Wrinkle up your nose.

I've never found someone as similar to me, as Jordan.
It doesn't matter what I've lived through or what I've done.
Mostly because she's lived it too. Mostly because she's done it, also.

It's a breath of fresh air. She understands me more than anyone ever could. She can predict what I'm feeling-cause chances are she's felt the same way. I just want to hug on her...but she's thousands of miles away, now. Another reason we're alike-we're both IN LOVE with Colorado. She moved there about a month ago. At first she was my k-life leader, then she was my mentor, and now...she's my friend. My sister. We had a long conversation last night until 2:00 in the morning. I felt God gushing through my veins and I was up for hours even after we hung up.

Yesterday was my birthday. It didn't feel right. Jade and Marisa forgot. Maggie simply just didn't care. I'm not sure why I had a tiny shred of hope, thinking I might recieve a simple text of "happy birthday." I mean am I wrong? I thought 18 was pretty huge, no matter who you are. No matter how you feel. That one hurt. That one hurt like hell.

Today I was sitting in English, when I became internally paralyzed. All I wanted to do was run around and cry till my eyes bled, and I wanted to go swimming. Not just anywhere...in the Ozarks. I wanted to scream like I was 8, instead of 18, and I wanted someone to hold me. Instead, I picked up the bathroom pass and paced through the halls-looking for a familiar face. Looking for something other than Frankenstein. I hate that book. I hate that book and I haven't even checked it out, yet.

This feeling isn't fair.
This feeling gives a tear.

Why is this noise resounding in my head? STOP!
I won't let you in like that. Not ever again.

Noise can be deceiving. It can either be banging whispers, or non-chalant screaming and then it can be nothing. Perhaps everything is in your imagination. Perhaps only silence exhists and within it-we exist. Perhaps noise is just a way to pass time. Perhaps everyone is invisible and I am creating my own world. You're not real, I'm real, but nothing else is really solid. But that's depressing to think about, and that cannot be true in any culture, in any life.

What drives you?
Because I'm trying to list the things that drive me...

-The empty spaces between hard things that stretch out my capacity to love.
I learn how to love by learning how to lock my jaw and bear the raw truth of lies. Of hate. Of anything other than love. Because everything that isn't love-teaches you how TO love.

I'm not making sense...but atleast I'm breathing.
I'm not thinking clearly...but atleast my fingers are moving.
I'm not that strong...but your absence will not make me weary.
You are strong. I am not. You+me=alot better. You lift me up. And I'm not the easiest person to lift. I weigh more than you'd expect, I'm 5'10" and I tell ya I come with alot of bagage. I should come with a disclaimer.

Will someone stick around? Will someone walk on by and understand these jumbled up sentences? Explain them to me. I know they mean something...but I'm not sure what language it'll take to find out.

Love me. When I'm crying, do nothing but hold me. When I blow out my candle every night...guide me safely under the covers. Softly shut my eyes. Gently stroke my hair. Say "I love you". And then I'll believe you.

There are strings around my wrist and I am yelling for a father! I am yelling for my father who lays downstairs on the couch passed out. I am screaming for a sister to stop muffling my cries. I am yearning for a friend...to learn the biggest thing there is to know about me.

...to be continued.

Just wrinkle up your nose and smell the vanilla.