I got soul, but I'm not a soldier.

Freeeeeeeedom. Today I wrote about running. Running is absolutely an escape from me. Some people have art, where they start sketching or painting and suddenly an hour goes by. Writing and running do both of those for me. I tried my best to let you experience it too.

And I began to run
Because I wanted to run.
Feet taking turns on the pavement,
Breath out of sync.
For I am free to go
Wherever I want to go.
Wind rushing past my ears,
Whispering messages of nature,
Passing on tales of the trees
That they would only know.
I began to run
Because I felt like running.
I act upon impulses,
The danger of judgement slipping by me.
Leaves, grass, houses,
All rushing by
In a combination of colors,
An incomprehensible blur.
Life has too many details,
So I just run by them.
I began to run
Because something told me to run.
Not someone behind me,
But something ahead of me.
My feet form beats and rhythms
That I match words to
Maybe nonsense, you think,
But it makes perfect sense to me.
The cold may restrict me,
However, I will break past it,
Its pain only acting as motivation.
I began to run
Because I wanted to run.


Today I painted my nails. I rarely do, because it's a lot to fuss with. But I really like them.I was playing with my camera and I had an idea. I don't really like the fact that people take lots of pictures of themselves, especially in the mirror. But I thought it could create some different lighting and stuff (I'm a nerd, I know). And this is how it turned out.I wish life could be a little more like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCXTnlDD-yU

I can feel the end is near

I hate how exams always have you thinking about what is coming next, not what is happening now.

I want to be present, I want to feel present!

The verdict

Well. I did in fact die. However, I have a goooood feelin' about tomorrow.

Is it bad to say that I am more excited about break coming up because I'll have time to write, rather than time to relax? I guess to me they're kind of the same thing. But still.
Besides dying today, I had a wonderful and amusing outing to Panera today... sort of. But I burned my tongue on a grande vanilla latte. It was worth it.

So I'm entering this statewide poetry contest hosted by Albion college, and I'm allowed to send in three poems. Any suggestions? Even if you don't follow my blog, text me or something. Much appreciated.

Love love love to you all.

Who is this guy? I don't know. But I'm feeling optimistic.

20% done...

I am preparing myself for death.

Suckaaa!

I studied for 8 hours today. AND got 11 hours of sleep. What now.

Bullet and Target - Citizen Cope

Isn't it ironic that I consider myself to be a writer for life, yet I'm pretty much guaranteed nothing higher than a C+ on my english exam? Well, not exactly guaranteed, but it's definitely stressing me out. I'm going to be very very busy these next few days, so I apologize for the lack of creativity, but I literally have no time to stop and write.

I know I've been depriving you of everything except random silly thoughts, so I decided to find a poem I wrote quite a while ago. Looking back at it, I write a little differently now, and this poem sounds like an 8th grader wrote it. Well, I was an 8th grader then. Whatever. It's called "the clock."

11:09, and two more minutes
Two more minutes to make a wish
Make a wish to put us back together
Back together; a bond forever
Forever, I've been waiting for that shooting star
A shooting star to prove my love for you
For you, I'd do anything
Anything could make this clock go faster, but it's not
It's not fair that you were taken away
Taken away, stolen from my heart
My heart years for the clock to turn
Turn to 11:11
11:11 will soon come, now it's 11:10
11:10 and less than sixty seconds to think
Think of how much I miss you, how much I want you to come back
Back to me is where you belong
Belong, I belong in your arms
Arms filled with warmth
Warmth fills my body as it turns to 11:11
11:11 and my wish is complete. I wish...
I wish you would remember the times we had
We had such a strong bond
A strong bond that I can't understand why you would forget
Why you would forget...
I love you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URhDYeHyqxk

A million apologies

So I have failed you all as a writer... I promised I would write in this every day, no matter how tired I was and whether I had something to say or not.

But yesterday my power went out. Well not exactly, but my internet was down. And I couldn't get online for one second to write something. So for that, I sincerely apologize.

I have been so so so so so busy lately; I had a choir concert today and finals coming up in just a few days, so I've been desperately trying to stay off of the internet as much as possible. Obviously, I have pretty much failed, but I thought I should update whoever is reading this to let them know that I have not dropped off the face of the earth.

Today I got some forms for this statewide poetry contest that I'm definitely interested in entering, so if you have any suggestions for me, let me know :)

Holiday season is here, I guess. Ehh.

This has been what my mind looks like lately:

Not necessarily the be still part, but all the random drawings and shit. I'll try to scan some of my stuff later.

Rain Check

I am so unbelievably stressed out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2cs9LGJEQ0

Shit, dude.

A ring on her left index finger declares
"No tengo mas que darte;"
I have nothing more to give you (but my heart),
A daily reminder of her sensitivity,
Potential forgetfulness of her own emotions,
Her vulnerability.

