My Final Words

Dear Everyone,

These are some brief explanations of why I am the way I am. Maybe they will help you understand, but if they don't, well, I guess it's not my problem anymore, because this is me saying goodbye.

I often wonder if you know how bright you are. For the longest time, I thought I was the moon to your sun, but really I was a star, and you were the sun. Now I realize that the sun is just another star, and the more distance I put between myself and the sun, the less bright it seems and the more I can see my own light. You're still beautiful to me, but now... I think I am as well.

I've been looking at my life through a distorted lens. One that sees trees as green, water as blue, and blood as red. But I got new glasses the other day and now I can see things for what they are. Trees as alive, living and breathing with each breeze. Water as something flowing and moving even when it runs brown from mud and carries fallen leaves in its currents. Especially then. And blood as something metallic, that tastes of love and work and anger, without which we cannot live.

I think I've spent my whole life running away from something, and now I have this sinking feeling that I'm trying to run away from myself and it's not working, so I'll have to take a different approach. I am abandoning my very real fantasies and very false realities and facing myself head-on, because once I know what I'm trying to run from, I can learn who I really am and be someone I actually want to be.

So here are my final words.

To Alyssa Lewis,
You've always been there. You taught me that a true friend doesn't just show up when they think things are going badly and you need help. They are there even when things seem to be going well. Thanks for all the memories.

To Sam Tse,
Don't underestimate yourself. You can encourage and inspire people as long as you believe in yourself. For what it's worth, I believe in you.

To Devin Glenn,
I wish I knew you better. I'm glad I met you, though.

To Kira Knorr,
Love you, girl. You've loved me even when I'm in a bad mood, even when I can't stop to talk, and even when I don't seem to love you back. But I promise I do love you, and I'll remember you forever and always. I miss you already. Oh, and do you think you could maybe tell your brother hi for me?

To Austin Walker,
I'm sorry you have to deal with 9 siblings. I can barely deal with 5 of them.

To Trevor Richard,
Thank you for helping me start to understand myself, and for trying to understand me even when you didn't have to. Keep thinking because the world needs more thinkers like you and the people who don't question generally don't get answers.

To Graham Carman,
At least you weren't freaked out by me. I hope you weren't pretending to be happy to see me, but I don't think you were because that's not easy to fake.

To Paris,
You've changed me, and I don't want to leave. Circumstances leave me with no choice but to stay. Sorry if you're tired of me.

To My Mirages,
I love you. Goodbye.


Love,
Midnight

Finding Paris

I wish I could have gone to Paris this year. I watched from afar, though, and that's good enough for now. I'll be there for real someday. Soon, I hope.

But even though I wasn't all the way there, Paris still taught me. It taught me that beauty can be found wherever you care enough to look, and that I feel alive when I realize that just maybe I am beautiful, too. 

I learned that being in love is not always a good thing and that all the darkness in the world can be forgotten by just one ray of light. 

In Paris I wandered into places of death and even though I wanted to leave, I stayed because the death reminded me of the value of life. Your life and my life and his life and her life and our life. 

I found out that growing up isn't as glamorous as I was told it was, because when you don't know what comes next, it's really hard to be happy about it.

I realized that drowning in my tears never got me anywhere and that silence isn't always golden but it is precious.

I discovered that the words 'I love you' are the most powerful words ever spoken, along with 'goodbye' and 'thank you.' I learned that I'm not alone even when it feels like I am because Paris is full of people like me who just want to be seen and heard and known.

Paris showed me that poetry can hurt without trying and the scars on my heart are so much more painful than the ones I keep finding on my arms. 

In Paris I watched the rain from the balcony. I thought it was beautiful. And then decided that I'd rather go stand in it, dance in it, shout my spirit to the world in it, and I did and was much happier.

I tried running away from everything that made me feel uncomfortable until I noticed that all my time was spent running. I didn't like that much, but it's hard to face your fears head on and sometimes it hurts, too.

I determined that I would remember the memories and savor the moments because they pass too quickly and are too easy to forget. The memories I miss the most are the ones I've forgotten.

And Paris revealed to me that everyone's Paris is just a little bit different, but everyone has one even if they don't always realize it. Don't miss out. The sun is setting in Paris, but you and me are destined, not to be revered, or to be powerful, but simply to be. Because the sun will rise again.

Gone

Lying on her trampoline staring up at a once starry sky while we strive to be understood. I may never be here again.

Listening to my teacher explain the various characters in the hero's journey before we watch Lord of the Rings. I will never be here again.

Walking down crowded hallways full of too many happy, depressed, immature, grown-up, purposeful, confused teenage souls. I hope I am never there again.

Finding friends in unexpected places, but making the most of it. It would be nice to be there again.

Crying endlessly about things that don't mean much to anyone else, but are deeply important to me. It would surprise me if I wasn't here again.

