I want someone to share secrets with. Someone who gets that i'm completely unable to do even the smallest task without messing it up or getting confused. Someone who knows what i mean when i can think of a word and resort to stupid hand gestures to get my point across.
i'm not waiting, waiting means your wasting time. And this life certainly isnt a waste of time.
I just want something that gives me a little bit of reason.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Letters to my mother.
If i could write a letter to my mother..
I would apologize for stretching her woman parts to be the size of a watermelon. It sounds like pretty painful process, one that i hope someday i will have the immense...pleasure - of enduring.
I would also like to say i'm sorry for every time i slammed my door, or stomped up the stairs or hung up without saying "goodbye" or "i love you".
I would tell her that I didnt mean to be so hateful at 15, when she wouldnt let me stay out past ten o'clock. Or that when she and my father divorced i'm sorry for all those times i didnt stay with her.
Next i would tell her whats changed since she moved away. Day to day when we speak nothing feels different, but when you look back everything has changed. I would want to explain why i drive the long way home from work or Where the scar on left thumb came from. I would want her to see that i still sleep with the blanket she made me when i was 9, and that when its cold i sleep in her big old sweater.
Last, i would thank her. First for giving me her eyes... and sarcastically for her pin straight hair. For teaching me to ride my bicycle when i was 5. For laughing with me when no else thinks i'm funny. And finally for reminding me that every one is beautiful and every dream is achievable...
I would apologize for stretching her woman parts to be the size of a watermelon. It sounds like pretty painful process, one that i hope someday i will have the immense...pleasure - of enduring.
I would also like to say i'm sorry for every time i slammed my door, or stomped up the stairs or hung up without saying "goodbye" or "i love you".
I would tell her that I didnt mean to be so hateful at 15, when she wouldnt let me stay out past ten o'clock. Or that when she and my father divorced i'm sorry for all those times i didnt stay with her.
Next i would tell her whats changed since she moved away. Day to day when we speak nothing feels different, but when you look back everything has changed. I would want to explain why i drive the long way home from work or Where the scar on left thumb came from. I would want her to see that i still sleep with the blanket she made me when i was 9, and that when its cold i sleep in her big old sweater.
Last, i would thank her. First for giving me her eyes... and sarcastically for her pin straight hair. For teaching me to ride my bicycle when i was 5. For laughing with me when no else thinks i'm funny. And finally for reminding me that every one is beautiful and every dream is achievable...
I miss my mommy today.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Heart sick.
You know that moment that everyone talks about when something "Just Happens". I never thought things just "happened"... i thought people knew exactly what they were getting into. I thought they always had an intention. I thought...but i didnt know.
Saturday i learned things really do just "happen". Things one couldnt begin to fathom in a million years. i'm excited and terrified about what all this means. I know that right now neither of us are making these conscious decisions but i hope your with me when i say i want this too.
maybe you and i wont last, but right now i think we fit pretty well together and i hope your thinking the same thing.
Saturday i learned things really do just "happen". Things one couldnt begin to fathom in a million years. i'm excited and terrified about what all this means. I know that right now neither of us are making these conscious decisions but i hope your with me when i say i want this too.
maybe you and i wont last, but right now i think we fit pretty well together and i hope your thinking the same thing.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Beautiful.
I remember waking up on summer mornings with a heart full of wonder. Not knowing what the day would bring but knowing that dinner was at 7, and bed time was 10:30. I remember bike rides with my best friend at the age of 8 through the trails in the woods near my house. I remember everything. Ten years isnt a large amount of time in the grand scheme of things, but to a individual its an entirely different world.
I am now 18 years old. The difference is that i dont know alot of things. My heart is half full of wonder and half full of a jaded knowing. Dinner is when i get hungry, bed time is when i cant keep my eyes open much longer. I get up every morning and go to work so i can pay my bills and attempt to pay for college. This life is so much different then i thought. I'm not saying thats bad, i'm just saying i'm not who i expected to be. Which is fantastic and bewildering.
Life is beautiful.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Shh.
i hate secrets.
I hate having to hide something when i am brimming with joy over it. I feel like i should be completely ashamed but i'm not.. not even a little bit. So why does it seem that my counterpart should be equally happy when he's not. Why are we so quite when things seem so loud. I want to scream and tell everyone while he treats it like a burden... it gets me thinking that i'm a burden. That i'm playing second best to someone else..
.and then i remember that i am.
Its pretty silly, this waiting game we're playing. Waiting for his heart to heal and for hers to finish turning black...
I hate having to hide something when i am brimming with joy over it. I feel like i should be completely ashamed but i'm not.. not even a little bit. So why does it seem that my counterpart should be equally happy when he's not. Why are we so quite when things seem so loud. I want to scream and tell everyone while he treats it like a burden... it gets me thinking that i'm a burden. That i'm playing second best to someone else..
.and then i remember that i am.
Its pretty silly, this waiting game we're playing. Waiting for his heart to heal and for hers to finish turning black...
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