the act of convincing myself otherwise

it's my birthday in five minutes and although i've always believed that age is just a number you use to get into bars or to connect with people or to make a point or to write down on forms that you fill out, being alive for two whole decades is sort of a weird feeling.

i don't have any revelations or reflections or any bullshit to talk about, but i just want to say that i'm really fucking lucky.

there's a lump in my throat that i

can't seem to get rid of

it's full of the words i wish i could say

to the point where i try to

swallow it

with my pride

but i know it's no good

sometimes

i get scared

and sometimes i want to cry

but i can't explain it

it's just this lump

this fucking lump in my throat

wedged between my heart

and my mouth

i can't connect the two

so i'm stuck with this feeling

of wanting to get things out

things that are fucking stuck

they're just words, right?

it can't be that hard

oh,

but it is

"learning how to love something back"

annoyed and irritated and forever not openly talking about it

i really do fall for you more and more every day

the tattoo i got today should ideally be placed with this poem because it is for you:

let me grow lovely, growing old --

so many fine things do:

laces, and ivory, and gold,

and silks need not be new;

and there is healing in old trees,

old streets a glamour hold;

why may not i, as well as these,

grow lovely, growing old?

i was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee, and it all came flashing back. everything i remembered about the place, about you, about that phone call...

i miss your backyard, walking past the trees, looking up and feeling dizzy because they seemed to travel right into the sky. i miss playing mortal kombat on that squeaky old mattress in the guest room, always having to wipe the dust off the tv because we were the only people that used it. i miss looking at the progression of the puzzle you'd have sitting out on that folding card table, always moving along slowly but surely, never wanting any help. i miss that massive spoon collection, seeing all those school portraits and birthday cards sitting on your desk, that jar of mints that always sat by the front door, how you always watched baseball.

i always watch where i step now, a subconscious behaviour after visiting you so many times, haivng to step over your oxygen cord. i always get a little nervous when my mother calls me late at night, because i remember when i got that call about you. these little things upset me, but i know you've always been a bit of an optimist so i try and do the same.

i did something for you today, and it's going to be with me forever. i hope you're proud of me. i love you.

heavy rain is so desperate and compelling

screaming from the sky

hitting the earth with all the power in the world

i feel so heated and passionate and it hurts

but in the best way possible

although truth be told

my bedroom is lonely

i've always wanted to say it but i've never had the courage or the chance:

i am so sorry.

i walked past your old house today and i was flooded with memories. i was wading knee deep in everything we've been through, how drastically our lives have changed since i last saw you.

i remember peeking through the front window of your house when we would sneak out, afraid your mother had seen us, and double checking just to be sure. i remember the first day you got that ugly dog, and how it couldn't climb the stairs. i remember every saturday night at your dad's house, drunk off whatever we could get our hands on, sixteen and naive. i remember driving in your car late at night, blasting sappy country music, whenever you broke up with your boyfriend of the week, not saying a word because i know you didn't like to talk when you're not ready.

i remember that accident, how far away i was, how close i could've been, and how much you didn't care. i remember that phone call, how my stomach dropped, and my mind continued to spin, half-drunk, and wanting to run and be there for the people who needed me, and how much you didn't care. i remember that weekend, how heartbroken i was, how much i wanted someone to talk to, how much i needed you, and how much you didn't care.

it didn't take me long to realize that you cared about nothing besides yourself and your own wellbeing. crying because things wouldn't go your way. i will always know you as the girl with tears streaming down her face, so afraid of being forgotten.

i am in such a good place right now.

no naked desperation, no subtle hints of fear or loathing. just happy and content and comfortable.

i love you, and you, and you, and you, and especially you.

i've been falling in love with words again recently and i couldn't be happier but tonight will be a little more subtle.

i'll just state that you are the most inspiring person i have ever had the pleasure of meeting and knowing that you're not in the right state makes me ache inside. you pulled me in close and i never wanted you to let go. you whispered in my ear, "you will be something. you will. you will." and i've never felt so much joy sprouting up from my lungs, rushing past my heart, jumping through my throat, and almost causing me to break down and cry right there on the spot. it's not just because you were whispering inspiring words, it's because i know that you believe it.

and maybe that will help me believe it too. you free my weighted heart and i love you.

part of me, apart from me

lay on me like water

soak into my skin

absorb every inch of me

settle in puddles

in the dips of my spine

i'll shiver from head to toe

the water will quiver

as my bones will too

you can be cold to the touch

but i've warmed up to you nicely

"that's the problem with you writers. there's too many words. always looking for an antidote for the emptiness of existence."

