I'm just trying to find a way to be beautiful.

like the stars

He told me he missed me.

"I miss you like the stars miss the night sky"

And when I thought of all the ways I missed him, my heart couldn't stop.

I miss him like an untouched piano misses the sound of resonating music notes.

If the moon ever left, the ocean tides would miss it the way I miss him.

I miss him like a poet misses the rythmic sound of words bouncing off an audience.

I miss him like a caged bird misses the sky.

I miss him like a crippled man misses the quick moving pavement below his running feet.

Abandoned playgrounds miss children's laughter the way I miss him.

I miss him like rain drops miss the clouds.

I miss him lost left socks miss cold left feet.

I miss him like bound sails miss the feeling of wind that blows acoss the sea.

I miss him like the ground beneath fresh snow misses the warmth of the summer sun.

I miss him like a woman who loves a man misses him while she's away.

I think about all of the ways I love him and my heart never wants to stop.

Where are my words and why are all the type writers gone?

What the hell is depression and why in gods name did it choose me of all people to host this guestless party?

Somedays I see lights if sunshine through his bedroom window, and some nights the terrors find me in his bed. I can't shake it.

These shadows from my past. They drag me down into the darkest depths of each and every ocean.

Brightness is followed by the deepest of darkness, but just as my strength gives out light finds me once again. 

I can't take it, the constant push and pull of my souls ocean tide.

November

I'll never settle with the fact that November brings the floods. 

I find myself standing here, bucket in hand trying to keep my boat floating. 

Bucket after bucket.

 

I just want to be dry. Warm and dry.

When the sound of rushing water dulls into background noise I dream of you. You and your laugh, you and your sweet sweet laugh. We're in a boat all our own. Painted yellow and set to sail a few too many times. But it is ours and that is all that matters to us. Sometimes I dream of porch swings, and late night stories, but no matter what I always dream of you.

That's all I ask of you

Anywhere you go let me go too
Love me

That's all I ask of you

 

There is a lover out there, cut from a cloth all its own. Taylor made to love every flaw, and embrace every sideways smile. His shoulders are square, and strong. His eyes are bright and his heart is whole. He'll say her name like its beautiful and hold her for fear of losing her.

 

Someday he will find her

 

 

 

She was loved by him in everyway she wanted to love him.

 

They sat together in the mornings, at the table in the sun. She drank a cup of coffee and a cup of tea, and he let the sun on her face warm his heart. He wrote of her and the magic sound of her footsteps in their quiet humble home. He sang off key, and held her without reasons. She slipped out of bed each morning, so that he's shower water would be warm when he woke up. Their old wood floor groaned under their feet when they dance without music, and they repainted their splintering front door with each new season. She kissed the worries away and pretended not to see the second cookie leave the tray. He was passionate, and his hands were strong. He held her close every chance he had because to him she was the world. Their hands and hearts fit together like puzzle pieces. She painted him pictures and he believed they were art even when they weren't. Kisses never lost there spark, and his breath on her neck still made her hands tremble. Her garden overalls made him smile and the sight of her in her old silk robe always took his breath away. She was the star in his sky each night and He was her sunrise every morning.

                                                  and oh how they loved

Her name is Alice

 

I want to be loved the way I love.
I've never been able to figure out loving myself, and I'm beginning to think that's why no one else can love me.

I've never been what I wish I was and the let down breaks me every time.

Maybe if I wasn't so tall
Maybe if my cup was a little fuller
Maybe if I had better posture
Maybe if my nose didn't so obviously reflect my culture
Maybe if I didn't dance out my emotions
Maybe if I wasn't as much to hold on to
Maybe if my skin was white like snow
Maybe if I could let my words go
Maybe if my eyes were green, or blue, or interesting
Maybe if my past wasn't so dark
Maybe if I put my books on a shelf and picked up a makeup brush
Maybe if I cared less
Maybe if my life was easy and my mind was free
Maybe if I could laugh like the summer breeze and sing like the birds

Maybe I would be loved.
Loved like I love.
Maybe I could be loved.
Loved the way I love.

Teach me to let go, my arms are tired but yours could be my home.

I hide it. Its my secret, and my burden.

Its the cement on my feet and the chains around my wings.

I don't know when it happened, and I can't quite tell you why. It happened, that's all I know.
People say time heals everything but I think time just tricks your mind into losing the details. It turns off the lights and spins you around until up isn't up and right is definitely left. I can't ever remember, but I never forget and that's the hardest part. My life is this off tilt scavenger hunt for a perfect place between holding onto hope and letting go of sorrow; of letting the pain fall and holding my head high with grace and smile.



