leaving day leaving thoughts leaving excitement leaving hurts

I have until 6:45ish to have a phone before I'm set apart as a missionary and my life quite literally changes forever.

And I've been waiting for this and waiting for this and looking forward to this and waiting for this and maybe it's because I hardly slept last night but there are so many emotions bundled up inside me and I don't know why and I'm so much more scared about this than I thought I would be and I know it'll be fine because of course it will be but it's all the unknown it's all new and challenging and life is only gonna get faster, yknow? And I was deleting pictures off my phone and I just lost it. All of my memories from months and looking at me laughing with friends who don't talk to me anymore in places I love and can't go back to yet. Change is exciting, but it's scary. It hurts, I think. I don't know. I might forget I have this blog by the time I get back in 18 months. What's gonna happen?

something new.

my chest hurts

I guess it's my age group I'm in now that I'm watching people I know and am friends with start to get married. I've had conversations with people about it, about how many years we think we have before it's us in white too. But bro we're just kids, yknow? I'm about to turn 19, and I know a girl who was married at 19 and I do not understand it at all. Like, there's so much I still have to learn about myself before I'm ready to live with another person in a codependent relationship and share schedules and finances with. Someday, sure, maybe even sooner than I think, but please not in the next few years.

Anyway, that's not really what's on my mind, not entirely. It was just halloween weekend, and I've had to scroll through what feels like miles of posts from halloween parties and pumpkin patch visits and costumes and friends and, you guessed it, folks, I'm lonely. Frick like I'm fine, yknow? I'm good, I'm not depressed, I'm about to leave for my mission, I'm good. But I'm so sad, too. My friends are gone, and I know a few of them are still good friends of mine and that won't change, but they're busy and have new friends and are plenty happy enough to forget I exist at least some of the time, and I'm just not. I miss my friends at college, I miss my friends from philmont, I miss my ex. I mostly miss anyone contacting me to hang out or just talk or be bored together. I'm constantly being reminded that I'm not essential in the lives of my peers right now. And I don't want to change what's happening. I know I'll be on to new things and people soon enough, but it's gonna be a crying night for sure.

So say what I will about marriage, but at least it's gotta be nice to have a friend who's always there.

poetry dump — internal monologue

you could be better than this
          than what
you pathetic excuse for a person you know what
          but i don’t
yes you do you know full well that you changed for a beautiful second you had become someone you were so thin with a wide smile full of laughter and kisses in the starlight and you weren’t scared kate don’t you see that
          stop reminding me
no you weren’t scared you were so excited for the future you were so excited for things that had yet to come and now you’re back you’re back here letting this anxiety in your throat keep you from making decisions and moving forward and it’s clogging you up and you’re crying and crying and why are you so sad all the time now
          i don’t know i’m not doing it on purpose
don’t lie to me you do know stop acting like this isn’t your fault like this isn’t you like you don’t consciously stay up late eyes blue white from screens and scrolling while never getting up and how are you such a mess why are you such a mess why don’t you just fix it why can’t you consistently fix anything without falling back into these self-dug ruts where you pine and scroll through old pictures and wait for friends to reply from a distance with their new lives and new friends and you wonder why they won’t talk to you and how they are so happy and you want them to be happy but also you want to be happy i know you i know you aren’t that selfless
          i try to be it makes me feel better
you just want to be you want people to forget about you because then you’d have a real reason to be upset instead of just feeling forgotten for no good reason all the time and you want love so badly but maybe you don’t deserve the kind of love you’re looking for maybe you only ever deserve half friendships and lack of real connection and them leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and god why don’t they ever get tired of leaving i’m tired i’m tired of it i'm
          i know me too i’m tired of it too
then why don’t you fix it why don’t you get up and make something of yourself you sit there and let fat crawl back under your skin even though you starved yourself for years over this sort of thing and hated yourself for years over this sort of thing and you wish you were thinner and prettier and your legs were longer and your face weren’t so round and your hair was more uniform and you wish people liked you and boys liked you and that you had the self control to be a better person but no you’re useless
          i’m not useless
yes you are you know you are
          but i’m trying can’t you see that i’m trying
i can hear it i can hear that you want to be trying but you aren’t you sit and you wake up late and you never leave the house and you eat disgusting food because you’re disgusting you’re pathetic and dance was the best thing you ever had and you lost it because you weren’t good enough at starving yourself and now you’re so full of self pity because you’re weak you’re too weak to stop eating again and to leave the house and exercise or anything
          leave me alone i’m so tired you think i don’t know you think i don’t know this stuff
only because i tell you if i stopped reminding you you’d forget
          i wouldn’t forget
you would
          please leave me alone
i can’t
          please leave me alone i am so tired
we’re all tired do you want to be alone
          no
then let me stay
          i’ll find someone else
you can’t i’m the only one who’s never left
          that’s only because
and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving
          please stop
and leaving and leaving and leaving and leaving
          they won’t always there’s gotta be someone just one person at least who won’t decide i’m not worth their time and leave and leave and leave and leave and leave and leave and leave
why do you think that you will find that
          i don’t know
why do you think someone will stay when they’ve only ever left
          i don’t know i guess i have so many years left i should be able to find someone in all that time
you have nothing to back up that theory
          i’m sorry i just
i hate you i hate how you get your hopes up like this
          i am so tired
then sleep
          i can’t
why not
          you won’t leave me alone don’t you ever get tired
i’m tired too
          then leave
but i don’t want you to be alone
          why
because i want you to be better
          why
because i love you and i have to believe that even if nobody else does you will not be alone
          why would i need to be better if i have you
it’s me
          and me
the same person
          i know
so be better
          i can’t
why
          i am so tired

poetry dump — sap

There’s this sap oozing between my ears
like there’s no way out.
          (There’s no way out,
          There Is No Way Out!)

And I’m looking at all of you—
          beautiful and quiet,
          lined up neatly in those chairs at the back of my mind
                     with your tapping feet and memory eyes twitching
                     towards the clock, counting down to liberation—
I’m thinking, I guess—
          no, that’s not it.
I curl up at your feet with my chin on my knees.

