Monday, January 31, 2011

Confessions of an Avid Notebooker

I often write random things in my notebook during class, and so I thought I would post a blog with various things. They're all very random, written at different times and about different things. But, here you go.


January 24, 2011
Why do high schoolers act like they're adults? They abuse their lives before they even have one. Where does innocence go? Is it lost by choice? Or does it leak from the pores, like a deflating balloon?
Can we ever get it back?


In the silence of the moment, she could hear him breathing.

He entered the school and the halls were completely empty. She first thought it must have been earlier than expected, but then noticed students in classrooms they passed. He was late, though he made no motive to rush to class. His pace was even. Pleasant.

He rounded a corner, caught a door handle, and fluidly turned it and slid the door open without creating any excess noise. It was as though he had done it a hundred times before. Perhaps he had.

As he entered the room, not one head turned. Not a pair of eyes, including that of the teacher's, raised to notice his arrival. He was not docked for tardiness. It was as though he was invisible.

He practically didn't exist at all.


You must learn to be still and hear the voices that continue with or without an audience. They will not take extreme measures or seek your correspondence in any way. You yourself must be determined to listen. And let me say now, it's worth it.

I've known your whisper before time began.


I believe I exist outside the norm;
A raging island in the eye of the storm.
I believe our situation is subject to this:
We're all created to be reborn.

Based on this hypothesis,
these words you will accept to dismiss,
because all you see by adversity,
is that my relationship is confined to business.

But in the middle of the sea,
I'm walking on water; I've been set free.
Upon this place, I see His face,
and I know that God is here with me.

Consisting outside of time and space,
I am determined to run this race.
Though I stumble, I shall not fall,
because God remains my saving Grace.


"We're all prisoners...but we're free in the extent that we know how we're controlled."


I remember these days,
and my worst fear is allowing
myself to feel the regret.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

It's natural.

I guess today was worth it, because my yesterday was overwhelming. I couldn't have asked for a better yesterday.

He was so young, but held years.
His face had been touched graciously by Pain. Pain knew him well.

I don't mind. But I'd rather be here. I'm running out of ways to say. To say.
To stay.

I'm working on being able to catch a whisper.
To stand still in the midst of movement, and catch that whisper. That glimpse.
And did you see that sunset? How could anything be so loud in silence?
How could anything be better than standing within that moment?

People all over the world are fighting Death for a chance to see that sunset.
And you, you gave it away.
I'm wondering how long it took you to decide it wasn't worth it anymore. How many seconds?

Seconds count.

I don't know how we're still here.
I don't know what to say. To say.
I don't know what you want from me,
or why I'm your only option.
I don't know why that's on me, but I don't mind.
No, I don't mind.

I am the giving tree. That's me.
And I'm happy.

You'd win every time.

Sunday, January 23, 2011


I've been wronged, and so I'm right,
and I'm the one still in the light.
The moment's gone, but lingers on,
with the immortality of tonight.

And in the earliest piece of dawn,
Youth shall awake with a yawn,
and see me still, in my free will,
transformation undergone.

Friday, January 21, 2011

a letter to the boy who waits.

I can't escape my thoughts, and they have led me here.

I think it's important to inform you of your precise assumptions, as well as your fatal misconceptions. Because I know that small ideas such as these can grow to define you.

You were right when you negated my inquiry, when you said, "Everyone is worth my time, especially her." Although it does not seem logical, it is the right response. It's as simple as that: She is worth your time.

So don't give up on your heart's desire. Don't accept defeat as long as you still see it as defeat. Don't wait. Be a fierce friend. Make it the only option.

You do understand what's being implied, don't you?
Perhaps not. But you will.

You're on a mountain, friend. Right now you are more concerned with dangling your feet than the taste, the smell, the view that is at your fingertips.

And this is where I find fault:
You think she's the only thing binding you to the planet. She put you there, and she is the only creature that can save your soul. And so you wait, dangling your feet, for a ghost to take your hand.

How selfish of you.

