Somebody's Hero

watching Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants with my sister while the sun shines through the cracks in our closed blinds and mu stomach tosses and turns the chicken dumplings i downed a half hour ago. this summer is dragging on and on but at least the nightmares have stopped and i can sleep again. I guess i was dragging around all this bad energy but once that floral pant wearing artist put her magic hands on me i was centered again.
yesterday we ran accross car filled roads, dodging trucks filled with trashy hicks who hollered at me out the window and honked with dirty fingers. they don't see me- just a tall blonde in a tank top. they aren't close enough to see the blue eyes, peace sign necklace, dreams of european cafe's and 18th birthdays. they don't see an artist, a girlfriend, a daughter, a dreamer. they see a piece of ass. sometimes this world makes me sick. open your eyes all you gritty truck drivers of america, that seventeen year old you honked at is so much more than another girl to honk at.
you held my hand even though i was dripping sweat and my toes were still caked with dirt from the soggy lawn at the Dave Matthews concert. we found refuge in Barnes n Noble while you flipped through UFC magazines and I looked at glossy pictures of toned perfection. 31 moves to get your abs toned this summer. 20 foods to slim down. how about 100 reasons why i should put down this magazine and start loving myself in spite of the fact that I am so far from these starving beauties? that's what i should be reading. by the time we picked up your car from Pep Boys my purple eyeshadow was smudging and my head felt too heavy on my neck. thankfully, I had you to rest it on while we waited in traffic and your dad yelled at you to get your head out of your ass. we both laughed silently as the sun beat down on your adorable farmers tan. If my camera wasn't so heavy I'd be snapping pictures of us at that red light, but it is so the last time i felt my finger on that button was at my cousins birthday party. we filled three tables at Friday's and her strawberry blonde hair looked shinier than ever. Her blue eyes are so full of the world and when she looks at me I feel like i could actually be somebody's hero. When she reaches up for me to hold her,
I feel like I deserve to be looked at that way. I feel like I want to hold her forever.

Worth The Ride

April is finally here and oh it is so different from the spring i blossomed in last year. When i was a Junior and the blonde haired Ken doll everyone adored so much painted on my window- asking me to prom in red letters with a heart by his name. I was short haired and tan and smiling every second because my teethe were no longer imprisoned by bitter tasting braces. I was fresh from quiet Idaho and bursting with poetry. I am still this girl. My hair is longer and my tan has faded but my poetry still flows and my heart beats to the same rythems. The only difference is that that blonde haired hypocrite is lightyears away from me now and yes, I cried last night when he told me to leave him the fuck alone but while my tears seeped into my pillow my beautiful boyfriend soothed me with white raggae rapping and quiet I Love You's. He let me cry until the Sudafed kicked in and I exploded into sleep.
I dreamed of our Spring Break. Of the way you smiled at me as we crossed the state line into Florida. Of the Ooohs and Aaaahs we whispered while we drove past our first palm tree. Of the six hundred twenty seven pictures i snapped of you and me and our painfully pretty friends that painted Panama twenty different shades of wild. I let my blonde hair flow loose under a cowboy hat that matched yours. We bought them at a cheap surf shop along with sleezy tee shirts and overpriced water bottles. When we kissed our straw hats collided and sang with scratchy bliss. Your lips were chapped and tasted like salt water and oh, I have never felt so head over heels. You picked out the black dress I wore to that expensive restaraunt. Stared at me until I felt like I was worth staring at. Held my hand while we walked those Panama streets and squeezed it at all the right moments. Our dinner was charming darling but you know I couldnt wait to go back to the room and throw on my gangsta hat. Slip my feet into your Timberlands and freestyle with your frineds. They are shaking their heads and laughing and you just hug my crazy body and tell me you think its cute I don't care what anyone thinks.
Why would I?
I already have everything I need.
But those Florida nights are miles from me now. We left them behind when we got lost on an endless Alabama road. It was the hottest day all week and the four of us were crammed into your Abercrombie smelling Audi- singing Lynard Skynard and Kenny Chesney, Backstreet Boys and Lil Wayne. Windows down, radio up, cowboy hats on, purple toenails bouncing in the breeze as they dangled out my window. Those sixteen hours were long baby,
but it was worth the ride.

