Wondering

Why we                                                                            all seem
to  want happy                                                                endings. I wonder
 why we don't notice                                                            the everyday miracles.
       I wonder how long it takes                                             for two people to fall in love.
      I wonder who will remember                                          me, who'll come to my funeral.
I wonder why people put on masks.                         I wonder why I'm so bad at saying
goodbye. I wonder what my life is worth to      other people. I wonder what it's worth
to me. I wonder how I can help the people        I love. I wonder if they even want
my help. I wonder how much I'll remember        in 60 years. If I'll be alive in
60 years. I wonder if I'll just be another        face in a yearbook. I wonder
why some people are born beautiful.        I wonder why I'm still here.
I wonder where here is. I wonder        how far I'd go to save a loved
one. I wonder why people wait        till they're dying to be happy.
 I wonder how I can find true        happiness. I wonder if my
dream will come true. I        wonder when I lost my child-
hood. I wonder if        I'm alive or just living.
I wonder why        fear stops people. I
wonder when        I'll find home.
And I        wonder if I
will       ever stop
wondering.

Run Away With Me

I'm trapped in a valley of disillusionment. The mountains are sketched, the clouds were painted. It can't be real, and I wanted to run away from it. 

I've run away from home so many times. But it usually happens in my head. No matter how many times I run away, though, I always have to come back. I wish I had somewhere else I could stay, because I know if I actually did run my parents would just be angry at me when I eventually got back, when I eventually realized I have no other choice but to go back to my house that is not a home. Someday I'll be brave enough to say no, and I won't dread going home. But not today. Once I get there I feel confused and angry and go to my bedroom, the only place in my house that feels even remotely like home. And lately that doesn't even feel the same. I haven't even slept in my own bed in a week. 

Outside is more home than in. My smile is pained, but at least I'm smiling as the sunlight hits my face and my years of tears burn tracks down my cheeks. If you look closely the next time you might be able to see the scars. The wind in my hair made me want to fly or make declarations of love in Spanish. 

There's a swing set out back. It's about as close as I can get to flying, and it gave me a headache. I always get headaches when I swing. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I finally jumped off. I don't know a lot of things these days. 
Like what to do about my relationships. Is it better to have a wonderful relationship that's completely fake or a real relationship that's total garbage? Yet another thing I don't know. 

And what to do about death. Saying someone has passed away doesn't change the fact that they're dead. They died, and phrasing it differently doesn't change a thing. They're still dead. 

I feel so alone. And then you came. You swept me off my feet and asked me to run away with you. I really wanted to, more than I've wanted to do anything before, but I couldn't, and I hope you'll forgive. 

I still have daydreams about you coming back. Maybe then we can actually run away, because I've wanted to for so long. And you can pick me up and carry me outside to the passenger seat and we can run away into the sketched mountains and painted clouds.

Please tell me it's not just a daydream. Run away with me.

Melody

My body screams at me with everything it has. It keeps telling me not to move anymore, to just stop, lay down, and go back to sleep. I am about to give in when I hear it. The softest strains of music floating on the breeze into my ears, into my mind, into my soul...

My feet are scarred because my shoes are too small, and my muscles still burn, but I don't care because the music is getting louder now, and I can ignore the discomfort that is everywhere because the music is there and it is my escape...

Boiling water hits my stiff, cold, aching hands and I recoil, but I dismiss the throbbing because I hear the music. I begin to hum along as the melody offers relief from the agony I am in, and I suddenly I no longer have to ignore it, I just forget as the music takes over...

My throat cries out as it closes up and I struggle to draw a breath, the oxygen unable to get into my lungs. My choking gasps are loud to my ears, but no one seems to notice them. I can't hum or sing along anymore, I can hardly breathe, but the music is louder than it's ever been, and I know I can keep going...

There is music in my ears and I don't care about the rest of it, about the aches and the pains and the misery I thought I was in. I'll keep fighting to draw another breath just so I can continue to hear the music...