My darling, there is a multitude calling your name. And as such, you've been illuminated. There is a light inside of you. And I fear if you continue to fail to acknowledge it, it may just burn out.

You say that she is the only one that can help you. But there is another.

Philippians 4:13 says, "I can do everything through him that gives me strength."

And so forget about owing it to yourself. You owe it to your God, your Savior that lives within you. You chose to live in the light, to put your God first before anyone and everything else. And you have the influence to show others the light. You have the responsibility to go out and live for the Lord. But yet, here you sit, waiting for a ghost.

And now, Lord, for what do I wait?
My hope is in You.
-Psalm 39:7
I say these things because I love you, and it is crucial that you realize how many people are on your side, right there with you.

And that today has been given to you. How selfish it would be for you to spend one more moment dangling your feet.


Your friend,

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

A way without.

Reach out, find a hand.

You know what? I'm tired of it. Is it really my responsibility? Am I even wanted around anymore? I doubt it. I really do.

There are several other things I would like to say, but won't for fear of sounding like a jerk.
Even though we all know that's exactly what I am. Right? Right.

Well, I'll be here.
But for once, I don't want to take the initiative. I'm done.


I would find a way without you.
Tell him his eyes see too clear.
That mistake was gold.
Without you is something that I
could never do.
-Seven Years by Saosin

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

A little confession.

I was wrong, that's for sure. I'm not going to sugarcoat it, I'm not going to give an excuse, I'm not going to embrace the cowardly little girl within. I'm simply going to say to you, I was wrong.

And I'm sorry.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Reasons. Many of them.

I take it back.
I take back every word I ever wrote about you.
I take back every single time I stuck my neck out and let my guard down.
I could have spent it on anyone other than you.
- Say What You Wanna Say by Hit The Lights


Well, there you have it.

Here's a tip: don't listen to anything I say after midnight and a half, especially after 1:00 AM.
Because that's when my mind is vulnerable,
that's when it's raw thought.
That's when I don't censor anything and things just start coming out.

I go back through them in the morning, and usually I have no idea what I was saying.
 I've spent so much time here. That's been for your benefit, and that I don't regret. But this isn't going to change anything. It's only wishful thinking.

I stay wrecked and jealous for this simple reason.

I'm fooling myself, I've known that all along.
And here's two essential things you need to know:

I care. As in, it bothers me.

And I'll always be a liar.
I'm a coward, not a fighter,
disguised as a lover.
- A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing by This Providence

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Flaming Filing Cabinets

I've came across this thought once,
or maybe twice before.
Nonetheless, it's here again;
it's knocking at my door.

Today I've witnessed beauty,
and Death, and loss as well.
Words are bursting at my seams
and this is my attempt to tell.


I tried to take a bath, but was bombarded with thoughts. It's hard to relax when all the people inside my brain are running around trying to get their paperwork in order (I got that from SpongeBob), and so this is my outlet. Nice to see your face once again.

It began with a simple quote that happened across my mind:
Your life is an occasion. Rise to it.
- Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium
And then I started to think about an Emily Dickinson poem that I read today, about life and grief. It's probably my favorite that I've read by her. And that's a lot saying that I just completed reading 100+ of her poems over Christmas break. I shall post near the end here.

If you haven't noticed, the people in my brain are still struggling to get that paperwork in order.


And this is about the infamous you.

I didn't lie to you today. I really didn't let the "cat out of the bag," as you would call it. I understand why you might have thought that. It fits the description. But know now that I didn't. I owe you more than to be "that guy." Like what I've done in that past. Yeah, so no, don't worry, she's still in the dark about such things.

I'm glad you didn't ask what that writing actually was about, though. Because I might not have been able to tell you that. =) Don't fret, though. It's all good stuff.

