plastic love 🌤

When I was little.

I could hear wind chimes on my grandmas porch.

I could smell thanksgiving dinner and apple pie coming from the kitchen.

But I couldn’t see the board.

So my mom took me to the eye doctor.

When we left, I could see each individual brick on every individual house, every leaf on every tree. For miles.

I could see everything.

I could see the boys on the playgrounds’ faces when I told them I thought they were cute.

I didn’t know if anyone saw mine when they laughed.

I could see my teachers blindness. The way she failed to see that I wasn’t talking to disrespect her.

I was talking because my dad raised me to raise my voice.

I put my contacts in in the morning & my glasses on at night.

But I still can’t see the difference between someone who is being nice to me because they want to,

and someone who is being nice to me because they want something.

I can see my best friend crying after a boy that wasn’t worth shit told her she wasn’t worth his time.

I still can’t see the difference between people who believe in something,

and people who are too afraid to say they don’t.

I can see the difference between real flowers and plastic flowers,

but I can’t see the difference between real love and plastic love.

I can see every brick on every house and every leaf on every tree.

But I can’t see everything.

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cherry garcia 🍒

I knew I was into you.

I knew I was into you because you held my hand.

I knew I was into you because I felt like singing about you.

I knew I was into because I felt like singing about you and I can’t sing even at all.

I knew I was into you when you added the songs I showed you to your playlist.

I knew I was into you when you bought me ice cream even though I could’ve paid for it myself.

I knew I was into you because of the way you noticed I changed my perfume.

and I knew that.

I never knew I loved you.

I never knew I loved you cus you didn’t hold my hand every time I wanted you to.

I never knew I loved you because I would be too embarrassed to sing horribly in front of you.

I never knew I loved you because those songs didn’t remind me of you.

I never knew I loved you because you forgot my favorite flavor of ice cream is Ben and Jerry’s cherry garcia. Even though I told you every chance I could.

I never knew I loved you because you didn’t notice I changed my mind about what I was comfortable with.

I never knew I loved you. Because I never did.

We have the same voice. 🌦

What I shared at journal jam, then what I thought at journal jam.

What I shared at journal jam:

I want to be that girl,

that girl I passed in the parking lot that obnoxiously yelled

“COOOPER WHUTZZ UPPP?”

I don’t know her, or cooper,

but I heard her voice.

So I hope I can be like that girl.

Because even if you don’t know me, I want you to hear my voice.

I want to be like this song,

this song, that I haven’t heard before,

but right now seems like as perfect a time as any to hear it. .

So I hope I can be like this song,

so even if you haven’t heard me before,

right now will be the perfect first time to.

I hope I can be like the other wolf.

The wolf that is miles away from you,

but when I howl you do too.

so even if we haven’t crossed paths before,

we hear each other

because we have the same voice.

What I thought at journal jam:

221

this all happened in room 221.

all these beautiful people heard about a beautiful class and decided they needed to be a part of it.

all these journals and all these words from kids minds

and they take their journals, and decide to make their words come from their mouths.

it’s brilliant and inspiring and

I WANT TO BE LIKE    you.

i want to be as dedicated to the jam as the roxberry employees.

i want micah’s analogies and his warm voice.

i want to be as smart and politically informed as nat.

i want manaia’s nostalgic whispers and her soul that kinda reminds you of home.

i want to talk as fast and flawless as consilio.

i want paris’s authenticity.

i want dom’s courage and confidence.

i want ashlyn’s bold attitude.

i want trey’s kind heart and knack for creativity and originality.

i want a soft side you didn’t know i had, like soren’s.

each of your journals jammed their way into my soul.

bless ur words,

may we all have the same voice.

tape

i’m not sad ☁️

I know I can’t find a way to tell you this. But I can write about it.

I know this is wrong and we were wrong and barely anything is right,

and if it is,

it’s boring.

You were never right for me but you were never boring.

And I’m not sad because I lost you

I’m not sad because

you made me sad.

I’m not sad because I wish we were what we were. Again.

I’m not sad because it was,

and it was love,

and it wasn’t right,

and it wasn’t boring,

and you were here,

and you’re not anymore.

I’m not sad because I’m not sad.

I’m not sad because I’m a hummingbird.

I’m small but I fly faster than anyone that hurt me and

it’s not because I’m small and

it isn’t because I’m sad.