I may not be broken, but sometimes not breaking is the painful part



No one warns you that even highs feel low sometimes. There is no guide to coping with emotional tidal waves. And I've yet to see Over Coming The Empty Feeling In Your Heart For Dummies on the shelf at Barnes and Nobel. To be fair no one could have anticipated the series of fortunate and unfortunate events that would Tetris their way together to make my life. I put the pieces where I though they would fit. some days I look at my handy work and hate myself, some days I see a work of art. I wonder if that's how God feels when he looks at me. I wonder if that's the same sort of thing you think when you read my writing. I wonder if you read my blog.

Part of my hopes you do, and he does, and they all will someday. Part of me prays no one does.
All of me wishes I wasn't so torn all the time.
I feel like two parts that aren't one but make no sense without the other
Yin and Yang are two asshole because they really had me going with the two halves of a whole, balance, black and white bullshit.

I think if my soul could find peace in this body of mine I'd be a whole person.

I think if I could dust the sad off my happy I'd find a little more peace.

I could be happy. And I could be beautiful. And I could be the reason your heartbeats and the corners of your mouth reach for heaven.

Hold me until I know who I am

A real woman can do it all on her own. A real man, won't let her.

Writing can be theraputic. And Confusing. But thats okay.

Its scary to think about loving someone other than the someone you've always loved.

Not that I love someone, or am thinking about loving someone.

Not that I even think I like someone.

The word like is enough to send me running for the hills right now. Can you imagine where I'd end up if I actually "liked" someone? (Yes that's a very appropriate place to use both hands to make air quotations) If you don't know what I mean by that... figure your shit out. You're life is messier than mine.

And that's saying a lot.


Cause

it has been a few weeks since I really saw my floor.

some days I re-wear the outfit I was wearing the night before.

a decent amount of my clothes have this soggy smell to them because our dryer broke right after I did a large load of laundry and I have yet to wash them again... cause I'm lazy.

 

But being lazy and smelling soggy and walk of shame-esk outfits and typical messy shared bedrooms and not-like liking that one guy who lives with that other kid who you really wish would get over himself and run on sentences are all okay!

 

CAUSE I'M IN COLLEGE

 

 

 

For those of you who don't already know, being in College means big things! Mainly, it means that things I deem okay are in fact okay. I think I've broken it down, adulthood that is.

 

Choosing

Deciding

Depression

Never sleeping

Deeming

Dreaming

Drinking

Being responsible

Being irresponsible

Acting like you're twelve when someone new comes into your life and brings stomach butterflies with them...

 

Oh dear God I like him.

I think I actually like him.

 

Really?

shit.

 

And its scares me because if I decide that I like him then I open myself to liking him. I don't need approval from anyone cause what I deem is okay, is okay. Because its my life. This is my life, and its my decision. And a few days ago I decided to sit on his couch and watch baseball because it meant he'd hold my hand. And kiss my forehead. And ask me if I wanted anything when he got up to get himself another drink.

 

What does that mean?

No really, what does that mean?

 

I think I'm actually asking you, cause I really don't think I know.

 

But not knowing is okay.

 

 

#CollegeBlogs

9172k13

 

 

 

Dayquil, PBR, NyQuil, and Caffine

there are so many days
I set myself in front of this blank page
with a rucksack, and a map I embark on a journey

to write

 

 

         My fingers long to be the connection between everything I feel and everything I put on paper. All that I am desperately waits to flutter out of my body and settle on this page.

 

 

read me

see me

taste of all that is me

 

 

this, this is who I am. Who I was and will never be again. This is every brick I've collected along my way, and this is my center of gravity while I stand atop those bricks and reach for the all that I could be someday.

                Someday.

                       What an awful word.

a spotless mind

Would you erase it? If you could?

the pain
the notes of the song in his soul that still ring out in your ears
the bruises
the pieces of buck-lists scribbled on parchment paper
the tears
the rays of light through town house windows

If all it took was pressing a black ink pen to a crisp sheet of paper, would you sign away everything you had once had together and everything you lost once already?

Half of me says I would/Half of me knows I wouldn't

half of me wishes I could/half of me thinks I couldn't

half of me dreams of the day when I won't have to remember/half of me tries to remember everyday

 

 

All of me longs to know what you would do

 

and none of me wants to hear your answer

 

 

 

 

I'm sure you'd raise your eye brows and contemplate it.

