Author: localdreamerwithapen

Judah and the Lion

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It had been five hours since we started our drive, but my sister and I were just as energetic and excited as we were the second we got into the car.

“In two hours we’ll meet them. Isn’t that weird?”

I think about what my sister just said, and yes, that is so weird, so exciting, so incredibly exciting. In two hours we’ll be talking to the members of one of my favorite bands, Judah and the Lion. Two more hours, and then our exhausting weekend trip will be more than worth it.

“I can’t wait! The show is gonna be so amazing!” I said, anticipating the rush you get from when the first beat drops at a concert, kicking off the screaming and cheering in the crowd. “Look! I’m shaking!” my hands were actually trembling, aside from being shaken on the bumpy highway.

Isn’t that weird though? Imagine being famous. People would pay to watch you play music, to talk to you, and maybe get a picture and a signature. It’s so unnatural if you think about it. But so amazing, not gonna lie.

Once we arrived at our hotel, we checked in, got ready, and rushed straight to the venue, to find a pretty long line before the entrance. But that didn’t matter, because my sister got us VIP tickets for my birthday, which was honestly one of the best presents I have ever gotten.

After a little time, we were let in. We went up those beautiful stairs within those carefully embellished walls, ending up in a small room with cozy lighting, and a bunch of banjos and guitars on one side. My sister and I sat down on the floor in the front, so did everyone else.

Then the band walked out, and there was a general awe in the air, cut by the clapping and excited chattering of the people.

“Thank you for coming!”

Ahh! Wow. No, thank you!! I was so. Excited.

They played a song, a mix of folk and rock and hip hop. Then we asked them questions, and they asked us questions, and it was all so fake and wonderful.

After that, we all took pictures with them.

via upload.vikimedia.org

As I walked up to them, one of them introduced himself.

“Hey, I’m Brian!”

“I know!” I said. Of course I know.

We all hugged, and took the picture, and apparently they figured by my accent that I wasn’t from here.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from Germany!” I said, in disbelief that Judah just actually talked to me. Wow….!!

They actually asked me a couple things, until the photographer told them it was time to keep the line moving. Dammit!

My sister and I were both stunned, and we spent the next hour talking about what just happened, and defending our spot by the barricade, of course.

The venue was so beautiful, with a gigantic chandelier and wooden floors. The opening bands were amazing. But nothing even came close to the actual show. I mean, a band that has nine banjos on stage has to be good.

I knew every single word. Almost, at least. I yelled along to the lyrics the entire time, and, I must say, it really made me lose my voice and it still kind of hurts to talk, and though the ringing in my ears persisted for hours after the show, and though we had another six hour drive ahead of us the next day, it was all more than worth it, and I will never forget the time I got to meet Judah and the Lion.

 

via i.ticketweb.com

two poems

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A dead man’s nostalgia

Don’t forget me, please.

The old treehouse and its rotten ladder,

via i.pinimg.com

Those baby pictures laying on the dusty counter,

Old drawings on the walls

from when laughter and cries would echo from them,

Dirty handprints on white doors,

The broken snow globe in the attic,

Don’t forget me please.

_______________

The knife of a good carver

Is love always this good?

With its wings of maroon silk

via i.pinimg.com

And its sweet golden arrowheads.

Like the knife of a good carver,

It’s shaping me, not cutting.

Thank you for this love,

For keeping me from plummeting,

For inhaling my sorrows

and exhaling goodness.

For carving your name into my heart.

For each look of your luminous eyes

makes me feel like a moth mistaken

for a butterfly.

No tear I am shedding over losing you

Can ever wash away your name.

 

My magic genie

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“If you were granted three wishes, what would they be?”

via i.pinimg.com

If that actually was reality, like any normal person on this planet, I would wish for an infinite amount of wishes. But that’s boring. So here are my top three wishes!

My first wish would be to keep my family, friends and me healthy for the rest of our lives. I don’t want to see any more of them leave us way too early. I don’t even want to see them cancel on a party they’ve been excited for for the past month because of a flu, or not be able to sing along to their favorite song because a cold took their voice.

My second wish would be to have superpowers. I’d probably go for invisibility, just think of all the things I could do! I could successfully prank my friends for once, I could easily avoid talking to people, I could even become the richest spy ever, because I could sneak into anywhere and spy on anyone I wanted to!

My last wish is kind of embarrassing. But I wish I had the perfect body. I want to be able to wear the clothes I want to wear, to look good in a picture without trying to, and I am sick of my grandparents telling me not to eat that because “it will just go straight to your hips” every single time we go out for dinner.

Of course that will never actually happen. It’s not like magic genies are real… but if they are, I better get one!

It’s a cat’s life

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Sometimes I want to be a cat. Doesn’t it just seem like the perfect life?

I could spend my days strolling around, exploring the webs of roads and paths that spreads over my town, connecting my kingdom. I would find fences to sit on and trees to get stuck in. I could hunt mice and birds and lizards, and bring my trophies back home to my owner, for him to worship me, his one and only goddess.