While we're on you, I have another thing on my mind.
First of all, I'd like to thank you. For reasons left unsaid.
Secondly, I'm glad that we haven't had one of our famous fights in awhile. I hope they stay in the shadows. They displease me greatly.
And thirdly, today you told me that you only tell me "about 60% of [your] true thoughts on stuff like that." That was all fine when I read it, but afterwards it kind of poked at my brain a bit. It probably caught one of those filing cabinets on fire. And so now I'm really, really curious -- wait, no. Not even curious, it's more than that. Probably a word that my Vocabulary General isn't accustomed to. At any rate, I would really like to find out what it's like to hear 100% of your true thoughts on things like that, and on things like ... like everything.

How many other topics am I only getting 60% of?

And though I know it's probably for a reason, like I said, it poked at my brain. But if we're being truly, undeniably honest, you usually get about 75% of the truth from me. On things like that. And of other natures.


Today I watched the ending of Saving Private Ryan for the first time.
When I got home, I watched an online article of a boy, a victim of a flood, tell the rescuers to save his brother instead. After that, he was swept away by the waters.

And that's when it hit me -- that although this world is devastated by terror and ugly occurrences, beauty still exists. It's sometimes small, but it can break hearts and move mountains.

The important thing is that it exists.


A gave you a truth, and so it was. Although it was a milder version of what I really feel. I've been told that there are two sides to every story. That, I believe. Similarly, there are two scenarios to this story. Two possible outcomes. It could 1) Be false hope that I made up solely to be able to live a brighter day. Or 2) All those small things mean something and basically, it's real.

And although this blog is all about being real, my gut is against the latter.

I've said it before:
I'm haunted by hands.


To wrap this up, I'll post the poem that I promised earlier.

I measure every grief I meet
With analytic eyes;
I wonder if it weighs like mine,
Or has an easier size.

I wonder if they bore it long,
Or did it just begin?
I could not tell the date of mine,
It feels so old a pain

I wonder if it hurts to live,
And if they have to try,
And whether, could they choose between,
They would not rather die.

I wonder if when years have piled--
Some thousands--on the cause
Of early hurt, if such a lapse
Could give them any pause;

Or would they go on aching still
Through centuries above,
Enlightened to a larger pain
By contrast with the love.

The grieved are many, I am told;
The reason deeper lies,
Death is but one and comes but once

And only nails the eyes.

There's grief of want, and grief of cold,
A sort they call 'despair,'
There's banishment from native eyes,
In sight of native air.

And though I may not guess the kind
Correctly yet to me
A piercing comfort it affords
In passing Calvary,

To note the fashions of the cross
Of those that stand alone
Still fascinated to presume
That some are like my own.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

A Lot of Nonsense

Tomorrow is the start of my second semester at MAC. Right now, I should be doing my online assignment I am instead. Trying to get the hang of this whole...blogging phenomenon.

Really, I'm not much a blogger anymore. I just like writing, and this is the safe place for me to put all that. I've looked around at a few blogs by other people, and they're so fancy and proper. But when I signed up on this website, I told myself that this would not become another social networking site for me. This is strictly for my benefit.

I'm the type of person that likes to do what others do. I always somehow find a way to say I'm not good enough, or to shape myself into being someone that I'm not. I find people that outshine me by far, and that always discourages me to rise to my full potential. Recently, I've tried to get rid of that. Because I was made exactly how God wanted me to be.

It snowed today. I took some pictures. I'll try to post one.
See if this works.

Well, it's not of snow. But this flock of birds have been terrorizing the trees around my house lately and I've been trying to get a picture of them airborne for awhile. And as soon as I walked through my backyard today, whoosh! There they were.

I know I haven't talked about photography much on here, and that's for a reason. You see, I love photography. I know a lot of teenagers say that these days...but it's true. I love it. But there's more to me than just photography, and lately I feel like people don't get that. They see me as the girl with the camera. On those stupid Facebook things where they have to say one nice thing about me, it's always, "You take really good pictures!"

And that's all great, but the truth is I love writing just as much as I love photography. And, in fact, I might take a little more pride in it, even though it's less accepted among my friends.

It shouldn't be that way, though. I shouldn't have to isolate my talents. And sooo, even though this is my creative outlet in terms of writing, you'll also be seeing more of my pictures posted. Because that's who I am.