Ready for Spring

The snow is melting and I'm thanking God because I'm tired of bundling up in all these mismatched layers. I'm ready to trade my thick, striped scarves for paisley ribbons and flip flops. I'm ready to sip on pink lemonade and lather my skin with coconut scented lotion. This is the spring that I am starved for.
Yesterday we played in the snow and you told me I bring out the kid in you. Blonde pigtails peeked out from under my red and black hat but by the time we made it inside my hair was soaked and my hat was lopsided. A 6 foot college boy made snow angels with me and his black dog named Lucy. It was beautiful and while I craved my camera it was so much easier to tackle you without that Sony in my hands. When our fingers were numb and our boots filled with snow we retreated to the warmth of your house and cooked hot chocolate. There were no marshmellows so we picked out hearts and stars and rainbows from your box of Lucky Charms.
Sitting on your plaid couch and watching Quinten Tarantino flicks. You'd never take me for a gory girl but oh how I love all that bloody action. After Death Proof and Planet Terror my eyes were growing heavy and my hot chocolate wasn't so hot. I count the freckles on your arms until I fall asleep and thank God you know just the right way to hug me because your basement is freezing and my socks are still drenched.
When you finally take me home I chew on minty melatonin and look at all the black n white pictures you took of us on my laptop. You trying desperatly to look like a hard ass. Me throwing peace signs and making fish faces. Both of us laughing. and laughing. and laughing.
I slept like a baby but my dreams were filled with nerf gun wars and cotton candy. Bizzare, I know. My dreams aren't better than my reality anymore. <3

Natural Disasters

Yesterday started out with fat free smoothies and pudding cups on the couch. I laid back in the recliner and watched the style network while everyone else went to school. I waited for snow and licked low cal pudding off my fingers and wiggled my toes in my fuzzy No-Slip red socks. When it finally started snowing a beautiful blonde that could be my sister picked me up and took me to get smoothies. Low fat strawberry goodness that wound up to be a mistake because i forgot my gloves and while it tastes like heaven coffee would have been so much warmer on this winter day. We avoided school and talked about love and beaches and high school bullshit until we snapped back to reality and looked at the clock. Second period was over and it was time to apply ourselves, time to admit there would be no snow day for these desperate spring-hungry seniors.
We took our time walking to class, stopping at lockers and shuffling our wet Ugg boots with ease. When we finally said goodbye I was alone and my footsteps echoed on the pastel colored tiles. This hallway will be swimming with teenagers in the middle of an identity crisis in a few minutes. It will smell like body odor and expensive perfume and fund raiser chocolate. It will be loud and hot and chaotic but for now it is mine. and it is quiet. and it is empty. and it smells like the shampoo at my grandmas house. so i will savor each footstep and swing my arms through that empty hall. All this lovely silence is only t.e.m.p.o.r.a.r.y.
Finally in forensics and for once I paid attention instead of doodling poetry on my hand. We talked about natural disasters and liability clauses and preventable deaths. We talked about tragedy like it was this distant faraway thing that could never touch us in our suburban fishbowl of safety. We are comfortable. We are invincible. We are untouchable. And deep down i think we all know,

that we are just fooling ourselves.

Tragedy can seep into the most clean cut universe and implode the most innocent hearts. Natural disasters happen naturally ANYWHERE. And while I will not live in ignorance I will also not live in fear. Because I believe in something bigger. something greater. something divine and nameless because my lips can't form a word for all that beauty. Something some call God, some call Love, all call upon when they are in need and on their knees and tired of desperation. Something not confined to religion, or country, or individual. Something that lives within each and every one of those confused looking sets of eyes i see day after day at my high school. It's that ease that overcomes me when I surrender to the world and know that everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to be as it should. Everything is out of my hands and that lack of control is a GLORIOUS thing. It means that all i have to do is
LIVE IN LOVE.
Nothing more. Nothing less.

After forensics the snow started to pour. Our world was coated in white and oh, it was so beautiful. But that beauty was bitter as we walked to our cars in that arctic parking lot. I couldn't breathe without swallowing snowflakes and your car door was frozen shut. I grabbed out with both hands and yanked on the handle until the ice cracked and snow fell onto my seat. We laughed and wiped it off. We drove and talked more about the scruffy faced loser every girl used to lust after. Now he is just another cocky ass hole heartbreaker and to tell you the truth
I'm not surprised.
It was only a matter of time before he realized you were too good for him. I just wish you could see it too. Stop wasting your brown eyes on someone who is blind.