A friend told me
          (growing up)
that if you swallow an apple seed, a tree will
sprout up in your stomach and branches will grow out of your ears.
But I know now, in my wisdom, how that was a lie,
          but
          if you plant a friend there,
          (deep inside of you like a secret)
          it will push up into your mind, right up between the ears,
oozing sap that will corrode every your every thought and
you forget what it was like before.

No, I’m grieving.

Yes, grieving, you say together, always wiser than me. Stop mourning us.

          And when they leave
                     (And they will leave.)
          their empty chairs,
          you can’t find the pictures you used to have on the wall—
          the ones you used to stare at until they gave themselves meaning.

Sticky walls. Sticky thoughts.

Crying and sitting and wondering
when the last time I washed the windows in here was, and
          wishing the carpets were less dirty,
and wishing you hadn’t all gotten new chairs with new people.

But you know, it’s fine, it’s fine.
          And there’s this sap between my ears.

Once I’ve emptied these chairs of you,
you don’t have to come back.

I’m throwing the chairs out too.

poetry dump — train tracks

I have to remind myself that the waiting is beautiful also.
That the sooner those glistening moments arrive,
          the sooner they depart,
          swept away on the rusty railroad
          that keeps perfect, deafening time,
                     crushing my laughter into flattened pennies,
                     engraving my memories into copper
                                and picture frames and
          I am laid out, spine sewn into
                     the railroad ties,
                     knuckles white against the
                     grumbling rails and

I have to remind myself that blue skies do not last forever.
          And anyway, I miss the rain.
          I miss you, I miss
          having a person
                     as my opposite and companion
          instead of a mirror and some dreams
          crowding out my soul and swarming out
          my time.
I miss having a dance,
          having steps to follow and
          notes to embody. And

I mustn’t forget how I sat at the window
          clothed in night,
                     listening to the rattling brass symphony
                     of my train approaching,
          how I guessed what it would look like
          when it came rolling through,
          how I stayed up all night dreaming
                     of empty train tracks being filled.
I’ve been laying here long enough that
          the grass beneath me has
          grown through my chest, yearning
          for light.
Ants traipse trails through my blood and
          fingertips, they wind patterns through
          my hair and chest garden and
          propose salty toasts in the tracks of my tears and

I’m laughing in the dirt,
          chest heaving against the sky
because it seems so unfair that everything
          leaves,

                     and I can feel my train approaching.

I know I shouldn't be afraid.
The shivering rails keep time with
the pulse fluttering out of my throat and in the depths
of my ribcage
           what will it bring, what will it bring, what will it bring?
          sing the ants.
I don’t know, I whisper,
                     (clutching the rails tighter, feeling the rain,
                     breathing the fear out of my shallow lungs)
something new.

poetry dump — sinking ship

i wish i were enough to stay inside you.
i wish you couldn’t go a day without
          wanting to see my face or hear my laugh,
i wish the memory of me lingered on
          your skin, blew around you when the wind
          disturbed your hair

because, darling, we were a sinking ship.
i knew it, but i can’t help but think
          you knew it better
          (somehow.)
because when the waves took us, you were already
          swimming, already eyes on the horizon, already
          gone.
and i was tied up in your ropes and rigging, fingertips
          grasping at every splinter you left behind,
          wailing back at the wind
          (she thinks she is so powerful, but i think
          she is just lonely)
and now there are
aching bones
          cluttered up in my chest,
scraping like cheap heels
          against sidewalk grates,
          trying not to shiver in the cold waters
                     you watched seep into my chest as we sank,
          (when you stopped caring whether I swam or drowned.)
i grab the water up in my arms because these waves
          once knew the touch of your skin as well—
          we seep and weep the same salty anguish.
and i remember our nights
                     in darkness.
          my back arched against you,
          bending at my breaking points
                     because you made me feel
                     so whole and
                                lovely.
          your hands in my hair,
                     in my spine,
          in my every thought.
          your lips on my skin, on my soul,

          and everything that matters
          is the air i wish weren’t between us—
your mouth travelling back up my neck,
your words that beckon sleep
          before i am ready to let go
because those are the spaces in the sidewalk grates,
          the echoes in my bones,
the whisper across the waves that we
never were enough
and now you’re gone

poetry dump — be here now

I am here, now.
My tiny home in the mountain trees,
my pen and paper, sleeping bag.
The sky rolls colours above me—
          cream and lavender and the softest grey.
Moths and gnats
          weave bobbing silhouettes against
          the fading light.
Featherduster branches shift
          from green to black
          as the sun drags their
          bristled details over the horizon.
Tomorrow, I leave this place,
          a body-sized impression crushed into the moss,
          my quiet breaths and
                     heavy footfalls gone from the air.
I lay as still as I can,
          eyes roaming over the undersides
          of the scattered canopy
          spread out against the clouds.
          Birdsong at dusk, ants beside me.
          Wind across my face.
I am here, now,
and I never will be again.

poetry dump — i let the mountains have me

I let the mountains have me,
let them fold me up in their roots,
          rivers flowing through my fingertips
          and shadows rolling over me
          like lazy clockwork.
I found miles and miles of earth
          who had never known
          the soles of my feet and
          dancing butterflies
                     who seemed to be
                     scraps of paper being cut and
                     uncut from the air.
I found music
          in the metronome of bird calls and
          plucking strings too afraid to die
          to find rest
                     when the moon rose.
I found the quiet breathing of trees
          keeping perfect time with
          the mountain’s heartbeat—
                     a rhythm I pulled from the soil
                     with desperate palms,
                     clutching the prayer to my chest
                     that I would someday find peace
                     like the saplings who simply grow
                     because they love the sun.
I found a sort of solitude
that could never know loneliness,
          a peace that peeled me open
          to press moss into
          the lining of my chest
          and caressed my face with
          gentle rainfall
          like a family I had left behind.
I let the mountains have me
because I wanted to find myself,
          to see if there was more to life
          than running
          until your bones become an
          unladen tombstone.
I let the mountains have me for a while,
and the mountains
          gave me a version of myself
          I could walk beside
          for the rest of my life.

poetry dump — father's day from santa fe

It was just stars, Dad.
We were bundled up like astronauts
in the bed of her pickup,
          swaddled in sleeping bags
          (synthetic and down cocoons)
          staring up at this absolutely dashing
                     swath of sky that spread on forever (and ever),
          or at least it seemed to,
                     by my reckoning.
We were perched up in the mountains
overlooking Santa Fe
                     (this glittering postage stamp of a city
                     trying its best to become the sky but
                     falling miles of fairy lights short)
          We sewed ourselves into the tree line
          and wondered at the beauty of it all,
                     hot chocolate words
                     held in our smiles and breaths.
We were thinking of the day,
heads bowed over pictures,
          as if in prayer.
It was beautiful, Dad.
          Nothing but stars.

on the edge of something

I guess it's been a second since I posted anything, and I guess that's okay.

