February 2012
82 posts
I wanted so much to be wanted. In fact I assumed it could hold some kind of end. Existing as some form of finished or “done”. Yet the only end I’ve ever been certain is death, and I’ll die whether I’ve ever been wanted or not.
Oh kiss me out of the bearded barley, Nightly , beside the green, green grass Swing, swing, swing the spinning step You’ll wear those shoes and I will wear that dress
Kiss me- Sixpence none the richer.
Medium white mocha.
After a long day of coffee-shop studying, I made my way back from the bathroom and found a note lying on my coffee shop table titled,
“Girl at Caribou.”
No Kevin, I won’t be adding you on facebook. you’re 21. But the gesture was as sweet as could be.
I’m craving a very good book on a very rainy day.
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Someone.
She’s mourning someone again. I can tell by the way she folds and unfolds her hands. Pressing sweaty palms, in search of who may have held them last. She’s mourning someone again.
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She sleeps.
I woke up in a city’s sun-scape. Light erupting through white curtains, as well as us. The air smelled sweet and salty, like a dining room dressed in wreckless breakfast. Wreckless yes, but I didn’t mind. And I made sure he knew that. I propped myself up on the heels of my hands and watched as they steadily sunk into the white feather pillows and throws. An indent of where I’d...
Yes, everything happens for some reason. But I was never reason enough, to happen for you. Yet you took up 444 million poems. And you were reason enough to me, to be written about. Even now.
I want to write an entire book of poems composed only of how it feels to love someone, who doesn’t quite love you back. It would be endless.
“I move through, like trains do.” she said.
Picking her legs up by the knees, and putting them deliberately back down again. ” I know not yet, what’s worth waiting for.”
“Being temporary does not mean being unimportant or meaningless.”
– John Green (via julietsballgown) The Fault in our Stars.
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The way words look.
“So it’s true then. Isn’t it?”
Small boy said this, and clung like a bug to his bed post. Watching as ink seeped steadily out of his notebook onto the floor. The small boy picked up every wrecked up piece of alphabet and taped it to his face. Ink smeared, like jelly across his finger tips, as small boy spelled out “Simple” on his cheeks, “Anguish” on his ankles, and ” Animal” on every last...
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Let me just say..
I recently finished reading, The Fault In Our Stars by John Green. and it really just changed everything for me. Or a lot of things at least. Now I know that sounds real weird.. But it’s the real truth. In an empty suburban Starbucks this girl finished the last 150 pages of this book, and knew in an instant what she wanted to spend the rest of her life doing, and that I suppose is...
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Airfare.
I took bus day-trips to the supermarket. I wanted enough little spit-out-red-machine coupons to fulfill this week’s grocery list, without actually paying a single penny on my part. It was a dream, yes. But I dream big. I spotted a seat in the far right; closest to the window and shuffled my coupons quietly between my fingers. Draping them delicately in between the little spot between your...
I try to remember that moment, when we’re old enough to know we’re going to die. I can’t recall just how young you have to be to be considered old enough to think thoughts like these. Just wondering thoughts. About how everyone tells you not to ” grow up too fast”, yet you only have so much time to write down everything you ever knew and fall in Love.
“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once”
– John Green; The Fault In Our Stars (via christclub)
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Trees too.
I cared about her far too much to hate her. Myself, I mean. I took her hand in my other, For Her’s was mine too. And we held each other. Only my two hands could know what one another was going through. Steadily Growing old. Bodies getting big. Tall, too. Like trees. with leaves, and losing them.
So I’m reading The Fault In Our Stars. And I find it miraculous that adults are still writing about teen love. That early kind of Love; they’re still steadily re-living. If John Green to this a day, a man in his mid-thirties is still writing about young love, it must be pretty incredible.
I’m learning what it means to feel human standing next to you.
We are Young.
So I watched this video of a woman speaking about what babies can, and cannot hear and experience in the womb. Turns out that the mother’s voice is the loudest and most pronounced because of the way her voice resonates through her body, and into the little babe’s ears. I can’t even get over how oddly poetic this is. All I can think about now is how much I will sing when...
“In the blue of your eyes I feel small
I feel big enough to touch a myth”
– Anis Mojgani (via nogginfullofsongs) Brilliant.
List(s).
thing(s) I know from being Alive, -be nice. -It’s okay to exist for other people, just exist for yourself on the weekends. -people want to be told that they are brilliant. -tell them, if you think so. -if you don’t think so. -don’t tell them they’re not. -everybody cries. -it’s okay to love yourself. -you’re going to be sad. -humans have a lot of heart break. -but you’re going to find something...
I think I’ll start my letter writing Today. I’ve gotten a number of addresses and now I just need to sit down, and find enough reasonably small objects to fit into the envelopes.
My brother Sam is so excited to go to a girl’s birthday party. He memorized her address.
Then my arms hurt, and I’m really just putting back what should have been there to begin with.
Morning Glory.
Suddenly reminded of a woman I once met. her name was Gloria, and I loved her. I knew her so well I forgot I had. Gloria used to tell me of the times her mother woke her up singing,
” Morning Glory!” How sweet she was. This woman, fifty or so. I was ten and I wondered why she wanted to try on my glasses. We would trade. And only now can I see that there was pain in her face, age...
I am so excited for Valentines Day. I’ve actually never really had a valentine, But I’m going to wear pink.
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Congratulations.
Today I clutched myself by the sides, pulled her softly in, and apologized for hating what she was. I tried to love my arms, and I aimed to stretch my fingers in and out until they too knew, Just how neat they had come to be. I touched my hair, and twisted it around my fingers and tried to believe that it too, could be beautiful or important. I thanked my blood vessels, congratulated my heart for...
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Awake.
Sometimes I just start thinking about you, I start and stop and start and stop and start my day with a cup of coffee, and catagories in which I couldn’t even place you in because the space you’d take up would be something like maximum.
“If I knew words enough, I could write the longest love letter in the world and...”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via billowy
)
Taking myself out for coffee.
Anonymous asked: Are you religious? When i saw you last you were in deep love and passion for God. I loved it. It was awesome and it was something we both agreed on. But this blog kinda throws me off a little. Dont get me wrong, its spectacular and beautiful and you need to be the next Oprah. Just wondering. Ps you might get this twice.