Paper Dolls

He came into her life like a whirlwind storm,

Leaving all of her inhibitions torn.

Curtains open, let's set the scene

Her eyes fell on fair Persephone.

With eyes like other-world stars

And his heart still stained with underworld scars.

So bright they hurt his darkened eyes,

Black with years of terrible lives.

For every soul that he had seen

Every soiled and horrid, terrible being

Crawling before him, red letter scorned,

Begging of him as he sat on that throne.

That throne cast of fury and might

Of loves labors lost that he neglected to fight.

He's a judge of sorts, the dealer of cards

And what he has in his hand-- he's worked so hard,

An King and a Queen and an ace up his sleeve,

But those eyes make quick work of their thievery.

Like descending winding stairs,

Down and down, more than her share,

Stealing his heart and his eyes and his smile

And getting away with it for a while.

But what he can't know is his eyes do the same,

Their sooty footprints dirty her frame.

And she smirks as she feels herself let him in,

Opens the door built just for him.

Alls theres a smokescreen, a pretty facade

Built out of cardboard and torn paper dolls--

The ghosts of her childhood, her loves, and her laughs,

And he ate them up, thinking them glass.

But then there's a flicker, and she sees in his eyes,

He's burning the paper, and he sees the lies

What's behind them is beautiful, but tragically so

He whispers a please, to see what she'll show.

Revealing herself to dark company,

Was never her intention, or his, but finally...

He begs her for answers and begs her for truth

And she stares at him as he reads her truth.

They haven't met, but before they did

She watched unfold the secrets she hid.

Deep in her heart, a treasure chest

Bound with chains again and again

Again and again and again and again

Until she thought she was less than a friend.

More like an enemy with the way he played,

Lobbying serving and-- a crying shame.

And he says hello, and asks her name.

i mean this in the nicest way (Champaigne)

So now let's toast champaigne

To what we both know is true

The past is buried now and gone

I really don't hate you.

I wish you knew what I never said

That I knew was to blame.

I wish you knew that I still care

I still care the same.

So now let's toast champaigne

To misunderstandings and harsh words

Because I didn't mean

Any of this hurt

So here's a toast to apologies

For anything you read

Between the lines of poems I wrotw

It's not what I said.

It's not fair to expect me to

Have had a clear mind

When I watched you just decide

To never again be mine.

I'm sorry that I spoke the truth,

And you know now that truth has changed

And I'm sorry if I hurt you...

Now I know you felt the same.

A Songwriter's Plight

Hey lovely! Sorry that this is (obviously) late, and not on a Friday, and I know... I'm a terrible person. My bad, brah. Maybe you'll forgive me?

ANYWAYS :) A Songwriter's Plight:

When the majority of people hear a hit song on the radio, they consider the lyrics. They consider, who  sings the song, they consider what the song is about, and in cases like Taylor Swifts, they worry more about who the song is about than who actually, you know, wrote it.
And that's the dangerous, treacherous, petrifying plight of the songwriter.
It's enough to make me want to lock my three (yes... three) books of lyrics in a cellar, along with every recording of my songs ever, and swear everyone who's ever heard one to secrecy, and make sure no one ever knows who any of them were about. It's enough to make me consider limiting my audience to the four walls of my bedroom, my parents (because it's inevitable that when I sing into a microphone anywhere in my house that they will hear whatever angst-filled piece I've written most recently), and my best friend, Lizmilton. It's enough to stomp out the daydreams I have of performing on stages across the world, and make me stop trying to make those a reality.
But the thing about songwriting is it's addicting, and I know that I cannot stop.
I write songs the way that a writer journals- constantly, daily, and never without a personal aspect. I tried to keep a diary for years, but what I've found works better is setting my life to music. This confines me to a three-and-a-half-to-five minute space in which I can detail what's going on. Thus I am forced to express the main ideas in broader terms, and I have to make every line, every word count. Songwriters are meticulous and deliberate in the words that they choose-- each approaches a song differently, each edits a song differently, and each has their own Dictionary of Denotation. It's in whether or not a writer uses "house" or "home,"what rhyme scheme they choose, and what approach they take. Phrasing lyrically, with breathing, and with melody: the song I write about love isn't the song Taylor Swift would write, even if the lyrics nearly matched. It's the reason some songs have a weak line or two in my mind. I would change a part here or there, however what I know is that even if I think my changes would improve the song, the words the artist chose are the ones that he or she meant. And I have to respect that.
One of my counselors at camp brought up something very interesting. He told me that he doesn't care what the song says, or what the words try to build up-- what he's concerned with is how it makes him feel (i.e. he would listen to (gulp) Blurred Lines, because it makes him feel something, but he doesn't agree with what the lyrics say). I understand, however, I don't agree. What the lyrics say are what the audience remembers, and writes on their arms, and tattoos on various body parts. It's how you SAY the emotion the song makes the listener FEEL.
That being said, the songs I write are so specific and are intensely emotional. I have never written a song I am not 100% into, 100% abut myself, 100% about what I've been through. And so it's hard to premier songs to my friends that are about people they know, knowing full well that they might figure out who it is about. And because I write about strong emotions, those songs are really telling as to what what happened. Keeping in mind that I don't scream my personal life through the halls, there are events, shall we say, in my life that my friends don't know about.
I used to be afraid of this and fearful of this, however at this point I just find it so hard to give a shit like at all. I want to keep these secrets to myself. However, what I do know is what I have to say relates to other people, and that's my goal, after all.
I work so hard on all of these songs, and I wish that I could be playing them everywhere all the time everyday. If only! SO the plight of a songwriter is that each song is the most personal thing ever. And no one cares about WHO wrote it, it's who it's ABOUT.
Everyone in my life is fair game, good or bad. And no one really knows who the song is about unless I tell them. SO moral of the story: your speculation is just that-- speculation.

