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
Alone
In the dark.

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

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.

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.

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?

Bruschetta

Unless you are Italian, you cannot possibly understand my love for bruschetta. Toasted bread with oil, topped with tomatoes and parsley and peppers and all sorts of delicious herbs, combine to create something comparable to sex in my mouth.

I've eaten bruschetta in too many restaurants to count, but my favorite by far is the kind my grandmother (and consequently, my mother) makes. I currently have a slight stomachache simply because I could not resist eating just one more of Nonna's bruschettas.

It is a familiar process to me - I sit in my room, oblivious to the deliciousness in my near future. Suddenly, I smell it; first the bread, then the tomatoes, and then the herbs.

"Can it be?" I ask myself.

"Dinner!" my mother calls.

I sprint downstairs and bank a hard left into the kitchen. "Mom, did you make-"

I see it.

I swoop in for the kill.

I enjoy.

(And by the way, it's pronounced "bru-sket-ta".)

Silence

I'm sitting there in the car and the voices won't stop and I turn the music up because it drowns them out some
He tells me to turn it down in the way that makes me hate him so much
Of course I can't
But I do
And they won't stop and I turn it up and they won't stop and I turn it up
Ignoring, trying to ignore
Failing like I always do
Turning it up and turning it up and they won't stop and they won't stop and threats and turn it down and down and down
I'm sitting there with the dark circles under my eyes and in the jeans from years ago, the ones that made me feel fat
(I guess some things never change)
And it just won't stop
And the music stops and I can't take the noise
And it's all noise, good noise and bad noise and god I just want
Silence.