Saturday, January 1, 2011


Future is fearless
But I am not
And still it comes.

Thursday, December 30, 2010


(Note - I wrote this from the point of view of an imaginary element located somewhere in the 8s orbital on the periodic table.)

I am an unstable isotope
I lose parts of myself for no reason at all.
Sometimes, I lose so much of myself that all of me that has been cast off becomes me again
A smaller me
A hidden me.

I long for a nuclear fusion
To bond so deeply with another that we are no longer he and me but us
One entity that is bigger and stronger than all of our nucleons combined.

It is not meant to be, for he is stable and stronger than all of the rest
An iron diamond amongst the bits of broken graphite scattered atop the lab notebook.
I break apart the moment there is pressure.

We are not meant to be.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

In the Dark

The world is scarier in the dark
There could be evil demons lurking in the bushes that surround the school
Eerie and empty after hours but for the possibility of holding a sea of monsters
Streetlights illuminate patches of ground
Waiting quietly for a shadow to steal out of the blackness and into your dreams
And every crackle under your feet could alert the creatures of the night that you are there
Just waiting to be found
In the dark.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Falling Apart

We humans are unstable
We're all falling apart in one way or another
Because we're only made of flesh and blood
And the likes of tendons and ligaments cannot hold together
A body, mind, soul, hopes, dreams, wishes, fears
And the moment we let go
To try something new
To help someone put themselves back together
We fall apart

Sunday, December 19, 2010

I too live for flows

Walking around a near-deserted track at 3 am, talking about everything and nothing. In pain and fatigued, but walking on, talking on, actual conversation, darkness and coldness and sweat, occasional lights, walking and talking.

Wrapped in the tightest hug with someone I don't quite know and sobbing. Tight, but not a bear hug, not getting the life squeezed out of me, just someone clinging to me and me clinging back. Being the shorter person in a hug for the first time in a while, but holding on anyway.

Listening to piano music that comes from nowhere while standing in the light summer rain, without a phone or any way of contacting home, no idea exactly how far I am from where I started. Barefoot, no coat, warm water between my toes, gorgeous music that I can't identify weaving between the raindrops.

Playing Twister, laughing and joking and having fun, innocence, playing for hours, falling over, laughing. Walking in the pouring rain, content, satisfaction and tiredness.

Pure, simple flows of happiness and sadness and love create memories. Memories and peace.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Happy Holidays

My dad just got these in the mail. The note reads:

Lane [my father],

Please take good care of this little bear. He’s very special to me. He’s almost 40 years old and he’s been on our tree, front + center, every year. I’ll miss him, but wanted you to enjoy him for another 40 years or more.

With love, Mom

My dad sewed this bear when he was six years old, and now, forty years later, he’s hanging front and center on our tree. Merry Christmas.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Growing Up

It's funny how I used to think glasses and braces made you grown up, how going to parties and talking on the phone and texting and worrying about your hair made you an adult. Then I got glasses, then contacts, then braces. and I went to a party last Friday. I talk on the phone and text and worry about my hair.

And yet, I'm nowhere near being an adult. I'm an awkward, naive 14-year old with nothing to her name except for an obnoxiously formal vocabulary. Adults can take care of logistics and deadlines and responsibilities, whereas I still believe that if I wish hard enough, a magical fairy of joy and wonder will save my ass.

And yet, I've been through enough to not be innocent. I've known pain, I've faced reality, and I've lost the bliss that accompanies childhood at it's finest. So what does that make me? A baby, or an adult?

What am I?