Girls Chase Boys Chase Girls

I don't chase.
I can run in heels, so you know.
I just don't have to chase you.
You don't have to chase me.
Be upfront.
Why play cat and mouse.

Adventures in Being Single 4: Confessions of a Single Girl

Hey lovelies. Hope you're doing excellent. I have now recovered from my mini cold, and am back up and running. I know I don't usually post on Wednesdays, but I hope soon to be updating more regularly! Look forward to the next post I plan to write this coming Friday called "A Songwriter's Plight" :)

NOW! Onto the post.

Yes, I know that I've been kind of obsessive about being single and keeping you updated, but that's because I'm feeling pretty amazing about it. I know now what I haven't known since I had my first boyfriend: I am strong, and I am independent, and I am complete without anyone. All my life love has been defined to me as finding someone who completes me, who I can't live without because they make me whole. This arcane kind of love is completely and totally plebeian. Because yes, that's fine for a while, but what about when you start fighting, or your relationship ends... I never want to come out of a relationship unable to stand on my own.

Saying goodbye is hard, and only made harder when the person is so without a doubt important to you that you cannot possible handle letting go of them. But I know now that strength isn't suffering in silence, but rather is having the courage to demand the respect I deserve. And I know that I shouldn't have to forget about wrong doings time and time again, and forgive the millions of insensitive things people say because I'm worried to speak up. No, I'm done, throwing myself under the bridge because I think that the crash will be worse. I've found however that I'd rather burn out in a spectacular supernova of stellar, white-hot fire. Having the air squeezed out me by water pressure, choking on the river... That's no way to go, even if it means martyrdom. That's over rated. I won't risk my life for the weak, but I will for those who really just can't help themselves.

Being single isn't the absence of a boyfriend. No, it's having the ability to stand up for yourself when there's no one telling you to. I don't need a boy to tell me that I'm pretty because I know that I'm beautiful just the way I am, no matter what other people think. I don't particularly care if boys like me, or if anyone finds me attractive, because I don't have to live with their opinions for the rest of my life. No, I don't. So whatever others think, it doesn't matter to me.

EXCEPTION: people who I really care about.

EXAMPLE: I've begun giving people cards. Like, I'll have a conversation with someone and if it's something that really means something to them, I'll find a quote I think that they'll really enjoy I give it to them on a card to cheer them up, or make them think. I made one for someone over the weekend, but I'm not sure if he'll appreciate it, or if he'll think that it's weird or creepy. I want to give it to him, but I go back and forth every time I almost do. I don't want to scare him off, because I want to be cost to him, I want to be his friend. I want to support him.

No, being single isn't the absence of a boyfriend. My hiatus from the hell that is high school dating isn't equivalent to me crying over ice cream on Friday nights, lonely because I don't have anyone to go on a date with. Dates? So overrated. Best friends? So UNDERrated. I never want people to think that I am running around dating like crazy. I don't mind people asking me if I'm dating so and so, or if me and such and such are a thing, because all that means is that they've noticed me getting close to someone. Which in mind isn't a bad thing. It's when people tell me I've had too many boyfriends... Uhm, no, I haven't had too many boyfriends. In fact I highly doubt that you even know how many people I've ACTUALLY been with. There are 5 people I've actually been with. 2 that I may or may not have been out with. And let me tell you, one of those relationships was 15 months, another was 8 months, one was two weeks, one was one week, and one was in middle school. Does that even freaking count? No. And I don't have to defend myself against anyone, because these are my decisions, they're what I did with my life, and I don't regret them or think that anyone can judge me for them. I decided to explain to you because I want you to know my basis here. I'm not ashamed at all. You're not me, so you don't know what these were, and you're not my best friend, so you don't know what it looked like, and you don't know the boys, you don't know at all.

I'm not in the habit, either, of chasing boys. Because if they're worthy of me, then I won't have to hook them. I don't want a boy to like me because I flirt with him, or make any advance. I want someone who likes me for me first, and I want the choice to be mine. I want it to be a mutual conversation, not a game of cat and mouse. I want that reality. And where life stands thus far, I want dating, and flirting, and smiling. I want small moments, and light smiles, and cheek kisses. I want memories, not a heavy, down hill risk. I want to take chances without risking my heart, but instead making it happier.

