cracked

your walls.
your strong, brick walls.

you've been building them up for many, many years.
since you were a child, you've carefully constructed them.

you don't need anyone.
you have your walls to protect you.

some might seem to come ohsoclose, but they'll never break down your fortress.

no one.

no one can get past it; you'll make sure of it.

No one will ever get in.

you thrive on your secrets.
they feed your insanity.

they are you.

Only you know them...you've meticulously collected them to keep in your thoughts, never to be released.

But do you even know the truth behind them all?

No.

Inside, you are still the young girl whose hurting and needing the real love you so deserved.

Real care. And attention, affection.

No matter how many walls you've built or how many you may continue to build,
No matter how sturdy you can make yourself appear to others...or even to yourself,

you are still that small, broken girl.

But you need to accept responsibility for your actions.

And your brick shield?
I can see right through it.
I can see past all the walls.
I can feel all the secrets without having to break down a single brick.

And today?
For the first time, I saw that girl.
For just a split second, I saw what's hiding inside:
the frightened child. face pale. weathered. sick. scared.

But I know that now, the walls are back up
and the demons shall again be released.

C'est la vie

one side: golden yellow, warm--full of light

the other: blueish gray, cold--turning dark

how can these two connected views--so close to each other--contrast so greatly?

I guess that's life.

spool

hanging on
by an invisible thread

the thread is small: short, thin, and
tattered

so small that one could even begin
to question if it's truly there

is it a figment of a notoriously wild
imagination?

or maybe just a
dream?

no.

you can still feel the fiber.

untitled rambling

Everything was building up.

around me and inside.

literally and figuratively.

I needed to get out....So, I did.

I walked away..not telling anyone where I was going...with nothing but the clothes on my back, the shoes on my feet, and myself.

No cell phone.
No bag.
No bike.
No iPod.
No journal.


Without a means of contacting others--just in case.
Without something to hold onto at my side, and grip tightly for comfort.
Without the dear thing that pulls me through the streets at whatever speed I choose.
Without the music...the sounds that normally would accompany me on such journeys.
Without my outlet... no pages for me to write on, explaining what I see and capturing that moment through my words.

Nothing.

No, this was not a time for the usuals.

Nothing.

Just me. The world and me.

And I walked.

No...I didn't walk.

I...pushed forward. I was moving in such a way that you could tell I needed to get it all out.

All I could focus on was moving forward. Move. Move. Move. Keep going. Pick up your feet.

I could hear the rubber squeaking on the bottom of these old, white leather shoes.

I walked...moved faster.

Until I made it to my bench. I sat there.

My bench.

I looked out. At the view from that one day in April. The cars...the shining water..the boats...the buildings. You know.

I tried to smile to those walking by me, but sometimes it was just too much. And I'd have to hunch over..covering my hair with my face.

Then...after instead of going back...I kept going.

I walked....got it all out even more. Keep going.

I found myself at the swing set of a park. And sat down...and swang. A little blonde girl next to me--with pink and black striped socks--looked at me curiously with her big eyes, as she spun round and round on her stomach. I smiled with my lips closed, looked forward...and just swang.

My mind was blank. I was just pushing forward. But I could still feel.

A few minutes passed...or who knows--really--how long it was. I did not have a watch. I did not care about time. That was what was beautiful about all of this.

Nothing.

I went back the way I came. But this time, I wasn't pushing forward. I wasn't walking either. No, I was...cautiously stepping.

Step. Look out. Stop. Hold on to the loose, plastic green fence.

I saw every angle.

I made it back to the bench. And it was at this point that my mind started to form coherent thoughts. I finally thought about everything that was going on.

All the problems.
All the cries.
All the issues.

The constants.

But then, something happened. I started to think about each person in my life. In my mind, I heard their names. I saw their faces. I saw faces of people I hadn't spoken to in..months. People I'm not necessarily close with, but who had a mark on my life. And I thought about the difficulties in their lives. And for each person, I felt their pain. It was awful. I sobbed for all of them. For everyone.

