Who died and made you king?

Water stains drip accross the mirror coming to rest at the bottom. A girl stares back at me, kind blue eyes, soft blonde hair. She seems familiar but distant. Happy. Is this really me? This face in the mirror, pretty, but not quite gorgeous, tired, but not quite sleepy. Sometimes im not sure. So many changes have replaced the one i used to see. Each day my reflection seems different. Yet i feel the same, grown up a little, changed imperceptibly as my reflection was. But when i look back the outside is more changed than the inside, like a marshmallow burned in a fire. The outside crisp while the inside is just beginning to melt, the middle still so cold. For now, im happy with who i am, outside in, even with such disconnect. So i wont bother to change, but how long will this balance last i dont know.

Nightingale

When i was little my mother used to sing me to bed everynight. Songs so beautiful i could drown in her voice, happy, safe. As i grew into elementry school i would sit on the swings at recess and sing. That's all i would do. While the other kids ran and played. I guess looking back it was a mistake, a wasted oportunity. But now, singing is all that i am. When i was hurt or scared, instead of running to my parents to be comforted, embaressed by my weaknesses i would sing, soft songs until the sadness ebbed away, curled up in the warmth and comfort of a song, until there was only the music left. When i was happy, i would sing, and the song would lift me up, embody the celebration in my soul. As i got older, joined choir, i found others who shared this love of song, saw the beauty it posessed. And we sang togeather, happy, united in this magic. Singing, music, is my life. It is a part of me, like the french language, and cooking, something that is uniquely mine. No matter what happens, it is there. Always. I may not be the best at singing. I may not even be that good. But it never mattered to me. Because the way it made me feel, beautiful, like nothing could touch me, that was all i cared about. So now, when people ask me why i sing so often, even in class, or tell me to stop because "im too good" i just smile and laugh and say, what else is there? It is me. Its who i am. And i wouldnt change that. Not for the world. Because singing is the one thing that lets me feel free. Feel like myself. Me, and me alone.

Sparkling Cider

Im hiding these tears behind closed doors. Unsure anymore of who i am, or want to be. Influences push and pull in every direction, and i am easily swayed. Changed. Manipulated. I yearn to be perfect again. To be firm in my beliefs, but when temptation strikes i am taken down again. Every time. And then i remember. How it was, how you were so proud, but now so wary. And so i feel torn. Guilty, for crimes i never even commited. Who i am is slipping away, falling like sand between fingers. The more i talk, the more i fall, this wall building higher each time its torn down. I want to be proud with who i am. All of it, the cracks, and tarnishes, but then i remember. Im not perfect anymore. How could i be proud? I look at you and wish i could be the way you are. So pristine, and happy. But im not. Will i ever be enough?

Quelq'un M'a Dit

I wish i could get away. Just hop on a plane, and let it take me away, far from your eyes and ears. Far away, from my own mind. I wish i could escape my own desperate, crumbling, boring, life and run without stopping to think. Never letting these thoughts enter my heart again. I long to be something, someone, somewhere else. Someone more then who i am. Day after day your words penetrate my heart, and leave me feeling less. I just want to be alive again, to leave it all behind and start new, wipe this cracked slate clean. But i can't. Because even if i could go far far away and never return, id still be me. And that's the worst part of all...

Sitting With a Friend

We hide behind these masks of preconception. Everyone pretending to be just what they think everyone else wants them to be. We do things, say things, and act a certain way, just so that we can fit in. But inside we all yearn to be different. To stand out, be individuals. Have you ever felt proud because you've done something that no one you know has? But why do we have unwritten rules for what individuality is right? And why do these rules change and blur as we talk to different people? I dont want to wear this mask anymore. Im proud of who i am, the same, different, annoying, and everything in between. I think that people are always more tolerant of others then they seem to be, so why hide? Rip off these faces and reveal ourselves. If those who you meet along the way can appriciate who you are, then celebrate life with them, and if they cant, who cares? Neither one is wrong. Just different. And there is beauty in the differences, like a rainbow, life wouldnt exist without each color.

Giant balls of paper suck...

"When I was 5 years old, my mom always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down 'happy.' They told me I didn’t understand the assignment and I told them they didn’t understand life. "


Why do we need to "do something" with our lives? Why can't we just be happy, with all of it? Lifes really not that complicated. Humans just overthink it. Do what you want, and be happy doing it. Who really cares if its popular or wierd? As long as youre not hurting someone else, i say go for it. :)

When in doubt eat a cupcake.

