Wreckage.

I want to read so many books. Snuggle up in my bed for days with just a head lamp and a billion pages. Maybe the occasional tea and breath of fresh air. It is now November and thoughts are rustling about with the leaves. There aren't many leaves, but there are copious amounts of thoughts outside. It's funny how one day you go from a mask and the next it's only warm colors and new things. No one said it was easy, Yahweh continually does His thing of giving and taking. Which is better? Because I collapse at the beauty of His gifts, but I also collapse at the thought of emptiness and loss. What does this world need? So many more thoughts and so many more pumpkins outside.

What can I make better? This whole seasonal thing should bring me so much joy. Leaves changing, climate reversing, and new clothing arising. It should be a happy time with my friends and family, and if that is so...if that is absolutely a comfortable thought...then why do I feel the stone of my exterior getting harder? My dimples losing extinction and my roots growing out faster than usual. Why do I sometimes not wanna get out of bed because if I just close my eyes my homework will be done, my scene will be memorized, and I will feel better when I wake up again. And then I do wake up again and the cycle continues.

I haven't been to church in a long time. Since before all of this wreckage. I know that the enthusiasm at my fingertips changes so quickly and abrubtly, but I need to feel happy. At this point I am not where I want to be. I hate my school, my living arrangements, and this figure in the reflection-ah my fingers are typing all the wrong things. I wish I could just write about a painting. Or poet. Or author. Or book. Anything except go into detail about this hole I'm in; this hole in my chest. This longing, longing, longing to just be important. To be loved fully and wholly and to reciprocate that love in my bones because it is so extravagant and it is so real. I want my passion to come back. The same passion I feel when I'm in Colorado. The passion to want to be better. To feel God in my every step. Now THAT is a good feeling. That is a feeling worth risking your life for.

God, I hate crying. God, but it free's my soul in a way. What a mess I am.

I just need to want to read the bible. To want to stay sober because I am who I am for purpose. I am here to do something. I gotta do something.

Take A Minute.

"I feel like the best retaliation is love. Fighting for what you believe in is right, but fighting for the purpose of hurting someone, will only lead to more war."

I don't even know how I uttered those words. Here I am reading my own essay and someone had underlined them. Everything around me seems unrealistic. Today the essay was due and I only had under an hour to complete it because of my procrastination. One of the options was to write about a favorite song, and this was my intro:

-Let's be honest...sometimes life feels like a band-aide repeatedly getting ripped off. You think to yourself, "okay, tomorrow's gunna be better" and it's not. You wake up and realize that your friend is gone, your house was robbed, and you don't even know who you are. You jump in your car hoping to escape the next catastrophe and then you see him. That old man on the side of the road holding up the typical sign of "spare change?" and you melt. That day in particular you believe with everything you have that this man is without and is going to buy a banana with any change he gets. Well, maybe not a banana, but it's the first thing that popped into my head. You feel like giving. You feel like giving everything you have to this man because even though your friend is gone, your house was robbed, and you don't know who you are...you do know that you have a lot more than this man on the street with the musky smell and soggy sign. So you stop. You reach in your pocket and all you have is a Guatemalan coin and a five dollar bill. You give him both and he says "Bless you, darling"so gentle as if your own father had said it to you. "Nothing is perfect man, that's what the world is. All I know is I'm enjoying today, because it isn't everyday that you get to give". K'naan can really bring the heat.

B&E.

It's a sign that the mark of this house will never be safe for me. Whether it's behind open doors or closed. My life has been a constant series of 'Criminal Minds' episodes. I don't even watch that show. My insomnia will never shut up after this.

Breakable Bonds.

I've written about her before. This different kind of relationship, simply because the blood running through our veins. The seemingly unbreakable bond of actual sisterhood.

Ya know, I do think of times. I think of times when I was happy to be with her. So very proud to call her my big sister. Holding my head up and holding her hand while feeling on top of the world. Her writing me a letter for every day of camp my first year, because only she knew how to make me laugh the hardest when I was feeling homesick. Roller blading at Andrews Park before dark and skipping stones on imaginary bodies of water. Literally wrapped in her arms when he would try and hurt me again with more than just words. She was everything I needed, and I was her little sister.

