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The bug jumped out of my pants and I laughed.

My fingers are shaking as I type.

My tears are hot as they stream down my face.

I am breathless and alone.

Alone.

Empty.

Broken.

I have failed.

For the last time...

I have failed.

Breath in.

Breathe out.

Stop breathing.

Glide away and so be healed.

Waking up is too hard.
I find myself losing breath as I crawl out of the flower bed...feeling the tips of my fingertips go numb. Wanting my whole body to feel the same...but not wanting to feel at all, really. I told myself I wouldn't live a selfish life...but I have already failed.

I failed when I spoke too much.
I failed when I dialed your number.
I failed when I spilled the milk.
I failed when I asked you for bookfair money.
I failed when I was selfish.
I am failing now.

All I can say is...I'm sorry.
I wish I could amount more than a pair of dirty jeans and a magenta hat.
I wish for too much and find hope has left my body.

So....glide away and so be healed.

Beauty is not in the eye of this beholder.

I don't like it when you stare. When you raise one eyebrow and let me assume the rest. There's so much air...and you let me make the words you do say, fester. They swell up inside of me and I try not to let them make a mark, but they always sliver through the patches of rougher skin. The scars, you know? It's hard, sometimes.

I don't like it when you barge in my room at midnight, saying you love me. It's the liquor talking and as much as I refuse for my tongue to spit out those same words back...I fearfully do, anyway. Because what happens if I don't? That's something I wouldn't want to find out at midnight-with a huge day ahead of me.

I don't like your smell. Alcohol mixed with cigaretts and cheap cologne. You try to cover up so much more than just the booze. You try and hide your insecurities, you're ugliness, you inability to love...your own daughter. Words are only words. And they can build you up-but just as easy they can tear you down. The drunken "I love you's" only hurt me, daddy.

I don't like distance. Because as much stuff I don't like about you...there's still a whole where you should be...and I don't like that you'll never be able to fill it.

But most of all...I don't like that you can't even find one beauty in me.
Not one. Because I guess I've learned that your eyes don't hold much beauty, don't see much beauty, don't realize anything beautiful. And not in just me...but everything. In setting suns, in paycheck day, in your daughters hair growing longer...beauty is not in the eye of this beholder.

Will I live another day?

Sometimes breathing is beautiful.
Even when things are rough, I inhale.
Even when things are great, I exhale.

Other times I find myself face planted into the ground. Body shaking. World moving too fast. I'm hurling. I'm crying. And this feeling doesn't make me want to breathe easy.

I'm suffocating myself. And right now...I'm not even gasping for air.

Helps me grow.

Stupid little things are what make me exuberant.
Tonight I decided to stop worrying myself on where I'm supposed to go for college. If I'm not able to go to Colorado this year, I'll go when I can. If I'm meant to go there...God will make it happen. I know He will.

I always notice how much happier everyone is when it's warm. We can all go to the snowcone stand and enjoy the sun and each other. Behnoosh and I drove with the windows down and the music blaring thinking "this is how summer is going to be" minus school. It doesn't matter what happens in the fall because summer is ours. No one can take it away from us.

We sat out in front of her house for a while, just talking. She's very interesting to talk to. There's so much more to her than what appears. Sooooo much more. And it's interesting to get to know more of her, everyday. It astounds me how much she really does care about other people and about the world. As much as she probably doesn't realize, too. It's funny. We were at starbucks 2 nights in a row trying to accomplish my math homework, last week, and just ended up talking. What do we have to talk about? We talk all the time. But I'm glad God put such a wise person in my life. It's good to have people in your life like that. We are polar opposite's in our views on life-but I wouldn't want it any other way. I learn so much from her.

It's so weird that everything is coming to an end. But it finally feels right. I'm glad you finally wrote! I missed reading. I always keep your blog up on my safari because I love what we have. Just ours. This is just ours.

God. Through every bad choice I make-please help me make the right one's more often. I'm asking you that more than ever, right now, at this moment. Last night I finally talked to Jade. For....about an hour cause it was really late. Face-to-face. That was hard. I miss her so much. But it's hard to let her back into my life, completely. So incredibly hard.

But all of this stuff...every single letter...helps me grow.

Citrus.

Maybe I've got it all wrong...this wouldn't be anything new. I just wish you'd be there. I know it's obviously too much to ask-and I'm sorry for ruining your days, wasting your time, and consuming your careless thoughts. I want to love you, trust me. Because this kind of love exists so uniquely because this kind of love is in no way disguised. This kind of love is programmed into your soul from before you're born until long after you're gone. So why was I the exception to this love? I like being different...but if being mediocre meant that you'd love me...I'd be plain for you, daddy.