A Series of Letters

To Winter,

Things always seem to be clearer when you're around. Now that you're gone, I have no idea what I'm doing. 

Sincerely,

Summer

Dear Winter,

Can you come back? Bring back the cold, when I felt alive. When I knew what course my life was supposed to follow. It's so easy to get lost in this heat that is me.

Love, 

Summer

Dearest Winter, 

I wish you'd come back. Things seem to be clearer when it's cold, and I need to see clearly again. 

All my love,

Summer

Self- Eulogizing

She wanted the ceiling of her bedroom to be painted like the sky.

Before she fell asleep, she thought about what she should do the next day, and then fell asleep to the memories of hushed voices and hidden smiles. 

If she could have had one wish, it would've been that she could freeze the most special moments of her life, capture them in a bottle and keep them forever. 

She always dreamed that she'd jump out of an airplane- wearing a parachute, of course. She wanted to feel the wind on her face and experience the exhilaration of knowing that death could be moments away.

Before she died, she wanted to live. 

Just something in general to that special someone

If you even exist. I've definitely considered the possibility that you might not be real. But whether you're real or not, I've still thought about you. 

I want you to want to see me happy. I want you to love my smile and the sound of my laughter and the light in my eyes. But if I need a shoulder to cry on, I want you to be that shoulder. 

I want to see you happy. I want to fall in love with your smile and the sound of your laughter and the light in your eyes. But I'm also willing to be a shoulder to cry on, too.

What I'm saying between the lines is that I'm lonely. And I want you to fix that but I don't know who you are and if I did I'd probably deny it. I mean, let's be honest here. I'm terrified of loving you. I know you're going to hurt me. But I want to find you anyway. 

I just thought you should know. 

The Beauty in Sadness

I need distraction. These stupid tears keep coming at the worst moments and I can't stand it, but I can't make them stop because I can't stop thinking and remembering. I hate this.

Life is tricky and painful. But you can't take it too seriously. No one gets out alive anyway. 

I really think I need to see a counselor, because I'm not sure where some of these vehement, terrifying feelings are coming from. Man, I'm messed up. I can't stand the idea of sleeping, but at the same time that's the only thing I want to do. And I feel sick to my stomach. If I can't forget to wake up, I want to wake up with amnesia or in the arms of God because this hurts so much more than I thought it would. 

Yeah, a professional would definitely be able to help you sort through your emotions.

I feel like I'm going to explode. I've said goodbye to too many people already and I don't know how I can handle any more of this.

You can, because you have to.

I feel kind of like I did right after I got back from that road trip, but on a much larger scale. The idea of continuing to live life normally is unfathomable. But then again, I don't really know what normal is. I think something inside me might have snapped, but I don't know what. I wonder what the science is behind emotions. Some chemical in my brain is probably being released to make me feel like my world is ending.

You care so deeply that it causes much higher degrees of emotional pain for you in events like this.

I didn't know it was possible to miss someone who's still alive this much. I really hope this Three Days Hate thing is over sooner than three days from now. Although it's more like Three Days Grief this time. And it will probably start over again soon.

You aren't leaving anyone forever, you realize that, right? You aren't saying goodbye for forever, just goodbye until you see them again.

But what if I don't see them again?

Then you don't in this life.

I know life is short, but suddenly it seems awfully long. 

Corkscrew

Don't you dare tell me that you know me. You don't know me. If you knew me, you'd know I just want to feel valued. 

Don't you believe in me at all? Answer me.

Never mind, don't answer that. Because you've hurt me enough already and you're too blind to see it. And there's no point saying anything more. We both know it's useless. You're always right, aren't you.

Don't you dare accuse me of not approaching you. Every time I open up you stab me, but somehow you don't even realize you're holding a knife. With every question you ask, you twist the blade in deeper until its corkscrewed so tightly in my heart that it'll take me years to remove.

Don't you dare say you didn't mean to. I already know that. You never mean to but that's when you hurt people the most. I despise the tears that run down my face so often because they give you power over me. 