Come December, I'll have had this blog for 2 years. This is my unofficial mission statement from my first post back in 2015:

"If I write something on this blog everyday I might connect the dots of my life and sew something coherent with the broken threads.
How poetic, kate. Shut up."

Needless to say, I haven't written something here everyday because I've been alive, and life isn't consistent. I haven't connected the dots of my life. I'm not entirely sure what she means by that, but I'm pretty sure I'd feel more at peace if I had. Nothing is coherent. Everything is just some flashing ocean of feelings and analytics of said feelings winding together and punching me in the face and wrapping me up in wool all the time. I'll tell you what I have done since then, though. Most of it isn't in order because don't the years just blur together?

I've written a lot of short stories, a lot of poetry. I went to San Antonio for an art contest. I got my drivers licence. I spent a spring break in New York and saw 4 Broadway shows. I spent 3 weeks in England, where I felt so at peace I never wanted to leave again. I had my first kiss there. I've had emotional trouble with more than one boy. I cut my hair for a play. I was lead in all the plays my senior year of high school. I won best actress at the district one act competition. I've driven around all night with my best friend and laughed so hard I could barely breathe. I've watched beautiful movies and rewatched movies I'd already seen several times over. I'm in the process of writing two languages for my book, and I've drawn maps and worked on characters and scenes and plots all the time. I did rayado, which was so hard and so worth it. I've stood on a mountain as the sun came over the horizon and watched the world wake up from miles up in the sky. I've taken important exams over material I didn't know existed until the morning of. I applied to colleges and decided to go to Sarah Lawrence College in New York. I flew up there to visit their campus by myself in the spring of senior year. I submitted my mission papers. I've made friends, lost friends, have been lost by friends. I spent 2 days alone in the woods on rayado with nothing but the world and my own thoughts. I got a flat tire while driving to Taos from Philmont. I graduated high school as number 8 in my class of almost 700. I've cried and cried for reasons I couldn't put into words, as well as for reasons I could. I've questioned friendships. I've had panic attacks. I got my mission call to the Sweden Stockholm mission. I've made out with someone a lot and, like, really enjoyed it. I've stayed up all night talking and looking at the stars. I fell in love. I've danced under the stars to jazz music on a portable speaker. I've been real cliff rock climbing. I've written letters to people and never sent them. I've been late to seminary more times than I can count. I've done Secret Santas. I was a Stake YCL at Girl's Camp. I've been to the funeral of a girl I knew who was in a car wreck. I've held the hand of a crying girl when they read the name of of someone at graduation who had just died. I've walked my dogs tons of times. I've laid out in the grass of my front yard and let the sun send me to sleep. I wore a push-up bra and stilettos in the musical. I've mowed a lot of lawns, pet a lot of dogs, listened to a lot of music. I've had my heart broken. I've hiked so many miles and seen so many deer. I worked at Philmont. I sang in closing campfire almost every night and got up to work in housekeeping almost every morning. I've gotten two tickets while driving. I went down to Houston and Orange Texas to help with Hurricane Harvey clean up. I've called and face timed friends in other states. I've been to 2 concerts. I've done photo shoots, and people I've never met have told me I'm beautiful. I've given talks in church. I've fallen in love with acting and singing and performing. I cut all my hair off to my chin just because I could. I realised I didn't want to live without some kind of dance in my life for college and afterwards. I've questioned my ability to write and act and dance and succeed. I've learned to love myself, though not consistently as I will maybe someday. I've become friends with old teachers and adults. I've gotten in numerous fights with my mother. I've seen a lot of plays. I've eaten a lot of good food. I slept in the bed of a pickup truck on the side of the road in New Mexico. I've watched friends go off to school and missions. I've seen my brother come home from a mission. I accidentally learned the entirety of All Star by Smashmouth. I voluntarily learned the entirety of Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage the Elephant. I've watched my sister grow to be the same height as me. I've dated someone. I've considered suicide. I've been depressed. I've been truly at peace and happy. I helped tech a children's ballet show at the high school. I've stayed awake most of the night doing homework. I've gained weight and lost weight. I've struggled with eating disorders. I've laid on the floor while the rabbit hops all over and around me and licks my face. I've had food poisoning. I've had fevers. I've gotten strep throat. I'm learning Swedish. I leave for the MTC on November 15th. I'm visiting my friend in New Orleans next week. I'm stressed and I feel trapped in this house, but I'm okay. I'm good. I'm alive.

And I didn't want to be, yknow? I genuinely didn't know if life was going to get better. But so many beautiful things have happened, so many things I could have never predicted. I've been so excited and so sad and so lonely and so peaceful and so everything. I didn't write everything down, and there's no way I could have.

When I started this blog, I was on the edge of all this. It hadn't started yet, I couldn't have seen it coming, but it sure was coming. Now I'm on the edge of something new. So many things I can't predict from here. There are going to be so many changes and new experiences and new friends and new loves and new decisions that I have yet to meet. I'm so scared and so excited and so everything. It's coming.

have you ever been in love?

I'm watching all my friends turn into adults, into people with grown up faces and jobs and consequences. I guess they're watching the same out of me.

I'm back home, back in this room, in this house, on this computer with a broken keyboard and a touchscreen that doesn't work. I miss the music of Philmont, how easy it was to live there. I felt so calm and full and now I don't and I'm scared.

My best friend is leaving tomorrow morning. She's taking her belongings and driving to Tulane and starting college. I'll be here still.

My brother got back from his mission and now he's in the house and it feels sort of like he never left but also like nothing is the same as it was. We're all so different. Taller and older with more life inside the memories in our heads. He's leaving for college next week. I'll be here still.

