Four White walls

Everyday I wake up and it's the same routine over and over again. I convince myself to get up so I can embark on a new day but they all blur together subconciously and sneak up on me when I look in the mirror. I hate this feeling and even though God has granted me another day, I can already tell what kind of day my patience will have, unyeilding to stress and rearing from all four corners of the globe, this pressure.
I walk around life in a four white walled room. People say I'm narrow minded and stubborn, some label it depression because normal people don't convince themselves to live on a regular basis. But I'd like to think of myself as pathetic most of the time and agree that my small violin is out of tune.
Many people that I love have surrounded me with support and compliments. They seem to be written small in black on my white walls. They are there none the less but in blood red colors shriek my imperfections, streaming huge letters of doubt, anxiety, and inconsistency, anger and failure while I depleat myself into non-exhistence. Sometimes on my days off I lay in bed wondering what it would be like to just melt, or become the bed sheets. That perhaps it would be amazing in the summer breeze on the clothes line at night. Or maybe if I just disappeared, stopped breathing and began to fly, watching everything from far, would I see things more clearly?
No matter how much I want to leave this world, or those demeaning things rapture my mind, nothing compares to being trapped in this box day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute. My soul is impatient and my hands are a little late, my eyes and mind imagine, invision that one swift slice, that one trigger, that one rope, or maybe just a last breath, one more second wasted. I just want to be with Him, in paradise and I am falling short on waiting.

May I SHIT in peace!?!

I pulled in the drive way. It was raining outside and the sparkles on the windsheild intensified this usual view and sitting before me was my back yard, open to our small, fucked up community. Sometimes, when the weather is nice, the view of the sky is more than beautiful. It's open and there to remind me I'm not alone, but like the windsheild, the rain inside my being matches the weather and smudges my own reality.
I can tell already that the lump in my throat that appears every time I pull in my driveway is getting bigger. This awful dread in my being holds me from wanting to go inside with rapid force. This fear raises my anxiety, my heart races.
That same routine I was talking about before, how everyday is the same, every moment is even more uninteresting, well, I walked up to the door, as usual, and that lump was over powered by obligation. I stepped inside, put my things down where I normally put them, look around the house, proceed to go upstairs and into my room. I peel my kitchen style clothes off, and a layer of my dignity.
The average human takes a good shit on a regular basis, and without warning. It comes when it wants to and is naturally untimed. Sometimes when you gotta go, you just gotta go. I just barely sat and started combing my hair, when my mother bangs open the door. Half awake, half dead sometimes and bitchy she yells in a panic:
"Heidi! Damn it! Get up! The piss is running down my leg! Oh you asshole! Whatever!" still yelling while I try to hurry and collect myself, butt naked and run back into my room. Why can't I at least SHIT in peace God?Stupid thing is this is not the first time this has happened. It happens everytime I try to relax for one minute and now it's invading my privacy. I know her bladder doesn't work. I understand that a lot of her doesn't work, but my soul and my mind is sooo tired. I just want at least a few minutes alone, whether it be to poop, or not to poop, I need a vacation.
I fight with my friends because I can't promise them my time. I push away my own needs for hers. I try so hard to remember that her body is falling apart before I get angy. I walk away when she's bitchy and try really hard to refrain from screaming back but my anger is not directed at her. I buy nice groceries, I try to feed her well, I'm supportive when she's sick and two minutes later I find out she's eating Dove bars at midnight, cheeseburgers when there is better stuff to eat in the house. I sit back and watch her be attacked by all these diseases, I watch her body and soul suffer from pain and her complaints of stiff joints, but yet a cheeseburger, A FUCKING CHEESEBURGER!!! I love her so much I do get angry. I love her so much I want to push myself away from her so when she does pass away it won't hurt as much as if she died tomorrow but my heart won't let me do that. A CHEESEBURGER!! I want to fix her. I want to fix her mind, make her take care of herself, but no.. A CHEESEBURGER, or she visits Joe for twenty minutes and won't get out of bed for two weeks. A MOTHER FUCKING CHEESEBURGER!!
I have given up, with all my flags up rooted, my victory lost, I subside to just crying half the time because I have learned very slowly that nothing and no one will change her.
I can't change the people around me. I can't give them all better lives. I can't hold up the world. I can't convince one single person that I am good enough, that I do enough, I"m always racing to live up to what you all want me to be and do. And even if my family doesn't see or understand what a normal day is for me, they may never get it, but I feel surrounded, attacked at the most random moments because no one respects me.
I can't give her new legs. I can't fix her broken heart. I can 't make her brain want to live, or fight harder, I can't give her a new body, or lipo suction. I can't change her mentality, I can't implant a new bladder. I can't have all my imperfections screaming at me while I feel insufficient watching everyone else depend on me to save them. But with everything in my might, if I had one million dollars I would make fast food restaurants for kidney diseased diabetics!!!! I go to work, I don't cook, I feel awful. Plain and simple it's my fault.
I need to take time for myself. I need to shit in peace. I need peace. I feel so overwhelmed because I can't take your pain away. I can't even figure out my own. Someone help me for once. Someone be proud of me for once. Someone else deal with your issues. I've got to love my mom more. I've got to be with her more. I've got to spend time with her and grow up and do the right thing. I need to do the right things. I need to do the right things.
At the end of the day it's doesn't come down to the idea that I am selfish or even lazy either. I don't mind helping anyone. I don't mind being there for my friends but when you bitch at me because you can't all have my 100% attention, when you all pressure me because I won't come over and party because I"m attempting to be more responsible, or go do a beer run at midnight, it's not because I don't care about any of you. It's not because I don't love you all. It's because I need to breathe in peace. And maybe if some of you were my real friends, you would ask me if I was ok, because I'm not and you would know that. You would understand that I have stuff to do, or deal with and I'll be over another time, or take a rain check on plans made. Stop underestimating my character, my God and my generosity. I"M TIRED AND I CAN"T EVEN SHIT IN PEACE!!