I can hear your whispering and I know you're talking about me but I don't know what you're saying and I don't want to. 

You don't know me, so don't you dare say that you do. 

Butterfly | Part Two of Fireflies

Last week I stood on the edge of a cliff, inches away from Death. Literally. And as I stood there, two things flashed through my head. The first:

Dear God, give me wings.

A butterfly fluttered past. It was pale yellow and black, and maybe He didn't really give me wings, but in that moment it felt like He did. Even if it was just a fragile, harmless creature, there was something there to protect me, to be with me if I did fall, and perhaps to fly my soul upward if it came to that. The second:

 

Don't think, just jump.

I told myself this over and over. The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. So I finally forced myself to stop thinking. Because when I think too hard, my heart beats faster, my head starts to spin, and I can't think straight.

 

Life is like that. Life is like that chasm, waiting for me to lose my footing so it can swallow me up. I can't think too hard or I have an emotional breakdown. In fact, I can feel one coming on now, so I'm going to stop thinking about it because I've already had three today and crying gives me a headache. So I'll just stick to the metaphors.

 

Life is like that chasm. Completely and unavoidably there. But the butterfly was there, too. It gave me Hope, but I never would have seen it if I hadn't looked up.

 

I look up at night and see stars. Fireflies caught in an endless expanse of dark, their light only ever seen at night. Each one tragically, heartbreakingly, immortally beautiful. And each one gives me Hope.

 

Because Life isn't always kind, but it is beautiful.

 

 

Cards

Brand new deck of face cards. I'm teaching myself to shuffle them.

Cardboard boxes and cowboy boots. I feel as empty as those boxes are full. I'm throwing away pieces of my past.

I dropped the deck, but I picked them up again.

I'm grateful for the piano. And my hairbrush, even though it broke. And for corrective lenses. And also God. I'm not sure what I'd do without Him.

My fingers are sore but I don't know what else to do but get better at shuffling these cards.

I keep thinking about the night I stayed up until two in the morning. I like the night time. I'm still afraid of the unknown, but at least I'm not afraid of the dark anymore.

Reshuffle.

I don't understand parents. Or middle school relationships. And I don't think I'll ever understand tongue piercings. But I'm over it. There are just some things I don't understand.

Deal the cards out for another game of solitaire.

Game over.

Shuffle again.

Once I fell asleep under a tree at the park. And I've slept in my car before. And on a bus. I don't sleep very well on airplanes, though.

I wish I had someone to play cards with.

I'm not very good at shuffling cards.

I wish I was brave. There's too much pretending. That I won't have to say goodbyes. I sat in the car thinking of how I don't want this to end but I never said a word. Sometimes I wish I had. Too late now.

Shuffle again.

Lone Star Soul | Part One of Fireflies

Remember the pain of watching little girls try to deal with their grief.

The silent tears in an attempt to act grown up and keep it together, but not knowing where to draw strength from. Tears coming off and on, struggling to maintain some sense of normalcy. Red eyes and shaking shoulders, clinging to the surrounding people for comfort. Crying too hard to breathe, too young to completely understand what's happening. 

The 'I love yous' keep getting stuck in my throat because I cry when I say them and crying gives me a headache. They're harder to say than they used to be but I say them anyway because it's a privilege to be hurt by some people.

Oh, dear heaven, but why does it have to hurt so much?

I cried again when I had to say goodbye. Out of love and fear that it might be the last time. I just have to remember the feeling of her little hand in mine to pull me through until I see her again. I hate saying goodbye, but never getting the chance to say it is worse. 


It's dark outside, but I think I see the light.

Three Weeks

I'm moving out in 21 days.

My life is about to start for real, and I will have to do things on my own. I'm excited for it, but also terrified, not because I don't think I can handle it, but because I'm afraid of losing people.

My room is almost entirely packed up. The walls are bare, the closet shelves are empty, and the floor is filled with boxes. They serve as just another reminder that it's coming to an end.