On the drive home you tried to hit the breaks but the car wouldn't stop. Images flashed through my head, Alicia Keys videos about bloody loves saying goodbye in a hostpital bed and damn all that VH1 i watched this morning. I was texting my boyfriend while you were whispering "stop, stop, STOP" but we didn't stop and you could hear the crunch of metal on metal as we hit that SUV. You looked at me with an expression I've never seen before and I put my cell phone down. My hormonal boyfriend bitching came to a halt and I was suddenly filled with regret for the words i yelled at him while he sat in a college classroom. My screeching voice echoed through his phone and to tell you the truth
now i don't even remember what I was so upset about.
All my period bullshit became inconsequential and I was left with an utter appreciation for life and love and these are the mini natural disasters we avoid every day. The woman we hit was a long haired brunette but she only smiled and asked if we were okay. Thank Buddha for the friendly people still left in the world, I was anticipating furrowed brows and screaming about insurance. I'm glad I was wrong. <3

escape from this winter

We got two days of beauty before the storm came again. Before the rains blew over Ohio and turned all our perfectly mowed lawns into brown puddles. Yesterday we drove with the windows down. I sat in the car with two beautiful girls and sang. and sang. and sang. I threw my hand out the window and felt the wind whip through all this dirty blonde hair. The sun was shining and my body was screaming for summer.
We ate chili and pretzels at McCalisters while we talked more about the scruffy faced asshole who broke her. He would trade three years for a pretty mouth in a pea coat and I'm sorry but you are pathetic. Now she is free and one day she will see that she is so much better off without you. The days to come will bring loneliness and I know all this Tuesday rain isn't helping but just wait darling. I promise
THERE WILL BE MORE SUNNY DAYS.
Just put on some Billy Joel and let the lullaby from your windshield whippers croon you off to sleep until spring decides to show it's lovely face again. Until you can laugh like you used to without wondering if he's with her. Until you can wear capris and flip flops. Heartache hurts so much less under the sunshine. <3
Days are dragging again. Last night we watched Dane Cook and ate pasta and I miss him everytime I hear his car drive away but oh, sleep is so wonderful and I'm drinking it up because I don't get nearly enough of it these days. I spent my day at school avoiding the art teacher with bags under her eyes and doodling on my hand. Writing reminders about keeping good karma on my wrist and yawning until the bell rings and I can go back to my grandmas for diet coke and Lifetime movies. I am more than ready to escape from this winter.

Knowing That I'm Right

This was a snowy week of loving you and sleeping in. We slid down ice covered roads to your sweet smelling car. Wore matching trucker hats and bought one dollar movies. The kind filled with busty blondes and bloody torcher scenes. The kind that gives you nightmares and makes you scared of the world.

The three of us sprawled out on your couch Thursday night. Ate cheese It's with Tobasco sauce until I fell asleep and woke up alone. You had tucked in my feet while I napped the day away so my toes didn't get cold. Me and your newfound best friend sloshed through the dirt covored snow while you were gone. Our hair was damp against our foreheads, our fingers jammed into our pockets, but we fought that bitter cold with warm conversatin and dreams of independance.

When you got home you cringed as I threw my wet body on your chest. I was soggy with snow, gorgeously disgusting. Smeared eyeliner on beige cheeks. A pink nose and unbrushed teethe. Hours from now I will be sparkling clean with a Crest white smile and leopard print sweater but for now I am a disaster and you love me anyways. You love me when I try to rap on youtube even though I'm white. Yu love me when my breath smells like BBQ. You love me when I lick my fingers in nice resteraunts and leave you 20 minute voicemails. YOu love me when I'm knocked down, fucked up, tired of the universe. When I'm a total nerd, a liberal minded hippie, an artist with ADD. You love me when I can't look in the mirror because I'm tired of my eyes, and just when I start to forget,
you remind me of how blue they are.
This is why I talk about you in Muliticultural Literature
and Entrepreneurs in Action
and Choir
and Math.

This is why I've traded knee high boots for tie dye sweatpants and a UC Tee shirt. This is why when blonde haired football players tell me you'll break my heart again I can tell them that they're wrong.
No amount of homemade calenders or late night facebook messages can thank you for that,
because nothing feels better than telling them they're wrong.
Nothing feels better than knowing that I'm right.

Skeptical Beauties

The girl sitting next to me wants a tattoo of a cherry blossom on her back and I'm jelous because I wish I'd thought of that. All I can dream of are peace signs and henna.
Long haired girl with high water and grey flannel socks stood in front of the class 40 minutes ago. She is the kind of girl my boyfriend would make fun of but the more I look at her the more beauty I see behind those brass rimmed glasses. She is hiding under layers of Goodwill clothes and selling candy bars to skinny bitches to raise money for anime club. She is brilliant but she stuttered through that 20 minute presentation about Japan. Her cheeks grew redder and redder and I wished she'd look at me so I could smile at her with my eyes. So I could send her golden rays of reassurance from accross this stoney morning classroom.
She is the kind of girl who never hears she's beautiful,
and if you tell her she'll only think you're lying.
God bless the skeptical beauties. They are walking tragedies I pass in the hall e.v.e.r.y.d.a.y.