I want to be happy. Foolishly, completely, 100 percent happy. And I don't want it to be because of a boy. I want it to be because of me. And I want my friends to enhance it, I want boys to enhance it, and my family to enhance it. I will not cry over a boy who I mean nothing to. I will walk away if it's poisonous, I will tiptoe if it's treacherous, and I will walk with baited breath if it seems to easy. 

Thanks for listening :)

love, forever and always

R

Quotes

Every idea's been expressed in every way. Why reword it when someone's said it better?
And who ever said it before you probably had better credentials.
I've fallen in love with quotes because a quote can communicate everything I can, but better, and can communicate more. Who is it from, how did you write it, why did you choose it. Anyone can write a letter, but tracking down a quote is more personal. You put thought into it, and it shows.
Actions speak louder than words. Even just taking the time to write something for someone shows you care. But taking the time to select a quote? That means even more.
Your own words and a quote together? Now that's dynamite.

Adventures in Being Single Round 3: This Is Freedom

What good's an introduction? Let's just go ahead and jump in!

Lessons In Being Single in August and (Thus Far) in September:

Lesson 1: I've Had More Boyfriends than Taylor Swift (Depending on Who You Ask)

Depending on how you qualify dating, I've dated between 2 and 7 people. Definitely 2, as we were together first for 8 months, and my second boyfriend and I were together for 17 months. When I was in seventh grade, I went on my first date. So that's one. And this summer I had a quasi-boyfriend, and went on two dates ACCIDENTALLY. (Yes that's possible, no I'm not proud, yes it's a problem.) And there was this week-long fling in the spring, although of course I regret that so incredibly much. 

But the amount of people that I've heard I've dated/am dating? That's ridiculous.

Yesterday a girl in band asked me who I've been dating recently. Because she heard I've been dating someone. Yeah, uh, NOPE. #singlelife and loving it. (Don't tell anyone but I do wish to possibly go to homecoming with this boy).

But I've decided that I wish to be single still for a while.

Lesson 2: Single and Ready to Mingle

Yes. I used that phrase. It's accurate.

I don't want to get tied down. I don't want to end up in a heavy, all-bets-are-off, touch and go, hundred-mile-hour-downhill-no-brakes relationship, wishing to be back here in freedom. I want the ability to hold a boy's hand because mine is freezing and not be thinking about someone else that I'm not even going out with because I feel a bit like I cheated.

You can't cheat on someone you're not going out with, Rex. It doesn't work like that.

And I don't want to feel like this because I was freezing. And I don't want to feel bad about chatting with him the entire movie, because I want to be his friend. I do. I don't know his last name... It's terrible...

Lesson 3: Freedom

I can wear what I want, do what I want, and say what I want. I can be myself without having to sacrifice anything for anyone. I can focus on whatever I want to. I don't have to explain myself if I disappear for an hour because I'm practicing piano or guitar, nor do I have to explain why I don't want to talk to people sometimes. I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not. I'm free.

Lesson 4: Dancing

I missed dancing. Because all my past boyfriends were too shy to dance at homecoming or any other dance/party. I can go crazy because I don't have to worry about what other people think of me at all. I don't usually anyways, but I suck at dancing.

LOVE YA'LL And WISH ME LUCK

R

forever and always

Unrequited and Casual

I don't care if you don't like me.
At least that's what I'll say.
And I don't care if you joke around
With other girls all day.
I'll just hide my jealousy,
And admire you from afar.
And you'll mock and kid with me,
And I'll dream of what we aren't.
I'll pretend to laugh when you joke,
About my looks and stature...
I'll laugh and smile and look away.
Pretend to look demure.
It's not that I'm self-conscious,
Or care if what you say's true...
I just don't want boys thinking that...
Specifically? Not you.
Not you, the boy I wish were mine,
Who I dream of every night.
Whose name I know from it's deep echo,
In darkness and in light.
And reality serves to tell you that
I'm exaggerating the truth,
Romanticizing what this feels like...
Because that's what I do.
And I guess that I should let you know,
That I'm thinking about you.
But you're a bit of a flirt,
No... You don't like me too.
I wish you did I know you don't
This is just how you act.
I wish you did, I know you won't...
A cruel, heartbreaking fact.
I want to tell you what I feel,
but I know you don't feel the same...
I blush, and it's just all so real
And you call me by my name.
If I'm right and you don't like me,
And I know that I'm not wrong.
I'm not asking much of you,
Please follow along:
Don't flirt and wink, bump my hip
Call me gorgeous, or make eyes at me.
I don't care how casual this is...
You toying with me.
My heart flutters, and I stutter,
I forget what I meant to say...
I make a joke of no consequence
And quickly walk away.
Today I hugged you tightly,
My head over your heart
I felt it skip a beat
Well, mine didn't restart.
A few seconds after that,
It beat and beat again
Hitting twice as fast
The fastest it's ever been.
My goodness I hope you like me
But I know just as well
There's no way that you do...
My own personal hell.
There's nothing worse in my mind
Than unrequited love
Than this, this casual questioning
I've only heard of.
Every time you hug me, or hold me close,
Or you glance down at my lips
I'll die a little more inside
But it'd hurt more to lose this.