for you, because it's been awhile

i knew you once but now you are foreign to me. i remember how we felt like we were capable of so much, how we felt like we could take on the world, but you burnt that bridge down as quickly as we built it up. i don't regret it but i sure as hell question it. i remember moving. we moved like we were scared of the dark, close and safe, blind and fumbling. we didn't want to look back but we were even more worried of looking ahead. so there we stayed, locked in that moment, wading in the darkness, forcing the hands on the clock to stop from ticking away, pushing us into a future we weren't ready for. i always convinced myself this was the right thing to do but i've learned a lot since then. it didn't last long, it was inevitable that the clock hands would ignite and set fire to our plan and that bridge and our bones and we would be forced to move on, but for the time being it was nice. every shard of it has stayed in my mind as a comfortable memory to cling onto with delicate fingers and i appreciate every ounce of your being. i hope you are well. i know you'll do something big. you deserve to.

why why why why why why why why why why why

a) can i never explain myself

b) can i never control this

c) can i never fucking explain myself

i can't keep letting myself fall into this pool

the edges are slippery but i need to learn to get a grip

and sort out my priorities so i don't end up sitting here

alone and tired and wishing i was somewhere else

with someone else doing something else, anything else

besides getting wrapped up and drowning in my own thoughts

for you, in an attempt to unravel my most important memory

i remember every detail of it like it happened five minutes ago and i have faith that it will stick with me like syrupy honey on the tips of my fingers, messy and pure.

i don't think there are enough words in the english language, or any language for that matter, that can articulate how powerful everything was and how slowly the earth turned on its axis, letting each second pass at a pace that we decided on, because we were in control.

it started with a balcony, three floors up, barred like a jail cell, but with room between each beam for our legs to fit through, dangling over the cool earth, swinging aimlessly. we talked. i never was very good at opening up, so i did more listening, but they didn't mind. we were content until i saw that tear fall out of her eye and i knew i had to do something. i stood up. my feet were working faster than my brain but i let them lead.

they led me to the golf course. the vast space of perfectly cut grass, open and empty and ready for me. i didn't wait to see if they were behind me. i just ran. i ran and ran and fucking ran until i couldn't feel anything - and maybe that's why i started running in the first place. i let the blades of damp grass stick to the backs of my bare legs and i let my hair get caught in the wind that hit my face with force and determination and i let my eyes fill with tears for no reason and every reason and i let every natural inhibition fade away into the dark night.

i stopped running and turned around to see that they had followed me - they didn't have to, but they did. they ran because it felt good to just run. to just hit the ground and run. out of breath, i let my body dive into the soft grass staring into the infinite sky. i have never felt so small and insignificant, and i have never felt happier about that feeling. that overwhelming thought that we are nothing but particles of dust in this overflowing world, temporary and decaying by the minute.

i raised my hand into the air, noticing every pore in my skin and every star in the sky, and watched as the clouds parted to reveal the most full, purple atmosphere i have ever seen. i couldn't help but let the tears pour out of my eyes all over again. i looked to my left and they were there, lying in the same grass, crying the same tears, feeling the same thing - we were satisfied.

i was aware of everything but felt like i knew nothing; bewildered by everything this universe was presenting me with, knowing i had my scars for specific reasons and knowing that i would acquire more for other specific reasons, and knowing that i could never tell anyone exactly how this felt, because it was impossible to explain. we all knew we were in this and we were part of something fucking real and bittersweet, and although we've never spoken of it since, i know that they remember too.

so there we were, in the grass, reaching and grasping for the moon to come closer, knowing that we would never have another moment quite like this one. although i've always tried to write about this, i've never been able to find the right words to explain everything. all i know is that i've never felt so awake.

everything is heavy in my mind but i've become good at holding my head high despite the weight my thoughts anchor me down with

i promised that i would write for someone new every day but for some reason i can't get over this hurdle. he said that "all roads to lead to home" and i know that if i traced my finger back along my path i know you'd have your two feet planted at the end of the trail. through all your personal earthquakes and twisters, you've managed to keep your feet standing still. a tree with its roots dug deep into the earth's core, you never come uprooted no matter how strong the wind blows.

these quandaries and plights try to break you down but you hold your own. there's nothing i can say that can be equivalent to how much i respect you and how proud i am of you but here's an attempt.