I swore I would workout yesterday but I didn't. Instead I did someone elses final exam and ate three bowls of white chili. My brown eyed boyfriend rang the doorbell for the first time and I saw how firmly my stepdad shook his hand.
I geuss chilvary's making a comeback
Just in time<3

TGIF

A thousand screaming high school students in white
and me and my best friend are wearing jet black tee shirts. Splashed in school spirit, pig tails, war paint, black bandana, beads. Beads. Beads.
This is our last year.
Our last chance to drink up all this Thursday night joy. Our boys looked so pretty in those green jerseys but the scoreboard didn’t lie and I’m sorry to say all the cheering in the world couldn’t save us now. But the stands are filled and the lights are bright while the sun sets and we all scream for the drum line. I take too many pictures of beautiful girls that walked straight out of a magazine and into my high school. I smile even though it’s hot and muggy and I feel bloated from all that spontaneous candy corn.
I didn’t call you all day. Didn’t text you to tell you I cared or ask how you were doing. My fingers were screaming for my cell phone but I shoved my anxious hands in my pockets and took deep breaths until thoughts of you drifted away. Eventually you came to me. Missing me. Wanting me. Telling me how pretty I was. I push away and you pull me back and we are stuck in this passionate tug-o-war and I honestly don’t see either of us coming out victorious. You told me you loved me and I told you the score of the game. Laugh to myself and finally fall asleep. This morning came far too quickly and even that blue energy drink could not bring life back into my eyes.Oh well,
Thank God It’s Friday. :)

not writing you off just yet

Yesterday I wrote a novel for this blog.
I sat still and poured my heart out while pounding on my keyboard and sipping on a diet coke. I mindlessly spilled my secrets onto the internet. I did not hit save. I did not copy my words. I just hit enter and then sat in shock when my computer crashed. All those lovely lines lost forever. I could look at it as a tragedy but this is just one more chance to rewrite my history. Take a step back and breathe and look at the situation in a new state of mind. These words will not be the same ones I wrote yesterday. These will be the words of a girl wiser than she was 24 hours ago. Someone refreshed by a weekend of flirting with blue eyed boys working at green tea stands in the mall. Someone who walked on the pavilion in Mount Adams in high heeled cowgirl boots and a golden corset. Someone who had nightmares filled with Cameron Diaz and trips to Paris all last night but who feels stronger than she ever has.
That Friday lunch date did not go as I had planned. My stony silence did nothing to ease this aching heart and even though when you tried to hug me I pulled away in defiance I am talking until my lip gloss has lost its luster and my lips are chapped from too much honesty I swore I would never cover you in. You don’t deserve to know what I spend my days thinking about. You don’t deserve to sit there so beautifully. You don’t deserve one second of this awkward apology and yet somehow the way you’re blinking your eyes and looking at your freckled hands makes me think maybe you really are sorry.
The words your best friend told me during all those 4 hour phone conversations were lies. A well thought, gorgeous stab in the back. I believed him blindly because you hurt me once and I wanted to believe you were the monster all those angry teens write rock songs about. I drank up his elaborate stories about your mind games. I let them sing me to sleep and woke up with a soggy pillow case. I did not think to as you or her or them. I did not need a second opinion or proof.
And even though they were lies, there is one truth. When I was home you were with her and yes, I know you regret it. I know how sorry you are but sometimes
Sorry is not enough.
Sorry can’t make me trust you more. Can’t get you back all those friends you pushed away with your dizzy nights and eagerness to fight. Can’t take back the way you talked to your mom or the doors you slammed in the faces of people who adored you. Sorry is lovely but baby, it will take more than sorry to make me jump. We sat on the curb of my favorite Thai restaurant while you smoked a cigarette and blew angry smoke away from my face. Angry with yourself for you mistake, angry with him for his lies, angry with me because you know I wish I could love you like I did. You flick that death stick into the street and cradle your head in your hands. Your friends are far away and your mom is dying and you have no idea how I am longing to hold you. But those days are over. I can’t make the pain go away, only you can do that darling. But I will put my hand on your back and promise you better days. I will pop my gum and damnit I’m sorry but this is my confession.
He kissed me
And I kissed him back.
And I’m scared the faces of the people that love me enough to want to protect me will stare at me in disappointment. Shameful eyes casting glares at the still girl who lets her heart get the best of her. But please know that I am not blind anymore. I am not caught up in your lies like I once was. And if I kiss you again, you can be sure that if you give me a disaster like this summer again it will be the last time. You can be sure that I will not let you ignore my calls, blow me off, make me feel less that beautiful and loved and adored. Because I know I deserve that now.
I may give you a chance to prove yourself because I truly see something in you.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice, shame on me.
And maybe ill be shamed but if I am I am walking away without looking back. I am closing the door on you and us and your countless apologies. I will feel for your pain and love you from afar but you can bet your ass I will put up walls to keep your brown eyes far from me.
But I’m not ready to close that door.
Not yet.
Because I have made mistakes too. Let people down. Lied. I am not evil. I am not a monster. I am a teenage girl.
I’m not letting you throw your arm around my shoulders and claim me as yours. But I’m not writing you off just yet.