I’m not sad because you found me and lost me.

I’m not sad because I found me and I will never lose me.

What I ate for lunch last thursday. Writing: a parody.

Why writing?

I don’t know.

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My opinions on this thing we do.

Writing is messed up.

Having an audience is messed up.

I don’t share my best writing because the best writing is the deep, raw, disgusting, disturbing truth.

I would rather share something delightful but mediocre than painful and authentic.

It has been scientifically proven that you tend to remember something that is emotionally straining like your parents divorce when you were 10,

as apposed to what you ate for lunch last thursday.

Writing about what I ate last thursday would spark 0 interest and everyone who read about it would forget it.

Even I would forget about it, you could not pay me to remember what I ate for lunch last Thursday.

People like to read beautiful words they can relate to.

Everyone can relate to pain. Pains what people remember.

I guess I shouldn’t have started off creative writing two ranting about writing.

I love writing,

maybe its because I like making myself feel pain?

Maybe I like making others feel pain?

thats not true.

I don’t know.  

I guess I like writing like I like music.

I love listening to music and to play music and to write music.

I COULD JUST LISTEN TO MUSIC,

but I play it because

the best things in life are homemade.

I write because I read writing

and I fall in love

and I feel and I relate and

jump off the edge and hold on to my thumbs.

You all did this to me.

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Twisted Sidewalks

Converse on plastic turf.

My eyes are so far down that I look up at my feet

and I’m head over heels in love with a time in my life that doesn’t exist anymore.

Painted lines and twisted sidewalks,

I don’t know which way is up.

I throw my future up in the air like a coin toss,

please be heads

please be heads

please be happy.

please be successful.

please be in love again.

Painted lines and twisted sidewalks,

and I don’t know which way is forward,

but I’ll cross my fingers, toss a coin, and hope it’s there.

Wherever there is.

I hope it’s at the end of this sidewalk.

Because I’m past the point of no return.

My conserve are scuffed and worn.

All these sidewalks start to look the same.

It was tails.

things I know and don’t

Things I know.

I know high school is almost over.

I know it’s seemed like longer than 3 years.

I know I’ve made some good friends. I know I’ve made some bad ones.

Things I don’t know.

I don’t know what I’m going to be when I grow up.

Or who I’m going to be.

I don’t know if I’ll see you guys again.

I know I’ll never be younger than I am right now.

I know I’ve never been wiser than I am right now.

I don’t know much of what I learned in math.

I don’t know the capital of most of the states.

I don’t know all the presidents.

I do know pain.

I do know what it’s like to love someone.

I know you.

I don’t know how you’re feeling right now or what you’ve been through.

but I know your eyes.

I know you.

guitar strings n’ heartstrings.

a hate poem using love song lyrics.

“When you smile, the whole world stops and stares for awhile.”

because your smile is absolutely horrendous

“Your smile’s forever in my mind and memory”
it’s THAT bad.

“Look at the stars, look how they shine for you and everything you do”

like the whole galaxy revolves around you.

“God gave me you for the ups and downs.”

I needed more downs.

I can see right through your fake love.
“Everyone else in the room can see it,
everyone else but you.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words how”  much of my time you wasted.

Now to add to the irony. Here’s my favorite love song. Something by The Beatles.

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Little words.

 

I get nervous and say too much.

I get scared and say nothing.

I hope my thumbs won’t fall off if I say the wrong thing.

Sabotage is my middle name, my last name, my pen name, my lovers name.

 

I say the wrong thing anyway and hold on to my thumbs so tight they couldn’t go anywhere even if they tried.

I shake at journal jam.

and maybe it’s because I’m scared to speak,

maybe it’s because I’m scared to be vulnerable.

But I am vulnerable. I am weak and fragile and so are you.

I know I’m not alone,

and I was taught to share with the people around me,

so I share no matter what.

 

And maybe I self sabotage because it all ends anyway it’s not forever and I’m moving out soon and if I see you in 10 years I not only won’t remember your name, I won’t remember where I’ve seen you before.

 

And maybe the happiest memories make you cry too, because you’ll never see them again.

and I may not see you again.

 

If I do I may not remember who you are or where I’ve seen you but I’ll hold my thumbs and pray to god I remember the words you shared.

Those little words that made you hold your thumbs. Those blog posts I read and didn’t comment on because I was left speechless.

It’s those little words that meant the most.

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