i've fallen in glass many times before, i've been responsible for dropping the glass in the first place a lot of times, but i always find myself a helpless adolescent, exhausted and suspended in a wave of unsureness. i know now, because of you, broken glass can be pulled out of gashes and cuts, leaving only lines of deep red behind, stinging for a moment or two, but devoured by new skin later.

i often find myself looking for new ways to interpret the truth of how i feel about you, and i've realized that you are incomparable. i can soften this thought with little metaphors of broken glass and sturdy trees but there's really no way anyone can describe the feeling of being completely boundless and breathless and recklessly and effortlessly in love without simply saying it like that.

you are my way home.

i have been waiting for my turn. my go. my comet to slip through my fingers no longer, for they are clenched close, so nothing can escape once i get a grip on the elusive celestial beings that can't even hold a candle to all that glowers deep in the caverns of your tiny chest, beating 700 million times before you die. and i just want one of those beats to be for me, to beat to speed a little bit faster, skip like hopscotched youth, because of me.

brb crying

take everything you've ever loved and hold it in the palm of your hand.

clench your fist and pray that something in the sky can turn these invisible moments and beautiful becomings into something real to look forward to.

i always feel furthest from you around this time

between the hours of 2 and 4 in the morning

when my eyelids start to get heavy and my mind slows down

you've gone to sleep long ago but i'm still here

i sift through pages of versions of love and lust

reading other people's interpretations of how to live

being told to "go out there and make something happen"

because "life is short" and that "i'm young so i can do anything"

but truthfully if i were to "go out there and make something happen"

the only thing i can think to do involves the longest line of rope

and enough coordination in my hand and eye

to tie that rope around your heart and pull you back here

while i lie awake in the darkest room

feeling this distance more than ever

"wouldn't it be nice if i had answers like that? a flick of my wrist or tongue and you feel better, pick up a pen and string ribbon through the typewriter teeth and everything flows like the mississippi - but i don't. i'm as lost as you are, at this point, i think. maybe just today is one of those days and you caught me in a weird place on a bad point in a shitty storm. but that's what has to happen and the difference maker is whether or not we can bounce back. i hate the city i live in at this point, i am so depressed i can't even clean the apartment basically, and stay high all day every day so i don't have to realize how unhappy i am. it's about the bounce back once the lifelessness goes away, because it does.

it gets better, it has before and it will again. the songs say so, the poets say so, the fairy princesses have told us time and time again. how about we hang in there together, huh?"

it's strange how someone can give me such strong advice and encouragement even though i have never heard their voice, or seen what they really look like - only what they are capable of. this is enough.

things to do if you become lace

string mountains, sift through

the gaps in your fingertips,

tie you up with love

a follow up:

you are the reason i keep trying.

i guess it just comes down to what makes me feel something. anything.

what sinks into my core and stays there, firmly and grounded, to remind me later when i need something to get me going again.

what used to make my heart burst and my spine tingle with goosebumps now stares me blankly in the face, flat and uninteresting.

everything has changed and my passion has twisted down a different road, forgetting to hand me a map.

retracing my steps, hoping to find where i lost my mind or my determination, but i'm really fucking lost.

peeling the fabric from my skin

giving your imagination the satisfaction it craves

we swore this wouldn't happen again

but we lie through our teeth

because you're crushing me in the sweetest fashion

reading my goosebumps like braille

it feels new

although you've memorized the lines

tangled together like knots

simultaneous breathing at the highest of frequencies

to your pleasure i'm starting to unravel

just as you are too

biting my tongue to keep this secret safe

but it's hard to hold anything back

when my guard is non-existent

just know that i'm trying to do this right

so i'm defenceless and open

and i'm all yours

it's not about forcing happiness,

it's about not letting sadness win

i have to stop letting things get under my skin

i need to learn to peel the layers back

and let the bad parts out

before they consume me entirely

only anchors can keep me from moving forward

and even if

it's only you

that's enough

sometimes it just takes that certain song, at that certain time, with certain words spilled out from someone else's heart to really get to me.

and now is one of those times.

i know you will never read this but i promise that i will try harder to let you know how much i truly do appreciate every fragment of your existence.

i am so incredibly sorry for everything you have had to go through, because you don't deserve it. you don't deserve to have your heart ripped out of your chest, leaving a gaping hole for everyone to gawk at.

you inspire me to no end, and i hope that you are aware of everything that you are capable of, despite the bruises you may get along the way.

