Sometimes you just have to listen to your heart.

It's my birthday, so we wander down to the corner store, hand in hand, and buy yummy, pre-made sandwiches and chips before heading over to the park. Most of the grass is brown and crunchy so we snuggle up under a tree where the grass in greener and we can look out at the water. Unfortunately the grass is also damp, because though it is nearly the end of June it was not yet summer. We take off our jackets and lay them on the grass next to each other and then settle down on them. The wind is sharp and sends shivers down both of are backs. We're so cold, but trying so hard to have a good time.

After stuffing myself silly with a sandwich full of crunchy chips, I turn and look into those I that care so much about me. The eyes I care so much about.

And every time I look back, I wonder why I didn't just lay you down on the grass and kiss you until my lips went numb. Why I didn't just give in to my fear of being seen, being judged and let you know how I felt in that moment.

But I didn't. We walked home, hand in hand, and warmed our numb fingers.

And I don't even remember how we spent the rest of the day.

Magnolia

I wrote this as a preface to a story a long, long time ago; I just found it and it intrigued me. Beside it I had drawn a body with the name "Magnolia" tattooed on it. It was too long ago for me to remember anything else.

Identification

based on

nothing but

looks and names. 

Something that

makes us who

we are, though

the decision

isn't ours.

We're named by

our parents, by

those who love

us most, but

what if they

are wrong?

Names are given,

not taken or chosen;

no promises of
perfection.

Changes can be
made, in a
perfect world
but what if you

couldn't escape?

Names tattooed on

at birth.
Rights to choose
never imagined.
Never.

Breaking Point

Some combination of walking home in the heat, a computer that refuses to be fixed, horomones and my father's unwillingness to let go of yesterday's fight have brought me to my breaking point. Tears threaten to spill over the ridges under my eyes but I hold them back because I refuse to admit that these frustrating moments are worth my tears. It is now that I miss my lover and my friends and who my parents used to be. It is in this moment that I am my weakest. Not strong enough to move on, not strong enough to give in to emotion.

Even now, I feel frustration growing and swelling in my chest as my computer inches along, trying it's very hardest to open a new page for me. This is a drowning feeling, one that does not let up on it's own. In order to stop yourself from breaking you must step away from the point and repair it: a task that I do not find easy.

Hey, Mrs. Rioux

You can comment all you want :)

Perspectively

Sometimes, you have to look through somebody elses eyes; wear somebody elses shoes.

Sometimes you have to look as if you were very tall, and sometimes as if you were very small.

Take a look to your left. If you were actually sitting at a piano, those keys would be so small, so insignificant and yet here they dominate; their striking angles compelling you to look longer. And it's good to look at life from this perspective, because it gives you perspective. Shows you just what else life can do and how beautiful or powerful those small and insignificant things can be.
It is so easy to get completely caught up in life, to just let yourself get swept away in the ever-flowing rapids of time but easy isn't always best. When you let life live you, instead of living life, you miss things! You loose your perspective and everything starts to look small and insignificant and then you can't appreciate a thing. And if you can't appreciate it, what's the point in having it?

Rebirth

...that is, my blog is being reborn. Ya know, brought back to life, like frankenstein or zombies...I'm not doing some spiritual thing probably involving water to start my life again, don't worry; heck I haven't even started this life yet. I have been encouraged by my writing teacher (well encouraged as in, this is an assignment...) to blog once more...er weekly. Should be interesting. Unfortuneatley we needs "themes" and trying to think of one is causing me greif. I just want mine to be about me , I'm thinking of maybe making it specifcally about "my grad year" because that's a theme that also sort of just about me...right?

Anyways, something that interested me- the amout of drama I am experiencing within my first week of school. It's outrageous. Everybody is in everybody elses business and everybodies business is vair vair exagerated and as far as I'm concerned, people aren't really thinking clearly. No, scratch that. People are just walking around with their eyes squeezed tighly shut and their other senses are hypersensitive, including their feelings. Don't y'all get me wrong, I'm not saying that I'm miss perfect sitting around scoffing and critizing every Dick and Jane that walks by, I'm very much the opposite. In fact I'm almost certain that I am also guilty of amplifying these emotions and the gossip and drama. But that doesn't mean it doesn't annoy me. There are so many people that I want to shake and scream, "WAKE UP" in their faces, but I doubt anyone would really take that well...that is until later (years later) when they realize that they were heading for disaster and needed a good shaking.

That being said, I'm having a good day and I think we can move past this childish behaviour and all grow up a little in the process and I'll be sad if people get lost on the way-but hey! survival of the fittest right?

Survival of the fittest.

Inpiration

I need some. What to sing about? What to write about? I have been recently encouraged to write and I want to, but what do I write about? Maybe I should forgo these questions and just write, write, write, WRITE!

I'm going to read more, I need to read more. I feel like I'm getting dumber everyday that I'm not reading. I probably am. But when do I read? I'm always busy with friends, boyfriend, homework or SLEEPING. Gah.

xox