Taking a bow on the last night of a show. I might be there again, but it's more likely that I won't.

Laughing in her car until she has to put it into park so we can stop to breathe, because we're giggly around each other. I had better be here again.

Deciding things that will probably affect the rest of my life and then regretting them. It would be nice if I wasn't there again.

Sitting in her kitchen talking about literature and music until the fear of my curfew forces me to go home. I am certain I will be here again.

Saying goodbye to the people who have changed my life in ways I can never explain. I don't want to be there again.

Sitting in his truck late at night watching the lights in the distance and learning to trust. It wouldn't hurt to be there again.

Letting him play me a song on the piano that I know I've heard before, but I don't know where. I desperately hope I am here again.

Falling in love with someone who doesn't feel the same way. I will probably be there again.

Making any difference in somebody's life. I will be here again.


So much is changing. So much will never be the same. So much is gone. But what's important to me is still there. Maybe changed, but not gone. Never gone.

Memorial Day

You naive, foolish girl. I can't believe you're sitting here crying because you got offered a job. But I know why. You are allowing the world to sell you its products because you're too weak-willed and weak-minded to realize that it's lying to you.
You're destroying your relationships with others, even your own family, because you're too caught up in your own problems to be mindful of their feelings. 

You stupid girl, are you listening? 
Stop caring about the money and focus on what really matters. People. Don't jeopardize your relationships with others simply because you're desperate for money. In ten years, what will matter more to you, what will you remember, the adventures you had with the people you love, or the amount of money you made that week? I can already tell you the answer to that.

Don't sacrifice the relationships you have with people because you're desperate to pay for college. You're already ruining them, because you don't have the courage to go be happy at the various parties and barbecues you could go to. 

Just pray, hon! God is there and He loves you. Don't give up. He's sent people to you who love you, but you have to let them. He'll still be there if you have to work through college, but there are other people who may never take the time to care if you don't take the time to care about them now. And even though God is always with you, it feels awfully lonely when He's the only one.

Grow up and get a hold of yourself. Stop acting like it's the end of the world. Dry your tears and go have fun because you're wasting time you could be spending with people just sitting at this computer feeling sorry for yourself. It's not the end of the world. You've got three weeks to have adventures and make decisions and there's still hope. Apologize to your brother and move on, you hear me? Or else years from now, I can guarantee that you will regret it. 

Real Talk

Graduation is in eight days. Graduating is harder than I thought it would be, though. For that matter, going to school is harder than I thought it would be. I never thought I'd be the kind of person who got senioritis, but I did. Last week I counted up my absences to see how many classes I could still miss without needing to go to attendance school. 

I don't know where I belong and I'm stuck between two different worlds on multiple levels. The reality and the fantasy, the high school and the college, the child's and the adult's. It's kind of confusing.

I don't know if I'm happy or not, which makes me sad. But I continue to put on a mask of ignorance when inside I'm falling apart, and even though most of you know who I am, I still operate as if I'm protected by the guise of anonymity. 

I keep wondering if I will ever fall in love, if that person I probably haven't met yet could fall in love with me back, if I'll ever get married. Except I don't want to be a mother right now. Is that even allowed? I can't stand being around little children for a long time, and I don't want to be treated the way my siblings treat my mom.

I have a tendency to find scars on my arms and legs and hands and feet but I don't know how they got there, and a solid month after prom I was still hoping I'd be asked.

I love listening to Josh Groban's voice, especially when he sings in Italian. It makes me want to fly to Italy, but I have a little sister who broke my heart last Saturday when amid angry words and frustrated voices, she said, "I don't have a safe place."

I almost went to a different high school. Twice. But I stuck it out and now I can't seem to stop wondering if I'd be happier right now had I made the other choice. In the end, I can't say I regret my choice, but I still wonder.

I have horrible allergies in the late spring and early summer. My hair is brown and curly and I've been led to believe that it's my one redeeming quality. There is also a special place in my heart for the number 10.

I have fallen deeply in love with Earth and been heartbroken because it's rapidly disappearing in light of something called progress. I'm in love with the feeling of wind in my hair and wet sand between my toes. The smell of summer. Cold rain at night and warm rain in the middle of the day.

I miss the feeling of being in love with him. I got carried away but I forgot my heart and it still hurts sometimes but I think it's a good kind of hurt. For some strange reason I still refuse to give up on magic even though it's been proven again and again that it does not exist.

I'm terrified of spiders. I'm even more terrified that this post just sounds like me complaining and none of you are going to want to be my friend if you read this, because I don't think the real me is someone people are drawn to. Not very many people will really remember me in ten years. I don't show up in other people's posts and I know I shouldn't care but I kind of do. I'm not trying to make you feel bad for me, I am just trying to be real, because once upon a time I prided myself on being real and lately I only see the falseness in myself. Maybe I'll just delete this whole post. But probably not. Is this real enough for the world, or do I need to try again? 