Goodbye.

Today I feel strong.
I feel funny.
I feel skinny and radiant and full of love for every lost teenage wanna-be aimlessly roaming these high school hallways. The grungy indie boy I used to love smacked me with his elbow in first bell and I didn’t even scowl at him. He hasn’t showered all summer and he wears the same tee shirt twice a week. He smells like old acoustic guitars and Halloween. He is a part of my past just as much as you will be. One day you might nudge me with your elbow and I would not even look your way. I would not remember the way you used to hug me. I would not miss those summer nights or magical fireworks. I would smile, and breathe, and move on.
I have a date this weekend. A first date with a sophomore in college who wants to be a policeman in a bad part of town. He remembers me laughing too loudly in the hallway when he was a senior and wants to know what’s behind these blue eyes. We aren’t expecting forever. We aren’t expecting love. We’re expecting to smile and nod and get to know another heart while watching a baseball game and splashing in the pool. When I said I was moving on,
I meant it.
But today I will meet you for lunch. In a few hours I will be in your car again-for the first time in days, for the last time ever. And the strange thing is, while my stomach churns at the though of smelling your musky promises again, I am not scared. I am not scared of falling back in love with you. I’m not scared of falling at all.
I will listen to what you have to say- apologies, regrets, well-wishes. I will forgive you and then leave you behind. I won’t wince when you call me baby. I won’t give in if you reach for my hand. Even though you don’t deserve it, I will give you this one chance to say goodbye.
Goodbye my brown eyed freckled armed free style rapping Hollister wearing obsessive compulsive liar. Goodbye.

Too Far Gone

The sad thing is
Yesterday I spent hours convincing myself you deserved a second chance. You were sorry. You meant every word of that e mail you sent me at two in the morning.
I was wrong.
I spent hours lying to myself and the people that love me for the sake of avoiding the pain of losing you. But I don’t feel pain now. I think of all the times you touched me and it burns my skin because I now know where your hands had been before I got dropped off at your house. I know whose pony tail was on your wrist next to mine. Some sixteen year old brunette across the street and if I didn’t love life so much I might just be sick. I was ready to meet you on Friday at our favorite pizza place. I was ready to sit across from you and color you purple with forgiveness. I was ready to let you hold me again like you told me you dreamed about. Your dreams are my nightmares. Swearing you loved me while you snuck around with your junior high sweetheart who lied to you too many times to count. I called and told you pizza was off. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear your voice- mumbling apologies and whispering I love you’s and searching for some redemption from a seventeen year old girl you can’t save you. You took advantage of my forgiveness, of my honesty, my easy going love I gave without question. I was there when your college dreams collapsed. I was there when the people you loved left. I stayed behind. I surrendered my summer. But I am not your savior. My forgiveness will not get rid of that guilt. You will have to lie in bed and think about what you lost. I will be sleeping soundly to James Taylor lullabies and Elton John records. I will be spending weekends at festivals. I will be tasting all that freedom again and licking my lips for more because I am rid of your head games. “Dude, I’m just messing with her mind.”
You can’t touch me anymore.
I’m too far gone.

