dear kristen

i know you're upset.  you feel like you're running in place.  you want to do things on your own, to start your life which seems at times like it's constantly stalling.  there are places you want to go, places you want to see, people you want to meet.  stop making excuses and do it.

pieces of your heart are lost and honestly it's because you give them away too easily.  you create lovely stories in your mind that have a beautiful happy ending.  but when the ending doesn't pan out how you think or want it to, you become an alternate version of yourself which causes people not to want to be near you.  and you know it's not who you are, or how you want to be perceived.  stop pushing people to these lengths.

stop comparing yourself to people that have nothing to do with you or who you want to be. she's beautiful, but so are you.

stop blaming your lack of happiness on other people.  you are in control of what makes you happy, you have a choice every day to sulk in your own self deprecated episodes, or to shine and be the girl that you are so proud to be.  

you're not mad at him, you're mad at yourself.  start aiming your anger and frustration in the right direction. it may be too late.

listen to your friends.  listen to your family.  listen to the world. 

be loving.  be hopeful.  be funny. be thankful.  

you know how to do this.  you've done it before.  

be good to yourself. 

and start taking vitamins.  

love.

not smart

i'm not smart.

i don't pretend to be.  i latch on to things that interest me and try and master them.  

i have a way with words.

i can write eloquently; it's a gift.  i had a professor in college ask me if i ever revised my papers and i bluntly told him no.  he said that i shouldn't, that i was a natural writer.

it's strange to me that i'm not smart.

i don't think of myself as unintelligent, nor do i say such things for needs of attention.  nonetheless, i would classify myself as someone who has mediocre smarts for mediocre things.

the fact that i say 'things' gives this away.

i was made fun of a lot as a child, and rather than try and be the smart girl, i was the funny girl.  but what isn't funny about that is that i'm not taken seriously.  friends would expect me to write with more humor i suppose.  

i'm not a girl interested in being a certain person.  i love many things like most people in life do.  i'm not interested in conforming to a particular shade.  i'm confident in who i am and the person i want to be; the mark i want to leave on this world.  i don't want to leave this world without leaving my mark.

i'm not a princess.  everyone likes to be catered to, but i've been taught to be self sufficient.  i can't be that helpless girl that someone needs to save, even though i frequently need saving.  i was raised like a child by my mother and like an employee of my father.  i maintain these two stances.

contrary to the way i present myself five days a week, i'd rather be closer to the earth.  i'd rather live in a field with fresh air.  contrary to most kids my age, i'd rather live in a house, with a porch.  

maybe i'm smarter than i give myself credit for sometimes. 

navy

he knows not the script within, nor the tissue that tears itself from her heart.

the inaudible screams that torment the nerves once calm, she runs.

bloody finger tips round the short ends of her hair, up on pointed toes.

a shiver divides her thought from reality as the trees sing in the night.

she stops.

a cry in the crystallized sky pulls her chin slightly, but she sees no one.

eyes beneath lids locked tight, she searches for a face.

long since this time, he saturates her thoughts.

thoughts of shelter, thoughts of healed embrace, thoughts of time when both were safe.

a dizzy dance drops heels to grass and the hum of the wind makes her smile.

black lashes lift to a hole in the night and the green of her eyes becomes dark.

alone with the screams, she plays again in her head.

a secret.

she narrows on a thought.

a movement he is not aware.

and this moment, as significant as the twinkling of a star would bring him to know.

the voices speak louder this time as the lashing of the wind grows cold.

tiny silver lines run over chapped cheeks onto creased lips.

in a world less loving, his life is insufficient.

the blackness of night leaves her full as she places one toe beyond another.

his life is sufficient.

in the shadows of the moon she prances, never looking for it's esthetic.