Now she's got everyone fooled. I yearn for that closeness we used to have, so in tiny ways I let her manipulate me. I let her do things that my strong willed nature wouldn't allow me with anyone else. A person who's willing to call the cops on me instead of for me. A person who calls me crazy and turns my grandparents against me.

When I was at Josie's funeral the other day her sister got up there and spoke. Few tears escaped her because she mostly smiled. They were best friends...they saw so much good in each other and they brought out the best in each other. I knew that from the moment she began talking...and it got me thinking. I don't know my big sister. If something were to happen to her...I wouldn't know what to say about her..."yeah one time she tried to jump out of the car and tried to call the cops on me"...oh and "remember the time she said she hated me and didn't talk to me for 2 months?!"...the fondest memories are vague...and they are from years ago.

And what if I died? My family doesn't really know me. My grandparents only allow themselves to know Samantha's image of me. They are good caring people, but they are blind. They are blind to the point that it's just sickening. They just think I'm awful. And anyone could protest and say "they love you" but that's not my statement here. I know they love me. I know that, I know that they always will. But the thing that makes me hurt. The thing that spins around in my insomniatic brain is how they'll always love her more. Yeah, I'm selfish. I should take the love I'm given and let it fester in my soul. I should let it captivate me and relish in the thought of how blessed I am to have even a drop. But let's be honest, I am selfish. I want to be loved fully and I want them to love my spirit, too. My soul. Not just because they have to-but because they like being around me. Because I can light up a room somehow and make a joke in a sad moment to just see even a grin. But that isn't me. That will never be me to them and I can try as hard as I like but my guts will just churn and my head will just hurt. I am grateful that I am loved. But the way that my anatomy is set up...the way that my spirit works...I'd almost rather be hated by them. Atleast I would know that it was a real emotion. Atleast I'd know the truth beyond the blood.

I have to take my glasses off so the water can escape. I guess feeling deep sorrow is better than feeling nothing at all. I prayed for a challenge but I didn't pray for my friend to die. I didn't pray for my nightmares to come back, and I certainly didn't pray for my other's friends possible death. I prayed for sustainable life. For a life worth living, and working towards to get better. But all I want to do now is hang out with the wrong people who bring me down, so they can offer me something that will lift me back up.

Rylynn.

Her smile. The strength at which she can throw a damn dodgeball. Her past. Her present. Her uncertain but passionate future. Her capability to compartmentalize. Her boldness.

The pain beneath her smile. The strength she lacks. Her past. Her present. Her passionate, passionate, but unknowing future. Her incapability to be okay in anywhere she doesn't feel loved, but the way she ables herself to love me. Her untrusting nature. Her cuts.

If I could give her a hypothetical name...it would be 'Rylynn' because the song I'm listening is called that. It reminds me of her...

I walked into her room and it reeked of blood. Not a one week out of the month kind of thing...rather a thing that would make me aware of the 30 gashes to each arm...a kind of smell that would tell my brain immediately of the gashes under her ribcage and the scars on her abdomen. The sort of aroma that would lead directly to the sears in her legs, knees, and even calves. It was hard to see anything but torture in her. Though completely sober, her mind was in the clouds. Rylynn was gone long before I ever found her.

Flowers.

It wasn't real until I saw her. I remember getting up that morning. Going to only one of my classes. Picking Sarah up. Praying...praying so hard and so soft before we ate the rice. I remember getting to Behnoosh's house and putting the huge flowers in our hair. I remember offering to drive, but regretting that I did. I remember getting there, and giving Lauren's stone cold face a hug. What do you say to someone who's just lost their best friend in the worst way imaginable? Nothing. There is nothing.

We sat down and watched a slideshow of pictures. From when she was born all up until just a week ago where there popped up pictures of Josie and Behnoosh...Josie and Sarah. And all I could do was sit there and pat the strangers knee next to me who had no one to hold on to. At the end of the video there was footage of that beautiful girl...she was on a boat, with a flower in her hair...waving goodbye. The pastor read my favorite verse from Eclessiastes "A Time For Everything" and I felt God's warmth beneath my eyelids and I couldn't hold my tears anymore. It was open casket...my God, I don't know why but she still looked beautiful. I couldn't will myself to go up there, though, so I waited in the back until Behnoosh and Sarah were finished shaking the families hands. Then we got to my car, and just sat there for a while...

