish you could just go to Neverland?

They say all it takes is faith, trust, and a little pixie dust. Well, I have faith, and certainly there's some trust, but what happened to my pixie dust?

How come you never came for Peter?

I would have stayed in Neverland with you. I would have stayed there forever, and mothered the Lost Boys, and you'd fight Captain Hook, and I would never make you grow up. We'd live in a world of our own, cause we make the rules. Who knows, maybe I would have gotten along with Tink! I don't think I'd be jealous of you and Tiger Lily. Actually, I would, but I'd hide it, because you would want me to. I'd probably have a beautiful voice and I'd sing about being a mother as our Boys fell asleep. Even if my voice wasn't beautiful, you wouldn't know anything better. I would be the best.

Do you understand that Peter? Do you understand what we could have had? But, you never came for me. Why didn't you come? It's too late, now. It's too late because I'm too old, and I know what a hickey feels like, and sometimes I swear, and I can never be okay with mothering Lost Boys because I want to live, I want to try, and I want to scream, cry, sing, yell, smile, and I want to know why. 

I get it, I GET IT. I can't come back. I can't take back time and I can't redo junior high and I read the American Girl Doll catalog and I can't believe in Santa and I can't play dress up...I get it. 

I just don't like it.

Go ahead, hate on me for writing a cliche post. Hate the fact that like every other senior, applying for college scares me. Get annoyed that I stuck in some GIFs. Roll your eyes and think "Not another sad, depressed, angsty post." Feel free to talk to me about it, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. But for now, I'm trying to go to the second star to the right...and straight on until morning.

I Guess You're The Moon

I had a whole post written about you. About things I didn't understand about you, about things I couldn't handle about you...but I deleted it. Because I remembered how much I love you.

I love that you steal everything I let you borrow. I know it's cause you're too lazy to give it back, but something about my crap at your house comforts me. It's like I always have a home there.

I love that your mom has strong opinions about me but loves me anyway. (I think she loves me anyway.) It's almost like I'm her daughter. And though you say I'm Kimmy Gibler, c'mon. What would the Full House be without Kimmy? Exactly.

I love that you've adapted my laugh. I love that you don't like brownies, and I don't like Cup of Noodles, but we both like that one restaurant on State and we constantly talk about our lives there like it's the Central Perk. I love how after about two weeks of knowing me you called me Phoebe, and we still don't know if you're Rachel or Monica, but that didn't stop us from staying up until two watching Friends.

I love that she wants what we have, but what we have is ours. I love that this sounds like a post to my boyfriend, but the closest thing I ever had to a boyfriend was seventh grade, and thank heavens that's over. I love that we were almost forced to be best friends, but that doesn't mean I would change anything that's ever happened to us.

I guess all of this makes you the moon because I will never understand you, but I sure do love ya. They say when there's a full moon that people act more emotional and strange, which is unfortunate, because they're my favorite. You're my full moon. You drive me crazy, but every memory we have is so dang beautiful, it's worth every breakdown, every frustration, every deep black pit that we thought I'd never get out of.

Thanks for being my moon.

The Day the Music Died

My brother used to take his guitar

on Saturday mornings and play.

He had long hair 

and acne

and he sang along to songs

I'd never heard.

Bye, bye Miss American Pie

drove my Chevy to the levee

but the levee was dry...

My mom would chime in

and my dad would smile

Sister would listen and laugh

and I never danced on the outside

because on the inside

I flew.

His hair is now cut,

the acne gone

and I think he's put on a few pounds.

He hasn't played his guitar in 18 months,

and now I know every word to American Pie

along with everyone

who grew up in the seventies. 

Sister is waiting,

and my dad is bald.

My mom listens to 

Sirius XM Prime Country.

And I know it's a cliche,

but every time I hear that song

I fly

but more importantly

I dance.

Because I wish I would have danced,

danced to show my appreciation,

danced to show my feelings,

danced to show my love,

because maybe

just maybe

that would make things different now.

I saw Satan laughing with delight

the day the music died.

Third Post

It was just today that I realized how important it is to listen to your bones.

It's more important than listening to your heart, or your head,
because in the end, those stop,
stop beating,
stop thinking,
but your bones will always be here.

Do you want to know what my bones are telling me?
My bones are telling me that it's okay to be happy.
My bones are telling me that I am sad,
and yes, they know I am sad,
but it's okay to be happy.