My boyfriend lives in Wisconsin. I met him at Philmont and neither of us wanted to call it when we both left. But now he might call it and I haven't heard from him all day and this is awful, I'm lovesick. I think we should call it. I love him, and I know that. I know love might mean something different to me years from now and I know this may seem dumb in hindsight, but we were in love, maybe still are. I feel like he's slipping away from me and my chest hurts and sometimes I convince myself it wasn't anything, just a fling, just a stolen romance. But then I think about him and what we were and what I wish we could be and he's everything in my head again, he's crammed into my chest and conducting my heartbeat with his lovely musical hands. I think about calling it and I'm crying because it hurts yknow? It hurts that I'm losing him and I've lost him and I know it'll work out somehow, like I know it will but I don't want to let go of him yet. Of this. Of us. And, UGH, I love him. I want him to be happy and if that means being happy with someone else then that's fine. That's fine.


have you ever been in love?


I love my best friend. I love her. She's been there for me through so many things. We've laughed so much about so many things. We've been through so much. She always knows what to say, she supports me and I support her. I'm lucky to have her.

I love my brother. We never really got along growing up and we're still different now, but I love him. I'm glad he's my brother, I'm glad I've gotten to watch him grow up.

I love my boyfriend, even though it's slipping and I hate the word boyfriend and I know we'll move on soon and be happy with other people. He's made me so happy and been there for me when I needed and given me a relationship that feels like home. I'll miss that.


have you ever been in love?


Yes, though who really knows what that means. I just know it hurts.

long time no see

Gracious, it's been awhile. I have so much to say that I don't now where to start. Here is a bullet pointed list of the things I need to record:

>rayado
>I let the mountains have me
>theatre and life
>campfire
>housekeeping
>dating developments
>homesick
>mission


I may hit them in this order or not. Stay tuned to hear about all my adventures etc this summer & join us next week for more episodes!!!

sestina

The fabric of my blouse catches
on the wind like a sail.
It ripples like I am wearing the sea,
stitches snagging like the waves that break
against cliffs, screaming for peace
before sinking back into the swell.


The throaty laughter of gulls swells
against the wind, catching
the ocean spray up in its song, peaceful
in its cacophony, content to sail
alongside music, but not in it. Breaking
on rocks as the sun makes meringue of the sea,


chopping and frothing while the sea-
salt beaches house swollen
people, ripening red from daybreak
to dusk. Their children play catch
in the lengthening tide, watching bodies sail
through the waves, laughing and at peace.


The pink and brown bodies, at peace
and in bloom on the rocks, taste the sea,
but go no closer to sailing
than the gulls do to settling in the endless swell
that flutters like a woman’s sundress caught
by a breeze and patterned by broken


shells and fish hiding beneath the fluid breaking
of water against itself. It never finds peace,
hissing and spraying and catching
the song-laughter of gulls. The sea
will always score the swells
of gull-song and the laughter of children sailing


alongside the bodies in the waves, but sailing
by thought rather than by the breaking
waves. Each swells
and searches for something peaceful
that isn’t the glowing red horizon atop the sea,
too far away for the gulls to catch.


The waves assail the shore, peace
just beyond the broken cliffs overlooking the sea,
just beyond the swelling tide where the children play catch.

2 years with future strangers

Beautiful.
I’m looking back on it all, on us all—
The trees through the windows and the soft sigh of rainfall,
Calming voices slicing poetry up between us,
A piece for you and me and her and them.
We sipped on guitar strings and bonfire ash,
We threw words at each other—
Conflict, love, and something else.
Beautiful.
How could it be anything else?
We were something golden and spark-eyed,
More than we ever were alone, before we shared that moonlight.
Our faces tilted to the sky, waiting for the sun,
Crying and reaching,
Thoughts looping between us like the cords of
Cat’s cradle, stretched from knuckle to knuckle on some giant hand.
We lost them, us, we, she, he, them,
All of us like broken cloth when old threads pulled free.
Beautiful,
In a sense. Lovely and haunting and I’ll miss them.
Them, us, us all, I’ll miss it.
The silent trudging of weary backs and sleeping eyes,
Smiles, your smiles, our smiles—
Beautiful.
Comradery and silence and the parting of ways,
Ocean to ocean to ocean to ocean to
You to me to someone ages hence.
Strangers then, there in the sunlight,
Threads taut and broken, sliding across miles and fading fast.
To think we used to laugh together, share glances and pens.
To think we never used to see this ending as anything other than
Beautiful.

lilac night

Tonight you came to me,
you stood by the lilac tree,
(there, just so in the light)
your hands open, calling for me,
eyes in the stars like they always were.
I joined you there,
of course I did, I always have,
I always will, perhaps.
The grass murmurs there, fluid
and vengeful, crying out against the wind.
I held you there, not quite
embracing, but not strangers,
and you told me things,
lovely and lilac against the simpering sky.
Beautiful, I told you,
sighing and sighing,
I wished you would go, I wish
you had left me alone without your words
there, against the sky.
You stood there,
brighter and softer and lonelier than I remember,
but then again, I remember
when you were with me,
when we were lonely together.
I love her, you said.
Of course you do, came the reply,
a gentle smile behind my face.
Of course you are lonely, my star-filled boy,
she is of the earth and we are of the sky.
You stood there, casting stars
round about me, glittering in the darkness and
catching in my hair and on my fingertips,
I think you should go, I told you,
my thoughts swaying in the night air,
lilac and calm.
I came to see you tonight, I came
to see the lilacs again and hoped they still
perfumed the sky, my sky, our sky.
But I watched you walk away tonight,
and the air was clear and still,
full of moonlight and nothing else.

oh.

this frantic grasping in the dark
for things lost, boxed away.
I see a camaraderie,
gently stitched between us,
keeping my memories from drifting
(happy helium, oh how I'd float)
I want to burn those boxes
in front of you,
full of your words and your heart.
But instead
I embalm you behind glass,
watch you dance away, hand-in-hand with
her and them and never me,
without a care
for me and my frantic, grasping, gasping,
bleeding heart

words

here are a few words I really like saying because they feel good in my mouth or words I like writing because they look nice and feel nice on the page. I might come back and edit this and add words from time to time as I remember new ones I really love.

