My life is falling back together...yet in the same sense...it's falling more apart. Each of my arms are being pulled in the opposite directions as I'm waiting for my nail polish to dry. Can things stand still? God.
Graduation is next Thursday. And then I'm done. I'm free? No. I have to live at home next year. I have to go to community college. I have to be miserable. Goodbye New York Film Academy...goodbye Colorado Christian University. Where can my passions reside, anymore?
People are coming back into my life...but I feel like more things are being taken from me than they are being absored into my skin. I need some lotion. I'm not making any sense, but my eyes are burning.
I don't like these mood swings. These slumps I let myself slip into...over the most trivial things. I bad look...a small feeling of loneliness. The small feelings you brush off become my biggest nightmare. I let these feelings consume my thoughts for such a long time...my stomach physically starts aching from it.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Take this life.
I focused on one spot on my wall for so long that memories started to flow into my head and I couldn't flush them out.
I just want to cry for forever. Maybe if I'm sucked dry of tears then the pain will go away with it. I wouldn't turn back time if I could, because we would still end up here, somehow. That's how He wants it. It just hurts so bad. I'm just honest.
I just want to cry for forever. Maybe if I'm sucked dry of tears then the pain will go away with it. I wouldn't turn back time if I could, because we would still end up here, somehow. That's how He wants it. It just hurts so bad. I'm just honest.
Disconnected; torn.
My hands are behind my back in chains. I'm disconnected from my head when I feel my heart burning like this.
Can you hear me from behind my newly locked door, dad...mom...Samantha...Maggie...anyone? I feel captured by something uncomfortable. I yearn to be surrounded by bright lights that make me feel lighter. Lighter than this, but heavy enough to make me realize that struggle is equivalent to scar tissue, and scar tissue is essential to my ever growing body that belongs to my only loving Daddy.
I want to cry when I stare at nothing, because when my mind is blank I think about the mountains. Mexico. The cross I had to carry. The cross He had to carry. And my immovable body feels useless because I'm not spreading my wings like I should and I'm not opening my mouth to present this beautiful knowledge I have of the world. Of God. Of the mountains.
It's like someone has taken a king sized sheet and placed it over my head. I can see through it but I still feel trapped. I'm drinking my Izze that tastes like alcohol and my chains are becoming tighter. My insence is pissed off at me for not burning it, and I set it on fire as we speak.
I want to dig my nose into that book for forever and just read the red words for a while.
I'm torn.
Can you hear me from behind my newly locked door, dad...mom...Samantha...Maggie...anyone? I feel captured by something uncomfortable. I yearn to be surrounded by bright lights that make me feel lighter. Lighter than this, but heavy enough to make me realize that struggle is equivalent to scar tissue, and scar tissue is essential to my ever growing body that belongs to my only loving Daddy.
I want to cry when I stare at nothing, because when my mind is blank I think about the mountains. Mexico. The cross I had to carry. The cross He had to carry. And my immovable body feels useless because I'm not spreading my wings like I should and I'm not opening my mouth to present this beautiful knowledge I have of the world. Of God. Of the mountains.
It's like someone has taken a king sized sheet and placed it over my head. I can see through it but I still feel trapped. I'm drinking my Izze that tastes like alcohol and my chains are becoming tighter. My insence is pissed off at me for not burning it, and I set it on fire as we speak.
I want to dig my nose into that book for forever and just read the red words for a while.
I'm torn.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Moments that matter.
After we scrubbed our make-up off and hugged the audience, Josh and I went back on stage. We just stood there for a moment-taking in the empty theatre full of memories. Reciting old roles, and recent one's. Holding back tears captured by smiles. Learning with every single breath that we would never be back on that stage, again. Realizing our run was over. Hurting over that and also being amazed by it. Seeing each other grow. Knowing we'll never be the same. The memory will be engraved into my mind forever.
Mr.Ryan caught me after the show and I gave him a rose. He pulled me in and said "You've always been a rock, baby. So strong in yourself, and you always do what I ask and never fail me." It always gets me to see a grown man cry. Especially when this grown man has helped you to become the person you are. I told him I loved him with tears running down my face-and I remember finally believing, for once in my life, that I'd made someone proud.
I hadn't had a particular reason for this kind of anguish. It hit me all at once and I felt betrayed. One little slip of a secret and my whole world seemed to fall apart. She followed me outside and I couldn't keep my balance-but I remember this moment. I avoided hearing all of the words and making eye contact because I didn't want to cry over a lie. I didn't want to cry at all. But the words finally sunk in and the lie seemed unimportant. She told me she loved me and wrapped her arms around me. The honesty didn't prevail until she kissed me on the cheek-and then I somehow understood that believing in people is more important than we know.
A stupid innocent kiss that led to another, and another, and oh crap...another. Though barely remembered, it felt good to be wanted by him, even if for only a moment. And for those moments wedged together...I felt like there could be something more to me than just a tie-dyed shirt and sandals made of rope.
She said she didn't even want to look at me...moments like those make me believe in my heart that her picture of me fills with hate in her head. Makes me think that all those years of protection were spent unreasonably. But in those moments I always think of a certain other moment. I look at my note on the wall from her that reads "I'll always be here for you" written in jelly pen on a piece of torn out diary paper. She gave it to me for protection. The moment gets sucked in by that other, stronger, one.
Those moments...they're the one's that matter.
Mr.Ryan caught me after the show and I gave him a rose. He pulled me in and said "You've always been a rock, baby. So strong in yourself, and you always do what I ask and never fail me." It always gets me to see a grown man cry. Especially when this grown man has helped you to become the person you are. I told him I loved him with tears running down my face-and I remember finally believing, for once in my life, that I'd made someone proud.
I hadn't had a particular reason for this kind of anguish. It hit me all at once and I felt betrayed. One little slip of a secret and my whole world seemed to fall apart. She followed me outside and I couldn't keep my balance-but I remember this moment. I avoided hearing all of the words and making eye contact because I didn't want to cry over a lie. I didn't want to cry at all. But the words finally sunk in and the lie seemed unimportant. She told me she loved me and wrapped her arms around me. The honesty didn't prevail until she kissed me on the cheek-and then I somehow understood that believing in people is more important than we know.
A stupid innocent kiss that led to another, and another, and oh crap...another. Though barely remembered, it felt good to be wanted by him, even if for only a moment. And for those moments wedged together...I felt like there could be something more to me than just a tie-dyed shirt and sandals made of rope.
She said she didn't even want to look at me...moments like those make me believe in my heart that her picture of me fills with hate in her head. Makes me think that all those years of protection were spent unreasonably. But in those moments I always think of a certain other moment. I look at my note on the wall from her that reads "I'll always be here for you" written in jelly pen on a piece of torn out diary paper. She gave it to me for protection. The moment gets sucked in by that other, stronger, one.
Those moments...they're the one's that matter.
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