Label

What if we all wore our secrets like badges on our shirts?
What if we wrote them on our foreheads,
Screamed them on the streets?
What if we could just talk about them,
Without fearing judgment or that they would change everything?
What if... what if... what if my past didn't matter?
If people cared, but it didn't change anything.
If people actually empathized, but didn't let it fester.
Why can't I tell everyone what my story is?
Why is this part of me so huge, and so hugely judged?
This is a huge part of me.
For goodness sakes, it's my story, my song.
I want to sing it, write it, read it, tell it.
Of course I know I need to keep something close to my heart.
I know this should be it.
But this is such a huge, huge, huge part of me.
What if we could just wear them like name tags.
"Hello, my name is R, and I have PTSD."
"Hello, my name is ___ and I'm depressed."
"Hello, my name is ___ and I beat depression."
I am more than who I am now. I am less than that if you make me less.
I am me, and entirely myself, and I don't like hiding it.
I will share my story, for now, with those who need it.
With those people who can help me.
With those who I know won't let it change anything.

But if I could wear it as a label...

Midnight

It's the harsh line drawn between yesterday and today.
you're like a perpetual midnight,
without the finality, without the hope of a new day.
You're like the clock freezing as it changed, until suddenly it was 12:01,
You aren't here, and I'm alone.
And I stand here, smiling and moving on, because no one Here knows you.
You're a perpetual ghost.
And it's stupid. I keep reaching for your hand.
Like you would be there the way you were for those two weeks.
Until what was like two years in two weeks ended, and you went home.
Like you would be there for me still.
Two weeks we met, two weeks we talked, two weeks we didn't...
And now you can ignore me, like I ignored the clock skip.
And the power goes out, the clock resets, until someone gets around to fixing it.
And you can skip that minute, and I'll let that go, but in that minute I realize it:
You didn't say goodbye. Not now, not before when you left.
And you leave me again, in this horrible metaphorical sense.
You leave me again, the physical distance to your advantage.
You leave me again, like they always seem to.
Skip the minute like you skipped the goodbye... Coward.
And the power goes out, and it's dark for a minute.
The world is dark, and my heart freezes, and my fingertips go numb.
Hours, and hours, one for every day it took for you to forget me-- a number I'll never know.
And then it's back, so very behind...
And it'll be days until I forget you, because being forgotten is a worse pain...
Being forgotten is the worst heartbreak, because there's no goodbye.
No finality.
An open-ended, never ending blinking clock.
An infinite midnight...
In whose time zone, well... that's up to you, I suppose.

Strength and Happiness

It's not something a lot of people consciously consider. It's in the way you walk down the hallway, and how you approach not only school but also people in general. It's in the way you handle the stress people put you in, and how you influence people. It's what comes naturally to people. It's how you naturally act, how you naturally handle the day, how you handle yourself, how you interact with others. This is subconscious. This is natural. This is just you.

However, I am in the public eye constantly, as a drum major in my high school's marching band. How I handle myself with poise and confidence even in the relative privacy of the school hallways, because I recognize, accept, and welcome being a leader and being a role model for those who I am in charge of in band. When I am on the podium conducting, I have to be calm, confident, and in charge. I have to be responsible and dependable, accountable for my actions, all while being approachable and helpful. These attributes all pile up to paint the picture of the young lady I have to be, and welcome being. I try my hardest to embody all of these qualities, and I try to maintain these qualities because they are all qualities I wish to see in myself. I try as hard as I can to amplify these qualities, and lessen the appearance of those such features which would hinder my ability to lead effectively. Things like my issues with time management, and my ongoing struggle with positivity.

Most people walk down the highway at school in a daze, lost in their thoughts or their music, caught up in their own world. Most people walk between classes worrying about how they're going to complete the algebra assignment they neglected to do before ninth period rolls around. Most people get to walk down the hallway, concerned only with how their day is going to go.

I'm not most people.

Most people walk down the highway at school in a daze, lost in their thoughts or their music, caught up in their own world. I walk down the hallway, mind clear, smiling at everyone I know and making an effort to wave and call them by name. I try to greet people with as big a smile as I can, and double the size for those I know don't expect it, or who are having a hard time. Because I know from experience that sometimes a friendly face in the hallway, a friendly greeting, even just knowing someone else knows your name, recognizes you, cares about you... That can change a day.

 Most people walk between classes worrying about how they're going to complete the algebra assignment they neglected to do before ninth period rolls around. I walk down the hallway thinking about what I need to do in my next class to be successful, and what I need to do in my day to help out. I can't bank on study hall, saving my assignments for my second period and trusting I'll get them done, because I might be needed in marching band on any day.

Most people get to walk down the hallway, concerned only with how their day is going to go. I walk down the hallways concerned with how my freshmen's days are going. I worry about how I can help improve those days, and I worry about how I'm going to help the trumpet I see falling behind. I worry about how I'm going to help the flute who doesn't quite fit in.

I'm not most people. By choice.

