Maybe they will bloom once more

Of course it had to be raining when they told me. It’s called pathetic fallacy.

I felt like I wanted to cry or wretch or go to sleep for a long time.

I suppose I could sit around and be angry for a while, but, at this point, I’ve resolved just to move on. This is much more of a quiet kind of feeling.

I have to be okay with things just being how they are.

But it was never a matter of being over her or having enough time, was it? It was always just a matter of me and you that would never exist.

I always talk about how seasons change and how that’s the way it is supposed to be, but I never thought it would be so drastic.

Image via Pinterest.com

Summer is almost here, but, though it may be peaceful, it will still be hot, so I’ll have to stay busy. And while I’d love to have citrus all year, I know that pixie season has come and gone.

Maybe next year, after the rains come and when the sun starts shining again, they will bloom once more and I will be okay.

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the butterfly

at first, all i saw was a butterfly.

it was flying above the grass at the park, i was having a picnic.

it was pretty and it was green .

not grass green, but lime green.

then, i remembered that green was the color of your room before you redecorated it last summer

and then i saw your room and what it used to look like before you thought your drawings were stupid and before you decided you liked purple more.

from there, i saw you and how you looked last week and then how you made me laugh really hard the other night.

then, i thought if we will ever go anywhere.

and then i think about other people who might be more exciting than you, but how you’re nice too.

i think about my friend’s friend and how maybe he’s fun to talk to.

then, i get going on conversations.

i remember that i want to meet an aquarius, because i heard that they are really compatible with gemini’s and

what i really think i need right now is someone i’m compatible with.

no more of this taurus-virgo bullshit!

but, she’s a taurus and he’s a capricorn.

i think that maybe they’ll be the exception, but, in the back of my mind, i know neither of them will be because taurus are too routine, stubborn, and clingy for me and capricorn-

well, i don’t know much about capricorn, but i looked up our compatibility and it’s not good.

and that will be stuck in the back of my head for just about ever.

now, i completely forget about you and him and her and conversations and zodiac signs, (particularly taurus, virgos, and capricorns) and then i think about the lyrics to the sing deceptecon by le tigre and then i think about the whole riot grrrl movement

and how i wish i was apart of it and how i wonder if it’s still alive today in any form and how if it is then those people involved are people i wanna know.

i think about how i need to make a new playlist and

about how cluttered my playlists are along with my mind and then i get overwhelmed because i get overwhelmed easily.

how maybe if i make a new playlist with music other than rap i’ll feel better and life will make much more sense then.

and then i snap back into it because the lady giving me a massage hits my back harder than expected and tells me she’s finished with the massage and my neck still hurts, oh, and i was never looking at a butterfly at all.

photo credit: pinterest.com

a familiar demon; revisited

why does it always wear off so quickly?

all of a sudden-

so blinding, exciting, and new-

but it fades and i see your true colors.

i see every mistake you’ve ever made.

i see how i painted you and i see how you actually are.

such a sad thing,

living off the infatuation,

going into everything praying it won’t end too quickly.

but it always does.

not knowing whether it’s a genuine sentiment or the excitement of the attention.

i ignore all of your tricks;

they no longer work for me.

when i start getting bored, i start noticing how you walk a little weird,

how you have a poor vocabulary,

and how you are much cleaner than i’ll ever be.

i pick you apart.

i don’t want to,

but my brain simply won’t have otherwise.

i can’t live a white lie.

it’s discouraging, you know?

not knowing if i have the complexity to be able to get past this.

am i interested or is it just the trick my mind plays on me only to result in a painful goodbye?

(for you)

make a monster out of me,

i understand.

probably one more week until i’m completely over it.

yet again,

what’s wrong with me?

why can’t i just stay infatuated

both for me

and for you.

 

photo credit: pinterest.com

 

Wanderlust

I want to study abroad.

I don’t mean in the literal sense of going with a program affiliated with my college. Not for a set period of time with a specific set of courses.

I want to get on a plane and leave. Travel to beautiful destinations around the world I decide to go to right before I get there. I want to study the ancient artwork in museums and the architecture of the untouched, historical buildings. I want to go to small concert venues and listen to local music, but also try all the food the country has to offer without being a picky eater.

I want to meet the people who live there and leave being friends with them or at least leave knowing a part of their story even if I never see them again.

There’s a feeling called sonder: a sudden realization that each passerby has a life as vivid as your own with their own experiences, quirks, and interests. I don’t want to know they have them; I want to live them.