Weigh the pros and cons.

Maybe you'd think some of the same things I tough.

 

"I'd never have to miss you."

"I could love someone else, and it wouldn't feel incomplete."

"I'd never have to miss you."

"I could laugh without thinking of your laugh.

"I'd never have to miss you."

 

                I'm thankful I can think about what you'd do if you had the option of erasing me from your memory completely. And oddly enough I'm thankful I can't erase you. If  I have to deal with the empty, aching, loneliness when I hear that certain song, then I'll deal with it. I can't tell you that I enjoy remembering it all, and I think we both know there are things I'd bleed to forget. But, none the less, we had something. We had that first thick layer of pure white snow that starts off every winter, and I'd never give up watching it fall to forget watching it melt. There is beauty in the breaking.

 

Life's about finding happiness, and we pursue it to the edges             

                                                                                                                  of the earth.

 

 But happiness wouldn't be worth the journey without sadness.

Without sadness, happiness would be nothing.



 



The train rolls past and all I can hear is new horizons calling my name. Metal wheels scrape across metal tracks, and the train horn takes over my thoughts. Jump train.

Jump train Sally.

I can see it. The new life my short train ride will provide. I'll be invisibly visible. Nameless, with no ties. A box car and shoe laces. That's all I'll be.

Leave me here. Trapped in my mind. Its constricted freedom and I feel at home here. There is no safety and that is what's safe to me.

I'm just gonna warn you now, I'm naked.

I'm not actually naked so if that's what your looking for hit another website. Pervert.

Writing scares me so much more than usual when I can't hide behind my words. But I'm tired of trying to write and ending up with a headache. And to be completely honest I like being naked. Literally sure, but on a figurative level it's even more freeing. I'm done trying to be deep and mysterious. I'm laying my shit out on the table.

Ooooo SJ is going to get real guys. Better watch out.

But really. 

Can I start out by saying depression is one creepy mother F-er. Like Hey depression I know we hung out all the time last year but its over. You should really stop hanging around. You're really starting to screw any shot I have at making friends and I don't appreciate it.

I mean everyone tells you that moving out brings all sorts of guys into your life but I didn't expect this.

                            Any of this...

If I could rewrite my packing list it would go more like this;

•Costco size box of kit kats

•Chastity belt

•More kit kats

If my packing list confuses you then you may actually survive "young adulthood". If you understand, well then God help you.

I'm sure if you asked him he would. 

I'm sure if we talked more, him and I, then I'd be in a better places. But I've gotten kind of quiet. I don't do a whole lot of talking anymore because I don't feel like anyone's listening. Is anyone listening? 

I hope so. And I hope not.

I'm going to put some clothes on now. 

My life 2k13; part 1

CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME

Departing Disp.

My feet pushed the ledge of the wood deck. With the creek of each post I heard my hopes and dreams die out. One by one they faded away and the grass ground faded into view. I could see myself, limbs flailing free in the air, eyes leaving everything really far behind. I had gone, I had left everything here behind and I had found a new world. 

I had found if falling three stories from the deck. I had found it in those magic moments. It was there and I was real for once. 

Their eyes watched with terror but I couldn't see them. 

My eyes were peacefully closed. Shut away from everything that had scarred me.

My body was free and my soul was all that had fallen. 

And my soul had long awaited this moment.

My moment.

My first breath had found me, falling, and I wasn't about to let it go.

With my first and last deap breath, I was gone.

Life's a bunch of bullshit.

I 

  F e e l

            S o

                  A l o n e

R U N

The fields are dangerous. She knows it, every part of her shakes with fear just thinking of them. Her heart goes into overdrive and her lungs turn to stone an she can feel them grow. Those fields, they call to her, and she can't keep tuning them out like this. 

He told her to 

                       R

                           U

                               N

Leave these fields behind you, and never look back. There's nothing here for you.

But there wasn't anything for her anywhere else either and so she stayed. The fields keep growing, and everything seems to move further and further away. 

Saddles and sparklers

He is Indian headdress feathers, and nervous first kisses. He is rodeo tickets, my favorite boots, and all the memories hidden in scuff marks. He's the dust storm in my head, and every cactus I see. He is the 4th of July, and I'm still seeing all his colors in my skies.

O h f o r freedoms s a k e stop trying

I bet Grace Kelly knows what it's like to look in my mirror.