It's not easy, really, being there for everyone. I see people in the hallway all during the day that I recognize, and who expect me to acknowledge. I'm expected to have all the answers in band, and I'm expected to be on top of my classwork so that I can focus on band. I'm expected to be okay all of the time. What I know is that every time I'm not alright... that's okay too. I just can't let it affect others.

I choose to be a positive person daily, because a positive attitude gets me through the day. More importantly, however, it helps those around me to see hope. I choose to be a leader because I know that what I can share is worth it, and that I can lead affectively. I choose to be accountable, because I know how frustrating it is to see people shifting blame. I choose to be dependable, because I know that that's what people need.

What I love about being so in charge is the opportunity I have to share my positivity, and influence others. Today a freshman told me that I was a good influence, which is what I aim to be. I want to be able to share not only a love of music, and possibly marching band, but also share a stronger, more positive outlook, and try to show people that what we are is what we choose to be.

I'm considering talking to my band and revealing my past, and why I had such a hard time in my life, at the end of next year, to try and give them hope. I want to do everything I can for them, because I owe them my happiness.

Adventures In Being Single Round Two: LDRs and DTRs and Whoa

Long time no talkski! I know, I suck, yada yada, but contrary to popular belief... I actually have a life. I know! Surprising! But I do have a life, and I was a bit too preoccupied with living it to post recently; in fact, I was too busy for four weeks out of this summer to text even my parents. Yes, I am an absolutely terrible daughter and friend, however I was busy with camps and such. Anyhow... on to the actual post.

Lessons Learned in the Month Of June As A Single Girl:

1) If you're single, and a boy is single, even if you see him entirely platonically, if you kiss his cheek you will wonder if he thinks that you are into him and you can't quite ask him if he likes you sometimes because sometimes he, you know, lives in Scotland. Whoops.

Note To Self: Stop kissing literally everyone's cheek when you are saying goodbye. (I even kiss girl's cheeks). (I literally only meant one in the last six months... He knows who it is.)

2) Stop worrying so much about whether or not other people are judging me, and stop avoiding holding hands in public or cuddling (not a lot, obviously), and just let what is going to happen, because I'm only 16, and I can get away with it now and I won't be able to later.

3) DTR. And like, do it now. And keep the open and honest conversation going.

4) LDR in a nutshell is like throwing yourself under a bus while life drives it over you.

5) I miss him.

6) I'm kind of single you know? But like kind of?


Okay. Love y'all.

Peace out girl scouts

Rex

Forever and Always

The First Violinist: Up and Down

The little patterns of his finger's movements, dancing deftly down the nape of her neck, entrance and enchant me, the way the music does.

His fingers move and he holds her there, the muscles in his arm, defined I shamefully recognize, tense. And in his fingers the ligaments move over muscle and bone, the sinew's friction like strings on resin on strings.

Amongst the chaos of the carousel of bows moving up and down, like the horses on the ride at the fair, his face is still, calm, and concentrated, like the sea, and I watch contentedly, hearing his voice among the crashing waves, the way I know I'm not supposed to.

The purity, the un-contained perfection of his pitch, and how he makes her sing with skill and precision and simple movements; I'm enraptured.

And the horses move up and down, and, like a child's laugh over the music of the ride, his voice surpasses the rest.

And the music swells,

And they spin faster and faster and faster and ever faster.

Up and down, and up and down,

Until the orchestral merry-go-round slows to a sentimental pause.

Piano, and pianissimo,

And the ride slows, until...

The conductor lowers his arms,

But the boy-- my boy, my voice,

My angel,

Pauses, letting the moment linger.

The music isn't over for him quite yet, until he is forced to leave the ride.

The ride that I replay in my head

Until I fall asleep, dreaming

Of angels and fair-ground horses.

The Summer I Never Grew Up

So Repeat After Me,

I accept the promise of Sunscreen, and therefore vow,
As I have many times before,
To find adventures outside of air conditioning.

I accept the promise of Sand and Towels, 

To remember the beach as the

Very epitome of every everlasting

Best dream or memory of summer.

I accept the promise of the Diving Board, and its dare to ignore insecurity.
Because who needs shyness

with a blue sky and blue water?

I accept the promise of Rebellion, no matter how small,
Because (as a kid) I can get away with it.
And because if I don't break some rules, this freedom becomes school.

I accept the promise of Street Lights, a new rule with old roots,
From back when they were my curfew,
Before in summers of bare feet and graveyard ghosts.

I accept the promise of No Regrets, not the next day, not ever,
Because this is the time to make memorable mistakes.
Because this time is one of a kind.

I accept the challenge the adults present,
To do something with my summer,
But I see it and raise it a life time of memories.

Like back when I was young, running barefoot in my yard,
The emerald grass tickling my feet as a light mist dampens my hair,
Running from a daddy long legs in an Elementary School Summer.

Like back when I was an older young, and didn't quite fit into my neighborhood, but played dodge ball every night in that backyard,
No invitation, no set time, we all just... knew.

Like back when I was a tween, and I spent my summer
At bonfires in backyards, parents never more than a sliding screen door away,
And me dealing with petty arguments with friends I didn't feel close to, over soured smores and damp bathing suits.

