A boy from New Zealand brought me back to this blog.
He wrote me poems of sweet nothings, and I broke his heart. As these thoughts and admirations burn holes in my mind as a deep fog lie ahead, unsure of where to take the next step.
A life that has been lived by a 22 year old girl, who still feels like she's out of touch and all in tune with 17.
17 years I had it all. I knew it all, and thought I had a direction. A voice, a path set before my wobbly and shaky feet tied firm to the ground ahead of me.
I knew who I wanted and what I wanted out of life. A passion and creativity that had been lost with age.
Rereading the depth and soul of the emotion in the all american 17 year old girl exposed shallow water and its pollution at the surface. Current contentment as regret. Loss of who I am as a person swirls around in my head as I dream of brown kisses, and lake side views.
Emotions suppressed. Anxieties digressed. Control becoming out of control. Strength paradigm'd in weakness.
Depth of the ocean, and depth of the soul. All things which have made me feel alive - slipping right through my fingers like the sand of Auckland.
Now as an adult, the numbing has come as we are told to stand tall, and to act like you know what you want out of life, when really no body does.
Passion.
Lost.
Which once used to exemplify every aspect of belief. Yet passion is so physical. So emotionless. So lost in translation.
Seeking youth and light to last more than these last 5 years.
What if high school wasn't a thing.
& if mirrors showed one's true reflection or if graduation wasn't until next year and goodbyes wouldn't feel as staggering.
What if the world somehow decided it didn't want to be here anymore.
What if the ocean was made from the salt infused tears of our eyes crying for loved ones lost in war with a fighting chance to be remembered.
What if the sky decided to clear it's storm but no one would be here to see it.
What if life became something but a myth or what if love was supposed to be anything but the jackets offered. The doors opened. The smell of cologne.. Loved so much you could be heard from the mountain tops on that rock that tipped and swayed but when we fell, the lights gave us the power to reach down and pull each other up.
What if love was just a feeling and nothing more.
What if things didn't need to end. Like the way caterpillars say goodbye to their cocoons and little babies to their womb.
We sat on an electric chair.
Disguised as a couch counting down the days until sudden death.
I was clueless.
But we were so comfortable. Like a spring only pushing down on my mind raced so colorful in this world only to prove I'm not insane.
To prove that we're all a little insane.
But so what i've had my heart broken.
Once...
or four times.
The feelings I felt lying nights in bed alone, but could still feel touch. The longing and the ways my hair fell so effortlessly to the ground as we slept.
What if the world froze over and the ice bled through damaging so deep into our hearts..
With outstretched arm & shattered mind, It probably would've hurt less.
But what can I say. We're all on the verge of insanity. Because when the night went dark, so did I.
I think to the days where i had it all planned out.
from my experience time is never on your side
When i was young and wanted to be a princess.
I'm stuck in a fairy tale & I'm not sure how to get out.
He was dreamy and he was everything i shouldn't have.
we were happy.
his knife stabbed just as hard as his words and left a gaping hole in me and i haven't felt the same since.
I lost all my friends.
I think at this point you should be angry. so so angry. maybe because you have a heart one size too big.
you are who you love. not who loves you.
I still need to remind myself every morning to smile
and i found myself reminded to keep you away from me.
Nostalgic is my middle name.
emotions are colors and I don't feel colors very often anymore.
My cheeks are still stained with tears but I am stronger now.
the blood pumping from my weak heart is full of love.
I never got the chance to thank you for breaking my heart.
These flowers you picked for me were once the most beautiful. even though they are dead, they remind me of us.
Scars are made to tell a story. A story of life a story of miracles and a story of survival.
I am no longer in love with a boy who kisses like a tsunami. but overtime the thunder comes around I swallow the taste of lightning off my tongue, and try to catch my breath.
I don't know where you are.
I accept you as a dream that haunts me every now and again and, as a wonderful memory and nothing less.
what a marvelous way to die.
Touch.
I remember each finger that fit so perfectly with mine.
The white noise. The dreams, the gentle movements as we slept so peacefully.
I remember sleeping with a body that felt missing.
I remember the void.
I remember chills as skin upon skin, we loved.
The deep color in those eyes.
I remember car doors and yellow lights like the color of the sun when our smile's lit up the room like a white snowy day at the beginning of January.
I remember the alarms that I never woke up to and the smells that made my soul feel so alive.
I remember the flowers. So colorful like love notes from the soul that wilted so deeply throughout time.
It reminded me of the heart.
Each painful beat that seem to never end with every aching second. Every aching head ache, every mention of the relentless 3 worded phrase.
It reminds me of death.
and how I've never wanted to die alone.
& those flowers.
that i've never got myself to throw away.
Sounds of unapologetic screams and painful simultaneous uses of the word "push" make the playlist of a fresh heaven sent soul to enter in this absolutely terrifying world.
A world where we talk about bombs in Syria and Parisians with throats slit on trains. We talk about airfare to Paris these days. half off normal price. but taking the time to hover avoiding disease in public facilities is no way to strengthen any leg.
We talk about love.
We talk about caring eyes and vanilla flavored lips that glide down our bodies so innocently. Cells divide and nature throws its course in a fiery whirlwind so fast the hair we so carefully brushed covered my eyes so thick all i could see were the dark stains your heart made on my shirt. Blood. that the waves cursed with my body and i drowned. time and time again. Echoes of our heartbeats and the smell of freedom dance around in my mind, but we were injured. And all that was left were sounds of an unfinished love song desiccating in the dust.