My prayers are mostly for peace and reassurance for myself, and for the people I care about to know that I care. And although it remains unspoken, I pray that I will have the strength to tell them what they mean to me. And to tell them goodbye. But I'm still afraid of losing them.

What if I'm so busy that I forget to remember the people I love? I'll see Colorado on a map and realize that I haven't seen them in three years and suddenly I'll miss them so much that I'll drive out to see them because I'm afraid I might not ever get the chance again.

What if at my high school reunions I see someone I used to be close to and realize how selfish and horrible I am for not caring about them after graduation? I'd probably stop going to those reunions, that's what.

What if that sweet little girl is ten before I see her again and what if she sees death but I'm not there for her like I want to be because I'm too busy with myself?

What if I never see her again? What if I never get the chance to say goodbye and I spend the rest of this life trying to remember if I told her I loved her?

What if I live a fast-paced life in some distant city and people become less important to me compared to the lively restlessness of Seattle or Dallas or New York City?

What if I get so caught up in my own desires, ambitions, and problems that I fail to think of others?

I think my life would be easier if I stopped asking so many 'what if' questions.

Motion Picture Friendship

I got a letter from him the other day. I felt the tears pool in my eyes. I closed them and remembered.

Rewind.

The first time I ever had a real  conversation with him. We convinced him to come with us and he sang along with me as I played the piano. He danced with a sad old woman and it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

Fast forward.

Uncertainty over whether or not we could actually be friends. He swept me into his arms and ran down the hall singing to me. I invited him to come surprise a friend but he had work. We started calling each other.

Play.

I waited for him to pick me up. He did. He drove me to the overlook. He told me about his favorite music group and I told him about the problems in my love life. He read me poetry and told me about his mistakes. And I trusted him because I knew I could.

Fast forward.

He met me at the park and I read him a poem. I called him on the way to work. He called at two in the morning. I went to his house. He played the guitar and sang to me. I helped him pack the lunch for his date. He asked me if he looked all right. I told him he did. He was adorably nervous.

Play. 

Worst shift ever. I called him and he met me in a parking lot. I couldn't talk because I was crying too hard. He waited patiently while I cried into his shoulder. He kept his arm around me and stroked my hair. He helped me figure out what was wrong and almost convinced me to go get something to eat with him. But I went home. I didn't tell my parents.

Fast forward.

Numerous games of phone tag. I surprised him at work. Late night conversations. He met me at the park again to talk. I couldn't believe he was my friend. He came to a play with me and my sister. She's the only member of my family who's ever met him. We went out for shakes afterward. He was going to pay but they were free.

Play.

He took me out to eat when I was having an awful day. He listened while I talked and then gave me relationship advice. Meaning advice on how to deal with my would-be ex-crush. He took me back to my car and I went home feeling much better. I didn't tell my parents.

Fast forward.

I called him during school. He listened. He tried to help me work through my problems and it mostly worked.

Play.

I saw him unexpectedly and ran into his arms for a hug. He lifted me up and spun me around.

Pause.

I was happy to see him. And he was happy to see me too.

Play.

We met in another parking lot at 10:30. We didn't have long but it was all right.

Mute.

What we said wasn't important. Or it was too important to me to share it. But I felt safe there.

Unmute.

I called him while I waited to pick up my mom from the airport. We talked for almost half an hour. I stopped being afraid to call after that. I stopped worrying when he didn't pick up the phone.

Fast forward. Play.

He picked me up around midnight. Frank Sinatra playing in the background. I didn't tell my parents.

Pause. Fast forward.

It hurts to remember so much.

Play.

Overwhelmed by guilt. I called him. He told me never to blame myself because it wasn't my fault. I felt a little better.

Fast forward. Play.

He visited me at work, and when I got off we drove down State Street looking for 24-hour Chinese food. The nearest one was in Vegas. We considered driving there but decided against it. I got home after midnight. I didn't tell my parents.