"The trick isn't being pretty, it's acting pretty." But I'm a terrible actress, and not the least bit convincing.

I hit rock bottom last night. Literally. Happiness found my out stretched arms and black bike tires carried the weight from these shoulders. Blood was far from pure but thoughts were white like snow and free like doves. 

                  And oh did I fly.

Blue ribbon wings

Broken sidewalk runways

c o o l  d a r k  s i l e n c e  , 

               w a r m  b r i g h t  f r e e d o m

Do you get what I mean?

I'm a little dizzy and my head is still spinning so I'm hoping you will go easy on me.

My legs are tired from chasing my heart around, so keeping up with you takes everything I have left.

I just want you to kiss me again.

Set my forests on fire, and light up my skies. Rattle these cages made of my bones. Shatter all the windows, and slam all the doors.

Inspire me.

Let the ink from my pen bleed down these pages.

I can't ignore the way your heartbeat calls to me.

 I can see them now. Your stars, they're everywhere. These night skies take me by the hand and pull me from the city glow I've been trapped in. I can't help but to lose myself in it all.

You've got me singing.

You've got me second guessing everything. 

You've got me strapped into this roller-coaster you're running, and I'm ready to ride 

Wether it be for a night

                            or an hour

                                     or a second

I'm ready. 

I just want you to kiss me again.

June 5, 2k13.

#SummerBlog

101 things I've been thinking about;

1. Semicolons 

2. Wild fires

3. Why all ice cubes aren't spheres.

4. How many people notice that I notice.

5. Music.

6. The sounds my body makes when it's really quiet.

7. Sound.

8. What it would be like to live above a coffee shop in Oregon.

9. Sex on the beach.

10. The power of suggestion.

11. Spiders.

12. My eyebrows.

13. What life as an army wife would really be like.

14. TMNT.

15. How this little symbol, #, has 3 identities.

16. Cutting my hair.

17. The sound breaking glass makes.

18. What qualifies a person as a liar.

19. Weddings.

20. Making money.

21. Drinking.

22. The old T-Swift songs.

23. Junior high.

24. Cafe rio grilled steak salads.

25. The lyrics to multiple songs overlaid in my head that make a soundtrack for my life.

26. What I would look like with a Tyra Banks style ANTM make-over.

27. Expensive shoes.

28. Windows.

29. Standing on my tip toes.

30. Hips.

31. Leather seats.

32. Heals and appropriate places I can wear them.

33. Airplanes, and overhead storage.

34. Donut sticks.

35. Equal rights.

36. How seven elven makes Slurpees.

37. Starving babies in Africa.

38. Starving babies everywhere.

39. Riding across the country on the bake of someone's bike.

40. Awkward, the MTV show.

41. Alternative career paths.

42. How drowning feels.

43. Tanlines.

44. Freedom.

45. Password requirements.

46. The worlds lack of trust.

47. What the red line is called, the little one that tells me I can't spell.

48. Logan. 

49. Natural disasters.

50. Blind people.

51. Food networks next iron chef.

52. Guns.

53. A scientific explanation for skin colors. (Like honestly though..)

54. Gas prices.

55. Value.

56. The possibility of a zombie apocalypse.

57. Sigmund Freud.

58. Faust.

59. Who reads my blog.

60. Hair gel.

61. Bridges.

62. Air conditioning that works.

63. Who Little Debbie actually is.

64. Moving.

65. What super power I would choose, if I ever had the opportunity.

66. How to perfectly fold a shirt.

67. Kids.

68. Old school rappers.

69. Social media sex jokes.

70. Curling iron burns.

71. If caskets are comfortable.

72. Weddings.

73. Family recepies.

74. Pitbulls.

75. The life of my iPhone battery.

76. Cage fighting.

77. My lack of tolerance.

78. Emojis.

79. All the books I would buy if I had a personal library.

80. House parties.

81. If my grandparents will get to see me get married.

82. Salsa.

83. Piers.

84. 4th of July fireworks.

85. SNOWCONES.

86. The cultural curve of my nose.

87. Nike socks.

88. Mountains.

89. The vicious cycle of happiness my life is made of.

90. Getting published.

91. The letter x.

92. Locks of love.

93. College.

94. Drug dealer girl - Mike Posner

95. Cake batter Chapstick.

96. Log cabins with open windows and queensized beds.

97. @

98. What falling in love feels like.

99. Problems.

100. Where I'll be in 10 years.

101. Kissing.

June 3, 2k13

#SummerBlog

Let me re-introduce myself;

Anything you are expecting, isn't here.