Radiating Love

It’s a new day. My blonde hair is no longer short and choppy and hopeless. Thanks to birthday money and luscious extensions I can flip these long locks over my shoulder and brush them with a passion I forgot I had. Ha. Girls and their hair<3
Yesterday I tried to heal while reading a Buddhist manual for spiritual revolutionaries. I lie on my tummy in a well lit courtyard with an expensive fountain and read about forgiveness, the eightfold path, the four noble truths, cleansing my soul and body and mind and radiating love out into the world. All morning I have been radiating love while I sip this French vanilla coffee that burns my tongue and warms my hands. All morning I have been forgiving you while I close my eyes and breathe deep and count to ten and feel all that suffering fade away. Pain is real,
But I made myself suffer.
I made myself suffer when I put my head on my desk and thought of our first kiss and then our last one. I made myself suffer when I searched the computer frantically with lovesick fingers on the keyboard and forced myself to look at pictures of us before we were broken. I made myself suffer when I refused to see that it is out of my control. Pain may come and go, ease in and out of my universe but I will not avoid it. I will not shut it out or fight it off. I will embrace it, I will love this fucked up human reality of pain because when the pain is gone I am left with confidence and the power of knowing I did not sink to your level. I did not use your secret torments you whispered in my ear late at night when the crickets were outside your window and your friend’s cigarette smoke was filling up your car. I did not lash out at you with blood red words and a mouth full of profanity.
And I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you. When you call my best friends and beg for forgiveness they will probably hang up on your monotone mumbling frat boy voice. They will shake their heads and tell me to move on and believe me I will. But I will give you a chance to apologize to my face. To look at me and attempt to shower me in all the sincerity a 19 year old boy is capable of. I will sit across from you and stare you dead in the eye when I tell you that I will not bring you happiness. I will bring you phone calls and butterfly kisses and wrestling in your basement. I will bring you someone to make fun of and tickle and confide in. But until you find out who you are, until you forgive that girl you loved for four years before you even knew my name, until you let go of all that anger that’s flooding your brown eyes and making your fists clench into a tight ball- you will not know happiness. Not with me-
Not with anyone.
And as much as you hurt me darling,
I’m still radiating love.
I want you to be happy.

I fear hitch-hikers, blue eyes, and promises. Deserted movie theaters and bad fathers. Lonely winter nights when the hallways are creaking and you can't see out your window. Pale passionless faces and wedding vows.

Love is my enemy. I hate love and I love love and I have willingly given far too much of my heart to that twofaced emotion that promises eternity and leaves you with NOTHING.

My worst subjects are Handling Hearts and Standing Up for Myself 101. I am failing miserably though i enrolled myself in both of these classes. I enlisted in desperate hopes of becoming strong.

My teachers are middle aged hippies, a homosexual with a crown on her head and art spilling from her fingers, blonde haired heroine who slays vampires on day time TV, round bellied buddha with a childs smile. They educate me through heartache and adventure and meditation. They they hold my hand when the world collapses.

I feed my mind with Kashi bars, green tea, pad thai, chocolate covored raisins, and strawberry smoothies.

My universe is coral colored with flashes of yellow and orange that ignite nights when the stars refuse to shine.

This is a glimpse of my world,

---> these are pieces of my TRUTH.

While I watched my sweat drip on an overpriced elliptical machine you texted me. Reminded me of Moulin Rouge duets and all those times i promised to teach you to meditate. Forced me to run until i was gasping for breath and i still could not escape you.

So i admitted I missed you and told you goodbye. I crouched on a sunlit curbside in silver aviators and cutoff shorts and waited for something better to come and drive me away from your dizzy dreamland that couldnt last.

Funny how I fall for boys with sick dogs and a passion for thai food. This new song singer took me to an ethnic hideaway with blue shutters and butterscotch mints. He told me he wants to take care of me and make me happy but I'm not ready to believe him.

Not yet.

He tries to touch my unshaven legs and tells me I intimidate him from behind my brown glasses.

He honks at strangers and plays his music too loud.

He is just as tattered as I am. <3

I am more than content

Weeks and weeks since my last post and I'm sitting here feeling bloated in my sisters flannel pants- missing four rings from my hand that i accidentally left at his house that chaotic morning. It's strange to tell someone i love them again.

It's even stranger to mean it.

Fireworks lit up a summer sky right before the thunder cracked and I was sitting in a luke warm hot tub with three sisters i used to know so well. I am falling back into their world because part of me belongs there. We will fly to Hawaii with ipods full of new music and I will wave goodbye to my brown haired free style rapping boy toy and ask him to forgive me when I miss his birthday. I promise to help him blow out his candles after I have hulah danced on tourist beaches and laughed out loud in an island oasis.

I wish i had more to write but for now I can only tell you that this summer has brought me bittersweet independance and sloppy kisses that taste like BBQ sauce. It has brought me a freezing bedroom in the basement draped in silk scarves and army letters and a punishment i deserve. I lied to spend a night in those arms. To pretend I was a patriot and watch Star Wars with a hollister wearing college boy on the fourth of July. I lied and now I can't see those big brown eyes for weeks but i have countless seasons of Buffy on DVD to pass the time. I have a puppy who licks my cheek in the morning and a mother who steals my CDs and makes me chai tea when i need it the most. I have a best friend who knows all my favorite songs and who can sing them more in key than I ever will. I have a brother who hugs me tight around the waist and cries when i try to break away,

a sister i can tickle at midnight,

a free spirit no one will ever tie down.

I am more than content-

I am joyful.

