3/24/14
I feel torn. Between something I know is right, and something I feel is right. There shouldn't be a difference, but there is. One's in my heart, and one's in my head. But it seems as though I'm not sure which goes where.

5/29/14
I'm pretty sure I'm trying. I'm giving it my all. I'm trying to stay cool. I'm keeping quiet, I'm speaking up. But it's all wrong. I'm all wrong. I don't know what I'm saying, I don't remember what I'm fighting for. I don't know what I want. I'm doing all theses things, I'm moving forward, I'm making decisions, and for what? I come home, lay down, and feel nothing. It's a whole different feeling. The same one I felt before, but different. It's the numbness, but softer. Deeper. Not as physical, but all kinds of emotional, mental numbness. We have problems and we talk about them, we cry and scream about them. We try to change them, to get over them, to get over him. And we think we do, we trick ourselves into thinking we're moving on, but then you see him, and it all comes rushing back in. I'm sitting here waiting, patiently waiting. Is he going to call? Is he going to show? I'm going out, being proactive, being assertive. Is he going to notice? Is he going to approach me? And nothing. No. He didn't. He won't. He sees you. They see you. And they run. I'm tired of running. And I'm tired of people running from me. I'm doing my best. I'm pretty sure I'm trying. I'm keeping my cool. And nothing is changing.

Perhaps it's a matter of principle. It's a matter of patience. I took out the piercing. I make up the credit. I walked across the stage and shook their hands. But it's not enough. It's not okay, it's not over. I'm sitting here taking the beating. Learning my place. But it's not enough. My place is never put. My lesson never learned. Is this my fault? Did I do something wrong? No one will tell me. What am I supposed to do? There aren't instructions. I'm making it up as I go. But everyone is telling me that's wrong. I'm tired. I'm burned out. I can't be lit again. That's not an expression. That's not a dramatization. It's me. And that's all there is.

9/9/14
*sneeze*

"Excuse me"

"Bless you."

"Thank you." 

("You're welcome.")

All under three seconds. 

10/16/14
Crap. No, shi-no.
Crap.
I'm eating.
At least today, what the he-.
No.
There's people all around me. Everywhere. But it's like I'm not even here, at least today. I read that article about going without makeup, and I wanted to try it. I'm not completely bare, perhaps I'm just not very confident today, but I feel like nothing. I want to call someone, I want to call him. I just spent 20 dollars on music that makes me sad. Which is stupid because I won't spend money on food, but I'll spend it on nostalgic feelings.
I'm switching from building to building. I'm trying to find a place to make mine, but it seems as though I'll never find it. I was doing well wasn't I? Maybe it's just today. I think that's it, but still. I just want him to want me. It's been a full year and I feel so strange. Some songs don't mean a thing to me anymore, yet others play and I swear I can still feel his lips, literally as if he kissed me 20 minutes ago. I'm not going to entertain the idea by asking stupid questions. I know it's not supposed to be easy, I know I'm going to have my bad days, and perhaps today is just one of those. But I feel especially weak right now. It's just now hit me how close he is. And now strange it is that we don't even speak. I know it's pathetic, but I can't help it today.
Atlas plays in my ears and suddenly we're in that Land Rover again, he's holding my hand as we drive up other canyon and I'm staring at the waterfall as we pass it to avoid his eyes. Why was I so stupid? Why do I care? Why am I not happy right now? I've accomplished things, I've risen above the opposition. I impress, I matter. But not to him, and that. Makes everything feel in vain. How can I be so weak? Why am I still longing for this thing that I'm not even sure was good? Am I not stronger than this?
I'm tired of asking myself questions, stupid questions that I know the answer to. I keep telling myself that it was his loss. That I was probably the greatest thing that ever happened to him. Right? No, that's a terrible thing to say, to assume. But what the hell? Wasn't I?

sometime in september

I had a terrible dream about my dad the other night.
I don't even want to write it out because it was so terrible and I want to forget it as soon as possible. But anyways, this dream happened, then I went to Salt Lake to buy a bass guitar and hang with some friends and pick up a laptop, and suddenly that night I get a text from my dad.
I'm not close to him, not in the slightest.
I don't really want to be to be honest.
We're just too different.
Or maybe too similar.
Anyways I don't like being with him for too long.
But getting back to the story, he texts me that night and tells me that he's coming back into town.