cacophony
frantic
effervescence
coil
soft
gorgeous
chaos
beautiful
laughter
gentle
spill
disingenuous
scratch
break
if
lovely
clack
ridiculous
flimsy
crimson
decay
elsewhere
flutter
black
stone
sometimes
unknown
clockwork
breeze
thick
sprawled
twists
cluster
swell
depths
rich
cavern
disintegrate
marginally
grief
cannot
skeletons
lost
vaguely
flock
glossy
grey
sea
perpetually
ratcheting
whisper
mourn

change

Shadows splayed across the floor like bedsheets
I hope to the god you don’t believe in that you are not taking me
For granted.
11:33 PM and I am glad you are not dead
I imagine speaking at your funeral and I cry in front of my mirror
You have filled something in me I did not know was empty
I hope you are not taking me
As a fool,
Someone who loves and loves and gives but
I am paper to you
(I hope not)
I am afraid of being replaced, I watch my half reflections behind the sink
She has better skin than I do and only a glass life to live
How silly that she watches me think so much without speaking,
Her lips move when mine do.
I hope your words are more concrete than the ways my ears hear them
Because if not I will fade from your life and you will not fade from mine
I do not lose people. I cannot.
11:43 PM and you are reading my old poetry, a gift against the grief
I hope it makes you laugh the way you make me laugh
I wish I did not stick to things so vocally
And I am scared of leaving and losing something so clean and full of life
I hope that you are not seeing me as
Shadows
Spilling into your life before the sun changes
I hope when the sun changes the shadows do not run
I am scared that I will be alone again
I hope I made you laugh





This is mostly nonsensical I think. Poetry can be quite nonsensical, but I cannot tell if it is good or not. I cannot tell if my own poetry is good or not. It came from a genuine place in my chest and I hope that counts for something.

rats in the attic

There are rats in the attic (scritch scratch) and they live right above my room. I can hear them up there all the time.

I got accepted into Sarah Lawrence College in New York!!!!! They offered me full tuition in mostly grants!!!! It feels fake, honestly. I did all my applications so last minute and Sarah Lawrence is such an expensive school and I honestly think (scritch) it's perfect for me. I will hopefully be able to visit on the accepted student day on April 10th, and then I can get a feel for the area and see if it would work for real. I just...AHHH. They're giving me a ton of financial aid to go there????? THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IN AID TO GO TO ONE OF THE MOST EXPENSIVE SCHOOLS IN AMERICA TO WRITE AND ACT AND LIVE 30 MINUTES OUTSIDE OF NEW YORK CITY FOR FOUR YEARS. It doesn't feel real.

I'm working on forgiveness and the just world fallacy. I feel weirdly betrayed by life that this guy got a huge scholarship to Boston University and he has a girlfriend and seems just super happy. It's not that I'm not fine because gracious I've been so lucky lately, but part of me wishes he would like, I dunno, suffer more for messing me up so much emotionally. I bet he's forgotten by now. I need to focus on myself, and not let it affect me, but I have such a fear of failure and of people I dislike being more successful than me that I can't get over it. I mean, I can and I will and I'm going to have to, but it's irritating a bit, yknow? I dunno, it's weird.

Sometimes when I pray I get this (scratch tap) weird panic that my atheist friends are right and there's no higher power or anything and that the only things I'm praying to are the rats in my attic. I don't think that's true, I really don't, but sometimes I think about it.

I hope this Sarah Lawrence thing works out. Wouldn't that be fantastc???? Imagine: me, writing and acting just outside of NYC. Wow. I feel warm and peaceful thinking about it, like it's gotta work out. I keep psyching myself out that I won't act or whatever, yknow? That I'll tell people I want to act but then something will come up and I'll do something else, but here's the thing. What else would I do? I'm going to write regardless, that's not a question, (scratch scratch scratch tap scritch scratch scrape tap) but the acting is weird because I've only been doing it for like 2 years and who's actually successful with acting, yknow? Why should I be different. But then I realise that performing is the only thing that really fills me up besides the gospel and writing. What the heck else would I do with my life.

good enough

UIL was on Saturday. We went up to the school at 6:30, took a bus up to North Crowley High School where the competition was, and didn't get back to the school until after 8 that night. What a day.

We took show gifts to everyone in the morning. There are 8 schools competing at district, and all of us bring little baskets of goodies and things to the other schools, so those of us from our company who had been in UIL last year as well took our baskets out to everyone. Most schools were really friendly, and Martin was mostly standoffish, so that was a bit weird but at least we were being nice. Later that day, seeing a few of them individually they were friendly, so it might have just been the group mentality. They don't really mingle with other schools much.

The day. We had a classroom for our school, and everyone had their stuff set up with mirrors. There was food and people were playing chess and cards. We had this crocheted Frisbee we threw around. People would play music, and Isaiah played the piano for a while. At one point we played some Hamilton and half the guys were dancing around singing along. It took me ages to curl all my hair for the show. Everyone was pretty energised. Before 3:30, we had all gotten into costumes and were working on British dialects for the show for a while. Victor put on relaxing music and we all laid down or sat or slowly wandered around the room with the lights off. People would speak up mentioning notes we had to think about for the show, so in this meditating we were all reminding each other of things we had to keep in mind. I felt so connected to everyone, like we'd truly become a single organism. After that, we all stood in a circle for our little warm up thing we always do. At the beginning of when we started doing the circles, people would hold hands flat for the most part and stood essentially next to the same people every time, but by competition day we had gotten to the point where anyone would stand next to anyone and we were all weaving fingers when we held hands. We closed our eyes and people would pass the energy around by squeezing someone's hand and seeing how quickly we could get the squeeze back to the original person. After that, we said a prayer, and then Emely looked at us and said her little thing that she always says. "I just want y'all to know that the force is with you, and it will always be with you". Then we all sung the beginning of that one Star Wars song (dooo DOOOOO, do-do-do-DOOOO-doooo, do-do-do-DOOOO-doooo, do-do-do-doooooo). Then we got in a football huddle and swayed back and forth going "hoo, ha, hoo, ha, hoo, ha" starting at a whisper and slowly getting louder and louder until we all put our hands in the middle and said "all for one and one for all and all for the love of the stage!" while jumping up and down. I have never loved a group of people more. Then we went to the cafeteria for warm ups. We all did vocal warm ups and we ran through the beginning of the show to get it in our systems before going on stage.

