Monday, March 25, 2013

To my not-so-imaginary friend:

Next time I see you, will be the first.

That makes it sound like I hardly know you. But don’t worry. I do.

I know you’re funny because I laugh longer than anyone I know. And the extra 5 seconds is yours.

I know you’re tall because I’m tall. And my brother should be taller than me .

I know you have lots to say because I’m always getting tongue tied, and I know you try to mix your thoughts with mine.

I know it’s you because when I can’t go on, I receive a breath of hope that could only come from an angel.

I know it’s you because I was miraculously fine. And brothers are protective.

Next time I see you, will be the first. We’ll probably laugh and cry. And never wanting to leave your side, we'll finally walk together.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow. *

Until then, tell Papa and Hailey how much I love them.

Dear David,
            It’s not fair. You should be here. You should be in the room next to mine. I’m so sorry that you’re not. I hope you know that it’s only because you’re special. You are too special to have to live in a place like this. Sometimes, I think about you. I think about you and cry. I cry and cry and make believe how things would have been different with you. But for now, I look forward to the day when I can finally meet the one who never left my side. And I’ll know that it’s you. That it was always you. My brother. I love you.

P.S. Thanks for the hug today.

I think sis will need one tomorrow.

*Where the Sidewalk Ends- Shel Silverstein

Take a hike.

I'm helpless in this thick fog of complications.
My arms are becoming weak from all of the pushing and flailing around in emptiness, just searching for something tangible enough to pull me towards clarity. I need the chocolate milk and sprinklers. I need the combinations of a million effortless joys. But in the midst of the fog, I've forgotten. 

I'm so intertwined in the knots of "important things", that I've even stopped having that dream about the fort I build for my future kids. I guess something so petty can't exist in my subconscious anymore. It's these moments that I realize how meaningless simple joys have become to me. Because right now, even bubbles look stupid.

I've been getting like this too much lately. Getting too sad. So I know I have to leave. I have to do something before it gets worse. I get in my car and drive 'till I hit a mountain. Or a river. Or a field. Or any place where I can't see a building. 

It's what I always do. Just go somewhere that I can climb until I become overwhelmed with the power of nature. And as I pray to be reminded of the simple happiness I crave, I become completely alone. This is when I am given the best advice: 


I hear nothing but silence. A chance for a moment to feel small, and completely alone. But the good kind of alone. The kind where you are so surrounded by life, that you don't feel alone at all. And your insignificance paints a layer of white onto all of your worries. And as you marvel in the mercy and company of mother earth, you wonder how you could feel so lost in the first place.

That's why I come here. I come for the comfort of the grasses, the trees and the dirt. I come because they don't care about my problems. Yet, in the simplest way, they still care about me. 

People say to look at the big picture. That it will help. But every time I do, I can only see how much bigger the complications have become. So this is me saying to look at the little picture. To notice the small things, and the simple moments. The ones with fruit loop necklaces and rollerblades. The ones where you need to stand alone to appreciate the view, and just breathe. Breathe in the foreign air that overcomes your body with peace. 

 It's simply beautiful.

This is my therapy. It's awake and ruthless. 
But I like it here, because my footprints are the only ones I see.

Monday, March 18, 2013

Do you like me? (check yes or no)

Maybe it’s because of the way he carries his sister on his shoulders.
Or how after our first kiss, he ran away terrified.

But I'm thinking it's from getting nervous around him 13 years later.

Maybe it’s because we spent our childhood in a place where the rain washed away our mistakes through the night. 
Or that even though I only see him once a year, he just keeps getting better.

 But it's most likely because of that time when we were 10, and instead of making normal cookies, we spilt the dough and made two giant ones just for us.

Maybe it’s because of the way he makes me feel small. 
Or how he saved me from the bad guys countless times.

But it's probably from when he put his arm around me in front of everyone.

Maybe it’s because of the frosty he brought me when I was 7… after he broke my nose.
Or it could be that even when we don’t talk for months, I have nothing to worry about.

But it must be that our families want us to be together as much as I do.