I am at peace

When I stand in the wind, listen and capture my senses, when I feel raindrops splashing on my eyelashes, or hear the rumble of the earth early in the morning I can't help but think or feel in every part of me that there is a God. When I walk down the street, and feel tired, broken and fearless, a fast car drives by and reminds me what fear is for. And when I pray, when I let go, when I breathe in, when I live, I am reminded why I am alive.
When I cry, when I'm alone or in public, when I smile at a stranger, when I say goodbye to someone I love my heart races. When I'm in love and free with peace my fingertips go numb and my sight is strengthened. When I can not see anymore or feel, when I am nothing, still, I will cry, I will smile, I will live and I will breathe for every part of me knows, is completely convinced there is, indeed, a God who has given me the distinguished ability to trust him to be my sight, my fear, my emotion, my balance and my peace.
Whether Jesus was perfect, married, or the Savior is not the question I ask over and over again. I already know those answers. But deep within me at the end of the day is whether everyone around me can let go, lean ino the wind, blind sighted with their hearts racing or will they just fall before they learn to trust more next time? I love all of my friends, my family. I'm not perfect, yes, I've sinned but I don't want to leave everyone behind. What next? Where do I go from here? How do I hold back from telling them how wonderful it feels to understand that serenity? It has nothing to do with being damned to hell, it's here on earth, those moments, even those struggles that we should enjoy with trust. How do I explain what it feels like? How do I tell them that they are strong when life keeps letting them fall?
So far I have held back, kept my mouth shut to those who don't want to be pestered. It's not my job to judge, it's not my job to condemn anyone or even push them away. But I do not think before I live, before I breathe, before I love. I just do and with that, I am at peace.

