she lifted up her wings

I was looking at a post I made earlier this month where I listed things I would like to do...and I am proud to say I have accomplished 3 of the 4 things on the list! I have read three books so far this month (soon to be four), I have written more, and I have found more comfort in being alone. I did not realize that I had done so much already, and I feel so happy knowing what I have accomplished. I just wanted to document it. I still feel lost a little, actually a lot. But I am in such a better place than I was last month, and hopefully things only get better from here. I graduate in two weeks, and then I am not sure what I will be doing after that....but oh well.

As for boys, oof. I am still so lost and confused. I feel differently about a different boy each day, but I always go back to the same one. I hope he talks to me soon. One of the books that I have read, The Light We Lost, was a very One Day-esque type of novel and I absolutely loved it. But it broke my heart into  a million little pieces. It is just so sad to me how two people can so obviously be meant for one another, but never have the chance to truly be together because life just does not allow for it. And it just reminded me of this one person, and I know that things will never be that grand in my life. But I would like to imagine that one day, maybe, we have our time together. Even if it comes to an end, I would like more time.

This was just a small little update post.

she'll pity the men i know

from a literary standpoint, my life should have already had an upward arch of a miracle by now considering my consistent bad luck. if young adult novels have any sort of truth to them, then something good should be happening to me soon...right? but alas, i continue on this downward spiral. but i have been trying to better myself. i cleaned my room, read a book, went running. i'm going to start taking my vitamins, considering my iron deficiency.

i am thinking about maybe telling someone about this blog. i just don't know if i should, i have had this a secret for more than two years. i am scared for someone to read all these thoughts. maybe they're too personal for my real life. it's something that i have to think about a little more. also i know my writing is not good, and it is a little embarrassing.

outta my head

i knew. i knew already what my mom was going to say. i had seen the stacks of mail from the oncology clinic piling up on the counter. i had caught her wiping away silent tears in the last few weeks when she thought no one was looking. i wish i had been less observant...just so i could have had a little more time to spend wading in my ignorance. i had prepared myself for this. so when she asked me to come out to the patio to talk, i was ready.

it was around nine'o'clock at night. i had always been grateful to live on a ranch, the silence at night was something that one could not find in a city. but i would have given anything to hear the honks of angry cars or for there to be soft sounds of a television playing from a neighbor's living room on that night. i sat on the rotting picnic table, jailed by the silence of the ranch. i looked at my mom, she stood by the table. she paced back and forth, there was an anxious energy to her as she stumbled to try and find her words, and i did not bother to try and help her find them. her fingers stayed on her necklace as she zipped the charm back and forth across her neck. it made me dizzy. i looked at the sky, trying to find the big dipper. i thought of how many stars there were up there, and what would happen if one just came crashing down from wherever it was lightyears away. hoping that those hot, fiery gassed flames could somehow find me within the next thirty seconds, so that way i would never have to hear whatever words were about to come out of mom's mouth. but sadly, that just isn't reasonable. but with news as what i believed she was going to tell me, would anything ever be reasonable again after this?

she opened her mouth, and began to speak.

three nights at the motel

i keep thinking about his tattoos. when i used to stare at them through the small creeping light that came through the window, i would think about someone else. the flowers on his back reminded me of the flowers i used to see on someone else's chest. i would trace the scar on his back, and close my eyes and think of that other person. i was confused. there was an awareness of the person in front of me, but i missed the way things used to be...the other person who would lay where he was now. i would think of him in those early morning hours. never at night, no. i would not think of him at night. but, when i would wake up...i could only think of him and what he could be doing. 

but now i don't have anyone. 

and i can't tell who i miss more. before, it was one feeling of heartbreak. but now i deal with two. 

the best of my love

i have never liked grapefruit. i mean, the smell is sweet. but i could never get past the sour, confusing taste. my mom always put sugar on the top. she would cut the fruit straight down the middle, grab a spoon, and sprinkle sugar all over the pink innards. i don't like grapefruit. but, i like this thought. the memory of my mother sprinkling sugar. in particular, on a summer day, the light shining through the window, a question lingering in the air if we should go into the pool. she eats her grapefruit on the couch, managing to get absolutely no juice onto the leather surface. but, her fingers are sticky. she wiggles them at me, and asks me to get her a wet paper towel. her eyes dance with the sunlight that comes through the broad window.

while on certain medications, it is recommended to not consume grapefruit products.

she lays in a bed now. it is winter, and there is no sunlight coming through the window of this white, bland room. she uses her weak fingers to try and gather ice chips from a blue plastic cup. they shake. she looks up at me and asks me to leave the room.

i don't like grapefruit. but today, i will eat a grapefruit and maybe put some sugar on the top.

run through the jungle

the last month of my life had been fairly interesting, and i am surprised at the events which occurred. and although my heart has definitely been broken, i must say i am finding some comfort in it. there is just a constant whirlwind of moments which are just continuously fluttering through my mind, and there are so many unanswered questions. but, i feel lighter. i feel like a better person. i don't think i want to share what happened just yet, but i will eventually.

i think i should practice my writing more, and i am being serious this time. i think i will just start writing fiction. i have decided i don't want to do law school, but i have always wanted to be an author. so, why not? of course, i will continue going to school and graduate school, but i can always write on the side. i will be putting more time aside for that.

i think i am going to make a list of things i would like to accomplish.

the list:
1. write more.
2. read at least 3 books a month.
3. be happier about spending time alone.
4. doodle more.
5. learn.

dancing in the sky

actually no, i feel like i need to write a little more. whenever i post, i always look back at my old posts. always. and i am always so disgusted, because who did i think i was? talking about anxiety, talking about that piece of shit boyfriend, talking about PARTIES? i was so....dumb. literally, i can't remember those being things i was ever legitimately upset about. whenever i would write them, i would make it about a certain topic - but it is never what i actually meant. would i be upset about something? yes, but it was something i couldn't talk about because i'd get my shit beat if i did. it's funny how none of my friends know this exists. i don't tell my friends anything. i don't even tell dora. no one knows how bad it ever got. no one. i still have marks all over my body from where he would hit me. there's a lump on top of my head from when he threw me against the wall once. it's hard to remind myself that that part of my life is over. it's traumatizing. and i don't know who to talk to about it. it isn't fair that he gets to go on with his life, as if nothing happened. like he didn't fuck me up for an entire two years. but, i know it's my fault. i should have just left, but i was so afraid. whenever i think about that time, or him, i just want to end the pain. i never liked him, that was the worst part. i didn't stay because some part of me loved him, and thought he was a good person deep down. i was just afraid of him hurting me to the point of no return.

there was a time he left me in the middle of a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, without my phone, in a shady city for an entire two hours.

the veins under my eyes were always popped. they were just red and purple from how often i would cry.

my stomach and ribs were always bruised.

my car radio was smashed.

my phone was smashed.

my clothes were always ripped.

i could never speak. i could never go out.

but was this even his fault or was it mine