Fast forward.

The last time it felt normal. All I knew was that I needed to see him one more time to return something I had of his.

Play.

I showed up at his house to give it back, but mostly to say goodbye. Now I wish I hadn't given it back because then I'd still have a piece of him to hold onto. It scared him to see me sitting on his porch. He found out how well I know him. I found out how well he knows me. We exchanged too many 'goodbyes' and 'I love yous' and 'I'll miss yous.' After he left I went to the overlook and finally cried. When I feel alone I go there. I feel less alone. I feel closer to him. But I wish I could have gotten one more hug.

Stop.

I got a letter from him the other day. There were tears in my eyes because he told me to hold on, that I've always been strong. That's because I always felt strong around him. But I don't feel strong now. I feel terrified.

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I got a letter from you the other day. I felt the tears in my eyes. When I opened them I let the tears fall. 

I miss you.

Catch Me, I'm Falling

I'm not going to fall.

Every time I fall I wish for someone to catch me because I can't stop it on my own. It's easier to just keep my distance, to never put myself in a position where I could fall in the first place.

But really it's not that easy.

I don't want to fall.

I'm not afraid of the flying but I'm afraid of the falling because no matter how many times I've fallen, he's never been there to catch me. 

I'm tired of waiting for someone to catch me because every time I hit the ground I have to pick myself up again, more bruised and battered than the time before.

My heart hurts too much to want to fall again.

I'm not falling.

The exhilaration is almost worth it, but not quite. I won't let myself fall again.

As if it's that simple. Which it's not.

I keep reminding myself that the little things he does may mean the world to me but mean nothing to him because he's just the kind of person who makes people happy. 

I'm going to fall.

Please be there to catch me. I don't know if I can take this again.

Why did he have to put his arm around me? Why did he have to know just what to say? Why did he have to make me so happy? And why do those things make me question myself?

I want to fall.

But I know I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. So why do I still want to?

I just have to wait for someone who's there to catch me at the bottom. Right?

I'm think I'm falling.

Don't. Please, don't because then you'll fall and he won't be there to catch you at the bottom.

He never has been before.

Five Things I Miss About Her

1. How she laughed, simply because there wasn't a reason not to

2. Being able to talk to her and know that she cared about me and my life

3. The sound of her voice, which I'm trying so hard not to forget

4. Her hugs, which I treasure because I got so few 

5. The memories, because I can't make them with her anymore

The Hole

My dear little cousin,

You don't know me. You never saw my face, never heard the sound of my voice, never felt my hand touch yours. You don't know my name. But I know yours, Caleb.

There's this hole in my chest, Caleb, and it keeps getting bigger. Now you've widened it just a little more. You've made it large enough that your tiny hand could probably fit inside. I wish I could have met you.

I don't have words to describe what love is, but if it's anything, it's giving someone the power to hurt you in places that may never heal. Somehow I gave you that power, despite the fact that I never even met you.

I'm repeatedly struck by the injustice of it all. Thousands of women abort their babies each year but after 29 weeks of pregnancy and 7 months of fighting for your life, my sweet aunt didn't get to keep you. It's so unfair, but as you've probably learned better than most of us, life just isn't fair.

It sounds strange, but I'm happy for you, because you're free, Caleb. You're finally free from the painfully low oxygen levels and endless hospital walls that were your sky. Probably the only sky you ever knew. You just got to go home sooner than the rest of us, I guess. And although your life has ended, our love for you will not end. It does not end, you hear me? It will continue forever. I promise.

No matter where you are now, remember what your mom told you not long ago. That the numbers on the ventilator didn't matter, and that it was all right if you were tired because they would sleep next to you that night. That it was okay to go back to heaven and rest in the arms of our Savior. And that she loves you to heaven and back. I'm sure your angel friends were there to welcome you in.

I still wish I'd gotten to meet you. It's hard to say goodbye before I ever said hello, and sometimes it's hard to keep believing, but Caleb, I know I'll get to meet you someday. I just know it. And I can't wait for that day.