They call me S-Jay, Jay for short. I have long dark hair and a very short attention span. My past isn't pretty, but my cursive is immaculate. I misplace almost everything in my life, but I prefer the chaos. Perfection is boring. I used a fake I.D to get my right ear pierced a second time. I make mistakes often, and rarely apologize for anything. I find it cliché to wear my seatbelt. Death fascinates me, it is beautiful and terrifying at the same time; I think death and I are similar in that way. I'm a lover, and a fighter. But most of all, I am a writer.

At least that's what some delusional part of me decided, so here we are.

June 1, 2k13

#SummerBlog

Love left overs

Wind blown dreams carried me back to you tonight.
The natural curl of your hair. The elegant way your body moved, in it's innocence.
My tear stained cheeks are warm and it takes all the marrow in my bones to keep from missing you.
Things feel out of balance in my life. The scales are tipped. And try as I might nothing can be done to right all the wrongs that were left here. So I pack them into Tupperware containers and stow them away.
Dirty basement shelfs and dust covered hallway closets have become home to me. Life is easier between the reels of home movies, and abandoned deck of cards.

You promised me forever.

Your tears will never fall like rain, watching me walk the isle. I'll never wear your ring on my finger, or that white wedding dress.

Not for you.

Because hopes of forever and a none chocolate wedding cake are gone.

Gone with you.

We'll never put up our own tree, or hang worn out stockings in our cheep apartment. Because you'll never love me, and we'll never share sheets again.

You will never be my valentine. No amount of paper hearts can change that. But I still cut them out.

You won't be the one I tell my daughters about. You won't keep the title of my one and only. I'll take that back, someday.

You'll be striped of your honor and banished from my kingdom.

Someday my knight in shining armor will wear diapers, and he'll call me mommy. His Daddy will be the kindest king there ever was. And I'll be Queen of our castle.

I will be happy.


And you won't cross my mind.

I'll cross yours. She'll insist on chocolate, and you'll miss me.

Your preacher will ask for objections, and it'll will be you who can't find peace much less hold it.

Because in your head it's my innocent kiss you long for. It's my smile you miss, and my love you wish for on every star.

It's my void you can't fill.

And you'll run, and run, and run. The way you should have ran after me.


I'll be in Jamba Juice. With a toddler in my stroller, and a baby in my belly. My ring will sparkle, and my face will glow. "Because it's a girl" the cashier says. And you'll see, everything you let go of.

Your tears will fall like rain. And your heart will break, just like mine did so many years ago.

I'll speak as if you'd hear me, and you'll listen like the leaves.

Hungry hands tear at my tissue paper skin. Every breath feels like the oceans swell, and I can taste my heart beating at the back of my throat.

This is it Sally. This is the unattainable glory your empty heart aches for, and yet your insides are a rainstorm.

Love is poison and my addiction is irreversible. So I'll turn all the oven knobs and lay my soul on the stovetop. Fill my cup and hide the bendy straws. Love is a poison, and I'm afraid I've started to build a tolerance for it.

You can kiss me with the kitchen knives, and I'll sing to you from the all the places I run. Pack our hearts in a picnic basket and return only pieces of mine. Broken is all I've known, broken is all I am.

The scars from scolding water fade, but these memories never will. They whistle and they wail and they always bring me back to your name. My desperate hopes grow love like weeds and hate like green grass. The dandelions tell me to run, but I've become accustom to the pain inside these fences.

Time can't heal all wounds

I guess I'd sing to you now, if I could.

I'd sing to you like pine cones sing to the wind just before they hit the ground.
I'd sing to you like all my empty note book pages sing to me.

I'd sing to you like fire escape ladders sing to offbeat teenage girls, on Thursday nights.

I guess I'd grow for you now. Darling. Because all this pain has rooted my roots deeper and the blood from my veins keeps our soil moist.

If my tired bones keep reaching for the heavens at least we can hold out hope that there is one.

I guess if my stick stem arms can keep mangling themselves for the sunlight so can my heart.

I guess I would, if I could.

The weight of water.

Rain fell from the computer screen.
The backdoor didn't slam and the milk stayed on the fridge shelf.
White noise plays,
on every station in my heart.

My desk chair is lonely. It's white washed bones call out to me.

Run.
Run home.



They all close their eyes and turn their cheeks.

But the blood from the bathtub is bound to overflow.