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

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fears of the future

It's almost midnight on a Tuesday and there are a million things I could be doing instead of sitting at this kitchen table pounding words onto my blog. Feeling my toes brush the cold tile of my grandmas condo. Licking calorie filled drops of chocolate ice cream off a tiny spoon and knowing I will regret it later.
I could be studying for exams. But of course that would be useless. These numbers have been drilled into my head for months and nothing's stuck. No, I'm not dumb. I'm actually pretty intelligent, but I can't stop my fingers from sketching peace signs on all those practice Tax Forms and Chapter Tests. I can't block out the poems streaming from my anxious pen when I should be watching pastel colored power points. I'm a hopeless dreamer and I'm praying this disease isn't fatal. This senioritis that has infected me quickly. College applications are scattered throughout my universe and I want to fill them all out perfectly but I feel much to young to answer these questions. I'm dying to be on my own, to make something of myself. To be a writer, a singer, a wish granting hippie a sight seeing gypsy a librarian who smiles with her eyes and smells like coffee. I'm aching for the world. All of it. Every inch of this pretty planet. I want to step out on my own but oh,
moving my feet seems so hard to do.
And the minutes are flying by and my eyelids are getting heavy with all this talk of the future
So I suppose it's time for me to surrender to dreams.
Tomorrow morning will come too soon and be too cold but still
i adore this reality. <3

A Familiar Voice

Tan knuckles knocked on an oak door in a suburban cul-de-sac. Marissa’s blue eyes glanced sideways into the mirror. She smiled; for once there was no brace-faced child staring back at her. She hardly recognized this young woman with silk gloves up to her elbows. She was a poet in a prom dress anticipating a night that would fill her hungry pen with inspiration.
“Marissa! For crying out loud!” her mother wailed, “He’s here,” her last word fading into an excited whisper.
“DAH! Okay, okay,” she hissed back. She briskly turned off the bathroom light and walked towards the steep stairs. She took a deep breath, paused, and lifted her red stiletto off the ground. Marissa descended the stairs, countless movie scenes running through her head. She prayed through parted ruby lips that when Nick saw her, he heard music.
At the foot of the stairs Nick stood patiently, foot tapping on the wooden floor and hands shoved in the pockets of his tux. When he heard the clicking of Marissa’s heels he looked up. For a moment she was suspended, gloved hand delicately resting on the stair rail. Silence filled the house as they stared at each other- sharing a stolen moment no photograph could capture or lyric could express. The spring rain fell softly and the universe applauded.
“SMILE!” her mother screeched, and it was gone. Their instant of mutual passion evaporated into a million prom pictures and stereotypical poses: his arm around her waist and her hand glued to his chest, her carefully pinning a fading white rose to his midnight tux, the two of them joined by and scattered amidst twenty tan friends while a whirlwind of eager parents rejoiced in digital camera bliss. They filled their Canons and Kodaks until everyone’s cheeks were sore with artificial happiness.
The two of them walked to the car silently. Nick held a plaid umbrella over her golden hair and opened the car door while Marissa slid in and kicked off her heels. She placed pedicured feet on the dashboard and threw her head back in relaxation. As Nick made his way to the driver’s seat, Marissa faded into deep thought. Visions of crowded dance floors and first kisses filled her mind until her shrill ring tone erupted in the peaceful silence.
“Heeeello?” Marissa chirped.
“Hey baby,” a familiar voice met her from the other end of the line. Too familiar. The last time she had heard that voice it had been a crystal winter, screaming words most would consider unforgivable. Screaming words meant to bring a sixteen year old girl to her knees.
“Hey daddy,” Marissa was quiet, a faint whisper in the humid spring heat. Her breaths were making tiny clouds of smoke on the rain covered window as she rested her forehead on its cold surface and dug her nails into the soft car seat.
“I…I miss you, Marissa. And I… I just wanted to call you and tell you to…” he was unable to finish. His words got stuck in his throat and the sound of a grown man crying chilled Marissa to the bone.
“…to have a good time at prom,” he finished. Marissa bit her lip and willed glistening tears to sink back into her heart where they belonged. Her eyes looked far too pretty lined with all that charcoal to spill tears for her father on prom night.
“Ok daddy,” she inhaled deeply and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the tip of her gloves, “I will.”
“I love you Marissa.”
Silence.
“I love you too daddy…I love you too.”
The words tasted hot and bitter and she had been aching to speak them for far too long. She had not seen his face for months now. She had not been his baby girl for even longer.
With the click of a button Marissa ended the phone call that had filled her mind with foggy memories of a home she used to know. Of a father she used to make proud. Of a life she could no longer grasp no matter how far she reached or how beautiful she looked in that two hundred dollar gown. Nick reached over and wound his fingers around hers- she had completely forgotten he was there. He heard every word and suddenly she was drowning in a sea of embarrassment. When she looked at him his eyes showered her in understanding and she laughed in spite of herself.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah…”
She looked out the window and then turned to meet his eyes again,
“I am. I just… I didn’t see that coming you know?”
“I know. What did he want?”
“He wanted me to…” Marissa sniffled and released his hand so that she could wipe her eyes yet again. A sob exploded in her throat and her shoulders began to heave as she battled the sadness.
“It’s okay babe. It’s okay,” Nick stumbled over his words. He would have given anything to stop those tears. To erase that phone call. To rewind back to when she stood at the top of those stairs and he could have sworn he heard music.
“He wanted me to have a good time at prom.”
“Well,” a smile began to spread across Nick’s face and he reached over to Marissa. He grasped her chin with icy fingers and turned her blue eyes to meet his, “Then have a good time at prom.”