I love you to heaven and back.
Xoxo
Your cousin

If I Had One Phone Call

Hi, Grandma. 

Are you there?

I miss you. It's funny how I never realized just how much you meant to me until you were gone.

Does time go any faster or slower up there? Are you happier there than you were here? I hope so, because that would make me feel a lot better.

Can you hear me? I'm not supposed to pray to you, but sometimes I do anyway. Do you listen to me, or are you too busy doing more important things?

I love you. I was thinking about you today and about how loving you set me up to have my heart broken again.

You broke my heart, Grandma. I know you didn't try to, but when you died a part of me went with you.

But I don't regret loving you.

I'll talk to you later, okay? I love you.

Goodbye.

Waiting

I think I've mentioned that the future is coming. And things are going to change. And I'm excited for the things I can't wait for. And terrified for the things I can.

I can't wait to be out of here, to be in college, where I don't have to be home at a certain time and I can eat whatever I want. Although I'm not sure I can completely trust myself as far as food goes. I can't wait to be somewhere I don't have to watch my siblings treat my mom the way they shouldn't.

I can wait to say goodbye to the people who have meant the most to me. I can feel my heart breaking at the thought of more goodbyes. I've said too many already.

I can't wait to turn 18 and go clubbing with my friends who already have. Sometimes it's hard being months younger than the rest of the seniors. Graduates. College freshmen? Moving on.

I can wait to start packing up my bedroom and cleaning out years of memories, laughter, and heartache. They've made me who I am. I can't take most of it to college, and although I don't want to throw away all my sentimental stuff, the truth is I'd probably never miss it after it was gone and I need everything I don't bring to fit in the closet under the stairs.

I can't wait to finally get Netflix and be able to watch Star Trek as much as I want to. Actually, that's not a priority, but I'd still like it because I am totally a Trekkie. Oh crap, I don't know if I'll even have a TV at college. Crap.

I can wait to stop having the park so close by. It's become my safe place, and it'll be weird not being able to walk there every day if I just need a break. I have a feeling the cemetery will become my new safe place, and I'm all right with that, even though it sounds more than a little morbid.

I can't wait to see if I get a letter back and find out if she meant what she said and if I mean as much to her as she means to me. If I can write her letters then maybe I don't have to say goodbye.

I can wait to lose the piano. Even though I'm the only one who ever plays it at home, I don't think I'll have room for it in the dorm. Which is unfortunate, but I should consider myself lucky that there are other options for where I can play. But still, it's not quite the same.

I can't wait to see them again and find out if things change in the years they're gone. I'm afraid they will, but I hope they don't, because I've already said goodbye once and I'd hate to have to say it again for real.

I can wait to no longer have a car and use the bus system to get everywhere. Or maybe use a bike. I always liked biking, but I never used it as a method of actually transportation before, it was more of an enjoyment thing.

I can't wait to stop keeping secrets that shouldn't need to be kept, but I wonder if not having to keep them to myself will make them seem less special.

I can wait to start paying my own bills. It's too bad that I have to have responsibility along with independence. But that's part of growing up and I think having responsibility will make me more responsible.

I can't wait to meet someone and fall in love. Maybe I already know him or maybe not, but either way, perhaps he can start to fill the hole in my heart.

I can wait to meet someone and fall in love. If I love someone I'm giving him the power to hurt me. He could help fill the hole or he could make it bigger. And I'm so afraid of making the wrong decision that I'm worried I'll never make that decision at all.

I can wait for him to leave. I don't want to forget his laughter before I even have time to commit it to memory. I don't want to have only the feeling of his arms around me to hold onto. I don't want to say goodbye again.

I can't wait to make it to Paris. I've been dreaming of Paris for over a year. But believe me when I say that I will go there. It may not be for a year or five or ten, but it will happen, because how could it not?