Then, at night, we could all sit on the couch with the TV running in the background, and I could assert my dominance over that pathetic dog by snatching all the back rubs. And, maybe later, I could chase around that mysterious red dot again, listening to my humans cheer me on with their laughter.

credit: tridanim.com

I would be a queen with incredibly soft paws, with a coat smoother than silk, blacker than the night sky, and eyes as striking as the stars in it.

I daydream about that from time to time, an obviously irrational dream, but man, how great would it be to be a cat!

My Love…

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… I will miss you so much.

You’re probably the single most important person in my life and we have an expiration date. I tear up whenever I think about losing you, and I drown in tears each time I realize that it is inevitable.

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I will miss you. I will miss your beautiful bright smile from across the room, all your jokes (that are horrid by the way, but still better than mine), your amazing eyes when I simply need someone to stare at me with so much love and make me feel wanted, your stained soul that matches mine, all the warmth you can give me with a single hug, I don’t think there’s one thing I won’t miss.

You’re so sweet, you’re so romantic, you’re so good, you’re mine. I am so lucky to call you mine.

I want things to stay the way they are, I want to hold on to you forever, to the 251 days since I began to fall in love with you. That is not enough time for me to love you the way you deserve to be loved, and not nearly enough time for me to get sick of you in any way.  I can’t even imagine that. I can’t imagine leaving you. We deserve more time.

At the end of the day, we’re going to be fine. We will live, and at one point we will move on. I just wish we didn’t have to. And who knows, maybe our lucky paths will meet again.

Cremated

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Here’s a list of the things I lost to the Thomas Fire:

My guitar, my ukulele, my first drum sticks. My symbols of creativity, my many memories of favorite songs and being so frustrated about my definite lack of talent!

The tapestry I bought last summer at my first music festival, that for some reason smelled like lavender and blown out candles.

My stuffed animals that I’ve had for years, that (call me a child if you want) are so much more than just “things.”

All my drawings. Those hours of concentration and enthusiasm I’ve spent throughout the past years. They probably burned the fastest.

credit: @MattHjourno on twitter

The girl’s dorm lounge, where I remember making my first friendship at this school, where I’ve spent so many hours watching Riverdale, or eating Oreos during the weekends, or working on my horrible piano skills, or watching Finding Nemo for the very first time. Now it looks like none of that has ever happened and for some reason it tears me apart.

I lost my poetry books.

My first love letter.

My band posters and shirts and bracelets and guitar picks and stickers and

my favorite dress.

My window. With my perfect view.

My door key, which now I won’t need cause my door is gone too.

My friends’ rooms with their baby pictures and yearbooks and paintings and Christmas presents and their favorite pair of sandals.

It is hard to believe that this place, the home of so many people I love so dearly, is gone without warning and without mercy.

Here’s a list of what I took with me that day:

The clothes I was wearing, and my favorite necklace. A baby picture of my siblings and me (just in case). My laptop and my backpack.

But I had no idea that everything that was left back would go up in flames within a couple hours. I thought I would come back the next day to my room with my guitar and my tapestry and my window and my posters and that everything would be fine and that our biggest problem would be the final exams we were going to have to take the next week. I wish I would’ve taken more, I wish I could’ve taken the entire dorm.

credit: ovs.org

But here’s another thing that all of OVS brought.

We brought our strength and our community and care and love amongst us. We didn’t forget our incredible OVS spirit, and to be honest I don’t think we would ever be able to forget that. 

 

 

Cloudy skies

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“You know, sometimes I just wanna stay like this forever. Just here, laying with you.” I look over to Will, right next to me on our school’s soccer field.

“Yeah, I like how the stars shine through the clouds.”

There is a short moment of silence. Not an awkward one, just long enough for us to think about our thoughts one more time.

“It kind of… makes you appreciate the stars more, ya know? One moment they’re there, and seconds later it’s like they’ve never existed.”

credit: static.tumblr.com

“They’re always there, Will.” I say, turning my head towards him again, but he is just looking at the dark grey-blue spots covering the sky.

“I know,” he replies. “But it makes me sad when it’s winter and it rains all day, and we can’t see them,” he sighs. “But again, we wouldn’t appreciate them as much. I guess.” 

I try to think of a comparison. “It’s like… summer break. You always wait for it all year, you want it to last forever, but then the months pass, you don’t have anyone to hang out with, and you’re actually excited for school to start. I don’t know, that’s what it reminds me of.”

Will has turned around now. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t go to school, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…” I let my head fall back into the short grass. “Sometimes I forget that you’re just in my head.”

Will sits up, looking down at my half closed eyes. “I’m not. I’m right here. But I’m here just for you.” His voice is sharper than just a second ago. Did I make him mad?

“But Will, isn’t that the same thing?” He opens his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but he doesn’t. “At least that’s what Dr. Melder said.” I say, while pushing myself upright. He gets up and takes a step forward, throwing his head back with his hands covering his face.

“Are you serious? You still listen to him? Jenna, we’ve been over this like a hundred times by now! We don’t trust him, remember?” I stand up too. “But… why not?” I stutter.

“We just don’t.”

I stand still. “No, Will, you don’t.”

“Oh, come on, what’s the difference?”