The show. The set up was open curtain, so we had to get all the columns up and chairs set and everything with the people in the audience watching. We were quiet and organised and got it all set in under 6 minutes. We waited in the wings stage right while the woman introduced our show. The audience was so full because it was the last show of the day so loads of the other schools had come to watch. Jarod called places and we went on in the dark. Kenzie and I held hands on either side of the center pillar, then let go when the music started. And we did the show. It was high energy and the audience was amazing. They laughed and really got into it. Tech worked flawlessly, the transitions went smoothly, people's dialects were mostly all there. When it was over they cheered. They exploded into clapping and they cheered as we walked off stage and Tyler told us later that a lot of them even stood. We got a partial standing ovation for a competition piece. It was incredible. The break down went smoothly and we efficiently got everything off stage and back into the truck. Then we rushed back to our room to change for awards. Christian and Caitlan and Alyssa and some other people from UIL last year came to see us and it was amazing. I love and miss them so much.

The awards. We didn't care what happened to us, and I'm serious. We wanted to advance obviously, but we had had such a beautiful day and such a beautiful show that we didn't really mind what happened because we knew that we had done well. Tyler got an all-star tech award (we found out later that we got outstanding tech award as well), Patrick got honourable mention cast, Kenzie got all-star cast (along with Josh Goodman from Martin who did not look happy). Some guy from North Crowley got best actor, and I got best actress!!!!! It was incredible, it really was. When I sat back down I cried. I was sitting with a group of people I loved more than anything and they were all patting me on the shoulders and clapping and grinning ear to ear and I felt so at home. Best actress of all the girls in all 8 shows. I know it's just district but it meant so much. These judges had told me I was good enough. I'm good enough to stand on that stage and be seen. I can't explain how that felt.

The aftermath. We got things to write on and came back into the auditorium after awards, and one of the judges came to give us notes. He loved the show so much and he had hardly any negative notes. He said I was, that everything I'd done from my movement to my dialect to the way I transitioned between scenes was brilliant. I cried a lot. That guy texted me to tell me congratulations and said that the Martin company was "smitten with my excitement on stage" and how I was getting up on my tippy toes during awards because I was so happy. That was nice. We got first from every judge. During the awards ceremony, they just announced the advancing schools in no particular order, but afterward we found out that we got first from every judge, North Crowley got second, and Martin got third. What a day.

uil

The one act play UIL competition is tomorrow. I'm so nervous and so excited. I love my UIL company so much and I am so proud of everything we have done with this show. I love theatre. It fills me up in ways I didn't think possible since leaving dance. I am tired and I am scared and I am content.

closure and disappointment

My titles are starting to sound like this is some sort of daily blog situation where I keep you updated with every insignificant detail in my life. Maybe not. I have no idea.

Anyway, so the A key keeps not working right and I'm irritated a bit because the keyboard was just fixed what the heck. Naturally, I have an obscene amount of homework but I'm here instead. I went to see a play at Martin last night and it didn't super blow me away. It's a competition piece, so I was worried it would psych me out before saturday because their play is so much better than ours or something. But I feel pretty fine. It didn't stun me, yknow? It was really screamy and angry mostly the entire time. There wasn't a lot of build because they started so loud and high strung that they didn't have anywhere to go really. I didn't feel any love between the characters, and I didn't really care about the characters at all. I dunno, maybe they'll fix it by saturday, but as it stands I feel like we're more or less on par with them.

This guy's rebound was there. She's not cute in person at all, and I cold shouldered him when he tried to talk to me. After it all I saw that he changed his avi on twitter to a selfie of the both of them, and she's on his snap story a lot still. He can do what he wants, man. I know it sounds like I'm still into him because like, I'm still talking about it, but I promise I'm not into him. He just worked his way into my life this year and I like knowing what's going on. It hasn't even been a month since he ended things with me, and I think it's gonna take me a bit longer to fully stop caring about the things he does. I would love to be his friend and still talk to him, but his weird manipulative and toxic behaviour makes that pretty difficult. Our parting of ways is for the best. And I feel much better having seen them both in person. I doubt she even knows I exist, even though her probably-almost-boyfriend was obsessed with me for ages. Whoops. Life comes at ya fast.

I have neglected so much homework. So much freaking homework. We've had marathon days for monday and tuesday, which means we performed our one act play for every class period for two days, and teachers were allowed to bring their classes to watch it. I haven't gone to class, and today I think I definitely failed a math test. I'm slipping. I care about theatre too much, I don't sleep enough, and I hardly ever get my homework done until after the deadline. It's disappointing. I'm disappointing. I should be better at managing my time, at getting things done even if I don't care about them, at not generally just sucking at everything. Gracious, I hate it. I wish I were better and I don't know how to fix it.

I gotta do homework, pal. Like, all of it. Spring break is coming and I have so much due today and tomorrow. Yikes.

1:02 am

Homework! I should be doing it! I am, but not currently! All the tabs are opened though and I'm in the process of it all! Wow, exclamation points make me sound so peppy even though I can barely keep my eyes open!

Jealousy is weird. I've watched this guy rebound onto some other girl and they subtweet each other and she was on his snapchat story earlier. I'm not technically jealous because I don't want what she has. I've cleared my head and my hormones enough to see the whole situation was better for ending the way that it did. He and I would not have worked and, quite frankly, I'm too good for him. He was always too self-obsessed, not good enough at listening to understand, just manipulative enough that it was stressful but not enough that I could call him on it. It's not jealousy of her (gracious, kid, the best of luck to you. You seem to be quite infatuated with him, so I hope he treats you well), and it's not even jealousy of him. I wouldn't want to move on so quickly, whether it be as a rebound or whatever else. I think there's a lot of value to being let down and letting the absence of love and attention wrap its arms around you, to let your body sink into the sand and grit of the ocean floor and stare up through the crisp glittering ribbons of current to where the sun chops the waves to bits so far above you. To let the water get into your ears and mind and brush your hair out into a feathery mop of cloud for the fish to live and dream in. There is a quiet solace to being alone and not dying. To breathing in the silence without drowning.