And now I'm panicking.
I'm sitting in my friends basement apartment trying to do my homework, and obviously not doing it effectively because now we're watching a movie that I've never really liked.
It gives me anxiety, all of it.
One things leads to the next, someone gets eaten, someone misses a train, someone pays for something they can't have.
I don't know how to follow things anymore.
It feels like every time I'm starting to figure something out, someone throws me a curve ball.

11/13/14
I'm supposed to be writing a 5 page biology paper right now. But I can't. I have this song on repeat and I'm just trying to understand who's singing it. Not literally, but figuratively. Which one of us is asking the other to love them? I just want to sit here and cry, but I can't. I don't even know why I want to cry, but I do. There are so many people hurting right now and it's pissing me off. No- I'm not pissed. I just feel hopeless I guess. But for other people. I'm getting behind in silly things. Things that aren't hard at all. I'm just trying to understand how any of this happened.

What am I doing here? Why am I doing any of these things? Are they for me? Are they for others? Does it matter? One minute I'm telling a friend of mine to go to his knees for answers, and the next I feel too ashamed to wear the medallion around my neck. I don't like to look at myself naked. Maybe that's too much information, but I don't really care anymore. I feel like a shell. I feel like there are lots of people putting beautiful bright things in me and I'm helping them fill myself with all these amazing things, but somehow there's a leak. I can't find it, but I know it's there. And everything keeps spilling out.

it's good to be home

They're doing it a-f**king-gain.
Again, f**king again.

He's mainly to blame. But you can't blame him. He's acting like he's supportive, like he wants to be involved, like he wants to lead. He wants to sit at the head of the table- expects to sit at the table. last week he wasn't allowed on the property, this week he's cutting into the roast center table like he never left. I want to be so mad at him. I know exactly what he's doing. And that's only because he would always tell me about how he'd win her back whenever he got the f***ing chance.

I feel stupid for censoring myself, but I'm trying to be better while still feeling how I feel. I could do better- but I just have to start like this, at least now.

Literally I can still remember him asking me if I thought she'd start dating again. As if we were in high school together or something. He's asking if she's talking to other men, if she's going out with friends more. What am I supposed to say to that?

"uh, yeah, mom's talking about boys."

No. What- Hell. To. The. No. I didn't like dealing with relationships in high school, I didn't like dealing with relationships, ever. But dealing with my parents divorce met a whole different level of distain. He's stubborn, he's an a**, he's egotistical, he's selfish, he's asking me for tips to get her back.. it's a completely different realm. It's not right on any level. I'm trying to keep myself level headed when the man who make sure the only real relationship I had got shot to hell starts asking me to "help him out".

I get it, he's my dad, but he's never been a friend, he's never been an outlet, a homie, a constant, an anything really. Except for a burden. I know it sounds dramatic, but that really feels like the case. He's my sister's best friend and hero in life, but he's my nothing. He's my embarrassment if anything. Everyone talks about how much I look like him. I guess that's fine and all, but I don't want to be anything like him. I don't like going out in public with him. Before it used to feel like I could never get a word in, but now it's like I'm not even in the room. He'll look at me when it's time to be a trophy child. "oh, this one, she goes to BYU, same with my other one," then nothing. Literally I see his back more than anything when we're out together. That's how he likes it, I know that. So I go along with it to keep the peace.

"keep the peace"
that'd be nice is we ever reached "peace". It's more like keeping the time now.

Maybe I've gotten colder, more mean, maybe I've become a b****. I just don't want to settle anymore. For anything less than what I deserve. Looking back at myself so far I only see a sad person. I know now that it was by choice. Before I only blamed it on other things: people, situations, geographical locations, etc. But I'm tired of that. I see my dad trying to suck up to her and it pisses me off. I shouldn't want to call him out for not being a man. But I do. I see my parents are those girls I avoided in high school. I see my family as that click that loved to pretend everything was cool and awesome when really everyone is just passive aggressive as hell and never says what they mean.

