Please Wake Up.

It's a Thursday.

But it's not just another Thursday.

I've been trying to figure out how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking but it's so hard to decipher between feeling nothing and feeling everything all at once; it's hard to decipher the unlimited questions spinning through my mind from the hollow silence that echoes throughout my brain. 

I'm torn between making sure I remember him but trying to forget the tragedy that's taken place here. I want to remember him, and him, and her, and them... But not like this. I don't want to remember what they did--or how--but I do. And I can't believe how hard I cried in first period. I didn't even know him that well. And it's not like I've never heard my teacher read that letter before. She read almost the same one just under four months ago... It just read a different name. It just had a different date. I think that is the reason this is so hard. It's like a nightmare that we've had over and over and over again, and it hurts a little more each time. 

When are we going to wake up.

I'm starting to fear that we never will. Some people are just heavier sleepers, and no matter how loudly we say their name, or shake them by their shoulders, or pry open their eyelids... They have to choose to wake up.

This is me begging, as someone who just five months ago, didn't want to wake up. This is me begging you to open your eyes. To wake up to a new morning. I'm not asking you to forget what happened to you yesterday, or to forget the terrible nightmare you had last night. I'm asking you to see the sun rise one more day. Trust me, I know it is seemingly impossible--I know that the weights on your eyelids are the heaviest ones you've ever had to carry.

But please, wake up.

It took a few days,

But I woke up.

And it took a few more weeks,

But eventually I was grateful that I did.

Please wake up.

This is a poem I wrote in September... And I think now is a good time to share it.

I found myself drowning

In the oceans of grief,

Struggling to breathe,

But treading water.

I tried to do it

On my own,

But the waves crashed

All around.

The riptide came;

My emotions whiplashed.

I didn't know what to feel,

So I felt it all.

And just as the water

Penetrated my lungs,

A lifeboat came

To pull me out.

The lifeguard struggled;

He called me by name.

"You know how to swim,

I taught you how...

You cannot give up.

The world needs you now."

eyes.

Eyes are magnificent.

They are beautiful, expressive, honest.

Eyes are unique.

Not necessarily because of color,

or shape,

or size,

But because our eyes are the truest reflection of who we are.

Eye contact is the greatest power we possess.
Lips can be deceiving, 

and the words that slip between them can be worse...

But eyes cannot lie.

Eyes always speak the truth.
Sometimes they sparkle and shine like the stars,
and sometimes they are as empty as the black night sky
that fills the spaces between them.

They are the windows to our souls.

Eyes say the words that our mouths can't find.

Eyes say infinite words that don't even exist.
Eyes tell the stories tattooed upon our hearts in invisible ink.

Eyes strike the match that sets love on fire.

And for things that make no sound,
Eyes say it all.

Look at me

Until I can see myself in your eyes.

The bricks that built me

Bricks. 

They build houses (and ovens that make fantastic pizza.) But they also destroy windows. 

So where does that put people? Do bricks build us or destroy us?

Every brick that built me started out as a stumbling block. 

A stumbling block that could have destroyed me.

The Bricks That Built Me

A brick for when my grandpa died.

A brick for the friends who convinced me that being cool meant

that you had to make everybody else feel miserable.

A brick for how I felt like an outcast when I decided to leave that group.

A brick for the boy that called me a bitch.

A brick for how much I hated myself in 8th grade for not being pretty enough.

A brick for the first time the devil knocked at my window.

A brick for my 16th birthday party.

A brick for the first time a boy stood me up.

A brick for when I lost my very best friend.

A brick for the first time I sat on a couch in the therapist’s office.

A brick for all of the times after that.

A brick for the second time the devil knocked at my window,

And a few bricks for the thoughts he put in my head.

A brick for everyday I ate lunch behind the baseball field alone.

A brick for all the times I took the long way home from work.

A brick for Monday, September 29th.

A brick for the boy who wouldn’t let me watch the movie.

A brick for every time I told him “No.”

A brick for my insecurities,

And a brick for my friend who likes to point them out.

A brick for every time I thought I was special--

A brick for every time I was wrong about that.

A brick for every fear about my future,

And a brick for all the sleep I continue to lose over it.

When these blocks were placed in my path, I stumbled.

And I stumbled hard.

I tripped and I face-planted on the concrete. 

But each time I rose from the cement,

and turned around to see what broke me,

All I saw was a brick.

I knew I could put it to good use,

So I kept it and started building.

With bricks labeled "adversity,"

And mortar labeled "strength,"

I built the person I am today.

And I may only be 5'3", but I'm starting to feel a lot taller than that...

Because I’m not done building.

let's hear it for the boy

Love will own a pair of khaki pants.

Love will tell his mom that he loves her right in front of his friends.  He might also play the guitar.  And something about him will remind me of my dad.  

