“can I keep you?”

When I have nightmares I run to my mom’s room.

I’m almost 18 years old and I still go to my mom, it’s the most juvenile of secrets that I have; I creep in and she wordlessly makes room for me on the other side and says a small prayer while I drift off to sleep.

I turn on my lamp.

I’m afraid of the dark, always have been, and I probably always will be. The lamp is my security, the orb to ward off evil intentions.

I stay up.

I’ve been doing it since I was six, I stay up as late as I can to outrun the scary thoughts and make myself so exhausted that they are the furthest thing from my mind.

Last night I had a nightmare and I woke up in an unfamiliar place.

I ran to you. You were half asleep with your now darkened hair ruffled around, I poked and prodded in the dark until you made space for me next to you. You wrapped your arms around me and I could feel bare skin brushing against my cheek; the scandal of the situation brought me into a flustered, bashful state.

You turned the lights on. Just small ones because you know the shadows on the walls play tricks on my eyes so you whispered reassurances in my ear. You kissed my forehead because you know it makes me smile, I could feel your fingertips lazily picking up and putting down random strands of my hair.

You stayed up with me. In the following two hours we had honest conversations of where things will lead when we have to part. We reflected on the beautiful growth eight months of this relationship have given us. You listened to my fears about college and reminded me that I belong. You made me laugh, you always make me laugh; the side glances and sassy comments left my cheeks aching but I didn’t mind—I never mind.

I fell in love with you all over again. You make me realize the kind of life I want to have, that I can have. No matter what happens or how things go for us I want you in my life. I would love to have you in my life if you would give me the honor.

Thank you for letting me keep you.

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What I’ve learned

1. You’re going to change your style every single year, it’s the key indicator of personal growth.

2. Friends aren’t jealous of friends. They celebrate others’ accomplishments not drown themselves in their own disappointments.

3. Love doesn’t hurt.

4. People notice happiness that you make for yourself, people will want to be near that. But don’t let them take it.

5. Own your talents.

6. Confidence doesn’t not equal cockiness.

7. People can say “I love you” and not mean it.

8. People enter your life in seasons for different reasons. It’s called ebb and flow.

9. Trust your gut. Always listen to intuition. Always.

10. Kindness and being nice are two different things.

11. People can try and tell you who you are, but most of the time they’re wrong.

12. Smile, laugh as loud as you can. Let them hear your joy.

13. Don’t forget to tell them you love them.

14. Life is so fucking fragile.

15. It’s ok to ask for help.

16. Do not let fear guide your life.

17. Talk. Say when something’s wrong, don’t bottle it up in a passive aggressive episode.

18. Lists are still really hard.

Cotton&Fabric Softener

 

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I still have that t-shirt you let me borrow, the blank gray one with no discernible features other than its basic neckline and criss cross stitching along the hem.

Usually it’s buried deep beneath a tower of old shirts at the bottom of my second drawer on the right, sometimes I grab it by accident and before I know it I’m wearing it around the house, times like right now as I type this.

The signature cologne you wear has long since been worn away by wash after wash, the only thing left is the faint smell of green apples from my detergent that reminds me of home when I need it most; it keeps me grounded, focused on what’s ahead of me instead of behind.

I would never confess to others that I kept this, the hypocrisy that would underly all of the advice I’ve given to others would come to light; but out of all the things I’ve kept from you, the bracelet, the stuffed animals, the poloroid of us in my kitchen that resides on my wall—none hold a candle to this simple weaving of cotton I wear.

Because in another life, a life that seems so far away at this point, you wore it too.

And you never asked for it back.

 

 

seasonal aches

Image result for tumblr aesthetic seasons

 

It was summer

My hair was a bit shorter, my smile a bit bigger, and my eyes shining a whole lot brighter. I remember staying up till 3 am on the phone with him, I remember telling him about the art that I loved and how much he wanted me to try painting with him and maybe even on him–a flirty smile would slip on his face and I would blush almost immediately. I remember watching him cry one night while he confessed to me that he was a liar, that none of it was real and that I was a nice girl.

I shattered that day, a million or so cracks found their way on my porcelain surface and something strange inside of me broke forever.

But fall and winter gave me some time for healing, I escaped unscathed.

It was spring

My hair was a lot longer, my smile drifted in from time to time, and my eyes had faded quite a bit but I was coasting through life with someone that taught me how to feel in extremes. But he wanted things when he wanted them, and got them when he asked.

I went tumbling down once again and the fissures that had barely filled themselves opened up, the contents of my enclosed heart came pouring out and I can’t figure how I got over it last time–or why this time I can’t even describe how I feel.

Insignificance is purely relative by definition but sometimes it feels like a mass growing within your mind, body, and soul. I am shards of glass scattered on the tile and everyone is walking around me, careful not to get cut and waiting for someone else to come along and sweep up the mess. It’s all too much, it all feels too fresh still. A nasty wound that hasn’t been given the proper care, it oozes and pusses over the surface of my skin and leaves everyone with the sorest sight their eyes have ever seen.