I did something today,
I might have said too much.
And I know that you'll either thank me, or hate me,
but either way, I did it for you.

Really, I only suggested it
because she and I both know of this unspoken vow
and I wanted to let her know that it would be okay with me.
That she had the option, no strings attached.

So, you're welcome.

Monday, January 10, 2011


She means that, I can tell. By her voice, by her eyes, by the way she whispers the syllables.
Her vote means yes. You no longer have a choice.


I don't listen to music anymore.
I think it's because each song is tied to a memory that I want to get away from. I need something new to keep through my head. Maybe that's why I've been reading so much lately. I'm linking now with something new.

You've grown up too fast.
I mean, we're just kids.
And everything that's happening? Yeah, it's real. But this should still be early. New.
I haven't covered everything yet. I've barely scratched the surface.

You say I know you?
I barely know you at all.
It's supposed to be like that. I want to have all the time ahead of us to know you further.

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

You have no idea.

I didn't sign up to play matchmaker.
But in a way, I guess I did.
Though it was not intentional.

Here's what you should know:
sometimes I say things,
not because that's how I feel,
but because I'm trying to fool myself
into believing what I'm saying.

I lie. To you. To Everyone.
But mostly to myself.

I'm just pretending,
but I guess that means I care.

I'm really trying to not feel this way.
You have no idea.

He could be yours, too.

What am I saying? It's not like you were ever mine. I never had you. I just held on too long. Firm grip.

You could love her,
I might mind,
but I'll tell myself it's great.

I'll tell myself it's meant to be.

I've done that in the past,
why should now be any different?

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

I'm here.

You say, "I'm here." But that itself is the problem.
He knows you're present. He knows you're alive.
The point is, why should he have to get your attention?
Why should he have to ask where his friends are?
You are each in your own quarters, this for sure,
you announce your existence when asked,
but don't address yourself by "friend."
If you were his friend, he wouldn't have to ask
where you are.
He would not have to seek you.
You would have already found him.
It shouldn't get to the point to where you
have the obligation to speak out to him.
As a friend,
you should know him. He should know you.

Speak out, he knows you're alive.
Don't dismiss anything. Not a single word.
Because even though you might convince yourself otherwise,
every pain and thought he has is real.
It's real.

He needs you now more than ever before.
And please tell me, as a friend,
that you'll do anything, anything,
to make him feel alive again.

Upon my waking.

I hate when I can feel myself getting angry. Or embarrassed. Or when I realize that I've said something wrong, or I'm at fault for some reason, someway.

Today's been like that. This past week has been like that.

And in my failure, I shall rise.

I feel sick.

But to counteract whatever these growing feelings of anger are, I shall think on pleasant things. I shall fill my mind with them, and create a whole new world while I dream of things that will make tomorrow a little brighter upon my waking.

That would be ideal.

Saturday, January 1, 2011


In a way - I'm happy,
and all the more defined,
but as my thoughts grow sharper,
I'm nothing but confined.

Sure - in her lies beauty,
and a smile that lives and sings,
but that's not right for someone
that is meant for greater things.


And today, I realized that I have no grasp on anything. That I am but a piece. a crumb, if you will.
In other words: I hold no substance. I am far from desirable. And I haven't the slightest idea of where I am going in life.

I know hope is for the best at this point, and for that I am eternally grateful. It's a great moment to share, to be blessed with, to have something to hold on to. Hope defines us all. And right now, I think all you need is something to focus your eyes upon. To be able to look up and say, there is something out there for me.

For you. For me.

And likewise, I shall sit back and not interfere. Because when I start to meddle, things always end up crashing down upon me.

I'm over it, I can be happy, I don't care like I used to.

But keep in mind where my loyalties lie.
And that even though I shall try to be selfless in this situation, keep in mind that that doesn't necessarily mean that you have a right to be selfish. Because there are other people at hand here, and there's always a bigger picture.

And tonight, I shall not be here.
I'm training myself to step back into the shadows.
To disappear completely from your life.