when i hear the rain i'm reminded of you

when the sky cries out to the earth, theatrically and unconfined

everything is loud and dark and hanging low

and it feels like when you tried on your parents' coat as a child

and everything is overwhelming and heavy but you know you're safe

it's the same when i'm in your presence

and torrential downpours bring back these feelings

so when i hear the rain i'm reminded of you

i always feel like this writing becomes a waste of time and ends up tangled in a web of clumsy syllables and constanants in which i messily try to pull into a straight line of organized thoughts

like a complex of fleeting moments that stick to my fingers for mere seconds, before i wash them away willingly and simply

i am my own worst critic, i know that, but you can't blame me for wanting more out of this

i realize that sometimes i need to take a breath and step away from the pen and let the thoughts that mean something come to me at the times that i expect it the least

like on a long drive, or in the wee hours of the morning, half asleep with heavy eyelids, scribbled into that notebook beside my bed that has collected dust for far too long

from now on, i want to try my best to give my words capacity, something tangible and dense

i don't want silly verbs and flimsy prefixes tossed together, something that sounds pretty but means shit to me, or you, or anyone

i want my words to feel heavy in your head and heavy in your heart, not something to be delicately skimmed through

i want my words to be something that you pine for, something that makes you ache, and something that makes me feel like i have lifted a huge weight off my shoulders every time that i put down the pen or pull the paper from the typewriter

so this is my attempt to not only find inspiration by looking at things, but through experiencing things, and getting hurt and being brave, so i have something to write about late at night just like i am now, only with less tact and a more reckless spirit and an uninhibited mind

because that's what being young is all about right?

passing the microphone to a gifted preacher

letting him spill sentences of love and truth

but never knowing what it means

realizing we can't learn through words and syllables

and that we'd rather discover with our hands and feet

walking this dirty earth

letting the soles of our feet grow calloused and tough

holding hands as tight as we can

drawing circles on each others palms

learning the dips and cracks we receive along the way

showing the preacher that we weren't made for listening to rules

because we'd rather make our own

so we mark our own path, leaving footprints behind

two sets of them, in sync with one another

in all this dirt and mud and clay of the earth

a constant reminder that we belong here

and that we're in this together

right here

and right now.

i like the times that i don't need words to explain how much you mean to me

and i can express it through ways i'm more comfortable doing so

like with sweet expressions and warm kisses

because to be honest,

i'd rather count your rib bones and freckles

with my fingers than with numbers

trees will make a forest, trees will make a bow

these are all the harder words you have to know

if everyone'a structure where their own saviour sits,

then i'm a little red house but no one's living in it

cars are little blood cells, we are oxygen

city is the airways, suburbs appendages

she was feeling lonely, tired of the hive

rented out a family, and he bought a bride

little cities' names on very lonely maps

they tied her up and laid her on the train tracks

where are all the seedlings we grew for violins?

down in jersey lumber, still in prosthetic limbs

should've been a soldier, i could've fought and died

there's no revolution, so i bought a bride

coming down the aisle while the horns play taps

they tied her up and laid her on the train tracks

if somehow i was new and everything was unsaid

i'd go and buy a hammer, never sing again

sleeping on a stairway, dreamt i had a boat

sailed it out the harbour, shot it full of holes

folded up my prayer book, i couldn't see the lines

drowning in a kelp bed, i bought a bride

we only have what we remember.

to really think about it is a little scary

to read between the lines and analyze the words that are said

although it's simply put, it's a lot to ask

and a lot to take in

and a lot to trust and believe in and share in return

it's not just saying that i love you

it's saying that i'm in love with you

it makes my fingers shake

my heart go numb

my knees tense up

but despite the natural reactions that my body can't help

my mind is steady and it's telling me:

yes

to the moon and back

i'm coming to terms that i'm not concerned

with planting my feet but looking onward

i'm growing older but i can't get over

the need of colder skin when i know that home is warmer

it's just that i have this problem

where i want to be everywhere i'm not

i'm thankful for what i've got

a room in a house where my bed may stay

but the feel of another's sheets help keep my demons away

it's beome clear that what keeps me here

is the sense of failure and other nightmares

i've become jaded and i can't escape it

the thought of settling when i know it's what i've hated

it's just that i have this problem

where i want to be everywhere i'm not

it's just i know myself and i'll sacrifice everything i've got

though i can't afford to eat as much as i should be

and my bills won't pay themselves so i'll come up with another scheme

this place looks better from a passenger window

or stared at from above

but when you're chasing brightness

you lose concern with the damage done

it's not my fault

i'll try to call

no ties no roots i'm fine