Tag: personal

for you.

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

i think about you everyday.

sometimes i welcome those thoughts.

sometimes i try to push them

as far into the back of my mind as possible.

today i’m choosing the latter,

but lately i haven’t had much success.

image from pinterest.com

i loved you so much i hated you.

i hated the way i forgot about

everything

once you started to speak.

i hated the way you asked me how i was

and the way you looked at me

because it made me break

into a million pieces.

i hated you because you were kind and

because now matter how hard i tried

you would never see how

every little thing you did made me

fall in love with you.

i hope you read this.

and i hope you wonder if it might be about you.

i hope you second-guess yourself,

like i always did,

and i hope you replay

every image you have of us

to see if you can find any similarities

between my words and your memories.

maybe then you’ll miss me.

red hoods

mariethearistocatLeave a comment

I.

you remember me as a pensive, emotional soul.

you remember the intricate, twisty inner-workings of my mind.

you were always “there” for me when i needed you.

that’s why it took me so long.

maybe i was so used to the comfort of your shadow

that it never dawned on me to leave it.

i deserve the shine you always used to get.

it’s been hard accepting some of it now,

now that you’re gone.

you still pop up every now and then,

but the pain you bring is only temporary.

thank god.

II.

we never were close.

but, you and i learned to

live with each other.

we got wrapped up in our long conversations,

laughing at the carefully placed jokes.

but, you’re a hard pill to swallow,

the fact that i’ll never be enough for you.

cool enough.

funny enough.

kind enough.

enough.

so, even if it’s hard for me now,

i just have to take a deep breath,

close my eyes,

and force myself to take you in.

III.

you’re a sheep in wolf’s clothes.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

your little red riding hood is enough to

hide your long, wiry fur,

your sharp, gutting claws.

i’m just a cookie in your basket,

as you skipped along the pebbly path

to grandma’s house.

i’m just tired of falling out

and you letting me crumble to pieces.

promise

faithfulomnivore1 Comment

do you remember when i broke your hat?

i stole it from you so you would chase after me.

we ran across the grass, smiling.

eventually you tried to grab it out of my hands,

but i kept tugging so hard

that the back just snapped off.

i apologized a thousand times and

told you i would get you a new one,

but you said you didn’t mind.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

it was worth the laugh, you told me.

“promise you’re not mad?” i asked.

you looked me in the eye

and latched your pinky finger with mine.

“promise,” you replied.

a few years later it happened again,

except this time you broke something of mine.

you apologized a thousand times,

and told me that you would try to mend it,

but i said i didn’t mind.

it was worth it, i told you.

“promise we can still be friends?” you asked.

i hooked my pinky finger onto yours

but never looked you in the eye.

“promise,” i lied.

pieces

mariethearistocatLeave a comment

i hope i’m not asking too much of you.

i’m not asking you to fix me,

because that wouldn’t be fair.

i’m not asking you to accept me with wide open arms,

but i’d love that.

i don’t want you to be my friend,

because we’ve never truly worked as just friends before.

i wish we weren’t on different time zones,

we always fall out of infatuation when the other falls in.

i hope that we don’t crumble apart,

because i can’t handle another landslide.

just like i’m sure you can’t handle another person leaving you behind.

i promise i’d never walk away from you,

i’d never leave you stranded.

i can’t promise forever,

that’s too much to bear.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

i can only promise you pieces of me,

a puzzle with some empty spots.

instead of presents wrapped in bows,

i’ll give you my heart and soul

in the shape of little irregular pieces of cardboard.

i’ll wait for you to fit me in next to the edge pieces,

i’ll make it easy for you.

because, it’s so easy to see myself with you,

my head fits into the dip in your chest

like we were made for each other.

maybe you’re my final piece to the puzzle,

but i’ll never force you to fit with me.

a reminder

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

everything reminds me of you.

the summer nights that never really begin until 8 pm and

the smell of salt in the air.

sitting by the fire while the breeze comes off the ocean.

my wet hair soaking through your sweatshirt.

i miss that.

peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in ziplock bags,

mountain bikes and dust and

image via pinterest

the music we listened to and the long, hot

afternoon hikes that seemed to last forever.

smiles. i see your smile in every smile.

stars and soda cans and trucks driving through orchards.

pencil sketches or skateboards or grassy hills or pizza boxes.

trying to fit five people into the backseat of the car.

being too loud in movie theaters.

i think about you now because

i haven’t started any of my homework yet,

and i know you probably haven’t either.

whenever i think of anything, i think of you.

maybe that’s why i’m so sad.