Diabetes

I remember looking at him through a massive blur from my eyes swelling with tears trying so hard not to let one drop. Dale was one of my favorite people, my hero.
Once upon a time, in a little village there was a young girl, she was broken and alone. In swooped this wonderful family and took her as their own, everthing they did, she did. Everywhere they went, she went. Eating dinner at the table, warm corn chowder and a glass of milk, some saltines and late nights talking to her new "sister" about the world. They saved her once, they saved me.
I looked him dead in the eye, took his hand, leaned in so he'd know, and said I love you for the last time. The machines running, the wheezing of his breath, the faint smell of death and silence creeping through the hospital room was enough to make anyone cry. Dale was my hero, one of my swooping angels. He died from Diabetes, organ failure, Neuropathy, a horrible side effect of Diabetes. His dialysis running low, I don't think they could've found any other place to put the fusion IV's. So pale, so calm looking back at me through his thick rimmed glasses.
I gave him a hug, walked away and shut the door to all of his friends gathered in the room. Standing in the hallway with Alicia, his daughter,trying so hard not to fall and cry like a child. So many memories captivated my brain, flooded my senses making me nautious that he'd be gone the next day.
So time has gone by and not one of us has forgotten Dale. Sometimes I still think he'll come around the corner and flip me the "curly bird" and say "Hey kid! What you think about this huh?" and laugh so hard it shook the house.
Things have changed, we've all grown up and out into our own paths. It's been years since, years that I have ignored my own mortality.
I sat in the ER at the local hospital tonight, with pain in my feet so bad I sobbed. Tracing up my legs, curving down my heel, making my toes numb was this disease called Neuropathy. I'm only 19 years old I cried to myself.
For so long I've forgotten my Diabetes was real. That it was in fact a fatal disease, painful and strict, unwilling to bend it holds your life to a curriculum of events, strength. He was so brave for pretending it didn't hurt. If I had known then how much pain he might've been in I would've taken out the trash for him.
People think I'm faking it, or that I'm exaggerating. When I watch my mother in pain from the same ugly diseases I couldn't find enough in me to believe her once. But now, feeling so incapable, so erupted with reality, so painfully struck with this ugly illness rearing it's head into my life as I sit in that hospital bed, with funny machines, the TV button control and white sheets, four white walls, white DR's coats, white shoes. I am the victim now. The Dr was nice. Understood my pain, shook is head when I told him my age and proceeded to give me five days off from work. What am I suppose to do with five days off? Do I have to take them? He said if I don't take this time off and see some more doctors then it would only get worse. I can't imagine it worse.
Of everything I've tried to accomplish in my life this has really been a hard one to overcome. I'm usually the person to steps past obsticles and lives for the day, the moment, trudging through confident and motivated. I pick up where I left off, I finish what I start, I deal with things as they come in a positive attitude, or at least I try to. This one is more than a step, this is so hard for me. I'm always the strong one. I'm always on top of things and ready to go. I'm always seizing the moment and capturing my friends.
Why now do I just want a hug? I want my mom.. haha.. I sound like I'm bitching about life, I'm not usually like this I promise, but what would you do? How am I not suppose to cry right now? How am I not suppose to feel so vulnerable and needy. I'm such a big baby I know but I am scared. I don't want to cloud anyone's memories of me with four white walls, white sheets and the smell of death. I hate hospitals, I've grown up in them. I just want to be a kid again.
I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me. I don't want to stop living or feel handicapped but I know that's going to happen anyway. I'm not worried about how I'll deal with it, I've got God after all.. :) But my friends, my family? They have already dealt with this for so long. Why me now? Between Dale, my mother and me they're going to give up. I'll be ok for now. Maybe the next 10 to 20 years but I can't walk like I use to yet, I can't work right, I can't live comfortably without pain and everyone isn't goign to slow down for fat ol' me. That's what I'm worried about. I guess. Who is goign to be the one that makes sense? Or is strong? Or is positive? Nuetral even? lol I just hope that you'll all forgive me and fly a little slower from now on. :D I guess I'm just really surprised by it all and I'm sorry if I'm ranting about this. It's not the worst thing in the world...

My Jesus coming home soon.