And now, last year, a Freedom given to interrupted romance,
And given to weeks that dragged on, because I was drowning,
And months I don't even remember of what was supposed to be the Best Time.

So I accept the challenge of my past as I didn't before,
To spend my summer Doing, not Hiding,
With people I know will still play wih me at recess next year.

I accept the challenge to go through sunscreen like popsicles,
To act like a kid, even though I can drive,
And, above all else, to be young while I'm still too young to vote.

And I accept, above all else, the promise of the Summer.
The promise that, whatever happens, I can always dream of
The Summer I Never Grew Up.

At least until Junior year starts,
I'm still a child.
And I intend to be one to the fullest.

At least until the college search starts...
And the moving out thoughts...
And the being an adult part....

Popsicles, and banana splits,
And no-good boys, and bonfires,
And sneaking out, and pool-side gossip.

Dodgeball, and daddy long legs,
And that reading challenge at the library
That I've done every year since I was old enough to read.

And lemonade stands for the humane society.
And, well, just being a kid,
Because that's one thing I'll always be.

This is my last chance to act like one--
Well, at least until next summer.
And there's no way I'm giving that up.

Storm

Something's wrong, we can all tell.
They say they scream they beg they plead.
And I'll open my eyes but they just let out rain.
And they'll open their ears but all they hear is thunder.
And I open my mouth but all I release is wind,
Carrying empty words on my breath
And full clouds before inhale, to fuel my storm.
Please, R, please, just tell us, just tell us.
And I'll breathe in the atmosphere,
from the ground where I've been pushed down.
And I'll open my mouth again.
And the leaves rustle, it whistles past their ears,
Placating them while I catch my breath.
The clouds roll in behind my eyes,
My mind commandeered by dark grey mixed with despair,
and I can no longer see the people in front of me,
But instead I see the people behind me, and their shadows.
The shadows that they once attached to me.
The shadows they sewed to my heels,
Then ripped them, leaving behind a small trace.
I know now that every time that shadow rips,
He gets shorter and shorter,
And because I give so much more of me,
I lose so much more of Her.
And something's wrong, R, we can all tell.
You never talk to me anymore,
You never smile at me in the halls anymore,
We never hang out anymore.
The harshest contradiction:
You're not alright, here's why I care:
You're not the same, and that affects me.
And your storm is narcissism, and ignorance,
And that storm hangs over my head.
And her storm is hesitation and a fear of confrontation.
And that's fine, but one day you'll realize,
We all have to stand up for ourselves.
There won't always be someone there to protect you.
And his storm is his mislead self-impression.
He swears he's an honest guy,
And he swears he never meant this,
And never again, and oh we'll be fine and,
You see, I feel like we just need to talk,
But I feel like we need to just shut up,
At least until you learn how to listen.
And my storm should be like yours,
My storm should be like everyone our age's:
My storm should be drama, and young adult worries.
But I was a young adult when those around me were
Chasing boys in the lunch line, and in the halls before
Going into town with the big groups,
For frapuccinos and gossip.
I was a tween when everyone around me
Was just worrying about fifth grade graduation.
I grew up in Elementary School.
And so it's Something's Wrong,
Something's Wrong,
and in middle school I breathe out my storm,
And one person withstands it,
And then he spreads it,
Changing my storm.
Until his words are the lightning, and I'm different forever.
And Something's Wrong.
Just tell me,
And I'll open my mouth to do just that,
But all that comes out is the storm.
Because revealing what's behind the hurricane,
Means welcoming in new fronts and new weather.
Withstand my winds until they stop.
Maybe then the calm can set in.

Becalm A Minute

I know there isn't a song written that describes this.
no matter how eloquent we are,
no matter how many millions of millions of combinations
of consonants and vowels and capitals and minuscules
and no matter how many sequences of
nouns of beautiful and magical possessions of Us
verbs deponent and forceful and forgiving
articles marrying ideas to phrases
adjectives invoking the raw love,
the unmasked pain, the unsweetened heartbreak
the bittersweet ache of love and the euphoria of the primary rush.
I know there isn't a way to describe this,
but if I only could...
I'd sing that song as relentlessly as the hopeless waves
roll into shore with the tides and the moon,
eager to escape but reaching for an unattainable horizon.
I'd inscribe those words on the roughest, most stubborn granite
on the most precipitous cliffs on the most treacherous terrain,
even if they would be eroded the way I know they will with time.
I would gift them to the air, but the air would give them to everyone,
and spread them like a seed in the wind, planting Us into
every single heart of every greedy soul,
and this uneven distribution will fail the lonely and empty sweethearts,
and so I'd rather spread this alone.
If I could, I would becalm every ship and every boat and I'd let it spill into the sea,
and watch the words spread out in hopes that,
in the absence of wind and without another distraction,
they might lay them all out in the guiding sun,
one by one, and all together try to string them all out
until they read the truths of our world.
If I could, I'd paint these words on the sky,
and use the clouds to dot all the i's and cross the t's.
And I'd write out our verses and our choruses
and our interludes and our bridge
in lower case letters, because those are your favorite,
and in cursive, because you loved how I'd write in script,
and in that slanted way you used to mock,
but I know you traced my love notes
and every happy birthday, and happy holidays,
and i love and i miss and i'd kiss and i'm sorry
and baby i know things are hard but i'm here waiting.
I'd write them on my skin if I could find them
the way I write song lyrics of other stories,
or quotes,
or trace hearts because you're on my mind.
If I could find the words, the phrases,
if I could find them in any corner of the world
on any mountain,
hell I'd climb Everest for you,
or I'd find the bottom of the ocean...
if the words were there, if the words were there,
if I knew the words were there, if they were ever there.
But they're not.

stop.