There's a reason I'm a black sheep. That's something to be proud of, that's something to be ashamed of. That's something to frame and mount on the wall, that's something to tuck in the corner of the basement. That's something I should celebrate, that's something I've failed at. It's something I've won, it's something I've lost.

I don't want to sell myself short anymore. That's pissing people off lately, I know that. But I can't change their hearts. If my progression is serving detrimental to someone else, then I don't know, maybe I ought to take my distance. I wish that wasn't the case. But I don't want to stand in my own way anymore, just for the sake of "keeping the peace." I would pray that those people would try to understand. But I can't do much more than that. I'm not a fan of my dad. I'll obey him, I'll stand behind him, but I won't become him. And I won't endorse him.

I'm not a fan of who I was, and I'll do anything in my power to keep myself from becoming that person again. I don't like being home, but I love being in my room. So I think right now, I've established my "home" in my life right now. Which is subject to change, but before that happens, I think I have to find my "room". I don't like being home. God, I hate being home. Where the hell is my room?

shut up, for the love, shut up

I feel so weird. How selfish is that? I'm so tired of myself lately. God, I can't stop thinking about myself it's annoying. Even writing it down, I feel sick to my stomach. I keep remembering that lesson in psychology 3 years ago about how we can never really be selfless. It's literally impossible. That's so depressing. I'm not depressed- the idea is.

" I feel,"
"MY stomach,"

I just want to pull myself apart. I want to slice open all the pieces and pick at it until I figure it out. This is so gross. And it doesn't help that my clothes is drenched in lentil smoke which smells like cigarette smoke, because all smoke (after it settles) smells like cigarette smoke. So now every time I shower- which has resulted to almost two times a day- I change into smoke clothes. I feel disgusting. I can't get clean. It doesn't matter how many times I turn my cheek, how many times I stay quiet, mind my own business, look away, I'm the one that's going home smelling like the result of something someone else smoked.

"I'M the one,"
"I change into smoke,"

Is there no way to express what you're feeling without being so pretentious all the time? All of these sentences start with "I", "me", "I'm", it's exhausting. I've become an expert at running from everyone else, but you can't run from yourself. How cliché is that? How freaking stupid, really stupid and dumb, is that? First off, I hate how I'm feeling, and second, I hate that I'm the one that's feeling it. I'm not trying to be confusing, or cryptic. I don't want to be confused, I just want to be at peace. But it's like half of me is happy, really, truly happy and at peace, and the other half is dying. Not just numb, or dormant- dying. Big things and changes are happening, and they aren't freaking me out, in fact they're really easy to handle almost, even without trying really. But then these tiny things happen, and I know something is wrong. I'm not praying, not as much as I should be. But I feel The Lord still guide my hand. Why is he doing that? It shouldn't be that way, should it? I know it's not me. I'm not the one that's doing all of these things with ease, not alone.

"half of ME is happy,"
"I'M not praying,"

I'm sitting here thinking that He knows me better. That He has plans for me of things that I couldn't even consider right now. But why? It's probably true, but why would he do that? Haven't I been a coaster? Family life was hard but I just wadded through until I could leave. High school seemed like a speed bump I didn't care to slow down for. Being in a serious relationship was hell, straight hell, but I enjoyed it- miss it even. I'm not depressed, I don't need pills. I'm not cutting, I'm not suicidal. I'm just-nothing. I'm coasting again. I'm doing as I'm told. I'm doing what they want. And "they" switches from time to time. I can't tell which ideas are mine, and which have been planted. I'm seeking validation in people that have always disappointed me. I'm going soft. I'm getting weak. But it feels like everyone else is telling me I'm sprouting. I'm sitting here listening to an album that he and I used to make out to. After we split, I used to tear myself apart listening to this. I used to cry the instant it started, remembering that boy. I swear I could still feel him, taste him even. But now, it's just a song. I can't tell if I'm proud, or ashamed. I swear I'm over him, I don't have to prove that to anyone because I know it's true. But it's strange, this song used to mean the world, now it means nothing. I'm not sure what's going on. Am I getting confident? Or careless? It feels like I've gotten everything together, like I've really figured out so much, but then I don't care. I'm seeing this bigger picture, I'm seeing in perspective, then I'm throwing it aside and claiming the bigger picture sucks. But I can't tell if it actually does suck, or if I'm just saying that. It's like I'm going around, asking people to dance with me, I'm all excited and hopeful, but no one wants to dance. The fact that no one wants to dance makes me think that I shouldn't want to dance. But I've never been one to question myself because of others. And even still, it's more than just being insecure. Because it's not being insecure. It's something more.