I can't wait to find out where my true home is. I think once I get away from the house I've come to call home I can figure out what home really is to me. Maybe it's not a house but a church. Or maybe it's not even a building. Maybe it's a city. New York or Paris. I hope I find out. 

And I think I'm almost done waiting.

Seven

Do you want to know how many times this week I've wished I could rewind time?

I'm going to tell you anyway.

Seven. And it's only Tuesday.

Sometimes I think life would be easier if I just got in a car wreck on my way to work and went into a coma and never woke up. Because then I wouldn't actually have to deal with life. I could just slip away without even knowing that's what I was doing.

No, I'm not suicidal, just struggling.

There is nothing I want more than to be around people right now, but the thought fills me with dread. I don't think I could handle myself around people right now. To tell the truth, I don't think I deserve anyone. I'm not good enough for the people who somehow still say they want to be around me.

Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. But I don't think so.

And since I'm leaving for 12 hours early tomorrow morning, maybe I'll have time to sort out my feelings and I won't feel so undeserving of every good thing in my life when I get back.

But for right now I'm going to stay at home trying to come to terms with myself while I watch Star Trek with my mom and play solitaire. Have you ever noticed that 'solitaire' sounds kind of like 'solitude'? It's because solitaire is a lonely game and solitude is a lonely thing. 

I've been playing for the last hour and a half. I have a winning streak of 6 games and I want to keep going strong but my stock pile doesn't have an eight of spades and the ace of clubs is buried somewhere in the uncovered cards. So I'm kind of stuck.

If only that were the worst of my problems. You know, the fact that I'm sitting here playing solitaire is a worse problem than the fact that I'm not sure how to win the game.

I found the ace of clubs and my winning streak is now at 7 games. I've won 76.67% of the games I've played in the last three days and it's pathetic that I'm even saying that, but like I said before, solitaire is a lonely game.

And even though it's entirely my own fault, I'm feeling very lonely right now.

What I Think About

up and down thrown around humming 

breathe in breathe out breathe in out in just breathe you can do it I know you can 

dont you miss him no okay fine yes he was my shoulder to cry on 

stop crying but I want to go home you dont know where home is

stop crying but I cant youre lost arent you yes I am did you just figure that out

you need another job but of course you dont want one 

leave me alone I wish the world would stop spinning

if I could stop time for just a moment and let that moment stretch into forever
I cant sleep and I keep forgetting to eat this is so unhealthy
stop thinking or youll just keep getting more scared
shut up why would I not be scared of course Im scared
you need help yes I know that are you crazy yes I am
is there anything you can do about that if there was dont you think I would have done it by now
got a postcard from a friend in italy wow I wish I was in italy right now
but youre not yes I know will you stop telling me things I already know
fine whatever you want calm down Im sorry
so now I need to take the next step I should work on finding another job
thats what you said today and you just played the piano for two hours
and then I need to start packing for college and work out my plans for paying for it
dont forget that deadline is in barely over a week
yes I know please stop distracting me I need to focus 
youre never focused right and whose fault is that pray tell
and I should also do fun things with my friends so I dont look back and regret this summer
remember what happened last summer yes thank you I remember
youre getting really annoying do you want me to be completely unprepared
no actually I want to help then stop talking to me so I can concentrate
and then I need to what do I need to do next I know theres something else
you have no idea what youre doing do you
be quiet Im fine youre completely lost no Im just fine
you know what fine stands for right shut up please Im still fine
stop lying to me I know you better than that you're lost and scared and alone and empty
and you need help dont you know there are people who will help you
stop it I don't need your commentary
yes you do you need it more than you know
no I dont I dont need you I dont need your advice and I can do this just fine without you
okay fine Ill stop arguing with you I wish you luck
thank you now leave I have things to do
Im leaving just remember what I said
didnt you hear what I said 
I said leave 
and dont come back

Spring Cleaning

Well, I guess it's more like summer cleaning. 

The other day I found some old receipts in my closet. I had to force myself to throw them away. I wanted to keep them because of the memories hidden in the faded ink. 