"i'm still here," she whispers.

turn the page

it's not that i'm not

but i'm not like she is

which works for you

and just not for me.

it's not that she can't

and it's not that i don't

it's how you see her

and it's how you hear me.

it's not that you do

but it is that she won't

yet this part of her 

seems too much for you.

it's not that she will 

it's not that i won't

it's who you'll let in

and who you'll let out.

it's not that i am

and it's not that she is

but it's me who you'll get

when it's her you let go.

moon flower

i have waited 

all through the blistering heat

to see you bloom

long hours spent 

caring for your bed

by day, i have kept

you pay no worship

to the yellow sun 

who greets your brothers sweetly

you take no pleasure

in the eyes of patrons

as they fawn over them

you sit in silence

tongue tied tight

wrapped for no one's view

and yet, as days pass

the sun lays down

your walls will lift

in dark places i find you

when you don't

want to be found

i can only admire your beauty

when there is nothing to be seen

dear science

i remember the day we met i didn't think much of you.  

you were shy, quiet and stood behind louder men.  you would stop by every once in a while to remind me you were still there and to be honest, i wouldn't have noticed otherwise.

i left a common place where you knew to find me yet the winds of fate would guide you back.

you became an acquaintance by which i would share my stories and you were eager to hear what paths i had tread and where the breeze would blow me to next.

you took interest in my ways and the thoughts on my mind.  you reminded me of what was missing and where i could go to find it.  we shared our pasts and how we would strive to be better men.

you taught me how to see beauty in nature and elegance in written form.  you inspired me to see beyond the acre of landscape i had called my home.  there were days where i wanted to be you, to embrace and understand all that you were.  you made me feel alive for the first time.

but science, like a violent autumn, you brought storms with you.  lightening and thunder like i had never seen.  floods of tears that could grow your tall trees where you would perch far away from the likes of me.  quakes in the earth that drove crevices between our once routine meetings.  

like a candle that had been waiting to be lit, you drew me to you.  you brought me up to see the stars and dance on the moon.  you showed me life in a more esthetic way than i had ever seen before.  

you skinned me down to the nerves and left me for pastures that some would call prettier.  

i am a man of faith.

the addiction that is masochism

strengthened by the past, 

weakened by the present.

you move through your daily life with a certain amount of confidence.  it adjusts your spine, throws your shoulders back, brings a certain glow to your face.  you think the world of yourself because you are nice and thoughtful and genuinely care about other people.  small memories of what you have gone through in the past has helped to create the person you are proud to call yourself today.  then, without warning, you revert back to that scared little girl who was once lonely and without friends.  the girl who hid her emotions from others and relied so deeply on their opinions to help form your own.  wondering how, in such a blink, you could think any less of yourself. 

and yet, you are comforted by your own self loathing.  because if you prepare yourself for the worst of what could happen, and what the wheels in your stomach are telling you to be true, you won't feel an ounce worse than you do right now.  because if the sadness that has consumed your dreams for days and days becomes reality, you are no worse off than you are right now.  

you have lost pieces of your heart before, it's time to go and find them.

the unkown

it would be unfair of me to say that i have never left someone in the dark.  having not responded to an email, not returned a missed call or changed subjects amid conversation.  the weight of questions comes into play when answering them.  for instance, "how are you" is typically used as a greeting rather than an actual meaningful question of state.  our society has become used to this behavior; jumbling through questions, misguiding conversations, even manipulating sentences to attract a point we're trying to make or get to.  
and all of this can be left to the ignorance or the unimportance we see in such questions.  

the difference in what becomes frustrating is the malice behind keeping someone in the unknown.  holding on to one phrase or word that could change that person's direction.  simple statements that fly from our mouths just as they enter our conscience suddenly are withheld.  i appreciate the notion of holding one's cards close to their chest.  if we always spoke what was on our minds, the world would be a much messier place.  we have been built with filters that stop us from saying certain thoughts.  

however, there comes a time when it is of the utmost importance to bring someone out of the dark, show them the light and allow them to deal with what they then see.  dragging someone around emotionally while they hang on every word waiting for the one answer that they have sought is cruel.  

one simple answer can end all complicated questions.