I got home a few hours later and just sat there in my driveway for a little over an hour. It's all that made sense to do, really. And though I'm excited that I am about to head to see Sufjan, I'm afraid of this week. Of staying in Dallas with Lexie. Of convincing her to go somewhere she doesn't want to go simply because I don't want to have to endure this, again. I don't want all feeling to evaporate from my bones, and I don't want to be sitting in MY best friends funeral, next week. God, I am so scared.

Accepting The Unexpected.

This weekend full of joy turned into a disaster. An hour into the 11 hour car ride to Denver I found out she died by a once sentence text message. I didn't know how to react. We were all starting to become so close and I thought they meant another Josie...because this wasn't real. I had seen her 48 hours before...and it just doesn't seem right that this happy person isn't here anymore. I sat in the back of Ashley's car with two people I barely know-holding in my sobs. I called Behnoosh to see if she was okay...Josie had been at her birthday dinner just days before. Then I called Sarah and couldn't even understand her. She was crying so hard that nothing made sense and all I could do was say "I know" and "I love you" through her sobs. That broke me. Sarah never cries. I got off the phone and I couldn't keep it in anymore. We finally stopped to use the restroom and thank God it was a one person because I got in there, ran the water, and just broke. But the drive continued and I did my best to focus on the better.

Lauren and I talked a while in the car while Ashley slept in the back. We mainly talked about Lexie, though. How this seemed like the perfect weekend for my visit because she was getting worse by the day-and I knew she needed me. It was finally my turn to drive...I got the graveyard shift...basically 12-3ish...it was brutal. I got a call from Maggie telling me that Lexie was gone and that's all she could say. I was so mad. I wanted to know more and I just didn't understand. Not long after did I get a call from Lexie from her therapists phone. She had been there for 8 hours and they were making her go to a 72 hour facility in the phsych ward at the hospital. What? This wasn't happening. I came to Colorado to see her...to be there for her...and now she was going to be a patient in the ER? The next day I recieved more calls from her...I found out that she had blood tests and psychiatric evaluations and that they deemed her "not a harm to herself or others". Bullshit. The 30 gashes on each arm are a dead give away. They released her and they stayed in a hotel over night. So that day she was completely in the dark. It wasn't until later that I found out that she got kicked out of the program, and was already on the first flight home. I didn't even get to see her...

But I'm here. We finally get in at 5am and I crawl into Maggie's bed and we slept. The next day Phil took Lauren, Ashley, and I to the park and we talked for a while before Austin showed up. When Maggie finally got home we all went to PETA which is a food/hookah bar. So chill and so relaxing. We smoked the sky :) After that we all went to Phil and Austin's gig at this 24 hour coffee shop. God, it was perfect. They played Trevor Hall, Bob Marley, Matisyahu, Outkast, and some original stuff. At one point Lauren looked at me grabbed both of my hands making me agree in total absolution that we were so happy. And I was. We all were. Sitting there watching these beautiful people sing and hanging out with the homeless people who kept yelling "play some screamo!"...it was medicine for me. Then a couple of us came home and I actually slept...for a while. It was phenomenal. Then today I was woken up by a leaky pipe, but then we chilled for a while and went to Boulder. I got this hilarious new beanie and a new ring. We ate at the BEST burrito place who had a live DJ and then we headed to Maggie's house. Hands down the most beautiful home I had ever seen. They live on a ranch with a barn and a billion horses and the cutest ranch style home. It's huge and everything's beautiful and wooden. I was mesmorized. Her mother was the cutest. She just wouldn't let us go. As we were leaving she just started praying mid-sentence and I thought about how blessed we all were to be together-though I don't know anyone in this house but a few people. We got home...and Lexie started calling me. She had promised me that once she got home-she was going to check herself into a 3 day rehab facility...but she didn't. She told me she was going out to party and I told her I had to go shower, which was a lie. I walked outside and took a long walk. I just laid on the grass and wanted to sink into the earth for a while. But when I got back to the gap year house everyone was packing up and in the car. They were honking at me and I had figured out they were all headed to Molly's house. There was so much going on and I felt alone. Maggie didn't really invest much time into talking with me so I told them to go without me and that I'd have Austin pick me up later. So I'm at the house with Emily and Jesiah...two people whom I've known since yesterday. We ate hot pockets and talked about how gross they were. Then we went to the basement and watched Dane Cook. Now were in the living room and are all silent waiting for Austin to come. It's funny how two strangers can make me forget my troubles more than my closest friends.