Love will laugh at me when my voice doesn't know how to sing to the radio.  Love won't know how to sing to the radio either.  But Love will sing to the radio.  At the top of his lungs. With me.  Because we'll be idiots together.  He'll always help me with the dishes, but occasionally it will turn into a water fight.  Love won't be perfect... But our arguments will never be as aggressive as our dance battles.  Love will quote rap songs in church.  He will make me laugh--when he doesn't try, and when he tries way too hard.  Love will probably have pretty severe road rage, but he will impact people's lives with his kindness.

Love's eyes will look at me in a way that I will never get used to.  He'll tell me that I talk too much, but he will still listen to every word.  He will value memories more than money.  He'll be strong enough to talk about his weaknesses.  Love will know how to appreciate things.  Love will appreciate people.   He'll take pride in his accomplishments but he will always be humble enough to open doors for strangers.  He won't be afraid to love God, and he'll never seem self-righteous about it.  Love will be a cheerleader for The Underdogs, because he will remember what it's like to be one.  He will appreciate a good view when he sees it.  Love will never be afraid to say what's on his mind, and he will always mean every word.  His strength won't come from weight-lifting, but it will come from lifting heavy weights off the shoulders of the people he cares about.

He will know better than anyone that 'love' is actually spelled t-i-m-e.

His arms will find their way around me in the quietest moments; his eyes will find mine in every crowd.

He will love me 

like no one before him ever did.

And as the years go by,

Time won't make him forget why.

to my dear friend

I've seen your eyes grow tired

Maybe it's the stress of it all.

Maybe it's that too much time has gone by.

Maybe it's the sleep you don't get.

Maybe it's that you've spent too many nights alone.

Maybe it's that you're scared of getting any older.

But I'm afraid it's more than that,

Because your tired eyes

Don't explain your tired heart,

or your shaking hands,

or your weak ankles,

or the scars on your wrist...

and the watch that covers them.

But although I know what that watch is hiding,

and it scares me to death every time you wear it,

I hope that watch is a symbol

that you believe

Time

Will Heal

All

Your 

Wounds.

And darling, I just hope you will let it.

confessions of an awkward angsty teen

The truth is 

My mouth doesn't know how to hold its own tongue, 

and my spontaneous lips don't know when to stop.

  My teeth chatter when I'm nervous, 

and when anything geeky

or athletic

or musically talented

or attractive

or really anything labeled

"teenage male"

 comes around, 

my weak jaw can't do anything but drop.

My knees turn into rubber,

My hands go numb,

My cheeks go piping hot,

My ears steam... a lot like my rice cooker when it's all:

YO, I'M DONE.

My words turn really stupid, like they did in the line that preceded this one,

Or my words just don't sound like words at all,

Which still sounds stupid.

(but still probably not as bad as that rice cooker line)

And even when I don't say a single thing,

this eye-contact we're sharing 

feels a lot like INTERNAL SCREAMS

And to be honest, 

I've decided that this love feeling is a little nauseating.

But maybe I just have a weak stomach.

Or maybe I have the flu.

I mean, tis the season, right?

But wait,
 Valentine's Day is next week too.

Awe, shit.

technical difficulties

There is a tired that sleep can't fix,
A loneliness that even people cannot dismiss.
There are diseases that can't be cured by medication,
and suffocation that won't resolve by resuscitation.
There is a cold that coats or blankets or fireplaces cannot heat.

Cold hands. Cold feet. Cold hands. Cold feet. Cold hearts.

There are pains that can't be numbed,
and sadnesses that can't be fixed;
Not by laughter or friends 

or doctors or therapists.
There are breaths that hurt to take,
and there are hearts that only know how to break.

We are human.

I'm not saying I wish I weren't human,

Or that I wish all this pain did not exist...

I'm just saying that at least robots can be fixed.

But while my technical difficulties are not so easily repaired,
I've decided that the complexity of my human soul
is something I can bear.

Because although my skin blisters, 

And my stomach aches,

And my head pounds,

And my heart races,

And I ache

And I break

And I ache

And I break

And I feel...

Most importantly,

I heal.

Because I am alive.

I am alive, I am alive, I am alive.

frost that still bites

I haven't listened to that song 

since the night you sang it to me.

I don't think about Texas 

or wonder what you're thinking.

I won't go back to the place we met 

and reminisce about your eyes.

Because the look in your eyes

was never love or adoration, 

but a beautiful mask 

to disguise your beautiful lies.

I tore the pictures off the walls 

and split them all in two...

Just like you did to my heart 

when I found out I was one of few.

I stopped driving up the mountain 

and praying you would change,

I still can't go inside that building 

without it echoing your name.

And now all the winter does is remind me of

the shivers you sent down my spine 

when you convinced me this was love...

I could see your every breath
but I was too blind to see the truth.

You said words that I thought you meant,
but I guess that shows my youth.
When you wrapped me in your arms that night
I felt all fears of love depart,

But now the memory of the bitter cold

only leaves me with a bitter heart.