Homesick

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

I haven’t really been homesick since my fourth grade field trip. But lately, for some reason I can’t make out, I miss my home more than ever.

I miss my mom, and watching her in the kitchen, perfectly slicing vegetables for whatever masterpiece she’d be about to create for dinner.

I miss my dad and his weird ways, and how much more excited he gets about our dog than about us, but that’s okay because I miss our dog, too.

I miss my friends, being able to walk to their houses after dinner and watching Germany’s Next Top Model with their family, sipping way too sweet hot chocolate.

I miss the trees above our house and the lake nearby. I miss the smell of pretzels wafting from the restaurants as I walk my dog past them, trying my best not to let him snatch any food.

via 78.media.tumblr.com

I really miss being able to spend hours and hours in the barn, riding and taking care of my horses, taking them on long trail rides until the sun sets and it gets chilly.

There are many things, however, that I don’t miss. I don’t miss the people I used to go to school with, their constant judgement and disapproval. I don’t miss the ugly, gray parts of Germany, and god, I don’t miss not having air conditioning in the summer.

I guess being homesick is something natural, and in a sense I like how much it connects you to home. But gosh, I wish it would just stop.

if we’re lucky.

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

Looking back, I think I could have fallen in love with you.

And I think that if I let myself I probably still would.

Image from Pinterest.com

But now things are different and you’ve met someone who you seem to love even though you don’t talk about her much.

I wonder if you ever think of me that way anymore. I know you used to.

For a while I thought every word that came out of your mouth was arrogant. The few words we exchanged in passing made me sad, and I wondered why you were so polite to everyone but me. I thought that I would never know you the way I used to and I missed that. But now I realize you probably just said those things because you missed me too.

I forgot about how effortlessly eloquent you are. I forgot how good you are at communicating and how incredibly intelligent you are. I could listen to you for hours and never be bored.

I forgot how curly your hair gets when you let it grow longer and about the way you gesture with your hands when you get excited.

You reminded me that I don’t care when you laugh at me because I’m just glad that I get to hear your laugh again. You reminded me about how you actually listen to what I have to say, and you actually care.

You told me you wanted to hear me sing again. You said you’re learning guitar now and talked about how we used to play music together. I never told you badly I miss that.

I could see myself loving you someday. I could see myself loving you for a long time.

I’m sorry for the things I said about you. I think it was because I was sad that so much had changed so fast and that inevitably you had changed too. But when it’s just us and when you don’t have to worry if anyone is listening you somehow convince me that you haven’t changed much after all.

I sometimes try to imagine what it might be like now if you never left, but it’s probably better this way.

Maybe we were always meant to love each other but we just missed our opportunity. Maybe someday we’ll still be able to, if we’re lucky.

25 more things to be happy about

faithfulomnivore2 Comments

A few weeks ago I compiled a list of 25 things that make me happy. I’m not in the happiest of moods currently, so I’m creating a sequel in an effort to cheer myself up.

  1. Music – the only thing that I know absolutely makes the world a better place.
  2. The sore dents I get on my fingertips after playing guitar for too long.
  3. Singing harmonies.
  4. Hugs – good, wholesome, all-encompassing hugs.
  5. Seeing my friends succeed.
  6. Having good hair days.
  7. Being proud of something.
  8. Going a week without biting my nails.
  9. Eating passion fruit.
  10. Being able to sleep in, for once.
  11. Having my driver’s permit (and the bragging rights that come with it).
  12. The times when I feel pretty.
  13. How silence isn’t uncomfortable with my closest friends.
  14. Tea tree oil.
  15. Getting buried in sand at the beach with only my head sticking out, and the sand that covers my body being carved into a mermaid.

    Image via elephantjournal.com
  16. Laughing until tears come out of my eyes.
  17. Finding the perfect tree for climbing.
  18. Climbing said tree.
  19. Being barefoot.
  20. The satisfaction of overlooking a valley after hiking all the way up it.
  21. How my nose gets red when it’s really cold out, and I can see my breath in the air.
  22. Being so hot that I can feel the sweat evaporating off of my skin.
  23. The comfort of a cool breeze in the summertime (the best feeling in the world).
  24. Grass coming back after the fire.
  25. Peeling a tangerine in a perfect spiral.