You should know you can't pick me up and throw me around like that. One day I'm the survivor and the next I'm the victim; but now I don't really see a difference, both ways I'm beaten down by you. It's all become a blur, these past nine months. Meeting you was so surreal, every word that you said I was hypnotized by, everything I wanted to hear. I ignored the voices of others and followed my heart, which was begging to be loved by you.
I have an exclusive amount of trust, bottled up and locked away, battered and cracked from being carelessly wasted, and now I see you were only a perfect example of why I keep it hidden.
However, something about me will take out this trust, and I thrust it upon anyone willing to take it. At certain points it's under high security, and other times it will be left out for that person to take. But I can't keep control of where it is.
I tend to contradict myself.

Something about a mystery
Has to be so damn interesting.
No one holds you back.
No one tells you your shoes are untied,
So you are left to be watched,
Until you fall flat on your face
With no hand to help you up.
It is from these falls that we learn,
Yet I still walk with my arms outstretched.

There goes my trust

I'm so fucking sick of you, you don't get it.

We both know I could think myself dizzy

One day we're running so fast,
You're grasping my hand hard enough
For me to feel your quickening heartbeat.
And laughter escapes us,
Like water sneaking through crevasses in your fingers.
The next day I am broken,
Hot tears fall, so sick of you.
Unable to make up my mind,
I step forward before I can change my decision,
Before I am able to return.
Every day you put a smile on my face,
But every day you tear me apart.

Huh.
Thoughts on yesterday:

I am one in fifty-five, of seventeen hundred. My hands were shaking, my voice so obviously nervous. But when I told them my secret, approaching the menacing microphone cautiously with thirty-four hundred eyes looking at me, anticipating my words, they escaped me before I could second-guess myself. Instead of hearing apologies like I thought I would, I received thank-yous. It was refreshing.
I let go.
I am free.

You don't have to hide, you're free to fly.

Today, I told my secret to 1,700 strangers. I have never felt more alive.

Sometimes I wish I had the courage to actually say things.

Today had its ups and downs. I wrote this poem in a spur of ideas during english class back in September. I finally finished it today.

Darkened evenings turned to twilights,
Where we danced and swayed like sunflowers
In a field, moving until
The sky hinted pink,
Where we then fell asleep
With feet and hands entwined,
Connecting our dreams together
And allowing us to share our lives
Like I have never given before,
We live in perfect harmony.
Too many times we tiptoed
Across pebbles in a running stream,
With the moon gleaming
Parallel to our heads,
Stars beaming philosophical signs and crickets
Dropping beats and rhythms
Quicker than a human could ever do.
We jump from log to log,
Branch and twig,
And we collapse in leaves
Like a mattress full of feathers.
Tattooed words snake down your arms,
Forever remembered
And symbolically teaching the unaware.
I trace each letter with my finger,
Feeling the meaning behind each one.
With every touch,
And every spoken word that leaves our lips,
I feel closer to you.

I like tattoos. This one's for my dad.

"Look in thy heart, and write." -Philip Sydney

I don't really feel like explaining yesterday. It was difficult, but invigorating. In short, I can't say I've ever run out of tears to cry before then. But now I am even more zoetic (look it up).
One of my favorite things in the world is water. Pool, ocean, lake, you name it. My best friend and I have this in common. She is also one of my favorite things in the world. I've been really scatter-brained or really focused lately, depending on the time, so please forgive me if you don't like this entry. Many thoughts, many inspirations.

Reluctantly, I step further and further
Until it has control of my knees, my legs, my hips, my shoulders.
It could have my head too, but I won't let it.
Wave take you
Shape you
Make you
Break you.
Something about the rush of the water
Surrounding me
And passing as quickly as it came,
Makes me feel more alive
Than I ever could be on land.
I am being manipulated
And set free at the same time.
I search, but I have already found,
But a breath only lasts so long.

Yesterday I was asked "if you were a cookie, what kind would you be?" I said those store-bought sugar cookies - they're surprisingly fluffy, with a slightly exaggerated amount of color, almost too much frosting, but at the same time the perfect amount. Whether you want to save the middle, with the most frosting, or scrape it off and save the soft part for last, is up to you.

I have a confession...
Each morning I plan out
Things to tell you,
Anxiously awaiting to see that
Familiar spark in your eyes
I have memorized.
Some days I want nothing more
Than to declare to you;
I have a playlist in your name,
Every song you love, and I love,
Every song we talked about, argued about,
Every song you hate, and I hate.
I have your notes saved,
The paper's edges delicately torn
From rereading them so many times,
Your imperfect handwriting a clear picture in my mind.
I have your texts,
Perfectly worded, but months old,
Sitting preciously at the end of my inbox,
Locked and never to be deleted.
I have a confession.


Love it? Hate it? Let me know.

Not Everything Needs a Title

Today, I let go.