So I don't know what I'm feeling, not exactly. I feel slighted, I guess. Insulted, a bit. This either means that he was lying to and using me, and that when we didn't work out he had no trouble moving on to his next target, or that he wasn't lying to me but now he's using this poor girl for a rebound and to possibly make me jealous. Both situations suck. He's been ignoring me, so at least I don't have to worry about conversation with him right now. I just don't understand why he acts like he's God's gift to mankind and that all of us are waiting around, just dying to date him. It's nonsensical. Agh, I'm so much prettier than him too, if we're focusing on shallow stuff as well.

Anyway, gotta do more homework. It's 1:18 am and I dunno how much more I'll be getting done. At least half, I hope.

thoughts

I'm using my dad's laptop to do homework because it works, but now I won't be able to google the pdf of my economics homework during the day to get the answers without doing it all the way through myself.

I've barely gotten anything done until the last minute. I'm too tired all the time. I get distracted and then I fall asleep without having done it. I can't fail any classes this semester because then I won't be able to do theatre and it's the only thing I care about.

I wish I weren't as good at telling when my dad has been drinking. It makes my mom sad. He slept on the couch last night and I don't know if it's because he felt guilty or because he was just tired and fell asleep out there. He does that sometimes.

I wish I were better. Just in general. I am so painfully inadequate and I can't really do anything about it.

My Math IA was due almost two weeks ago now and I still haven't done it. I wish I cared more.

I don't know what to do with my life, legit. I'm afraid to follow what I think I want to do because what if I'm not good enough and what if I'm wrong and what if I'm not happy.

I can't tell if I'm happy, or just too tired to be sad.

brok n k yboar

my k yboar is brok n so I an't typ a lot of wor s that I woul lik to say. I hav to o hom work on my fath r's laptop, or ls opy an past l tt rs from oth r pla s, whi h just tak s a long tim to o. It f ls lik a m taphor of som sorts. I, also, am brok n. Not all my k ys ar working. I'm falling apart, yknow? I on't know. I'm t rrifi of th futur . I on't know.

the dear & empty things

I'm here because I have an inordinate amount of homework and not enough time. Of course I'd rather procrastinate by writing a freaking blog post than just make myself start all this work.

Y'all, I'm tired. Deep within my body there's this resignation. This exhaustion of the soul. The breeze that runs its fingers through blades of grass, making the hairs of the earth stand on end; the hollow echo of leaves settling in-between gasps of wind; the golden sheen of disappearing sunlight painting half of everything with momentary effervescence; the vacuum of silence which exists directly in the moments after the sharp humming of cicadas has ceased. These things exist inside me, always. The thrumming of birds' wings in my mind and heart; the soft panic of watching leaves run out of my grasp down a spinning stream; the tightening and tightening of springs just beneath the lattice of my ribs. There's an avalanche inside me, something about the lines swallowing up my mother's eyes, about the overwhelming thread of his voice, about the inadequacies tucked away in my fingertips and need for light. Someday I will pass on, leading these things by the hand into some further light, or darkness as it were. The demise of my frame would not be nearly as tragic as the disappearance of these dear and lovely things.

10 things i hate about you, adapted

I hate that it's so easy to talk to you and that we sometimes say the same things at the same time. I hate that when I hear you talk about the things you care about, my chest gets all warm because you sound like the way my brain does, words moving faster than makes sense and going in every direction all at once. I hate that you left in the fall and said we'd still be friends but then stopped talking to me. I hate that it hurt. I hate that I overthought everything you'd said to me and every situation, trying to find where it all went wrong, and I hate that you moved on and did other things with other people like I meant nothing. I hate that you left me feeling unworthy of love. I hate that you came back just as I was getting over you because I hate that I forgave you so easily. How could I not? I hate it when people are sad, and you were. I hate that I let you back into my life, that I let my guard down again, that I forgot history is cyclical. I hate that you apologised for the things you did and meant it. I hate that you were so kind to me because all I needed was kindness and validation and you'll never know how much you helped me stop hating myself. I hate that you answered all the questions I threw at you and that you seemed so genuine and willing to make it work this time. I hate that it didn't work this time. I hate that you said it would work, you said it would work, you said it would work but it didn't. I hate your stupid laugh and your freaking curly hair and I hate that we have the same squinty-eyed smile and I hate that I look back at that picture my friend took of us and hate that we'll probably never take another one. I hate that you have more friends than me, more places to turn, more people to rid you of loneliness. I hate that you're good at time management and good at the things you do. I hate that I wasn't enough to keep you interested, that my lack of interest in sexual behaviour made you rethink the whole thing. I hate that you said our different values wouldn't change things, but then it did. I hate that I told you to not worry about me and my feelings, to not get into a relationship you weren't fully invested in. I hate that you weren't fully invested in it, even though you told me you were. I hate that I believed you, that I let myself believe it would be different this time. I hate that you didn't want to hurt me, that you were so worried about screwing me over for a second time. I hate that you screwed me over for a second time. I hate that after you hung up the phone after we decided it wouldn't work, I couldn't stop crying. I hate that I cried at school the day after, that I cried so hard driving home from school I could barely steer straight. I hate that I feel so dumb for caring, and I hate that you didn't care more. I hate that I feel like I can't be loved. I hate that it feels like there must be something wrong with me that would keep any attempt at intimacy at bay. I hate that when I told you not to worry about my feelings, you didn't fight more. I hate that you gave me something to hope for and then took it away. I hate that I let myself be vulnerable and that I actually told you how I felt about you because that was so hard and I don't think you understand that my heart was beating a thousand miles a minute and I hate that it was. I hate that I finally said hey I like you and that you said it back and that the very same day we were talking on the phone about how we wanted different things. I hated hanging up the phone because it felt like I was losing something soft and beautiful in that goodnight. I hate that you apparently have moved on, and that I have not. I hate that it's valentine's day and I want nothing more than to forget everything you ever said to me. I hate that we're the same in too many ways, and I hate that you told me the truth. I hate that the truth wasn't what I expected. I hate that I was hurt more than you. I hate that I like you, and I hate that you left. I hate that I can't hate you, that I don't hate you, that I won't hate you. I hate that I'm writing this dumb post instead of talking to you, because I know you won't ever see this.