It's a rainy thursday and I'm missing you.
I had my camera charged and my favorite tie die shirt on but you were caught in traffic and i can hear your frineds rapping in the back seat of your car.
oh well
i had a headache anyways
these bobby pins i shoved into my scalp are starting to hurt and my stomach is cramping like a bitch. im regretting all the days i forgot to write because now the world will never know exactly how i fell back in love with you.
i don't really know how it happened either
promises of expensive dinners and that stupid Buckcherry song playing over and over and over
29 missed calls from you
christmas on it's way and you were all that i wanted
i need to stop worrying. stop being anxious and paranoid. stop reapplying lip gloss when im sitting in this condo alone watching lifetime and biting my nails.

jolly old saint nicholas

It snowed this morning.
I woke up with cold feet scrunched up in blue flannel pajamas. somewhere around three o clock last night i tip toed to the fridge and ate all those esther price chocolates my grandma was saving for christmas. smoothe silky chocolate seduced my tongue and quieted all these winter fantasies.
i love people the most when it snows
when their cheeks are pink and their noses are stuffy and their hair is covored in snowflakes. i love them most when they're filled with the possibility that that first snow breathes into their rusty fall hearts. when they shiver as snow crunches beneath their feet and seeps through their soggy boots. when for a moment they are restored with that childish innocence christmas morning inevitably brings to all ages. writing letters to a jolly man in a red suit. one who never judges and pats you on the head. one who loves. and loves. and loves. and always eats your cookies.
a man who will never break your heart.
a man who will never let you down.
where have all the santa clauses gone?

Missing My Confidence

Just got yelled at by some hollow eyed librarian in a tangerine sweater but all I can think about is how comfortable these sweat pants are and how I shouldn’t have eaten that oversized chocolate chip cookie on the way to class. The hallways were crowded and I shoved bite after bite of sugary sweetness into eager lips because my best friend wasn’t there to laugh at and my stomach’s been growling all day. In the silence of American Government it cried out for food while we watched Mark Mallory try to pitch a baseball. I told it to be quiet and crossed my arms over the giant Buddha on my chest but the pleading continued and when the bell finally rang for lunch I bolted as fast as these soft pink boots would take me down two flights of stairs and into the cafeteria. I tried to tell myself not to eat it but I did, before I knew it I had chocolate smeared on the edges of my candy pink lips and an empty Otis Spunkemeyer wrapper crumpled in my hands. Damnit damnit damnit. No, I am not one of those girls who weighs herself each night and spends her afternoons with her head in the toilet. My happiness does not lie upon a scale or within a size 2 pair of jeans. I am not killing myself to be beautiful but my mirror is not the friend it used to be. It does not greet me on those early high school mornings with a smile and a wink. It does not whisper quiet affirmations on the days when my phone never rings and this house seems worlds away from reality. I used to find solace in that blonde haired reflection but my gym membership is expired and I eat raisonettes for breakfast. I stopped tanning because I was losing myself to a bronzed stranger and stood out too much in winter. Now my face is dull and lifeless and I swear if you stare long enough you’ll see your eyes in these porcelain cheeks. The complaining must stop because I’m missing my confidence far too much. I forgot how beautiful I was when he traded me in for someone else but I need to remember so that these sunny fall days are not wasted on an insecure seventeen year old with a camera in her hand.
And oh, that camera is in my hand. Every day I’m snapping pictures of the world only I can see. Downloading them so that-if only for an instant- everyone can bear witness to the beauty that overwhelms me. They can realize how gorgeous the specks of gold are in their eyes or find peace within the way the sun hits the wet pavement on dewy afternoons. The only thing keeping me grounded in this cyclone of change are these pictures and the people posing for them. I meditate as I snap shot after shot and by the time their cheeks are sore with smiling I have found my center again. I have found my Om. I have forgotten you. I have forgotten it all.