I laugh, echoing your laughter. The inside jokes, and nights spent laughing. Writing. Secrets whispered into the thick summer air. Trust built, things unspoken gushing out in one last effort to be heard. And joy. The little moments are the ones that stick, like honey to bread in the humid morning of a southern day. The happiness. The here. The now. It no longer matters what lies ahead, only the knowledge that i am not alone in it. And with this, anything can happen.

Fingerstaches and Smelly socks

"Your eyes are beautiful," thats what they say. They tell me that my eyes are stunning. But what about me? What about the rest of me? Am I beautiful too? Or am i just another person? Just someone else. Fun to be with for a while, but needing replacement after time. Like an old doll, beautiful and exquisite when you first see it, but after a while the facade starts to crack, the beauty is stripped, and it becomes worn, useless. Wont you pick up this doll? see it through the cracks to the core? Where it is still beautiful, in your eyes. Will you be the one? the one who stays by, no matter what. The one that still sees the original beauty in this old china doll, and loves it. Only for what it is, not what it was or will be but for me.

Turn this stupid fat rat yellow

I want to tell you. But then, what would be the point? I stare at the phone, these untold words tickling me. I wait. For tomarrow. But if today were tomarrow, would i still want to tell? Would i still wish for you? Or would i change my mind. Streaming thoughts, useless against you. This wall so carefully built is crumbling. But then i have to wonder. Was it ever there at all? I want to tell you, but i know it is too late. Air heavy with untold truths, broken as the words fall from my mouth out to you. Waiting to be heard, finally. To be taken in by you. You understand. Is that enough? i dont know. But i wish it were.

Plastic Diner Tables

I love talking on the phone. I love hugs and singing with friends. I love playing apples to apples and being tickled in the hallways. The feel of silk against my skin, soft, smooth. The feel of your hand against mine rough, gentle. The sound of ciquadas in the evening. Lulling me to sleep with their syncopated lullaby. The taste of creme brulee, warm sugar that melts in my mouth, crisp, burnt, mello. I love to laugh, the ache in my stomach when it hurts so bad, and the feeling of floating, of being purely happy, nothing else. I love to dream, in sleep. And i love knowing you're there. Just in case. When i look around, to know that this is mine and mine alone, i feel safe, and secure. The sun touches my face, caressing me with its warmth and i smile.

Clean

Today i feel beautiful. Because of you. You made me this way. To see me as i am, me, alone. My shorts bunch up, and my hair is wet, curling, dripping down my back, puddling on my shirt. It creates marks, scars in my clothing. My eyes burn with tears, glowing with the hurt, but healing. Knowing. It is you who pulls me back and makes me smile. Lotion, perfume, scents the air, making me feel beautiful. Peaceful, at rest finally. Bands cover my arms. They comfort me. Protect me and whisper secrets that only i know. That i long to share with them, but cant. But that is ok. This fake reality, this delicate balance, covers the truth and reveals it. Separate, but togeather. I watch my phone. This connection to you. Happy, alone, lovely in this chosen state.

Write it on the skyline

I tried so hard. Did everything right, just for you. I did my best, worked until my head hurt, tired, but proud at what i had accomplished. All you had asked for and more, a surprise so that when you came over you would be proud. So that i could be the good child. For once. Not a dissapointment, but a prize. But instead when you came back to the house all you could do was yell. Tell me what id done wrong. Take away the one thing i had asked for. And look at me in anger. You called me bad, said that i had hurt you by not telling you the words you wanted to hear. Not reading the script and following the lines. Even when im my best, im never good enough. What does it take? tell me. Give me a handbook for life. Maybe then i could finally do right.

Ordinary Day

Dont you think its funny how sometimes you can not know someone for very long and yet still feel as if youve been friends forever? Or how youll think you hate someone, then spend a lot of time togeather and you realize hey, this persons really cool, or vica-versa. Its wierd how people change you. And you never realize until you wake up from life and look back at the past.

Cupcakes

I feel so torn, between this happy, dumb blonde. The one that everyone sees. The happy one, the smiling, laughing, childish, annoying, and exasperating one. The one that everyone hates, but is still so drawn to because of its endearing nature. And the sad, wise adult. The one who is mature and understanding, but no fun to be around. Worldly, but unhappy. This game i play hurts, happy and bubbly, but with an everlasting shadow, darkness, pain beneath. Its like a mask, and the worlds a masquerade, everyone performing this elaborate dance. But this time, the mask is part of me. Two sides, but everything inbetween. So many directions, so many choices, which to choose. I wonder if they even care at all, no one side seems enough, but how to combine, how to intertwine, these ever-shifting emotions, how do i make it me?

Green

Im trying. For you. You asked me to write, to try to sing, to make a melody out of these jumbled thoughts and ideas. But i can't. I guess i just don't know how. How to put these thoughts into words and these words to music. So i stit, and i wait. For something to come to me. But it doesn't. i wouldnt even know where to begin. Anger? Love? Longing? But none of those seem right. And i want this to be mine. Mine alone. Because nothing ever is. Not really.