Today I didn't want to get out of bed because my head hurt,
my heart hurt,
and I hurt.
But my bones forced me up,
and while my mouth didn't smile,
my bones guided me through grass,
pushing me along,
thank heavens they never let me stop.

I got in trouble today.
Not real trouble, just the scolding kind.
My head hung itself and my heart wept,
but my bones carried me through.

I used to think going through the motions was a bad thing,
that you need to put your heart and soul into everything.
But sometimes your heart and soul get in the way,
and your bones know what to do.

My head is telling me this is stupid.
My head is saying that the 'No comments' means no one likes my work,
no one cares about my feelings,
no one likes me.
My heart is relishing in the drama my head creates.
My bones remind me that I don't write for you,
in the end it's all for me.
My bones said that if someone needs to hear what I have to say,
they will find it,
 but for now it's me that has to hear what I have to say.
My bones are guiding me through.

I thank the Lord for my bones.

Dreams be dreams

It sucks to think of what might happen if your dreams don't come true...

...but what happens if they do come true?

You probably all think I'm some depressed freak,
Penelope Jude

Quiet

Partly inspired by this song (except, let's be honest, my love life is about as nonexistent as Nelson's love for spiders, so just close your eyes and take it out of context) and this post (Thanks for the inspiring writing, Devastated Daisy)

I guess it's possible that you're scared, but please understand how I feel. My mind is a wildfire, spreading down my body, burning everything it touches. And what's worse is that I've begun to crave the burn. The sensation feels good on my bones and I refuse to stop it, even though the damage is probably worse than I can imagine.

I guess it's possible that you're scared, but please know I need you. That's why I reached out. I reached out so blatant I thought there was no going around it. After hints and hints, year after year, day after day, I finally burst. I couldn't remain quiet, it was getting far too serious. I recognized all the warning signs...didn't you?

Why didn't you?

Did you stop caring? If I would have known those promises were empty, I would have walked away. I would have walked, and the fire would have burned, and I would have liked it. But you held me so hard, so close, there was no way. For that moment in my life, I was comforted. Everything was going to be okay, I truly believed that...I don't know why.

I suppose I've glorified you in my head. I can't tell you the number of times I've cursed your name, then hated  myself for it. They say everything happens for a reason, and I always thought we were put together because you were supposed to be my gift, but now I'm just confused.

As if I wasn't confused before.

I guess it's possible that you're scared, but I'm scared enough for the both of us. I really don't know how much more time before there is until the fire takes me completely.

The Death of a Passion

"My life's become as vapid as a night out in Los Angeles, and I just want to stay in bed."

Why Am I The One - Fun.

They say death is the worst pain felt in this life. It's ironic because once you're dead, you're not living. I don't think that's what they were alluding to, however. I believe they were talking about the death of a passion. Before you know it, it's just gone. Flown away. And you are standing there thinking, 'What just happened?' and you have to live with it. You have to deal with it. And that, my friends, might be the worst pain I have ever felt.

I have been trying to resurrect it. Make amends and start again. But the death keeps replaying in my mind, everything reminds me about it. Words comfort, but don't heal, and I feel broken. My legs have learned to control my body, not my head. My head is jumping, trying to fix everything while avoiding it, and the numbness that results is the most infuriating thing of my life. I have always cured numbness with passion. But my passion is gone, and I think it left for good.

Counterfeit passion keeps coming to me. And I know I should shove it away, but I keep buying, and grabbing, and not letting go, because sometimes it's easier to hold on to a lie than accept the truth.

High School

Sophomore: Happy. Ready. Friendly. Worried. Wannabe. Trying. Loving. Needing. Learning. Bangs. Cliche. Wanting. Working. Dreaming. Planning. Anticipating. Excited. Change. Hard. Friendless. Smiling. Not Fitting. Waiting. Weak. Clueless. Clingy. Annoying. Small laughs. Sold. Sinking. Unrealizing. Goody Two Shoes. Attention. Exploring. Pretending. Supportive. There. Always There. Vulnerable. 

Junior: Cold. Mad. Hard. Sassy. Rude. Shading. Loyal. Disciplined. Protected. Realizing. Reality. Raised Eyebrows. Rolled Eyes. Sighs. Huffs. Puffs. Distanced. Wishing. Motions. Sinking Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Angst. Still Working. Proving. Stressing. Sleepless. Fitting. Pushing. Thunder Laughs. Sad. Moody. Stiff. Rising. Why? Rising. Breaking. Broken.

Senior: Confused.