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

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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.