"I could still feel him,"
"I swear I'm over him,"

It's like a decay. A gif that is my life, of something bright and strong, decaying. Over and over again, it's beautiful and valuable, confident, daring maybe, then suddenly it's a corroded piece of whatever it was before. It's like someone sucked out all my juices and put them in a cup, then set the cup right next to me. It's not gone, it's not ruined, it's just not in me. And I can't put it back in me because the ability to do that left when it was sucked out with the juices. Now what, I pray again? I cry a little, I ask for forgiveness, but I still feel the same.
I'm the same girl that made a mistake and repented.
I'm the same girl that feels so much but feels nothing at all.
I'm the same girl.
Today, tomorrow, forever.
Cut my hair, change the color.
Get different clothes.
Talk different.
Study harder.
Smile more.
Wear makeup.
Move out.
Eat less.
Exercise more.
Never cries.
Tells the truth.
Stays out late.
Takes chances.
But the same.
The exact, same, girl.

No, no, no.

NO. You weren't supposed to do that. You weren't supposed to hurt me. You weren't supposed to hangout there, talk to them, be like that. I'm that psycho now. I'm the one who's wrong. I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you that it hurt. That you hurt.. me.

I thought we'd gone over this. I thought we'd said our peace. I thought you knew better. Perhaps I'm being selfish to think that we should be good to each other. That I took care of you, so you can take care of me right? Apparently not. But it's not okay if someone else takes care of me. If someone else plays your role better than you. Suddenly I'm doing something wrong, suddenly I've crossed a line.

I'm not weak, I can do hard things, but that doesn't mean I have to endure this forever. It was bad before you came, and it seems as though it's only gotten worse now that you're here. Don't treat me like this, don't put me on the shelf, don't stop making an effort.

It seems as though you get to be more human than I; at least that's how it feels. You're going through things, you're hurting a lot. You need your escape. But when I feel pain, when I need help, when I'd like to escape, you walk away. I'm making an effort, you know that. But you refuse to make one too. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I don't know how I'm supposed to help. I don't know if you even want me anymore..

This is ridiculous, even writing this down. It shouldn't be this easy to be upset at you. The words shouldn't come so freely. I'm tired of being silent though. I'm tired of giving in. And you knew that, you knew how I felt, about everything, and you still pushed it. I don't want to be that girl, to throw things in your face and tell you that I've overcome my shit. But today I will. I wanted to quit, God knows I wanted to quit. But I didn't. This stupid idea of being someone, was greater. Being someone who kids like us would go to for help. Being someone who looked like she always had her marbles in place. That was stronger than wanting to smoke with that hot kid. Stronger than feeling the need to be touched again. Stronger than wanting to be deep in the ground where I could finally sleep.

But I see now that all of that means nothing to you. You say one thing and you'll do another. I don't know how to keep you separate from the others that we both know have hurt us so much. It's meshing together now. It's getting super blurry. Perhaps this is the foreshadowing of a relationship that needs to go on hold. Perhaps the distance that is being anticipated will be our wakeup call. You'll realize that you never really moved on, and I'll realize that I didn't really want to.

It's strange writing something like this; and feeling a truth behind the words that lingered on my tongue for so long. I don't feel like your friend, I haven't felt like your friend in a long time. Perhaps it was when I was walking behind you and your boy leaving the concert you wanted to go to on my birthday. Perhaps it was sitting on the floor looking up at you and your friends completely content with the fact that I wasn't involved, or included. Or perhaps it was when you were far away, and you asked to speak to me, but the only chances you had to do so were spent on your boy.