I eased myself into the blue plastic chair next to the picnic table. The sun was shining so bright that the shade was blinding. The guys from work all sitting at the table across from me, silent, avoiding eye contact and giggling here and there. Typical when I entered the room. I felt like I was the topic of conversation. They'd shake their heads at me all the time, make me feel dumb and act as if I was just the student, the pushover, the dumbass. Sometimes making me not want to get out of bed.
Another day at work, sitting here waiting for my break to be over, the day, the whole experience. Being stuck down here in this strange, fast paced environment was so different than being home and free. "Heidi just asked the most stupid..." or "Heidi burnt the.." or "Heidi is so fat she could live at seaworld and still no one would visit her tank." I'd heard around the corners or through the doorway when I walked into the room. Assholes, 100* weather, and dripping sweat was not a comfortable situation. I didn't want to give them anything more to say so I got up and moved myself to anoher area, the other picnic table under the shade where two of the female dishwashers had been eating lunch. I pulled out my Marlboro 100's, my purple "Flick my Bick" lighter and sat.
I hated smoking, the smell the taste, the idea, the problems. But somehow I had managed to become addicted. If I had known years ago what it would be like to crave a cigarette so bad you smash a plate in the dishroom I would have never started. I still wish I didn't. I was down to 3-5 cigarettes a day because I worked so much but the stain and single needy feeling they left in my mouth was unbearable sometimes. The inhale after eating was like dessert. It was ritual and customary, something to pass time, to fidget with to even embrace.
As I reached up to light my cigarette I felt a faint, gentle touch on my hand, I looked down at her dark skin on mine, then up to her face, smiling and squinting at me. The older black women of the two I had been sitting with. What kind eyes, and wise but she couldn't speak English so I thought. She said with a beam on her face like she believed it would work;
"I pray you child. You stop. God bless you child.No good the cigarettes." she said in a soft barely heard tone. I winced at how stupid I was for being so inconsiderate. I was surprised she knew English all of a sudden.They were trying to eat lunch, enjoying the fresh air and here I was being rude and about to light up. If there was anything I hated more than the smell was inconsiderate smokers blowing smoke into your face and everywhere, stubborn and unchanged, old fashioned attitude if you ask me. I was surprised I had been sitting here just the same. Not looking at the world around me.I told God I'd quit when he sent me a message. When I knew he cared.
I put the lighter down, stuck the cigarette back into the pack and apologized again and again.They stood and gathered their belongings, the older one making her peace with the day, feeling as if she had done a good deed and nodded at me, heading towards the door to the tall building. I looked down at the pack, and felt a hand on my back, I looked up to see the younger woman leaning down to me. She whispered in my ear;
"No, go, you smoke. But remember my friend, my Jesus coming soon." and she smiled, looked me straight in the eyes, laughed and walked away, into the building. As I sat there and examined the pack of 13 perfectly rolled cigarettes, 7 I had smoked already, I thought to myself that was seven times I've sinned.
I stood, opened the door, walked to the nearest trash barrel and threw them away. It frightened me to be holding them, to think God knew, he cared because that was certainly a message.I put the lighter in my pocket, thinking that it might come in handy for other stuff someday. I sat in the booth next to the window and stared at the TV in the breakroom for ten minutes without thinking anything but "My Jesus coming soon" and the more I went over it in my head, the more I said it, the brigher my smile grew, like the older woman's, gleaming across my face like a kid.
It's been four days and things have already started to change in my life. I put those guys in their place and admitted to myself I needed to prove myself, to step up. Who were they after all? A bunch of grown men still flipping burgers and talking about sex like they were 15? God works in mysterious ways and sometimes we just don't see it but I deffinately know I wake up thankful everyday, replenished and ready to go. Maybe in my travels through time and everything I'll ever experience I'll tell someone else like they did for me and they'll throw away what's left and let go.
My Jesus coming home soon and I be ready.

Redemption

Life changes, we all did. Maybe sometimes when I look back on who we were, where we were in life, I'm not sure if I'm happy for sad to know that some of us aren't always going to be around. I cry because I want to go back to when life was simple, to when life was "easy" being a rebellious teen, bailing each other out of crazy nights, no worries, no real responsibilities, just us. But then I'm happy to look back and laugh at all the memories and realize I have been so lucky. I saw on a sign once that read "God gives us friends so we have angels on earth" And through all the times I fell, all the times I felt insecure and selfish, I was surrounded by angels.
Every time I loved you back my friend, has been a growing part of me and I'll never forget our lives, mangled and intertwined into each other. If we had never met, if our parents just kept walking by, would things be the same? I doubt it. Fly with me.
Redeem-
To free from what distresses or harms

To all those who say religion is just something to fall back on.. I believe because I fall.

