Fear

             Frequently confused with the concept of anxiety. Anxiety comes from something                            unavoidable. Something inevitable. 

             Everyone fears something. Weather we want too or not. It is  

             Arguable that All fears are irrational. Most people fear something that could happen in the 

             future. We can only experience the preasant. Not the future. 

             Remember that. 

Hear the cries of a needy lover

Girl: I can't believe you acted like you didn't know me today. You hardly uttered a word and I know that we were in church but you could have at least looked at me.
Boy: I did look at you. I even said hello.
Girl: Okay i know you looked at me but  you didn't 'look' at me. I know you know what i mean.
Boy: uh ..... I'm sorry. I'll be sure to 'look' at you next time.
Girl: IT JUST HURTS OKAY?! (storms off)

 What's really on the girls mind.
 I finally brought myself to think about the  fact that you never call me to go on dates, and you only wanna hang out at night. When i asked you why you didn't wanna be with me you said you couldn't. I know you didn't want to though.  but of course i pushed it to the back of my mind. Every time i came over your parents weren't home. You laughed at all my jokes, held me when i cried but i can't deny the stiffness of your body. All of it. You never just held me to be there. You held me and pulled me as close as possible for you. The worst part is I let you . I let you all the time. I would justify it and tell myself i don't care. I don't want more then this either. Who am i kidding? I wanted love so bad. Don't we all. I'm mad at you because after you can kiss me like that your body is still stiff. I probably will never tell you why i'm really mad though, and i'll say i'm sorry. It will all go back to how it was before because i'm not strong enough and I need that one person in my life that i can't count on to always be there... even if you're only doing it for you.

Love is the moon

Love is the mountains
in the f
           a
               l
                   l
with Justin Vernon.

Love is the long hared beach
BOY
that gave me his hair band.

Love is the sweat dripping d
                                            o
                                               w
                                                  n my legs, being shoulder to shoulder with people i don't know...
Who also grow older.

Love is that night at squaw peak.
Love is not a pipe.
Love is a razor.
Love is a safety pin.

Love is my 4 Runner. Baby your always there for me when I don't know who to talk to during lunch and baby you b
                  r
                    e
                       a
                          k down but I fix you up even with the knowledge that you'll break down again.

Love is____________(insert name that will bring lots of whispers and eyebrow raises.)

Love is that long awaited phone call at three in the morning.
Love is that forgotten swing

But most of all love is the moon. It comes and goes, we can't always see it but it's always there. You only notice the beauty if you look and if you look the beauty grows each time.

My real post about love...

Seriously it's so hard.
It's hard to talk about something you don't understand.
It's hard to talk about it because it hurts like hell.
and it's hard to talk about it because there are no words for the most beautiful thing in the world.

Every time I sit down to write about it my heart breaks ten times over.
I glance over my shoulder because i don't want people to know.
I don't want people to know that i'm not that girl that dumps the guys.
I'm not that girl that acts like she's perfectly fine.
As much as I've tried to be i'm not.

And yes I was never going to write about you because i tried to act like the girl that didn't care,
When you and i both knew that wasn't true.
 But mostly I don't write about you because It was beautiful and there's no words to describe what happened.

I Remember

You took me out to the woods because the other kids wouldn't play with me and I didn't understand the jokes they would laugh at. I didn't understand why they wanted to play with plastic objects that were seemingly meaningless. We went to the woods because I didn't have enough toys and the girls always had better horses then mine. "One day I will ride a real horse and then you will see how pointless our preschool years have been and my horse will love me. Your plastic horses will never love you."

And we left. It seemed like years went by in those trees by my house. We would talk and stare at the water and I would find myself at the top of a tree. But I wouldn't pretend I was anything more then what I was. I was not a pirate or a king. I was happy with myself. What was I? What are you? You taught me about the goodness in people. You were always so much smarter than me because you knew about this thing called love. You explained to me how wonderful and how infinite it was. You told me about service. People only want to help. That's how you said it. You told me about something called pornography and that people didn't ever get into bad things like that. And we knew the secrets of life. We knew that joy could not be found in plastic things and there was no joy in laughing at jokes you didn't understand. The only thing we did with the other children was play on the swing set only because we loved the wind on our faces. We loved to draw about love, happiness, chastity, service. All the fantastic things that we would discuss. You and me; we were so alike. And even though we were so different from the rest of the world, I never wanted this to end.    