God, I need some rest.

Such Beauty.

God, I am going to be in Colorado in three days, Dallas in 8, and Tennessee in 22..23..24 days. I am such a blessed little girl. These nights, though nostalgic, are so healing me. James Morrison lulls at me and I am actually...happy where I'm at. The three of us make sense. I can't wait for Sufjan. Even though the circumstances were odd, they are such beautiful souls.

I love picturing this weekend. Good friends, good music, good coffee, and good hookah. He will be there and she will be there and that silly little thing that makes us connected will be there. I can't wait for the 12 hour car ride to read bits of the books I am bringing...I can't wait to glide down the slopes, not knowing what the hell I'm doing...I can't wait for Austin and Phil's gig at the 24 hour diner with the shitty coffee and Scott Miller. This feels unbelievably surreal.

Everything. Did you see that sunset? God, I love when you show me things like that.

Veins.

Contradiction is spinning in silly little circles around me. As I am consumed into this whirlwind of feeling everything around me, He wraps His arms around me, too. It's strange. I am in this state of mind that isn't my state of mind and yet I feel this warmth from Yahweh. This certainty that time will heal all of these open wounds. The hum of my fan and the fullness of my belly remind me of how blessed I am.

I am trying to weave my way back into my own story. The one with meaning...not the one I'm living. The pointless 'Waiting For Godot', if you will. I am waiting for something that I will never receive. Closure. That is all of what the play is about. Not getting closure...which is such an obscure yet beautiful thing. I am a slave in the play...I get beaten, kicked, and spit on. I am literally on a rope as the rubbish of my life is set before the audience. I dance and they laugh. I think and they listen...but I say nothing.

I keep remembering him. The way he looked at me, and the places he took me. It's always in this season that I think of him most. But I can only look ahead at the crooked path in front of me, instead of the shit path behind. Life's what I make it. Duh. I just gotta do this. Life is more than this. Life is so much more. God.

108.

This is the 108th post. I remember the first day I started blogging. Amy suggested it to me, and it was the best suggestion in the whole wide world. I remember when we decided to do this together. And I'm so glad that we are always connected in this-and Thursdays. I know that no matter where life takes me, no matter where we both end up...every Thursday I will think of you whole-heartedly.

"Life is shorter than we think."

As my fingers move to form sentences, Dave Barnes comes on shuffle and sings this melody to me. Jessica and I are planning a November trip to Tennessee to enjoy Dave Barnes, Ben Rector, and one of my best friends in the world. This weekend is my play, and next weekend I'll be in the arms of someone who needs me. I pray for her every moment I can. I am so excited for Denver, but I think I'm more excited to see Maggie...with every breath I love that girl more. The hope she keeps in her hand for Lexie. The strength that she keeps-when everyone else seems to be throwing their precious gift away...she is always strong. I love her so much. She keeps telling me how perfect the timing of my visit is...that Lexie is getting worse by the day...that scares me so bad. I'll only be there for barely 3 days and all that I can do is love her. That's all.

My other Maggie, my seemingly other half at times, is going through hell. It makes me hurt that petty little girl drama cuts the deepest. Cause it does. Especially when it's your Senior year and you're just trying to get by.

Jade and Sean are inseperable, and I am okay with that. I have a strange peace about it. I'm searching for more than a crush from afar or a silly little hookup.

There are so many thoughts rushingg through my head, and nothing to piece it together, but this is my blog so I do what I want :) I don't want to be this lazy, anymore. Though my life is hectic, there's so much more time for God. I know I'm not glorifying Him...and how sickening is that? Kelsey MOVE MOVE MOVE.

I cannot wait for my dreds, tattoe, and nose-piercing. That sounds so trashy all-together, but I need it. I don't know why-but I do. I also need closeness back. With my family. I miss my sister. God, I miss my grandparents. God...I miss You. I don't know how I am going to feel close to you again, because kamp is too far away for that...I'm slipping, slipping, falling away from You Lord. All I ask...is for You to not let go. As cheesy or mediocre as that sounds...just don't. I sadly lose faith way too easily. So I'll work on that and you just don't let go okay?