Maybe it’s because our distance doesn’t faze us. 
Or that it all just comes from that heart he drew me.

But I think it's mostly because he would chase the car every time we drove away.

Maybe it’s because he’s 6’9’’. 
Or that we always had water fights as an excuse to tackle each other.

Maybe it's because he’s constant.

It’s because I fell in love with him when I could still see the boa and elephant.
It’s because when I’m around him, I can see the boa and elephant.

"Cause you make me feel so young"

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Somebody sat on me again

These words are cliché and unexciting. They are only trying to convince myself that high school doesn’t have to be the best of times that I keep hearing about. That it’s ok if it's not. 

I’m the girl who doesn’t even go here. Who just has a lot of feelings.

I’m Anne Hathaway. Waiting for someone to see me when I’m invisible.

I’m Julia Stiles. Cynical of this joke called high school to be over, but secretly just wanting Heath Ledger to sing to me while being chased out of the stadium.

I’m Emma Stone dancing to A Pocketful of Sunshine by myself on a Saturday night, always knowing that John Hughes will never direct my life.

I’ve always wanted to be the one smiling and saying hi to ever other person. I still do. Because that’s who I am. But high school disagrees with me. I just want to go to a game and yell at the top of my lungs, and hear everyone around me yelling the same thing. But I’m still waiting for someone to ask me to sit with them.

All of these adults keep telling me it’s my fault. I need to make the first step. I need to reach out.              I think it’s been a while since they were 18.

But there is one. One who pulled me into a tight hug and told me I know. And I believed her because of the daisies she kept giving me. I believed her because of the white chocolate raspberry cake, and the card that kept writing onto the back page. I believed her because she knows what I need. Because when she was in high school, she never got it.

She told me High School can be the hardest thing we go through. And I need to be ok with that. She told me to stop listening to what these halls were telling me. She told me to stop believing that it’s because people don’t like me. It only means that this is not my time. And maybe I’ll just have to work a little harder to get through each day. One at a time.

This is my thank you to her. A thank you for letting it be ok that I don’t fit in. Because my time is still in the stars. Not yet ready to be shot. And maybe the longer I wait for my time, the longer more light will have a chance to seep in.

I’m happy for the stars of high school. The ones that are a part of something. But it may be harder for them to say “I will never be here again.” Not me. For me, it’s a proclamation. A promise of hope. A chance to be in a place where the quiet one is comfortable enough to say something funny.
And if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get that white chocolate raspberry cake recipe. And maybe I will be the one helping the outcast break through the judging walls. And I can give them a moment of peace. Because constantly convincing yourself that you belong is too exhausting.

This is me acknowledging that I don’t eat in the commons. This is me acknowledging that that’s ok. And this is me hoping that for some of us, when high school is over, there will be a little extra light in our eyes. An extra light that proves we kept fighting against those words, looks, and lack of looks.

Thank you for making it ok to play the role of the one who doesn’t always stand out.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

The backyard of the front of my mind.

And when I was five, I moved to a green place. I didn’t have my friends and I was alone. Then, I found my crayons, my comfort. And I drew a tree house. The wood had muscles beyond the strength I could ever gain. My creation took me away to a place that was familiar and warm. I found friends in the branches and listeners in the view. This would be mine. It cared when my older sister didn’t. It laughed when my dad couldn’t. And it held me when my mom was too busy. This was my extraordinary secret.


And when I was fifteen, I stopped caring about my special drawing. More like... I forgot about it. I was too distracted from holding hands for the first time during the fireworks. And I went through the next empty years ignoring my secret.

And when I was eighteen, I was living in a brown place. I didn’t have my friends and I was alone. I closed my eyes, and started to remember a time when I could feel above it all. And I started to remember my tree house. I wanted to find the ladder. I needed to feel the warmth. Frantically searching, I only got more lost. And my tears started to paint the forest floor that wasn’t there.

And then I found it. Burnt to the ground along with my bridges. And when my bones were too cold, and my soul was too broken, you found a way to get to me. You found a way to cross over to the place I threw you out of.

                                              And you took me to your tree house.