Maybe the other religions are tangible, explainable, more believable, even easier to understand or comprehend and I know that Christianity isn't. You can't touch,taste, smell, see or hear it. You can't put it on a table and call it an artifact or part of history in the flesh.You can't show evidence and it's hard to understand but there is this thing called faith which it stands upon.With this faith comes trust which governs our lives and lets us chooe what's right from wrong creating morale. So then comes the most important thing, love.
Maybe we do look to a religion because we are afraid to die, we don't know what happens when you die, it's another unexplainable, intangible thing so it scares us into believing in something. I don't believe in Jesus because I'm afraid to die. I believe in him because I am living, with or without death it's my reality.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever shall believe in him will not perish but live an everlasting life.
For God sent not his son into the world for the world to be condemned but through him they might be saved."-John 3:16
Face it, as an atheist or anything else, you're just as scared to die and afraid to take that step in finding what's right for you. If you don't wake up in the morning you can't go back or look back and say I'm sorry I should have.... So don't put down those who do have a religion, who do have faith because we're not shy to admit life is scary and we can't do it alone.
No one said it would be easy, no one said it would be scary or even understanding but it is simple. You don't have to be perfect, and you don't have to pretend to be perfect, you simply just have to believe. Until then I wish you luck in life, but please, don't knock it until you try it. Until death has stared you in the face and you can prove to me you lived without God, because I have been there and I know I didn't, then don't rattle your excuses of not believing in something at me. Just keep trying to convince yourself although you are human like all of us and need something to hold on to. Whether you can convince yourself of your own emotions, history or future is your own problem but I certainly didn't listen to myself after a while.

Music...

He took her by the wrists and slowly rose them up against the wall. It was hott and the sun was rising. The air was thick and sensual. He forged himself into the crevaces of her being, tucking his chin into the nape of her neck, his arms tangled with hers dropping with every move, breathing with every touch, existing as one, becoming immortal for one moment in time while the world rushed around them.The sounds of deep breaths and uncontrolled ecstasy, the city below rushing by, beeping, creating an unxplainable music to their beat, every inch, every sound, every motion encapsulating them, taking them surrender to the sins of the flesh and releasing itself into their high forever posed on the roof top where only God could see. Adam and Eve might have had Eden but I've got music bleeding through my soul.

An Insomniac's Rising Sun

It's six o' clock in the morning and the sun begins to peak through the sleeping, tainted world. You yawn, pushing yourself to watch it rise, your mind rattling and your emotions taking over. You get up, walk over and open the curtains while taking in a deep breath as a sudden calm and serenity overbears your sense of being. For this my friend, God, is a new day for most but the same for me, as everyday meshes into one long dream.
Life is like an unreal awakening that just keeps turning when you least expect it. You take in the warmth of the sun, release your aches and pain and say,
"Goodmorning God. Thank you." because you know without the light, without the rising sun it wouldn't be the same beautiful terraine you're use to arousing every morning like this and everything is copasthetic.
You turn the water on for a shower, climb in the stall and feel the hot water irradiating over you and cascading warmth through your senses and keep reminding yourself that this is a new day. You get dressed slowly, reaching in one sleeve at a time, you poor a cup of coffee and put on your shoes.
Just another restless night, just another exhausting day. Just another minute, hour that passes by because you were scared to go to sleep. How long will this last? How long will you rely on God for energy? When will you be able to sleep again? To rest seems like a waste of time and though you're tired and ache, you still have what seems to be one million things to do.
In the back of your mind, traveling through your thoughts, guilt persuades you that things will never be the same. You will never be the same, you will never be the same without him.
I'd rather not sleep than to wake up alone anymore. Who will become my comfort? Who will hold me through the night and when will God send me an angel so I can rest? So I can fly again.