late

I have almost no motivation to do any school work anymore. I'm horrible at time management. It's 2am and I desperately would like to sleep for about 2 weeks straight.

wuthering heights, after the fact

          October 1939 — I have been in Yorkshire for nearly a month now—a month! My father a general of the 2nd London Division, my dear elder brother in France with the 3rd Infantry, and I exiled to this abysmal place in the North of England. The house at which I am essentially a prisoner is a dreadfully dark building with scarcely a stunted tree to keep it company—I should barely like to keep it company, if I’m being quite honest about the whole ordeal. It stands facing the harsh Northern winds that blow in across the moors, its ancient stone shoulders hunched against the elements. It is far too drafty for my tastes, and besides, Robert Tillerson—my mother’s cousin and my temporary jailer—prefers to keep the curtains drawn and the shutters latched; this does nothing to alleviate the drafts, and furthermore, it banishes even the idea of sunlight from the dusty chambers of the Heights. No, I misspoke—nothing in the manor is dusty in the least, for the servants are paid well to keep the place spotless, though for whom I cannot imagine—Mr. Tillerson rather keeps to himself am I am convinced he has done no more entertaining than I have. That’s all to say that the chambers aren’t dusty, but rather that they are so drab and underlit that one almost feels like they must be dusty or filthy in some other way that can only be properly hidden by perpetually drawn curtains and a shortage of candles. Electricity being introduced to Wuthering Heights is such a ludicrous thought that I haven’t even suggested it to my reclusive host; I am sure that he would see it as a disrespect to his home.
          But no matter—I spend most of my time out on the moors; I have grown used to the lavender fog and endless sloping turf. The moors have become my antidote to the war; their wild temperaments have spun me into a more accepting soul. How can I worry about the war when all that exists is heaven and sky and the swirling In-between? The heavy mist that greeted me at the door this morning has made up its mind to rain, and I wrap my coat more firmly around me, casting my eyes heavenward to the hissing and spitting clouds—their colour is such that I cannot tell if dusk is upon me or if the sun’s light is simply masked in grey. I certainly hope it is the latter, as a few more minutes of wandering has the churchyard clearly in view—if it is too late in the day, I shall surely have to beg the vicar lend me refuge with his family for the night, as I will have no time to make it back to the Heights. This has been the case several times before, and Mr. Tillerson was only cross the first occasion I was not home by suppertime—he is perhaps the most inhospitable person I have ever had the chance to know.
          The harsh winds plaster my newly soaked curls across my face, and I turn my collar up—a useless action, seeing as I am already soaked through. Just as I reach the edge of the churchyard, my eyes alight on a series of crumbling shadows beneath a weathered tree—three headstones lean into each other, stone darkened from the rain and spread with thick moss. These graves are new to me; I venture closer for a better look and kneel beside the leftmost marker to brush its surface clean and to perhaps read what is carved there—it is too dark and too worn to make out more than a few etched letters, but upon resting my hand against the headstone, I feel a prickling up the nape of my neck. I cast off a shiver and look about, but there is no living being in sight aside from myself. Someone’s been awalkin' on your grave, my dear, my mother would say, but it’s just that I’ve been walking on somebody else’s. It feels as though a hand has caught ahold of my chest, and I hear footsteps and laughter brushed up in the howling wind; I sink to the earth with my back to the headstone, feeling as though the moors are reaching for me with twisting arms—I cannot shake the feeling that I have company in the pounding rain and wind.
          Two figures dash across the moors in a sort of chaotic dance, high up on a knoll—I assume that I must be dreaming, or else caught up in some sort of feverish hallucination, for what else could explain what I see before me?—the shadows come closer, but never close enough that I can discern any facial features.
          “Wraiths,” I whisper, but my voice is swallowed up by the wind. I hear the laughter again, wild and haunting—it sounds as though the moors themselves are laughing. But there is something else as well; there is that heavier presence that has a hold on my heart—it is cloying and musky, like damp earth and nesting larks. The figures come unbearably close to the churchyard, and I am overcome by a sudden terror that they will harm me, or that they will seize me and drag me off into the dark of the moors where they before shared in their dancing. I shriek and tear myself from the headstone to dash along beside the low garden wall; I scramble over it and turn back to see what has become of my mysterious potential attackers. They are gone. I can see nothing but the graves and the tree and the rain-soaked moors. My lungs refuse to draw breath until I am pounding at the vicar’s door, begging him to allow me shelter for the night. I’ll be dead in my grave before attempting to cross the moors again tonight.

spiral

I have lost my hold on reality; essentially, I have analysed my life into oblivion and can no longer properly tell what matters and what is true and what is right. I ache through and through.

Such dramatics, my goodness. I apologise, but I will not back down. I feel like a statue crumbling from the inside. There's this great tugging emptiness inside me and I confess I don't know what to do besides wait it out and hope it subsides. My best friend is going through something and she won't tell me what it is, but she's also mostly ignoring me as well, which hurts more than I'd like it to. I want to help, and I want to not be alone. This situation does not satisfy either of those wants. Part of me wonders if she even considers us to be good friends, even though I know those are my trust issues talking and not necessarily anything based in rational thinking. Still, I worry.

That guy who played me last semester, and whom I know for a fact to be manipulative and unempathetic, has returned with apparently his original agenda of making me obsessed with him or something. Knowing what I know about him now, it is easier to remain unattached, but I wonder how dishonest it is to play along because I need validation and attention. His attention isn't consistent or genuine enough to make me feel less lonely most of the time, so I suppose it's helping neither of us for me to continue the charade. I don't know. I've never made any notably bad decisions in my life up to this point, and part of me is desperately interested in attempting to enter into a less-than-genuinely-based relationship that I know for a fact would end poorly just to see what it would be like. Just to have more emotions and experiences to write about. And then there's this back and forth between knowing logically that something is a bad idea and that refraining from doing it would be a testament to my moral backbone and emotional strength, etc, and then there's the anti-logic that shows up and renders all that null and void anyway.

And besides any logic or anything, I'm lonely, and I'm interested very much in anything that could, even temporarily, alleviate that. I don't know. I'm slipping and I don't know what to do.