The past is the past and holding onto it isn't helping me at all. 

I really need another job. 

Do you realize that I'm moving out to go to college in just over two months? That's so soon.

Why did tears just come to my eyes? Oh, right, I know why. 

It's because the future is coming and I'm terrified. And apparently I cry when I'm scared.

I can't think straight.

My memories are becoming more distant and the present more dreamlike. I can't stop wondering how my life could be different.

I can't stop wondering how my life is going to turn out, and if people see me as abrasive and pushy. I can't stop questioning myself.

I don't know where I belong.

I'm carrying this sadness around in my chest and it's spreading. This ache in my heart that won't go away and I don't know how to make it.

I think I need a therapist.

I know I need answers, but I don't know how to find them.

I am completely lost.

Understand Me Better

If you really knew me, you'd know I used to wish my hair was straight and blonde, but over the last year I've fallen in love with the soft curl of my brown hair and the feeling of it falling over my shoulders. With the way it looks kind of golden in the sunlight and the way the wind blows it across my face.

You'd know that I wish my hair was long but then when I get it cut I usually take off four to six inches because I want someone to notice.

You'd know I got glasses after I graduated and that I like them.

You'd know that I don't really like shopping. That might just be because I don't usually have the money for it.

You'd know that I work around the clock, up at all hours of the night and day because I feel like I have to be tightly stuck to a militaristic schedule or I'll waste my time. You'd know I waste time anyway.

If you really knew me you'd know that I mostly go to Starbucks to make my parents worry a little. You'd also know that I actually do love Starbucks, even though maybe I'm not supposed to.

You'd know I like tank tops and fake tattoos and I only feel a little bit guilty about it.

You'd know that I've become happier since I started caring less what other people think.

You'd know know that I love listening to Spanish love ballads and that, strangely, sad music helps my soul.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm afraid to fall in love and get married, but that I feel deeply lonely thinking that it might not happen. You'd know I've tried not to love people because it hurts more often than not. You'd know I gave up on not loving people.

You'd know I've made a habit of crying on my way home from work late at night because it makes me feel better. You'd know I've also developed a habit of going to the creek for a little while every afternoon because it feels like home.

You'd know that I'm afraid of falling but not of flying.

You'd know that I'm an honest person but it's hard sometimes because I'm a really good liar.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm not mad at you for not knowing these things, I'm mad at myself for not letting you know them. You'd know that the reason I try not to let people in is because I'm afraid of being rejected, and you'd know that I tend to end up letting people in anyway.

You'd know I have things I want to do this summer but I haven't gotten around to planning them.

You'd know I don't do well in group settings.

If you really knew me, you'd know I feel the most beautiful when I can't see myself in the mirror. You'd also know that the only person I really need to think I'm beautiful is me.

If only you really knew me. You'd know I just want you to understand me better. 

Closer Than Before

I feel a terrifying exhilaration from being up so high. Below me I see lights that fade into the fog and mountains with rivers of clouds running between them. And then I arrive.

The streets are narrow, filled with crowds and taxis, and people spill from the sidewalk whenever they feel like it, eliciting a vehement reaction from the drivers, meaning the angry sound of a car horn.

The air is hazy and smells like smoke, but not necessarily in a bad way. I kind of like it. Even the ever-present smell of coffee and cigarette smoke doesn't seem so bad after a while.

There are so many people hurriedly going about their lives in their own way and they seem both lost and full of purpose at the same time. Many of the people here are well-dressed, most talking on cell phones or listening to whatever is playing through their headphones as they make their way to some destination unknown to me. I think I could fit into this orderly kind of chaos. This is somewhere I could eventually come to call home if I wanted to.

There's a Starbucks on every street and they sell coffee-free products, something I didn't know until recently. Despite my desire to rebel, I still don't drink coffee, but I don't mind the smell anymore now that I've spent so much time in a coffee shop. A guy at Starbucks called me 'sweetheart.' Even though I'd never met him before, he chose those words as his parting ones and I remember it.