So your toes are wet and my chest is heavy,
because the salt water's up to my chin.
Because I can swim, and I can tread water,
but you found yourself in different waters.
Someday I'll join you, but first I'll find the words.
I'll find every rhyme I owe you, and every word I owe you,
and I'll write the poems I didn't get the chance to,
and when I find you I'll play for you this love song I'll have written of Us.
Undeniably of Us, Always of Us Two,
even when there's more than an ocean between us.

stop.

and it'll take years, baby wait for me,
and it'll take chances, baby watch over me,
it'll take my pride, babe, and my life, babe,
and I may not love you the same, babe,
but listen, listen, listen,
listen to the ocean because one day I'll pour Our words into it,
and listen to my heartbeat,
because one day it'll beat the same as yours, babe,
and listen to the wind, someday whispering not Our words,
but Our story,
after I've left, and after I've found you.
And I realize it now, I realize it now, and I realize it finally, now, right... now.
I cannot love another ocean the way I love the one I tread now.
So I'll let the now foreign waters go
but never forget and dream of reunion.
But for now, you're in my heart, swimming, treading,
and one day we can join again.

stop.

and...

begin.

I'll Find Our Words.
I'll find my world.
And I may find another love,
But I'm still doing this for you.
I'll find our words, a gift for you--
and I will swim with you again,
and the sun will cheer Us on,
and the current
will carry Us back
back home.

I Wasn't Sure How To End It So...

I used to believe that when I walked down the street
Mountains would move out my way.
And I used to believe that the people I'd meet
Would listen to what I would say.
And I used to think that the sun and the trees
Were there just to brighten the world.
While I used to think of the flowers and the bees
And watched them all as I'd twirl.
And my skirt would fly out and my hair would fly too
And above me the sky would blur
And my heart would beat fast until my cares were few
But I was just one little girl.

And then I believed that the sun was a lie
And I hid from the light.
And it was then I believed that childhood could die
And I cried late into the night.
I refused to believe that people could honestly
Enjoy my company
Because all I'd known was hurting alone
And receiving no sympathy.
And I'd haunt the streets and walk off beat
I thought someone tore up my drum,
But then I woke up, watched the dark retreat
Found I was part of a sum.

And so now the sun shines and I accept it's light,
But I know the truth of night.
So I be happy and be confident
But remember bad times I've spent.
Because we need both night and day,
So life doesn't go either way.
It has it's ups and downs,
But get back up and turn around
And flip off the way you came.

You're welcome.


love,
Rex

forever and ALWAYS.

Winter's End

I started off this winter with my love by my side.
I started off this winter with his hand in mine.
I started off this winter with someone to hold me tight.
I started off this winter with his light in my life.
I started off this winter with no sleep and  no rest.
I started off this winter with too much to detest.
I started off this winter, naive, starry eyed.
I started off this winter, hope fresh in my mind.
Now I end this winter, with my love gone and lost
Now I end this winter, paying the steep cost
For words as bitter as the wind
That brought the virgin snow
For assumptions that made the debts I pay
For pain I cannot know.
Now I end this winter with rest but rest I not,
For there are nights when life can't cease, and the storms cannot be stopped.
I started off this winter with mountains I could move
I started off this winter pushing them with you.
But with time that passed and aching hours I wish I could regret
With you I shoved and tried and failed but I cannot move as of yet.
I started off this winter with knowledge I loved you,
And I started off this winter knowing that you loved me too.
But the shivers and the flakes of white that plagued this winter cold
Froze our hands and froze our hearts with the ice that we foretold.
We knew the end was near and that the sun would shine again
And shine it did for one whole day but then we lost our friend.
I started off this winter with a heart so pure and true
With the runoff of now melting snow I relinquished it to you.
I started off this winter in a frigid fairy tale
I started off this winter but now all warmth has failed.
I have hope for the future, for the flowers in the spring
And hope that something good for you the melting ice might bring.
The grass and wonder and the fresh new world
Revealed soon by the rain,
I hope this warmth and water fall
Can wash this all away.