Falling Out of Love

It took me so long to realize this, but I'm not in love with you anymore. I haven't been for a while now. 

I'm not in love with you, I'm in love with the idea of you. I'm in love with the idea of being in love... 

I was in love with the idea of being in love with you. 

I was in love with the memories of you. 

I was in love with the idea of us being an us. 

But in the end, I was still only in love with an idea. I've realized that my feelings for you are just a mirage, and now I can walk right through them because there's nothing there, really. They're just a figment of my hallucinations. 
 

It still hurt a lot, but not as much as I expected, when you distanced yourself from me. It was wonderful while it lasted, but it's over now, and I can handle that, because after so long, I've finally fallen out of love. 

At long last, I am finally free.

Oh, and for the record, I'd like to stay that way.

This Is Not A Love Poem

I thought we'd have more time. I thought if I just played the music it would become real. I thought if I ignored the pain it would go away. I thought so many things but I was wrong and now I can't sleep because of the words flashing through my head.

I hope I didn't annoy you and that you didn't think me too forward. Sometimes I think about the things I said to you and I wish I could disappear. You were always the one around to catch me talking to myself, and at first I didn't mind but now I do. I guess I was never meant for you anyway. 

Really I'm just confused. People told me white looked good on me, so I wore white. And the world said I should wear my heart on my sleeve, because after all, everyone else is doing it and I want to fit in... right? So I wore my heart on my sleeve, but it started bleeding where everyone could see it. That's the problem with these white shirts, I can't hide the bloodstains. That's why we wear black at funerals, you know. So you can't see our hearts bleeding as they break...

But I'm not talking about funerals, I'm talking about you, and halfway through this poem I realized I'm not writing about who I thought I was. Who am I kidding, this isn't even poetry. It's just words. Coming from a girl who drives home at 10:30 at night with the windows rolled down and her hands outstretched because she once thought she held the stars on her fingertips. A girl who keeps replaying those three songs because she can't forget and she can't let go. A girl with dirty, blistered feet because she danced like the devil was the judge. 

My emotions are running too high for me to think clearly anymore. My joints are stiff, my body painfully aware of its tired bones rubbing against each other, grinding themselves down to dust. I think I might fall apart if I'm not careful. But shouldn't I be too young to feel so old?

I'm just trying to find where I belong because I don't really know. But when I'm with you I feel like I belong somewhere. I know I'm an ugly crier but you looked past that and let me soak your shirt with my tears. 

It helped, but it still wasn't enough. I thought the church foyer would be empty. It wasn't. And still the tears find ways to slip out of my eyes late at night when I can't blame them on my contacts. But you still help me, except soon we'll both go our separate ways, and then where will I belong?

Ten more days, but I miss you already. 

Unforgotten

"And then they leave you and you have nothing, but you just keep going."

"Just keep going. There's nothing else you can do, is there?"

-

"We're just old ladies."

"But you're still beautiful."

-

"They took it away. He was pretty mad about that."

"I'm sorry."

-

"Please listen to the music."

"I'm listening."

-

"I have people coming."

"Okay."

-
"I'm the worst person here. If you don't believe me, ask them."
"Oh, don't say that. It's not true."
-
"What did you do today?"
"I can't remember."
-
"I won't give up. I won't."
"Good, don't ever give up."
-
"I think there's something wrong with me."
"No, you're perfect."
-
"Please let me try again. This is hard."
"You can always try again."
-
"Take me home. Please, take me home."
"Just relax. You're going to be okay."

It breaks my heart, the wrinkles around the vacant eyes and blank smiles. The off-key humming and confusing conversation. The memories that will never be remembered, or that only make sense inside their minds.

I keep going back anyway. 

I wonder if I lied when I told her she'd be okay.

Before It Ends

Before everything comes to a close
I want to kiss someone in the rain

Before the Earth falls apart
I want to hold hands on the porch while it thunders

Before I travel the endless road
I want to slow dance around the living room

Before the seasons stop changing
I want to go to Venice

Before the darkness reigns
I want to read poetry until I fall asleep

Before the elements vanish
I want to write poetry until I fall asleep

Before ruins are all that remain
I want to lose myself

Before embers float into emptiness
I want to cry until I have no tears left

Before fire and ice collide
I want to watch the lightning together

Before the moon collapses on itself
I want his arms around me as I cry

Before the green dies and the grey is born
I want to sit on the roof and watch the sun set

Before cinders and charcoal dust prevail
I want the wind to carry me

Before the mirrors shatter
I want to talk from dusk until dawn

Before man kills God
I want Him to heal me

Before the stars plummet into the sea
I want to hold you while snow falls around us

Before the clouds disintegrate into ash
I want to watch the stars on a warm summer night

Before the sky falls and the sun explodes
I want to smell the rain falling at night

Before it all ends
I want to be loved

When You Remember

You took my heart. You may not have been trying to, but I lost my heart to you when I met you and now my memories won't let me let you go.