Home

whynotstayinLeave a comment

Home is a loose word, I often find my mind and, in turn, my spirit in other places. Sitting wrapped in a blanket I’ll physically be here or there but, in truth, I’ll be far, far away. Henry David Thoreau once wrote, “At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house.” House or home or somewhere in between? A trivial question when one is hunting for a place to rest one’s mind.

Photo Credit: hotelroomsearch.net

My tangible home will always be with my family in our small “faerie home,” surrounded by an unruly garden that seems to compete with the urbanity of the asphalt road and the ever shrinking street light (or perhaps I’m the one growing). Home with its boarding of white and blue, with a hand built white picket fence; home with a stylized and cohesive found object collection inside and hand painted walls of a whimsical forest land further from reality than the closest galaxy. Tangible home will be with my dad’s music blasting well above the sound threshold of his earbuds, shuffling in the Paint-Shack. Tangible home will be with my mom, picking up conversations we never started mid-way through a sentence. A home fit for part of my heart and part of my body.

But my true home, home for my mind, my spirit, the rest of my heart and body, that’s much harder to pin down. I’ve lived too many lives, I’ve walked the halls of Hogwarts and thieved the streets of Ketterdam. I have run through the Overlook Hotel and traveled the world in the Leviathan. I am inclined to call all these places my home despite the threat of horror and danger and pulse-stopping fear. But then again, I am just as inclined to call a solitary cottage at the edge of humanity surrounded by piles and piles of mugs and books my home.

When I was much younger I believed home would be among the pyramids and mummies of Egypt, studying a culture older than I could comprehend, dinosaur hunting while bouncing from continent to continent in search of the next great dinosaur find. Now I find myself lost, filled with wanderlust. Do I return to Ketterdam, Hogwarts, Brakebills? Do I follow the dust and jewels and bones of ancient history? Do I find my library tower with an endless supply of tea, coffee, pastry, and more books than I know what to do with? Do I find my corner of a city and people watch for the rest of my time?

Photo Credit: enlighten.pk

Maybe, what I’m getting at is I won’t find one home, there is no way to make that which is plural singular. I’ll always be hunting for the next city to make my heart beat faster and my lungs dance, the next country, the next world, the next universe. My home will be that glimpse of color disappearing around the corner, just slow enough for me to go skidding into the alley and see it go around the next corner. My home will be a sturdy pair of boots, one hell of a scarf, and a bag with an undetectable extension charm. My home will be that trip around the world finding the best food there is and then traveling to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Home will be that rare dinosaur in the middle of nowhere. Home will be Nefertiti’s tomb. Home will be finding that portal to Fillory, Hogwarts Ketterdam, Le Cirque des Rêves. Home will be the pens and paints I bring with me; home will be the countless notebooks of dreams, adventures, and future worlds.

Home will be the next great adventure. The never ending circular promise: the next place will be the place, the next place will be home. Part of me will always belong to the first home though, my little blue and white cottage in the forest of pavement and cars, but the rest of me? The rest of me is restless. Home will always be one step ahead of me, patiently waiting for me to catch up, always waiting for me to leave a little more of myself on the path.

Writer’s Block 2.0

whynotstayinLeave a comment

Writers block, what a foe. It feels like everything I could write has already been written or far too close to my heart.

I’m full of non-noteworthy thoughts: is there ice cream in the freezer? Do I really have to finish that assignment or can I avoid it a little longer? Do I have the time to watch that episode? Should I read that book or this one? Is it actually likely that I can learn that language? Is tomorrow going to be a good day or one that makes me feel like crawling into bed and never reemerging?

So what should I write about? It’s not as if there is nothing going on.

Photo Credit: fanpop.com

Anyway, it feels like I could use 700 years of sleep, I don’t seem to do anything and I’m tired anyway. Why is that? I don’t even have the motivation to do the things I enjoy, much less the things that I don’t. I love doing certain things but all it seems I’m able to muster myself to do is sit around and, for all I can tell, do nothing.

So the motivation to tell stories and write is seemingly gone. Writers block has hit hard, senioritis even harder. Ugh.

Is it bad that I’m 100% ready to crawl into bed not having done anything productive today? I wonder sometimes, if given the choice, if I would sleep in excess and just not get out of bed at all really, if I would push all other things in my life off my plate and roll over and go back to sleep.