come out of there 🌥 🌈

“If you could sit down and have lunch with anyone, dead or alive who would it be?”

Everyone feeling pain.

to all the poems and blog posts in my drafts just waiting for the right time,

come out of there.

to all the closeted gay kids waiting for the right time,

come out of there.

to all of the spiders under my rug,

come out of there I’m sorry I ever made you so

scared to.

to all the seniors who are stuck in the mindset that it’s only downhill from here,

come out of there.

to all the monsters under my bed,

come out of there I’m sure you aren’t as scary as they say.

to all the girls in abusive relationships held in by warm hands that held too tight

& “It wont happen again”s,

come out of there.

to all the skeletons in my closet,

come out of there.

to all the kids in law school who only want to become lawyers because their wallets said so,

come out of there.

To all the beautiful jackets in DI labeled cheaper than a pack of cigarettes,

come out of there you’re still beautiful.

to all the flowers that haven’t bloomed yet because they’re scared that above ground might just be worse then below,

come out of there.

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No lifeguard on duty

no one was there to save me

stars and accidents.

hey family,

I would’ve posted this on Sunday but I didn’t have it done.

Sorry Harold.

-Daphne

I changed my profile picture. But, only a couple things are changed.

I liked my old profile picture but I felt like the flower should have been yellow.

So I painted the same picture with a yellow flower.

I also made it a little my own.

I took a Snapchat of it and put a filter on it and all these stars appeared and I loved it.

13 bars for kids whose dads left 🌨

1. I hope you don’t hear his name.

2. Every time there is an empty seat at your basketball game. I hope you don’t hear his name.

3. I hope you don’t say his name, that name is cursed. Cursed by your mother with her cries, that name was cursed so many times that her friends or you or your grandmother or anyone can’t even say it without a follow up:

4. “Don’t say that name.”

5. I’m sorry for the times your mother brought home a stranger.

6. I’m sorry for the times a stranger called you “kiddo” and “sport” and pretended to like dinosaurs just like you, so he could sweep your mom off her bruised from working, broken from waiting, hidden away from shame, feet.

7. I’m sorry.

8. I’m sorry I can’t relate.

9. I’m sorry that my dad supported his child through everything, and that your dad ran away from even paying child support.

10. I’m sorry you got his blue eyes.

11. I’m sorry he’s never coming to one of your basketball games.

12. But your mom. Your mom could fill a stadium with her sacrifices and love.

13. Don’t you forget that.

John Lennon’s dad left when he was four.

See also: “Answer” -Tyler the creator. The song speaks for itself.

The notorious B.I.G’s father left him when he was two years old.

“Pop killed the family with heroin shots.”- Jay Z. His father left him at a young age.

Kanye’s father left him when he was three.

(Proves success does not come from your father.)

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.

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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