“Aha, so you admit it, you are just a part of me.”

“I’ve never said I’m not a part of you, Jenna.”

I’m confused. “But you just said you’re not in my head.”

“Because I’m not!” Will screams.  

I’m getting kinda loud now. I always get loud when I’m frustrated. “Ugh! Will, you’re not real, you get it? You’re one of my fantasies. But that’s okay, I still love you.” I can see a tear rolling down his cheek in the dark.

“That’s all I am to you, huh? A fantasy, a thought?… Well… Is that all I am?!” He is screaming, but that’s okay, because no one can hear him anyways.

“Yes, okay? You’re a fantasy. That’s what you are, that’s what you’ve always been, that’s what you’re here for. You’re here because I made you up, because apparently I’m insane. Believe me, I’d rather have actual friends than some guy living in my head. But we can’t always get what we want. We never can.”

He’s actually crying now, but I don’t feel bad. I want him to leave, leave me forever. Not because I don’t love him, but because I don’t want to be this way anymore.

Without saying a word, he walks past me, hitting his shoulder agains mine when he passes, and starts to run. “Will! No, don’t!”

I know what he wants to do. I run after him. He’s heading towards the highway. I run as fast as I can, but my mind will always allow him to be faster.

There he is, standing in the middle of the highway. “Will, are you crazy?”

“Yes!” he screams. “And so are you!”

I can see his face in the light of the houses nearby. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, his nose, his chin, leaving lines of clean skin on his dirty face. I run towards him, ready to bring him back home, where it’s safe. But as I rush to hug him, I fall through him.

He really is just a fantasy.

I turn around and stare at him, horrified. He smiles. “You should’ve appreciated the stars more. One moment they’re there—seconds later it’s like they never existed.”

His body is shining brightly now, but it’s too late when I realize these are the headlights of a car coming straight at me.

And just like that, we were gone.

Heavydirtysoul

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I can’t believe you’re still here.

I thought I chased you away

that day when everything went black and blue,

that day when the soulless bloodhounds killed for me,

crawling around my heels,

with your blood dripping from their mouths and eyes.

Turns out it was mine.

Turns out all this time I’ve been shooting at a mirror.

Turns out you’re still here

credit: @twentyonepilots on instagram

in my basement

tying ropes to my ceiling

placing spikes in my sheets

pouring paint over all my books.

But you can tie your nooses and splatter blood,

but I will never

ever

let you stay.

I will smoke you out of the basement,

I will chase you out of my home

I will let out the dogs

and they will race you

until your breath feels like rattling saws

they will race you to the cliff

where you will fall for the very last time.

 

(mood inspired by heavydirtysoul by Twenty One Pilots)

Mister Sandman

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Won’t you go to someone else’s head?

There’s no space for you underneath my bed frame

To hide and pull me through my sheets

To mark my skin with claws and fear.

Call me weak and laugh at me

Because you took my tears and pretty dreams

Replaced them with nightmares

And acid

And cold sweat.

Blue and purple thoughts are eating through my brain

Like a virus would spread through its host.

I am your host,

Credit: i.pinimg.com

 

You are my uninvited guest,

Destroying my home

While I lay in bed and don’t do a thing,

Staring at the ceiling above me,

Watching it brittle and fall apart.

And you stay.

You stay and you crawl back under my bed.

You stay and you soak my pillows in black paint.

You stay and you hold my hand to break it.

You stay and you do it all over again.

Warmth of the Cold

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I love fall. The sheer aesthetic of sitting by a window with warm glowing string lights, drinking some sort of hot tea, surrounded with the smell of books. The fact that it is finally cold enough to be wearing wool socks and sweatshirts. The feeling of cold air filling your chest from the inside, making your home feel so much warmer.

I have to admit, I miss the cold winters back home in Germany. Right now, it is almost freezing there, the leaves that are turning red-orange, some almost pink-purple, are covering the roads like a warm-colored blanket. The lakes are topped with a paper thin layer of ice in the morning, and windows and cars are frosted the way they would be in movies. Horses’ coats are becoming thick and soft, and cows are being brought from their pastures back into their winter barns.

Credit: view.stern.de

I remember how much I hated the feeling of biking up the hill to my house after school, watching the clouds turn to a darker grey as the sun set behind them, and feeling the warm air in my lungs being replaced by the cold, making my throat hurt by the time I got back home. But I always loved the moment I walked through the door, embraced by my jumping dog and the heated floor, maybe even a fire in the chimney. The best days were the rainy ones. Your house just feels so much cozier when you don’t want to go outside.

 

Credit: moondog.de

I miss that weather. I miss the grey skies and the rain-soaked lawns. I miss the muddy roads and paths going through the forest by my house. I miss collecting chestnuts with my friends and cooking them with their whole family. I miss being freezing cold with numb fingers and an icy nose. I miss how later in the winter the trees would look like they had been covered in powdered sugar, reflecting the grey-purple of the afternoon sky.

I miss my home.

And no matter where I’ll live throughout my life, no matter how many times I’ll move and find new homes, that will always be my first home. My family’s home. My real home.