I could have very well been that same kind of friend to you. In fact I'm positively sure I was. But I know I never stopped making an effort to keep you. Even now, when things are completely different, I'm trying my best to resist the urge. Yet, all I see you doing is giving up on us. On me. Ha, listen to me write, as if this is a matrimony.. If it was, it'd be toxic one. If it was, to be completely honest.. I'd leave you. Still writing that down I know it's not true, but it feels good to write it sometimes. Isn't that horrible? I'm trying so hard to hold on to you, but all I see is you pushing me away. I'm trying to keep the tower from falling, trying to convince you that it's worth it, this height that we've reached; that we're worth it. But all I see is you tearing out the pieces from underneath us. With an occasional side of hostility thrown in my direction.

I don't know what's going on. I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what you need me to be, but I do know that in the future, sometime soon, I won't be able to be there. And I don't know what that's going to mean to you; if it'll mean anything to you. I'm going places though, places we both know you can't come with me to. And I'm curious if you're going to be like the others and try to keep me from going there, or if you'll pretend to forget completely that I'm even going.

We'll always have the Winter, we'll always have those songs, those feelings that only you and I felt, but we won't always have each other. In fact I already feel as though you made sure of that. I know it sounds like I'm saying goodbye -to who or what in particular I'm not sure- I'm not saying it now though, at least not yet. That would be too easy. And you and I aren't good at easy. I'll never stop loving you, you know that. You'll always hold a place in my heart. But right now, there's too much pain. There's too much conflict. Too much lack of trust, or communication.

I'm completely different. You're completely different, therefore we cannot be the same together as we once were. I don't know what the future will bring. I don't know if we'll have more distance. But I know I'm confused. And I need to take care of myself right now. Hopefully you'll be able to understand that, if not there's nothing I can do. I just hope that after the storm, you know that I'll be looking for you, even if you're not looking for me.

    I'm sitting here at the University, waiting for an appointment; looking for a plane ticket. Currently, I only have $120 to my name, and the ripped black jeans and New Port Beach t-shirt on my back. It's a strange feeling really, thinking about what I'm planning on doing.

   I wonder how they feel.. I wonder what they're thinking.. I wonder if it's easier, if it's simpler, if it's better. I wonder if they think about me. If they're wondering if I'm safe.

   Last night my friend and I slept in a parking lot with sleeping bags. We talked into the night, sharing our fears, our hopes. I think people think it's fun. They think it's cool, or funny, or whatever. Sometimes it is, to be honest. But sometimes I let myself think a little too much about it and it comes again, the numbness. I wake up in the morning, not  knowing if I'm going going to be able to shower. Not knowing where I'm going to sleep. Not knowing if I'll be found. Sometimes it's a good feeling, to not know. Other times it scares me. I've been with my friend everyday for a week now. I'm not tired of her, I hope she's not tired of me.
    Sometimes I  watch her do something and think, she doesn't have to do this. She didn't have to take me in. She didn't have to help me. I went to a different friend when it started, and then suddenly the roles changed. I asked her for a ride maybe, or she asked me to lunch, and then we just stayed together.
I sit back a reflect on the things we've experienced. I think about all the things that could have gone differently. How many problems could have been avoided, or ignored. I don't know I ended up here, on the campus, with this hair, with my problems. I don't know how I'm going to act or be when I return to this same place in the fall.

   I don't know where my relationship will be with my parents. I don't know if I'll see my Sweetie girl again. I don't know if I'll be able to call her and not be afraid. I don't know if I'll cry when my friend moves to a different city. I don't know, I don't know anything.

   But I think I know, at least I hope, that it'll be fine. I hope that I'm not making a mistake by running. I hope someday I get to go home and feel welcome. I hope that Sweetie will sleep with me every night and not fear that the approaching footsteps are going to take her away. I hope that I'll call her and she'll be happy, really, truly, happy. And I hope that I remember that this good bye is temporal.
  I love my family. I don't want anyone to think different. I just need to love myself right now. I know I'm not crazy. I know that I'll be okay. And even if I was crazy, I'd be okay.  It's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. I'll be okay. It's okay.

i'm not shit. as much as i would like to be.