I want to be a tourist in the streets someone has grown up in their whole life, but, soon, find myself a local even only for a couple nights. I want to go to a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant that I may never return to, but is someone’s favorite place to go every night. I’ll learn a few words in every language of the countries I visit, a language that might be someone’s only language that I now have a very small understanding of.

Photo Credit: Wikipedia.org

When I went to Prague and Vienna over spring break, my favorite part was the free time in the cities. Though we were always in the tourist areas, I sometimes caught a glimpse of what life was like for the people who actually lived there every time I walked into an ice cream shop or passed someone on the streets heading to work.

This world is so big. There’s so many countries to explore and I don’t know if I’ll even get close to covering half of it, but it’s also so small. It’s a ten hour plane ride across the Atlantic and a simple text message to talk to someone across the globe. It’s both incredible and horrifying, but I can’t wait to explore it all.

To a Stranger in Brooklyn Heights

Dear stranger in Brooklyn Heights,

I don’t know much about you, but I can infer some things.

I think you are someone who cares about your belongings.

Like your copy of Spoon River Anthology, for example.

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I think you care about it because you stamped it twice – once inside the front cover and once inside the back.

Maybe you just didn’t want to lose it and for it to be returned to you if it ever did get lost. But, if that’s the case, how did it end up in a used bookstore in a town 3,000 miles away?

I would want to know which poems are your favorites, but it seems like you never read them. The pages are nearly perfect, despite being printed in 1962.

I wish I could ask you some questions.

How old were you when you bought it? How old are you now? Why didn’t you read it? How did it end up with me?

I don’t know who you are, but I want to say thank you. Your book that was originally sold for 95 cents is now my book that was sold to me for three dollars.

And now I have a story within a story, thanks to you.

I’m not sure if you still live in New York or if any of my assumptions about you were correct or if you’re even a person at all.

But just in case I was right, once I finish the book, I’ll send it back to you.

 

things i wish i could ask/tell you

was i ever enough?

your inattentiveness fuels my inadequacy.

what did i do wrong?

it’s like you can’t tell i’m hurt.

can i ever do something to fix this?

photo credit: pinterest.com

it’s happening all over again, you just don’t see it.

why can’t you see how it hurts?

she orbits around you like a moon around a planet.

why do you feel more distant, but still so close?

i’m always second place.

why are her feelings more urgent than mine?

when my world collapses on itself, it’s not even a thought.

is it even worth it?

sometimes thinking about how to fix this makes me feel stupid.

do you even like me?

it’s like you’re trying to tug at my heart; i’m too sensitive for this.

when will you realize how i feel?

oh how i wish i could tell you that this is about you.

but, would you even care?

Respect the road.

There is a road that I run all the time.

Since I’m currently training by myself, I get to decide where I run. I avoid this road as much as possible. But during cross country season, when I’m at the mercy of my coaches, most of our workouts involve the road in some way.

Going down is smooth sailing. Going up is hell.

photo credit: nelseverydaypainting.blogspot.com

The road is more like a hill, a giant, mile-plus long hill. It’s on a constant incline and, as you get closer to the top, it gets steeper.

At first, I absolutely loathed this road.

I always hated it in the beginning, because it turned even my best runs turn into something that made me feel like I was putting myself through torture.

The road is sometimes unforgiving. The more you climb, the weaker your legs feel, the more your lungs burn, the more you feel like your brain is about to explode.

I used to fight it. Each day, I felt like I was preparing for this great battle, in which only one victor would prevail: me or the hill.

But, eventually, I started to realize that it wasn’t really a battle of physicality; it was more so a battle of wit. I learned to work with the road instead of against it and things started to make more sense.

I learned to take advantage of even the tiniest bit of downhill, to take the straightest line possible. I started to read the road, to take note of how it felt when I ran a certain way.

To this day, I still don’t like running it. But, I’ve learned how to do it properly.

The road used to be some foreign, intimidating beast that I thought I would never be able to understand. Now, I realize that it was really just an old, wise mentor for me, my very own Mr. Miyagi. 

Last night, I was headed up the road on the bus and, as I looked out the window, I knew exactly what point we were at solely based on the glimpse I caught of the tops of the oak trees. It made me smile, seeing how far I’ve come.

The same miles of curving pavement that used to seem endless to me are now ingrained into my memory, including details down to which tree is positioned where on each corner.

The countless days of practice, all of the sweat-soaked t-shirts and aching muscles really did pay off, in so many more ways than for just my running.

If only I knew back then just how much I would come to understand the road and how much it would come to understand about me.

I wouldn’t have believed it three years ago.