It Isn't Funny Anymore

Thunder crashed and he hugged me for the first time in months. The power’s out in a house full of a family that used to mean Chinese takeout and Joss Whedon on Tuesday nights. In the candle light I don’t even recognize them. They are warped by the faint flicker of flame between us and I want so badly to laugh at their jokes but that humor is bittersweet and it isn’t funny anymore.
He held me and cried into my sweat stained gym shirt but my body was limp under his desperate hands. I blinked and read Herman Hesse and promised myself that in an hour I would sit on a rain soaked patio in my pajamas and cry under an oversized umbrella and purple clouds. Smell the sweet storm that just raged over my summer fantasies and wave goodbye to the daughter he used to know. She is a phantom walking barefoot in circles around that mansion she used to call home. Promising love to strangers and swallowing her truth. Conforming to rules that would break her spirit and teach her to hate art. I refuse to be that girl.
Bald headed uncle flew back to Atlanta skies but I wish he was here to criticize mainstream music and smell Skyline with me. I wish he was here to go off on tangents about the details of life unseen by the residents of my world. He rants and raves and makes it beautiful. He sees me the way I wish everyone I ever loved did. As an individual. An artist. A beatnik sixteen year old sucking strength out of poetry. He is far too brilliant for this small town so he returns to his music filled house. To a house filled with cats that know all his secrets. To a manikin dressed in vintage clothes that watches him eat breakfast. But I don’t worry. He’ll be back.
Coffee in the morning with that springtime boy and finally I am a regular. I walk through a mahogany door and they know my face and my smell and my passion for caramel and expresso. It’s nice to be known.

the taste of summer

Spring is fading into summer and I am singing new songs. Songs that make my hips sway and my heart hurt in all this humidity. Unrealistic expectations I created myself because I wanted to badly to believe I was worth holding. I wanted to badly to live out a fairy tale- I forgot I am no princess. Just a mixed up hippie child with a digital camera and home made perfume. Just a brown haired misfit who loves in run on sentences and ethnic food. Last night I walked downtown by my mothers side in a short skirt and floral print silk. We ate crab cakes with thai sauce while a bearded faced bohemian played the cello. Everything tastes better when there’s music. We dreamed of Greece and watched slow paced southern love unfold in a cold abandoned movie theatre. We browsed for vintage clothes and golden Buddha statues and silver rings to warm callused writers fingers. We were suspended in a mother daughter paradise.
Swimming under hot rain clouds and there’s a sun-burnt boy in that pool I used to think I loved. While his skin turns red he smothers me in memories I have been killing myself to forget. All those pictures last fall- my purple polka dot mittens and his blue hat. Cold ears and pink noses and golden leaves scattered on haunted roads in the middle of nowhere. It was just us and her and a whole lot of deserted bridges to stand on while the sun set and the wind warned us it was time to go home. He reminded me of bible studies and sweaty concerts and being his bands biggest fan. He told me the picture I made him was still hanging in his room and damnit I am so sick of those green eyes staring at me. For months they wouldn’t even look my way but here we are and oh how I long to be far from him and his memories- his words are no accident.
So we swam and ate sticky brownies and at the end of the day I can taste summer on these chapped lips of mine. Last night I said goodbye to a boy I barely know. One with blue eyes and dreams of the army. One I won’t see for months but kissed me softly on a Saturday night. Maybe I should regret giving my lips so willingly but I don’t because I’m just sixteen and hopelessly brainwashed by countless romance novels and Hollywood love stories. Don’t get me wrong, I know that was not love. It was just a goodbye kiss he can think about those long nights away from home. When he’s writing me letters from an army camp in cursive and I’m checking the mailbox barefoot in early mornings. We both know this is pretend.
I have become desperately addicted to five girls. We drink Starbucks at ten o clock and pile in a blue car. We sing and we cry and we love each other in a way only best friends can. Unconditionally. Beautifully. In endless nights and groggy mornings and heartache.