It's been almost 14 years sense those days in the woods. And only now have I remember the treasure we found together every time we played int he trees. I'm so sorry I let escape from my memory the very thing we vowed to never forget. We gawked at its magnificence wondering if we should take it home or not. We didn't. It would be ours forever and no one would ever know about it. We hid it from the rest of the world. No one could understand. Especially not the grown ups. Little did I know everyone has discovered the treasure. Only later will I find out that it was you who showed them. Who will show them. You didn't keep our promise. 

I will never forget the day I wen't back to the place we hid it. I didn't invite you because It was the day I decided you were fake. Or at least what you stood for did not exist. I decided this because I saw you on the news. You were two buildings. Bad men hit you with a plane and then you got shot five times in the chest, because of someones thirst for blood. You died in a car accident but right before you died you got raped. People made fun of you because they thought you were gay. And the whole time you were going through this, you were addicted to pornography. The very thing you told me good people didn't do. At least I thought you were good. I also saw on the news that your parents got a divorce because one of them cheated on the other. WHAT HAPPENED TO INFINITE LOVE. People are supposed to be good. Why did you lie to me? You knew what you were saying wasn't true. You were my only friend in the woods and now we can't be friends anymore because your whole personality was fabricated. I went to the woods alone and I couldn't find the treasure. So I forgot about you and everything you taught me. 

The next day I played with the plastic horses. I laughed at all the jokes made by the children and after a while I started to believe they were funny. I never climbed a tree again. When I used my crayons it was to draw my toys. Not Love, or Joy. I loved that people started to notice me. You did not exist for many years. 

 Until I decided to go back to our trees. 

I watched a boy and his dad catch fish, beyond that I noticed something shimmering in the bush and I remembered the treasure. 

You were the good in the world. 

And I was innocence. 

I'M HERE

Searching for a tree with a perfect branch to tie a rope on, hating that i'm here.
Staying asleep until one  A.M, dreading that i'm here.
Listening to something as beautiful as Bon Iver in air and loving that i'm here.
But hating that i'm not there or that i'm not him.
Laying on the couch not being able to move, hoping i'm still here
praying i'm still here wanting to be here.
so I came back to reality,
And then the pain in their eyes....
TAKE ME AWAY FROM HERE.
and i'm still here.

But that's okay because after I walked away from the perfect tree and threw the rope down the underground canal I noticed the universe in it's magnificence. The way the clouds formed a perfect arc around me and the sun set in imposing colors below that. Then the birds flew out of the brush and I swore there were a thousand of them and it seemed as if was breathing air that when swallowed gave me the strength I needed. And It's okay that i'm still here because after I woke up at one in the afternoon I was able to make it till the next afternoon. But a life is not just to be lived . It's not just to be tolerated. It is to be created. So it's okay I'm here because after I listened and yearned for the music to come out of my hand and mouth like It does out of Justin Vernon, I created my own music. And I created my own life. I noticed the beauty in simplicity. I turned down the voices in my head and I proceeded to enjoy the greatness of reality. Reality that at times I let slip away from my grasp because the pain was too great. So I'M HERE and it's okay. It's more then okay.

Intro duc tion

I really like the idea of space. Not just stars and planets but the incalculably great three-dimensional realm in which all material objects are located and all events occur. Because contrary to popular belief, space is not just an empty area. It is the area in which everything is and was and will be. It is an area in which molecules are bouncing off each other at rates that are almost impossible to calculate. Everything is happening in space. At first thought space needs to be filled. There is nothing to be discussed about "Empty Space". For the sake of bringing a metaphor into this, (even though I hate far fetched metaphors.) Writing is like space. At first thought, writing is unnecessary. It is a past time or something you do if you get bored. Like space it is quite misunderstood. For most people, to write is to make sense of our chaotic world. The meaning that writing has to it's writer is impossible to calculate. At least this is why I write. I write because there is something more to it. Weather it is seen or unseen it is all more important to me than someone could understand. I write for myself. This is the first time I've ever shared my writing  with others. I'm terrified because honestly I don't like what I write. Most of the time reread my work and want to delete or erase it or throw it away, but I can't because it would be like throwing away a part of me. It is mine. It is the place where I am and was and will be.