No, no, the music is getting softer now, and the pain is coming back. I try to push it away, to forget about it again, but now I am struggling to hear the melody and I have nothing to help me fight back anymore...

Pain and exhaustion demand my attention again, and this time I give in. I sink to my knees and let my tired soul rest. Despair takes over and I close my eyes...



The music is gone...

...and it's not coming back.

After the Rain

A raindrop hits my arm and I brush it away. Another hits my cheek and I swipe my hand across that one, too. But then the rain starts coming faster and faster and it's no use anymore. It's just a drizzle at first, but soon it's a downpour.

A car drives by and splashes a wave of water all over me... I think my new boots are ruined.

Water runs in rivulets from my hairline down into my face and I blink away some of the water as I reach up to brush it out of my eyes. I remember belatedly that my hand is wet, so it obviously doesn't do any good.

I'm going to get wet anyway, so it might as well open up and pour.

Let it rain. Let the clouds cry out as much as they want and let their tears drown me, drench me, mix with my own tears. Let the storm hit me, beat me, batter me. Let it make my hair frizzy and my skin soaked. Let the flood come out and let me feel the storm and finally learn to appreciate it. Let the rain hurt me, and I will come out stronger.

Let it rain, and then I can find out what happens after.

Write me a love song

I won't believe you the first few times,

because you're just humoring me, 

but say it anyway

tell me anyway

tell me you'll write me a love song

tell me those three words

tell me I'm your reason

tell me that my love will be enough for you
tell me you'll be my shield, that you'll hold me when I can't breathe

tell me you've been searching to find me

tell me I'm the somebody you need

tell me you'll pick me up when I'm down

tell me I haven't missed my chance

tell me we can forgive each other

tell me I'm beautiful, that I'm worth knowing

tell me you think about me when I'm not around

tell me you love me

maybe if you tell me enough times

I'll eventually believe it

Locked

I want to slap the smile off your face, but that would only give you pleasure because I'm fighting back.

I want to tie your hands behind your back so you can't hurt me, and lock you in a closet where you can't hurt others, until you understand what it's like to be lonely. 

I want to duct tape your mouth so that you can't say any more hurtful words, because that means I no longer have to pretend that they don't hurt me. 

I want to find out what's important to you and use it against you, and I want to destroy your twisted heart that will only get more crooked with time. 

I want to scar your face so people won't be taken in by your innocent looks and constant lies.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tears sting behind my eyelids, but I won't cry. I won't cry. I can't give you the satisfaction of seeing me cry, letting you know I want to run and hide where you'll never find me. 

I never want to see you again because I loath these feelings you arouse in me. I hate feeling this much fury, this much rage, this much pain, this much misery every time I see you. 

I hate being scared of what I want to do. I hate feeling this way. 

I hate what you're turning me into.

A Child's Imagination

It seems the only creative ideas I have these days are for making excuses. 

Why I'm not home when I said I would be.

Why I don't want to be at home at all.

Why I shouldn't have to do the dishes.

Why my brother is at fault instead of me.

And on

and on

and on.

I got an art kit for Christmas when I was 10. It had markers, paints, crayons, colored pencils...

I
  never
          used
                  the
                        crayons.

I couldn't stand the feel of the wax in my hot, sweaty hands.

I regret that now. I miss my crayons.

The other day my sister drew a light bulb. And then gave it eyes and ears. It looks like a llama instead. Boy, do I miss those days...

...those days are definitely over.

Spare a Thought for Me

Did you see the sky tonight? Right before the sun set.

It was magnificent, wasn't it? I didn't know if you noticed because I don't know if you pay attention to that sort of thing.

I was going to take a picture, but my camera wouldn't have done it justice. Not even close. Plus I would have needed a panoramic view. Which I don't have.

You saw that, too?! When the sun set in the west, but it was half-hidden behind those narrow clouds and kept throwing streaks of light through the sky. And to the south the sky was was a misty light purple instead of the blue-purple of before, and there were wispy clouds scattering their way all across the sky. Oh, that was beautiful, too, when the sky in the east seemed to reflect the sun's light from so far away. 