forever and always

Adventures in Being Single Part I: Text it Up

So there's this tv show called "How I Met Your Mother" and there's this character called "Barney Stinson" and he does this thing where he introduces his single friend to people by saying "Have you met Ted?" (I'm sure there will be more on that later). So my friend, we'll call him Barney did that. To this kid. And so yesterday I started a text conversation with him, which was chill or whatever, and I hung out with Barney and his friends, which included the boy, who I guess we'll call Sheldon. And okay, it went really well! And we played like knee hockey and he blocked shots for me which was super cute.
And like, afterwards I wanted to text him but wouldn't because, excuse me, desperate? And I was complaining about how I wanted to but couldn't to Barney and then he like... GRRR. He texted Sheldon and told him to freaking text me. Seriously. My life is like a sitcom. (Ironic because I named these people after sitcom characters). But now we're texting and flirting and like how do I tell him I'm not like looking for something right now? Because god he's really good at this like flirting thing. I'm not going to like date people any time soon though.
And like, I get butterflies, but then when my ex texts me it's like, what am I doing texting this other boy and flirting when like you know there's so many unresolved issues between me and my ex. And like, I know that we're over and what ever. But it still feels wrong. A little.
And it's like, I know I probably don't want to actually want to date this guy. Actually I know for a fact that I really don't think want to, I don't think... I just want to have what I had with my ex again. And it's way too soon for that...
Raise your hand if you're emotionally confused. Just me? No?

Okay, until next time.
Rex

F and A

Maybe you don't understand
Because you don't feel at all
So afraid of getting hurt
Afraid of if you fall.
Maybe you don't understand
Because you just don't care
Well I don't care how fine you are
Do you feel smug up there?
I can see your high horse from here,
And I'm watching from blocks away,
So tell me, do you feel safe up there?
I've got a snake, start your parade.
Maybe you don't understand
Because you're not fully evolved
I heard that boys mature after girls
Well that's one thing solved.
Maybe you don't understand
Because you're afraid to feel
Because you were burned once before.
Well you forget about me.
One left me in a blaze,
The other relit the match,
And you? You threw in a bomb
And laughed at the after math.
Well maybe we'll get back together
Yesterday-- That was great
But today I know we'll fight some more
So much for a fresh slate.
Well maybe one day you'll love me
The way I used to love you
And then that day it'll be too late.
What's lost is lost... Screw you.
Well maybe one day you'll realize
That you've been a huge asshole.
And maybe one day you'll realize
I'm tired of all the shit you pull.
Well maybe one day you'll start to understand
That what people think of you
Sometimes really matters
When they're starting to hate you.
I hope someday you'll listen
When you people tell you you've gone too far
And maybe then you'll freaking stop.
And see how much of a jerk you sometimes are.
And maybe then you'll realize
I wholeheartedly loved you.
And you just forgot me,
And I'm so glad that we're through.

Breathe Again

I guess this is what it feels like
To completely fall apart
And then put things back together
Better than the start.
Well maybe I'm not there yet
But in a month you'll see
The biggest thing I regret
Was letting you change me.
Because I was fine before you
And I'm fine without you now
Because I guess I didn't know you,
And I guess you didn't know how
To feel the way that I did,
Because now I'm left alone
And you just smile and wave
And I try to find a home.
And so maybe you should just go
And let me finally heal
Maybe you'll just never know
I never fully breathed.
And then you left and now I find,
That what I thought is true
I can finally breathe again
And it's all thanks you.

that awkward moment when your ex tells his friend who tells his friend whose mom tells your friend and she tells you that he knows you broke up

So it hurts that you can't love me

And that you had to throw me out

You used me and you lose me

Forgot what it's about.

And all these games you're playing

Can't you see you have to lose

And all this time that I've been wasting

Hung up over you

And these times that I am crying

Over stupid little things

And all the things that I am trying

To bring you back to me

And all the sweet words you said

In these many months of late

The thing I remember most

"I don't think we should date.

I think we need a break.

I think we need some space."

I think I need a change.

And now all the time I've wasted

Watching out for you

And never are you coming back

And I guess that I miss you

And I guess you can't know this

But now that we broke up

I'm crying and I'm hurting

I've finally had enough.

Because baby this was something!

This was something real.

And, yeah, maybe this is my fault,

Now there's nothing left to feel.

I guess that I should say this

Now that you're out and gone

But more than your goodbye

It hurt more you moving on.

So say that you don't love me--

well, you never will, that's true.

You'll never say that to my face

Because you're still you.

So say all you can to hurt me--

But you won't do that still.

Because you're too good a person

You never shoot to kill.

Then say that you won't see me--

We both know that's a lie.

I'm still a part of your life,

And you're still a part of mine.

So tell me that you hate me--

This I might believe.

You haven't been yourself of late

But who knows who I'm supposed to be?

So then tell me that I'm nothing--

I know you don't think that though

You can try but I won't listen.

Can't fool me any more.

So I guess that there's nothing left

For you to say to me

And I guess there's nothing else

For me to wish to be.

And I guess there's nothing else

That could eve hurt me more

I'm not talking about the break up

You've moved on, that cut me to the core.

How long did you wait

Before breaking out the champagne

Did you even feel any pain at all

You're making me insane.

For how long have you felt this?

Like I can just be brushed aside?

Yes everyday's a new day.

But that's 437 by your side.

So tell me that I shouldn't cry--

That'll just make things hurt more

Tell me, do you feel anything?

What good is love for?

So please before I go to sleep

Just try to comprehend

The only thing that hurts more than goodbye

Is that you never understand.