Once upon a time...

once upon a time there was hope
in a world with no end, no anecdote
a small child, a little girl,
rosy cheecks and a bright little world
surrounded by angels none the less
who protected her to their very best
from heartache, greivance, sadness,
despression, insanity, madness
because inside her tiny world
was all these mean girls
who called themselves her friends
promised until the very end
then suddenly, after tragic struck and mingled with reality
she grew up, gripping her surroundings, her clarity
she ran away so fast
not looking back to her childhood past
wishing, hoping once again
that those angels would swoop by and redeem themselves her friends
she reached out, pushing herself to succeed
at being their angel in a time of need
now i sit broken hearted
finding how we have so quickly departed
from saving each other
and trusting one another
loosing our once beautiful wings and ability to fly
wondering if we'll ever give it another try
lifting our feet, change abound
or will we jump and smash on the ground?

Heroes

I don't have one specific hero but when I sit and watch people at a park and examine society I find new heros everyday. It's unexplainable... OF COURSE I think that the soldiers are extremely brave and heroic and the firefighters and EMT's who work everyday at struggling times or people who put their life on the line deserve so much but there are certain heros in this world who go unnoticed... Like mothers with 5 kids who juggle everyday life with a single family home in the city.. Or park rangers who keep forrests and the environment safe and as clean as they can. Or Doc's who study AID's in Africa for 10 years before dying of exhaustion... Or the old men and women in the hospital or around the world who are still strong and attempt to be independent. Or most of all children who make something great of themselves even when they came from something less... LOOK CLOSER

Lucky Heart

'Tis not the man whom deems oneself a king
whom lavishes rich.
'Tis the man who surpasses any squander in one moment,
as to find thineself with a heart of glass nay the end,
for having loved is worthnot a cent,
but a lifetime of content.
~Heidi Straus

In the center of the circle of the will of God I stand,
though the universe around me shows no trace of his dear hand,
yet as in the daylight, as in the darkness,
as in the gloom, as in sunshine fair,
TRUST HIM for His presence for we know
he's always near.
~Isabelle Cormier

Goodbye my friends

When I first met you or how, I can't remember

but swimming in leaves in september

and skipping rocks in the sun

or making the biggest bubble of gum

are memories still part of me.

Telling each other secrets or who we wanted to be,

our biggest crush for that week,

or out on a dream fast asleep,

holding our stuffed animals warm,

our friendship, impossibly torn.

Making tiny footprints in each others' hearts,

pinky swears, mud and funny farts.

Giggles on the sand at a hot beach,

the shapes in the clouds we could never quite reach.

Barbie was our idol and favorite past time

"Neon-Kelly", and limerics that rhymed.

Whether it was learning, arguing or events

we grew together, every moment well spent.

Rising to young women, lady's in fact

with our past and our future still in tact.

Highschool came and flew by with great stories all around

of many times picking each other up from the ground.

Drunk, happy, sad, mad, heart broken and PMS

"You girls better clean up that mess!"

Every moment I have had with each of my girls

has made me who I am, filtered into my world.

Thank you for being my sisters, confidants and mothers,

my best friends when there weren't any others.

You have left footprints words can't follow

and we find ourselves beginning to show

our adulthood, our responsibilities, our strengths.

I'm leaving for a short time, seems forever in length

and I'm packing you in my suitcase I promise

in pictures and things to reminisce.

I love you guys... my girls... PS.. im crying like a bitch... lmfao!!

Glass/ssalG

No one else understands the way I think or feel
I touch the glass and realize it must not be real.
I'm sick of trust.
though friends were once a must
so everyone can just leave me alone, let me be,
inside this box, trapped where only I can see
the events and people around me, taunting
living their life, their judgement, their smiles haungting
as they pass by and examine the girl
inside the glass box, outside of the world.
It almost shattered today because I've lost control.
I opened my mouth to speak, a vacant hole.
Without the right words I've lost it all
even that trust, so I must build a wall
and even though I love them all outside my box
they can't see me past the chains and locks.
So I'll refrain from standing, I'll keep my mouth shut closed.
I'll become a stone forever posed
for them to be satisfied, for once when they pass by
to look and judge without ever understanding why.