A cop came to my house last night. My parents were trying to scare me. I think it's interesting how certain events play out in our lives. Yesterday I was crying, asking my savior why all of these terrible things were happening to me when I've done my part; when I've taken accountability for my faults, when I've tried to put my past behind me. My parents didn't trust me, they didn't believe me, they didn't love me. And yet here I stood in my home almost lifeless, watching them go out of their way for my siblings. Doing their homework with them, throwing multiple going away parties, playing with their hair, laughing over problems, etc. I don't understand. I didn't understand.

I'm not stupid.
I'm not ungrateful.
I'm just tired.

Last night I told my dad I was going to cut my wrists. Granted I was being dramatic as hell, and pissed out of my mind, but when the words left my mouth.. he laughed. He laughed. The tips of his mouth curled up and he bore his crooked teeth, even squinting his eyes a little. I want to hate him so much.
I'm not ignorant. I know I'm a pain in the ass. I really do. And I honestly try not to be. But there are somethings you forgive, but don't forget. I obviously have a lot to work on. I'm still young. I'm still very stubborn, I'm still trying to get mine, but I'm no bitch. Not on purpose anyway. They called the cops to scare me. They called for them to take me away as a punishment. As a consequence for my behavior. But when authority came, they didn't expect what played out. They didn't see it coming. I sure as hell didn't see it coming.. When the man in uniform stepped into the room and told me I wasn't an idiot I couldn't help but cry. I hate it when I do that. Only in front of people though. I hate it when I cry. I hate that I let myself get so hurt. That regardless of all the walls I've built up, I can still get shot down in a matter of minutes.

"you're going to do fine, I don't doubt that. you're better than all of this."

I love my family. I get a little sad when I say that, but I do. I'm not going to sit here and give the "woe is me" shit, because I don't' believe in that.
I don't have the best self-esteem, and I'm not as nice as I used to be to people.
I don't believe in myself and I have a lot of anxiety. And as much as I would love to say that it's all my parents fault that I'm such a mess, I can't.
I've always been a very self aware person, almost to a fault, so I don't like making excuses because I know how stupid I sound even before the words come out of my mouth.
I kind of hate that my self esteem was raised by a cop ironically called upon to discipline me. I hate that I have to be told constantly to be the adult when I get into fights with my parents. I hate that I've given up so many opportunities because of my family. And I hate that the only thing that keeps me going is a future that's so incredibly far away.

I wish I could sit here and say I was hopeful.. I wish I could be strong when it came down to dealing with my family. I wish I was stronger in my religion. In my faith to a greater power, and my faith in myself. But the reality is, I'm just going through the motions. I'm sitting here watching my divorced parents share hot chocolate. I'm sitting here watching my privileged siblings get praised for being assholes. And I'm sitting here having cops tell me I live in a shit hole, but that doesn't make me shit. I hate writing it down almost as much as I hate saying it out loud. But I'm feeling it again. The feeling that comes with going through the motions. The feeling that comes with disconnecting yourself emotionally. The numbness:

-There's a goose egg on my forehead.
-There's a trail of scratches on my arm.
-There's a grant with my name on it.
-There's an acceptance letter that feels like a trap.
-There's a band I want to hear play.
-There's a boy who I want to text.
Ha, even after all this shit I can still manage to think about boys.
 Holy shit, what the hell is my problem?

awful sound

I hate this feeling. I hate letting myself get so upset. So disappointed. You make me want to do so many bad things. So many bad things that I hope will hurt you, but I know will hurt me more. 

"i am my mother's only one"

I had to write an extended metaphor for my English class. I didn't think it'd be possible because there's tons of crap happening right now and I can't seem to focus on a damn thing, but surprisingly enough I actually did the assignment and it really opened my eyes. Which is ironic, because it was supposed to be about a time when out eyes were "opened". Anyways, in the end, I cried really hard reading it. I think it helped me see again, what kind of a family I come from. And how much there is to learn from the people we live with. There are two things I know for sure, right now in this moment:

1. I will always, for as long as I live have room for progression.
2. I love my mother, exponentially so, regardless of everything.  