I can't believe you notice stuff like that, too... I thought I was the only weird one who did that.

The clouds hid the peaks of the mountains, and when I saw them I thought of you.

I'm still thinking about you. I can't get you out of my head. Or my heart.

And there's no good way to end this conversation, so...

Good night.

What I'll Never Say to My Parents

You hypocrites. You lecture me about pushing my limits and draining myself and then what do you do? You go and push those limits farther than I ever did, farther than I ever wanted to. If I was an idiot, I wouldn't do half of what I do just out of spite, because then maybe you'd realize how much I'm capable of doing without your so-called help.

Really? You want to be able to see me once in a while when I go to college? Because you sure don't act like it. For heaven's sake, how am I supposed to believe you're going to miss me? You told me to go live somewhere else because there are plenty of siblings waiting to have my room. Why do I want to go to college far away? Because I don't want to be around you anymore. 

So first you tell me that if I can't handle a situation I should remove myself from it, and now that I've finally grown up and stopped hitting my siblings, I can't escape to my room without you saying I'm isolating myself and shutting you out. How's that for confusing? Which one do you really want? I'm not figuring out how to work out my problems with other people, all I'm learning is that adults are inconsistent and shouldn't be trusted.

No, I don't know what college I want to go to. No, I haven't done that yet. Will you stop bringing up topics I have no desire to talk about? Give it a rest for once.

Yes, I will let you know what time I'll be home, I just don't know when that is yet. Yes, I will let you know when I get home, don't I always? I have better things to do than lie to you, so why don't you trust me yet? It's like you think the only things teenagers do late at night are get high, do something illegal, or sleep around. Well, I'll have you know I probably wouldn't recognize drugs if I saw them, I've never spoken to a policeman, and I've never even kissed a boy, let alone done anything more than that. 

Fine, I'll go to bed. I'll just read books and listen to music under the covers, and if I hear a voice or a footstep or even if the house creaks, I'll turn off the light and wait a few minutes, and then I'll keep reading. I've done it before, and I'll do it again. Because, hey, it's 12:43 and I'm writing a blog post while the rest of the family is in bed...

No, I won't turn my music off or down. Yeah, I'm sure you don't like the beat, but you don't like any of my music. I should stop being surprised when you tell me to turn it off, and maybe you realize but maybe you don't, that when you make me put in my headphones, you're just isolating me from you and the rest of the family even more. The only reason I turn my music off is because I'm sick of fighting with you, because you only ever see things your way.

I'm having a bad day. Oh, so when I have a bad day I have to get over it or tell you what's wrong, but of course if you have a bad day you're completely validated in yelling at, getting mad at people for things they didn't do. That makes total sense. It all comes back to that inconsistency thing, doesn't it?

No, there's nothing else. I don't want to tell you the details, because you don't need to know everything about me. Or about my friends, for that matter. I told you everything back when I thought you cared and I had no one else to talk to. You know too much about me already. So stop asking for the details, because I'm not telling you anymore. I don't want to share the precious moments that have made my life beautiful. Not with you, because you twist them and bring them back to mock me and embarrass me.

I tried to be everything you wanted me to be.
I tried to do everything you asked of me before you asked.
I tried not to hurt you.

I tried over and over and I never measured up, so even though I feel like a jerk for writing it, even if you'll never read it, I'm just going to stop trying. It hurts too much to try to please you and no matter how hard I try I end up disappointing you anyway.

One thing you need to realize is this: I am human, and as such I make mistakes and I have opinions and I am my own individual, not something you are going to make me into. As a human I am not perfect, and neither are you. Learn from your mistakes, learn to be happy, and learn to live with the mistakes of others (like me), and then you'll not only be human and living, you'll be human and alive. And yes, there's a difference between alive and living. 

But you wouldn't know, because you'll never read this.