But you don’t really care do you? You aren’t here to diagnose my aches and pains.

 

I can’t go back

Image result for tumblr aesthetic broken pinky promise

 

We used to be best friends, do you remember that? Do you remember the way we would laugh at the smallest of things, you and me against everyone else?

I think what happened in the summer changed me. It made me colder, the light I once had was snuffed for a moment–I haven’t been the same since. And it’s funny because it was just a small fling, nothing truly significant. But it fucked me up man.

And I am so sorry. I am so unbelievably sorry that I changed, that I hurt you and treated you like the dust beneath my feet.

I still do at times, I push you away and try to shove myself into the smallest of confines because I have to be cautious. I have to stay vigil because people break promises and lie through their shining teeth while wiping the stray hairs from your face.

I’m trying to control it, but it creeps back–the uncertainty. It shakes me to my core and I remember all the times you’ve hurt me (unintentionally or otherwise) and I can’t help but shrink away from your seemingly concerned appearance. People are really good at lying to me, they always seem to take advantage of my naive nature.

So I am incredibly sorry. But no matter how many times you try to prove me otherwise, the sinking feeling will linger and I have to stay on guard.

I have to protect myself because something inside me broke a long time ago and it still hasn’t fixed itself since.

I’m sorry but I can’t go back to the sweeter times.

Sagacious: a spoken word

Image result for tumblr neon signs

 

Allow me to be the first to stand and congratulate you on this award winning performance

A round of applause for convincing yourself and others alike that things do not exist merely because the words falling from your lips speak them into oblivion

And I thank you dearly for this show stopping spectacular of teaching me that pinky promises are a load of shit and that promises you make were meant to be broken

I talk myself in circles trying to figure out exactly how you pull it off, how exactly can you erase an entire quantity of time with simple commas and statements

A divine magic trick and with a wave of your precious wand you have fabricated a world where you are happy, you are without all faults

But I knew you.

Your easy smile and saunter would once make a starry eyed girl like me leap and bound for the chance to be with your sinful nature

I knew you.

I knew that I would’ve ruined every chance of happiness just to see you shine brightly and that it’s an all too familiar notion teenage girls have these days, but no one seems to notice or care to save them from an untimely demise

We watch as they throw themselves into another being, we let them ignore our warnings and pleas because we become too frustrated to understand that they are too sick to hear

That the poison of a toxic relationship will paralyze the senses.

So I sit here with bile creeping up my now resuscitated throat holding back the venomous words I know would rip apart this lovely show you’ve given the crowd

I replay all the moments between us that I thought were drenched in watercolors and the most vibrant of light and realize, it was faded.

I was fading. I have faded.

So you carry on for an encore as the crowd sits there and hungrily awaits the lies and tall tales only a true actor can weave and formulate

As they ask for more, you give and soon you will believe in your own legends and folklore

But I know you.

 

 

you are my happiness

you

 

I need to write because my mind is restless and going a million miles an hour and yet nowhere at once.

A detour. That’s what he said I’m taking; he’s taking one road and I’m taking a detour but someday we might be on the same road again.

Oh Heavenly Father above, I might love him. And this hurts so damn much.

But he’s going to get better, and I’m going to be right here–being whatever he needs me to be while he puts himself first for the first time in his life. In a way I am incredibly proud of myself for acknowledging this, for knowing that I can’t be selfish and stay with him. I can’t ask him to try and put effort into this when he can barely put effort into himself.

He thinks he’s failed me, he couldn’t be more wrong. I wasn’t lying when I said he made me happy–hell he still makes me happy. I don’t think that feeling will ever go away. I’m going to try and be his friend, I have to try or else I might drown in this feeling of regret.

God dammit I regret this so freaking much. I didn’t want to do it, I still don’t know why I did it when I obviously want to be with him.

No, no it was for the best. I have to believe that or I just might break. I have to hope/pray/wish whatever the fuck I can do to believe that he’s going to be OK. That someday we will try this again and it will be even more beautiful and profound than it had been in the past.

What is it that they say? If you love something set it free, if it comes back it was meant to be? Well yeah that, I need to hold on to that.


 

him

 

 

I like the way he would never use my actual name and I always knew he was referring to me; but I also like the few moments my name would slip out of his mouth and how strange the consonants and vowel sounded to me.

I smile at the little things he does and it was in those moments that I liked who I was when I was around him–I loved who I was.

And yeah he’s not perfect, I never expected him to be. I never wanted him to be; I just wanted him to try and he did. And from this I gained a feeling I still don’t understand myself.

But holy shit he’s beautiful. So goddamn beautiful that you can’t help but cuss. I found myself actually speechless at times hearing the most provoking thoughts escape his mind–he’s the kind of boy they write screenplays about. He’s everybody’s muse and doesn’t believe it even for a second.

He just wants to make me happy and I couldn’t put into the right words that it was him. He’s my happiness, through all the fucked up mess we went through I could still feel the thrum of butterfly wings whenever I looked at him.

He’s the moonlight to my blinding sun.