And here I was hunched over, silent tears flowing down my face. My face in my hands.

And then, I got up and continued along the path.

Stop. Look out.

Picked up some flowers. Stuck them in my pocket. I have a large yellow one and small purple, orange, and red ones. They're still in my pocket.

I needed to go to the corner of that street.
The one you know. The one you've stood at with friends. The one where you were so close.
The one I go to when it rains. The one I go to sometimes to look at the sunset and the view.

I made my way there. And walked up and down the red curb. Over and over again. I picked up a stick. I whipped it through the air. I made music with it as I banged it against the metal of the fence. I saw the cars moving..saw them stop at the lights. I'd never noticed that. I saw the sailboats. There were 9 of them, coming in as the sun was starting to set..though it was still high in the air. Five small birds appeared at my right and sang a 3-minute song.

I kept looking out, gripping tightly to the stick.

Then I skipped home.

I still have the stick.

...has escaped us

Lately I've found that at night, the numbers on the clock like to mess with me. They keep moving, rearranging their patterns and order. 11:12, 12:34, 2:11, 4:23...It's like a neverending mix-and-match puzzle. But I know it's just a game.

Because now, time is frozen.

It has stopped completely.

a swingset and a slide

replaying that day in my mind.

over and
over

I see you. I feel the motion and the cool wind on my face as I fly into the air.

up and
down

I feel the speed as we race to keep up with you.

forward and
back

I see you sitting there next to me: it's night now.

A plane disrupts the silence as it flies overhead.

You like the noise...as do I.

'your love is gonna drown'

You think you're unaffected,
and are convinced you can stand it

But then...when you hear about it
coming from those you'd least expect,

it hurts--a lot.

You think to yourself, isn't this what you claim to not let bother you? You tell yourself and others never to worry what others may think or say, so why should this be any different?

probably because it's harder coming from
those you consider dear friends.

you truly care about them, and it hurts
when you find out they don't reciprocate your feelings,
that they must not see it or are too stuck in their bitter views.

But just remember what those two so wisely said as they held you, wiping your tears and comforting you with laughter and love that reminds you how so unbelievably lucky you are to have them.

You can't make everyone like you,
not everyone is going to understand...

and that's okay.

__________________________________

As painful as it may be, I'm not going to let it change the way I act or how and who I am toward them. I still will care. I still see the beauty in them, in everyone.

And sometimes it's really really hard.
Because I can't stop feeling this way--even if I wanted to do so--and not everyone else sees it like that.

Who knows?

Maybe--in time--they'll reevaluate their harsh opinions.
Maybe they won't.

But no matter what the case,

I'll still have the special ones. I'll still be me.

And that's really all that matters.

with one step

My eyes--they adjust
A flicker in the darkness
Here I am--floating

I look up, breathe in
The night has enveloped us
Oh, it's grand to imagine...

flow

I am drifting,
slowly drifting.

The water carries me down...
it sparkles.

Shimmering white moves along a constant cover;
gaze above, a pure blue sky with clouds all around.

Soft,
gentle clouds.

Depths of emerald trees consume my vision.
They're strong.

I feel heat as
the sun beats down on my naked shoulders.

Yes, I am drifting..
drifting along--drifting.

discussion

life is unpredictable.

life can suck.

life is never for sure.

life can be crappy.

life has fleeting moments.
life has seemingly interminable moments.
life has lasting moments.

life has good.
life has bad.

but life is.

life is..

life is life.

you can't question it, you can't say it's nothing.

because it's something.

that's all there is to it.

there's no other real way to define it.

_______________________________________

don't you love
when that feeling of calm comes over you?

in the late of the night
early morning

and the feeling tells you
it will all
be okay?

just remember to breathe.

an end; a beginning

words,
sweet words

to understand
is to taste
their sweet delight

wrap me,
cover me

with words--

dripping, oozing tenderness.