Do you remember the first time we spoke? I was terrified and I felt like a mess but you told me I looked beautiful.

Do you remember the first time we danced? Maybe you didn't want to and neither one of us expected it, but even when I messed up you were patient. That day was the first time I was scared I would start to love you.

Do you remember when you sat close by while I poured my heart out through the keys of a piano? If you were paying close enough attention you might have seen how much it hurts when I play that song. In that moment, though, I was content just to have you listen.

I remember the first time you gave me a ride home. When we pulled up outside my house we were talking about kissing. You said the one with the dolphin didn't count.

Do you remember when you played with my hair through the sunroof of my car? I love it when people play with my hair. You told me you'd be lost without me. You knelt down so we'd be at eye level while we talked and then suddenly you got quiet and moved your head so the sunlight was in my eyes. You apologized for that but I didn't mind. I looked at you and you told me my eyes were pretty in the sunlight. I felt beautiful in that moment. 

Do you remember when I caught you watching me play the piano? I think you thought I was mad at you, but when I told you I wasn't you came with me and I played for you.

I remember when you told me you didn't want me to leave. When we eventually did part ways you opened my door for me even though you didn't have to. And still we kept talking and hugging and flirting and before you left you joked about wanting to kiss me. 

Do you remember when I pulled my hair out of my braid so I could feel the wind, and you came up behind me and put your arms around me? You started touching my hair, and you had to pull me against you so that other people could pass by. You sat by me and for ten heavenly minutes ran your hands through my hair. That was the day I admitted I liked you. 

I still remember how cold it was outside when we held each other as we just stood and listened.

Do you remember when you put your arm around me and let me rest my head on your shoulder? I could feel you breathing. Every time I coughed you asked if I was all right. You kept holding me closer for no apparent reason and sometimes you ran your hand through my hair and let it rest there. I wonder if you thought I was asleep.

I remember when you didn't let go of my hand. You pulled me in and held me close enough that I thought you didn't want to let go. I remember how sweetly you brushed my hair away from my face. When you soothed my insecurities with a few simple words. When you knocked me off balance but caught me in a hug before I fell.

Do you remember the many times you ran your hands through my hair? When I cried into your shoulder? When you carried me to my car so my feet wouldn't freeze in the snow? When in the dark in my terror you held me and calmed my fears? When you told me you were there if I needed you? Does that still hold true? Because I need you now and you're not here.

Do you remember the second time we danced? My hand in yours and your hand on my waist. You sang the words softly in my ear.

Do you remember when we played in the river and got wet and made sailboats out of leaves but we didn't care? That was the day I poured out my heart with closed eyes and an open soul.

I remember when you told me you loved someone else. I didn't want to believe you meant it, but deep down, I knew you did.

Do you remember the last time we danced?

Do you remember when I saw you holding her hand? Of course you don't, you didn't know I was watching. It was so painful but I couldn't tear my eyes away. The most embarrassing whimpering sound involuntarily came out of me, but no one heard me. 

Do you remember when you told me it was over? We treated it like a joke but I think we could both feel it. That it was true. That even if we weren't meant for each other, apparently we weren't meant to be friends either. I remember I knew it was true when I said hello to you and you pretended not to hear me.

I remember when you used to hug me for no apparent reason, and sometimes you just didn't let go. Now you don't ever touch me.  I remember the many times you touched my hair and took my hands, and the day I decided to trust you. You gave me hope that there are still gentlemen out there. I remember when I'd ask you for help and we'd end up closer to each other. It always ended up looking romantic. It felt romantic. When you noticed I was cold and put your arms around me to keep me warm. You didn't have to do that. And I remember the last day I felt that we were friends. I understand now how you found your way into my heart.

So I'll ask again, do you remember? Because I remember it. I remember it all.

This is just some strange form of therapy, I guess. I've read back over my journals lately. All the things you did for me and to me and with me and I really think you might have liked me once. 

And I keep asking myself the same questions over and over:

Is it my fault we don't talk anymore? Did any of it mean anything to you? Could I have done anything to change it? Do you think you could have ever loved me?

I still remember. When you remember it, too, tell me because I want to know if any of it meant anything to you. No, don't tell me. I don't want to remember it anymore. It hurts too much. I'm thinking back over everything and my face keeps ending up buried in my hands. I don't know what I was thinking or feeling or doing, but it's too late to go back now.

I lost my heart to you and I'm trying but I don't know if I'll ever find it again.