Dangled

I can't fly
Have you ever been afraid to love? Most of the time when someone has issues with love it's because they were once hurt right? Or at least we'll assume in my case. Sometimes when you open that part of your world to someone they don't always see it as a gift, as it should be portrayed. Sometimes they take that as a notion to walk all over you and sometimes they don't deserve it.
I look back on the times I've loved someone and remembered the stain they have left not only on my heart but in who I am. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger right? But when you have given everything, all or nothing to one person, when you have divided your individual time for self exploration and peace, you find something even more beautiful, your other half. That part of you that seems to be missing. But what happens when it breaks? When that time becomes uncomfortable and stuck in pathetic arguments about the whether. Or when that trust you once had has vanished beyond comparison? What happens?
Why do I feel like I can't love again. I've heard repetitively "Get over it!" from what seems to be the world. I can't just trust anymore. I can't just get over it. I'm still broken and I'll admit that it hurts.
I've found someone new and I wonder if he's like everyone else. I wonder when he'll drop me and little by little that overwhelming feeling of comfort is creeping into me. I want to let go of my inhabitions. I want to be there in that moment. I want to trust. What will it take for my tears to stop sealing my heart? What does he have to prove in order for me not to be so scared?
I want to feel fearless.
I want to feel free.
I want him to show me.
I want him to teach me and embrace me all over again
because I am so naive.

This Viscious Cycle

We met when we were three,
played dolls and sipped imaginary tea.
We fought over who had the best mom in the world
or who was the most special little girl.
We spent days together, weeks and sometimes just hours
and if mom dare say it was time to leave, we'd get sour.
When sixth grade came we drew apart
and I learned to live without my friend and a broken heart.
By senior year we started hanging out and became close
while we took trips to smoke on the sand and got sunburns on our nose.
This past year has been fun,
we carried a lot of growing up, the weight of a ton.
Yet still, we stuck together and dealt with reality
with our small group of three.
It felt good to have you for once as a friend
to spend time together hours on end.
To enjoy life and hold conversations that seemed mature
and always thriving on something more.
You were my girl crushes, my sisters, friends,
my confidants and mothers again and again.
The last time we took a trip to sink our problems in the sand
you told me you loved your man.
You expressed that he would come first over all
and dropped this idea on me as my heart began to fall.
I understand that you're in love with a guy
that's what you want even though you think we don't know why.
We each know it makes you happy, so go
and that's all I care, that's all I need to know.
I told you I'd always be around, I'm not like all the others.
I will be your friend, confidant, sister and mother.
I support your decisions and I want you to know
that I can't find a way good enough for me to show
how much I love you, Shawn and the baby
and I don't think this is fair.. It's just too crazy.
I'm not like everyone around you
who don't see what they're putting you through .
When you want to have a cup of real tea, sit down and talk
while your little one learns how to walk,
give me a call, stop by but please dont forget
that you have me as a friend and you shouldn't regret
our history or our future as friends
because like I said, I'm around 'til the end.

So sometimes I think I can write and sometimes I think not. I'm going to post some old, some new and some stupid blogs, I'm sure, but the majority of my life experiences are extreme, outrageous, bold and sometimes harsh. They can be pissing your pants funny and they can be sob worthy sad, at least I'd like to think so, and if you are not open to new ideas, different opinions, blunt and honest, real and in your face than perhaps you should go to someone else's blogs, not mine.
A few things I've learned in my twenty one years on earth I will endulge to you.
1) Girls fart
2) Girls lie too :)
3) Girls are fragile, it's annoying, so am I
4) Men generally suck but not all of them establish this right away
5) DO NOT PEE in front of the cop station at two AM when you are piss ass drunk
6) Do not hit girls, they have claws, feet, teeth and vicious attributes
7) It's not ok to hit boys either (peace children)
8) Love is really kicking in the third drink, I promise
9)Smoking weed should be legal, I've had to watch my mom suffer, it's not cool how sick she is
and besides, how many people do you know die of skunk driving accidents?
10) I'm a bitch. I'm a lover. I'm a child. I'm a mother. I'm a sinner. I'm a saint. I do not feel ashamed. I'm your hell. I'm your dream. I'm nothing in between you know you wouldn't want it any other way. I'm a bitch. I'm a tease. I'm a goddess on my knees. When you hurt. When you suffer. I'm your angel undercover. I've been numb. I'm revived. Can't say I'm not alive. You know I wouldn't want it any other way