Dream On

 Just once. Just once i thought that maybe I could shine. That maybe, just this time, id be able to be the one who came out on top. The star, instead of the supporting role. I mean, don't think i'm complaining, its not so bad, getting the side comments, the second best, at least you get some at all, right? But i thought that maybe for once i deserved it. Just a taste. A glimmer to keep up hope. But i guess not. I guess its just destiny, my fate. To stay on the sidelines. A fan, but never the player. A wisher but never a doer. I guess ill go back to my shadow, hand over your spotlight to you. But ill be waiting....hoping that maybe someday itll be my time.

On a burst of wind

You know what i love is when you go to buy something, or to do something at a store, and you happen to be in a good mood and doing something completely ridiculous so the sales person laughs and starts talking to you. Ya, i love that. I mean, i guess some people would find it annoying, but you know what i realized? Some of the best people in the world are sales people, just waiting there, in walmart or target or anywhere else. Just biding their time and trying to make a bit of a living. But we all have stories to tell, and them especially. I love meeting new people, because its always nice to know that there are really kind people out there in the world. And you never know the stories of these people, retired models who have traveled the world, poor people who've battled their entire life to live, one day, i want to be like that. To be able to tell my story to people, to make their day, just have fun and talk, not to worry about relationships- friend, or boyfriend- but just to talk. To bring a new perspective to their life, maybe teach them something...just for a little bit.

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours first, let's compare scars"

Flowers scent the air. Your hand in mine, intertwining like the leaves of a tree. You whisper secrets into the air, pungent with untold stories. Of faraway places, of dreams, of beginnings, of things you hope to be. But dark pasts contaminate these dreams, as you and i both know. Shadows never leaving- but for now far gone. I lean into you, feel you surround me with your warmth. And i know that this is where i want to be. Need to be, forever. Me and you... And then i wake up. To the emptiness, alone. But i smile, because i remember what was. I know what will be.

No One's Got it all

People are materialistic. Its just how we are. But sometimes i wonder if we don't go overboard just a little bit. Magazines, and billboards, and movies, and TV all tell us that we aren't good enough. They scream out to people saying, be skinnier, prettier, manlier, be this or that. They seem to taunt us with these never-ending images, telling us to be what they want us to be, instead of who we are. Always telling us to change, that who we are isn't good enough. There are a hundred kinds of toothpaste made just to whiten teeth, dozens of hair products bouncing around words like shinier, stronger, and other crap like that. And then, when you go to use one, it's like you look and look for a change, some improvement, but even if something changes just the slightest bit it's not good enough STILL. And you need to go buy more. It's this infinate cycle of consumerism, but instead of finding a positive way to sell the only thing that this surrounds people with is their own fears, their own insecurities taunting them and bringing them down. The fact is that people will only see what they want to see. So maybe we should stop focusing so much on stuff....a good idea...in theory.

Dandelions

Have you ever just been there? walked outside on a warm summer day and laid in the grass and just breathed? It's nice. Peaceful even. As the world buzzes around you, people hurting, and laughing, and living, even in the midst of all that, to just be. Thank God for summer. This is the time when life seeps away in a lazy patch of haze. And there's unlimited amounts of time. More life is lived in each moment then in a day of winter time. The breeze softly plays with my hair as i lay. It lifts it and throws it about, urging me to join it, to go and play in life as i sit and wait. For something, for nothing. One of my few lazy days this summer. It feels lovely.

Beach Days

When i am with you, im reminded of how i love to live. Laughter and inside jokes, happiness. That's all i feel. I realized how happy i can be, just because of you. So thank you. For everything. Yes, you, right there. Thank you for the good times, and even when the bad emotions and thoughts rear their ugly faces, thank you for being there. To guide me through, to help me learn and live. Thank you for the movies, and the phone calls, texts, and overwhelming sense of being there, no matter what. For you are the ones who made me strong. And able to live. You let me survive even when i didnt think i could. Even when the world came crumbling down, you stood by, like a wall, and shielded me, not even knowing that you did. And i will always remember you, your impact on my life, because you are my friend. My best friend.

Make a wish

You betrayed me. Took my heart and tore it apart inside. And the worst part is you dont even know you're doing it. Wordless messages run through these emotions as you look at me...talk to me...or dont. I'm giving up on you, again. Only to come back. Inescapable. Like a dog chasing its tail. I try to let go and leave, give up and begin again, only to find that's impossible. Because you are part of me now. No matter what I do, you will remind me.