Words of Wisdom

Dearest Mallory,
I am writing to you with hands you would not recognize- callused, wrinkled hands. My fingers are gnarled and twisted but don't worry. On my wrists there are hemp bracelets and Earth-tone beads and silver charms from Barcelona, Paris, and Amsterdam. These hands are eighty years older than the ones you are holding this paper with now but darling they are still yours. They are still draped in memories and thrift store jewelry. Some things never change.
If I am not mistaken you are currently sixteen and utterly lost. You're in love and out of your mind and you cut off all those long blonde waves that cascaded down pale shoulders. You bite your lip when you lie and spend anxious nights anticipating midnight calls- praying for a blonde boy to sing you to sleep while you light lavender incense and scribble peace signs on your ankle. If I am not mistaken, you wish you were a tie-dye-tee-shirt goddess.
Before I go to sleep tonight I wanted to write you a letter to reassure you that yes, you do master calligraphy. You spent weeks in that Sunday morning class downtown but you can finally bring beauty to uppercase S's and lowercase y's. Your signature makes overweight store owners gawk- they have never seen penmanship so closely resemble art. And don't worry, you fall in love. Oh, you fall in love. Over. And over. And over. You surrender yourself to brown eyes and acoustic guitars with engraved initials of reckless lovers. Sometimes you get hurt but you wrap that broken heart in silk scarves and mend it with green tea and Kashi bars. You paint your pain on white linen canvases and hang your masterpieces on a lonely wall. You grow into a Picasso fueled by these next few years of pain so keep all this beauty in mind when you’re drenching your pillow in sweet tasting tears.
Remind yourself daily that there is a rhyme and reason to the seemingly random disaster of our America. Stop eating Weight Watchers fudge bars when you could devour straight up chocolate heaven from your favorite ice cream parlor. I know you think your sides are chubby and your thighs are too wide but trust me on this one, one day you will realize how beautiful you were and long for that summer figure. One day your joints will ache while you do yoga in Central Park. You'll look down at your thirty-something year old cellulite body and remember the days when you could wear low rider jeans and not terrify lollipop licking toddlers. You will regret every time you looked in the mirror and hated what you saw. Please start loving yourself, before you start losing yourself. Please stop writing your poems for everyone else- yours is the heart that needs those lovely words the most. You have always loved to fix what’s broken- always lived to breathe life into the eyes of the hopeless. But as a personal favor to me my dear Mallory, breathe life into your own eyes. Learn to play the guitar. Tell that boy you love him. Forgive your father for not being able to hold you when you needed those arms more than ever. Embrace your best friend. Make the world as beautiful as you want it to be.
Live for today. No regrets. No what-ifs. This is your time to shine darling.
Love,
Mallory

While I Live

Hours of crying on a blank canvas and praying that it came out as art. i ended up with a bunch of old Vogue pictures and snapshots from lazy childhood summers- sprawled out and scrambled and on top of all that loveliness i scribbled LOVE in a white pastel. Pearls are draped around those beautiful face, hot glue gunned down and covored in a thick layer of sparkles. Maybe its art or maybe its just a disaster but in the end it got me through another Sunday night waiting for my phone to ring or the sun to set or the right song to come on. John Mayor and The Shins sat with me on a glue covored carpet and let me miss him. It's not that I cant stand the taste of this pain. it has lingered on my lips politely for years now and i would swallow it but i would rather let it make me strong. This morning i left all those tears to yesterday and laughed out loud in a ying yang tank top. Yes I miss those bear hugs and lullabies but these jeans fit just right and it's eighty degrees and I'm tired of complaining. Tired of letting that pain get in the way of a beautiful spring. SO i will miss him while i smile. Miss him while novels spill from my fingertips. Miss him while I fall in love and find salvation in European poetry. While I cross smooth legs and bare feet and bite my nails. While i live.

breathing in spring

I'm breathing in spring. I'm taking in pure air that smells like Olive Garden and aromatherapy and a million memories I want to carry around in a golden locket. Wrap them around my neck in a hollow heart that sits on my chest on the days when I'm not strong enough to smile on my own.

I feel the need to update the world on all this happiness. To tell them I've found reasons to sing again. Reasons like a blonde haired boy with an Australian grandma. Reasons like a best friends car to clean in cut off shorts and blue bandanas. Reasons like sunny days created for long bike rides and kiwi slushis. unlimited bread sticks and choirs full of girls who hardly know how beautiful they are. I'm attempting to capture all these lovely fragments in run-on sentences and candid pictures but my grammer is awful and my fingers cant type fast enough.

these past few days ive been letting myself live in the world and said things that i wish i could take back. ive cut up people that i love with words when they werent looking and i hope you'll still love me when im done being honost. im sorry for thinking you were annoying. im sorry that when i was sick i called and calld and called because i couldnt stand any more VH1 and i ached to hear your voice. I thought it would make me feel better but i found myself depending on blue eyes for my happiness and i never want to do that. happiness comes from me. from music. from an infinity of journals i have filled with my truth. from unfinished sketches and a sea of dreams. not from someone else. they have their own happiness to find and if i can help i will but i cant give it to them. all i can give anyone is love and these words and pray that it's enough.

next summer I'll hear wedding bells but i swear darling

i refuse to let them shatter me.

im sorry i cant smile for you yet

maybe one day I'll fit in your family picture

Until then,

i suggest you brush up on photoshop.