Also, this is the paper I wrote:

“i am my mother’s only one”

It hurt, looking at Her hurt. Her smile felt like a giant hot air balloon had exploded in my chest. The curled tips of her mouth made me cry. She stood there in silence. Her mind drifting like the sea. I longed to comfort Her, to pull Her out of Her black hole of void justifications and neglect, but there She remained. Calm and immovable. I couldn’t comprehend it at the time; She was sobbing one minute and laughing the next, and it killed me. I felt She was unreachable, unlovable. She was stubborn, and ignorant, but I didn’t understand. That was Her home. That was Her refuge. Like a pool She could submerge herself in and be alone, at peace. Underneath the waterline She was in the womb again. Holding herself in fetal position, on her own ground, untouchable with no one to confuse Her thoughts. But then I’d come. Blowing the whistle of perverted reality into Her ears. Forcing Her to understand. Forcing Her to change. Day after day I’d pull Her out of the glassy waters, and day after day She’d beg to return.. but I was so sure of Her immaturity. So convinced of Her lack of progression. And I, truly believed She had chosen to be incompetent. So firmly I believed, until the day Her mother came.

The woman paraded herself in like the prized pig at the county fair, batting her blue mascara draped lashes at the family, “love me,” they seemed to say,” love me and no one else, forever.” And then I felt it again. The large painful rush of the hot air balloon in my chest. My soul cracked like a sheet of glass being dropped from the 23rd story of her ego. I turned away from this beast of a woman, and looked for Her.. my mother, to see what She would do. Would She start sobbing? Would She burst into laughter? I counted moons searching until suddenly I felt Her hover to me from behind, like a fog. She didn’t speak, and She didn’t cry, or laugh. Instead She enveloped me into her mist, and carried me down into Her pool. To Her placid waters, and my heart sank like an anchor to the bottom. In that moment, I felt Her refuge. I felt Her harmony. I wanted to apologize, to thank Her, but the words were restrained at the curve of my lips as if by a glass wall. She held me and saw the words through the clear border. Her face was rested. It was hopeful, and we floated there, together in tranquility. In Her pool, surrounded by  the coagulated dysfunctionality of our own flesh and blood. And in the midst of the peace within chaos, She forgave me.

Talents

Mastered the skill of crying without ruining my makeup. Never been more proud of myself. 

Through the Valley

Today I fought with my mother about something I can't remember, and I didn't go to school. Instead I ran up the canyon with my dog. It was misty, it had rained all night and the air was fresh. For the first time in a while, I felt myself at peace. I wasn't cold, or in any pain. There was music in my ears and smile on my face. For a moment I stopped and watch my dog observe the trail. She walked to both sides, smelled the brush. Smelled the air. Ran ahead, ran back. Looked at me for approval to move forward, then darted off again. 

I wondered what had changed, within myself that is. 

When had I stopped observing? 

When I had stopped smelling the air? 

Feeling the earth?

Being at peace?

Two nights ago I saw a boy I used to love. His presence affected me more than I had liked. And I was torn between allowing myself to be upset, or trying to ignore my feelings. In the end I had given the whole situation much more attention than it deserved. 

Someone once told me that you should never apologize for your feelings. Sometimes this mentality gets me into trouble, but sometimes it saves me. Lately though, I've been finding that, my feelings are not, bad, necessarily. But they're.. Nonexistent. And so a new idea formed into my head. 

"Should you apologize for not feeling..anything?" 

Today though, I think I got my answer. You're always feeling. Something. Regardless of how cold you've become, regardless of how distant you've made yourself. We are human. It's in our nature to feel. If only we could just register, and comprehend, what exactly it is we are feeling. Only then would we feel at peace, and remain in peace. Then would we see a piece of our past, and accept the progression. I don't mean to say, you have to be okay with whatever is happening. But just, recognize that perhaps you can't control it. And you don't need too.

 Sweetie in action.