I can't sleep. Even the nights feel like days. Although I'm exhausted, at one in the morning my priorities are still with people before sleep.

I have a map to tell me where to go. I have to walk everywhere, but that only makes my destination more worthwhile. I want to do it all, but there's never enough time to see everything, so I'll just have to come back someday. Especially for the cathedrals and chocolate shops.

I'm going down memory lane without meaning to. I'd call it nostalgia, but by definition that requires a wistful desire or sentimental yearning to return to the past and I possess neither of those. My childhood dreams have been crushed because what I thought was true turned out to be a lie. 

I can't stop watching the woman sitting across from me. I've never met her, and I don't know anything about her except that she has a story. I wish I knew her story. Everyone has their own story and I wish I could know them all, but there are billions of stories I will never know. I hope someone knows them.

No matter where I am, the wind makes me feel alive and I start to think. First about space. It's so big and no matter how hard we try, we will never unlock the secrets of the universe because it's just too big. But I try not to think about it because thinking about it only makes it bigger.

Then my thoughts turn to art. Not many people think about art in the same way I do. But art is what you want it to be. Not a talent people are born with. Not what someone is willing to pay for it. Art is what you make it, the spirit you give it, what it means to you. That's why I keep going off by myself. I'm trying to find something I can't really name, but I know I'll miss it if I'm with the group. I've almost missed it already.

My friends told me I'm a natural anyway. That I could live here and be able to handle it because I can find my way around. It could be home. I'm coming to enjoy the clicky sound my high heels make on cement, even though they pinch my feet, and the smell of the bookstore on the corner makes me feel right at home. The smell of lemon oil reminds me of home even more.

I've been watching someone who reminds me of a dear friend. In his hair, his mannerisms, his voice, his smile, I couldn't stop thinking about my friend for the rest of the night. Afterward, I felt tears of joy and sadness at the same time. 

I see the world crying for what happened over twelve years ago and have discovered the universal sign of shock and denial, but I still stop to recognize the beauty in the sight of rain collecting on and sliding off her umbrella, and take comfort in the sound of the raindrops hitting the top of mine. I'm learning that it's so much harder to fix broken things than to prevent them from breaking in the first place.

When it's time for me to leave, saying goodbye isn't as hard as I thought it would be. One last visit to Starbucks and I get the feeling I'll be back again. I hope so.

New York isn't Paris, but it's close enough for now.

The Perfect Me

Once I thought it would be nice to be perfect. Now I'm glad I'm not, because if I was perfect, I would be expected to do great things. Things that would change the world instead of changing human lives.

If I was perfect, I would already have a second job and be in the process of finding a third instead of planning summer adventures with long-lost friends, relatives, past teachers, and people I've only met twice.

If I was perfect, people wouldn't criticize me. They wouldn't be able to say I was doing anything wrong, but they wouldn't be able to tell me what I was doing right, either. I would never be rejected and I would never be accepted.

The perfect me would never have lopsided curls and her glasses would be centered on her face. Actually, she probably wouldn't have glasses and her hair would be straight as a stick. But I like my curly hair and I don't like cliches.

If I was perfect I would never have to use the eraser on my pencil, so I'd use pen and then everything would be permanent.

The perfect me would have a pair of shoes for every day of the month and she'd never go barefoot because she couldn't let the bottoms of her feet be blackened by dirt or asphalt.

If I was perfect people would say they wanted to be my friend but no one would ever make an effort to be. I would be indescribably lonely.

If I was perfect, I wouldn't have anyone, because even if two people are perfect, that doesn't mean they will be perfect together.

The perfect me would be intimidating and unapproachable, and people would probably think she was stuck-up.

The perfect me would never go to the aquarium or the zoo or an amusement park because successful people know that those are a waste of time and money. They forget that some memories are priceless.

The perfect me would get a master's degree in family law and get married immediately thereafter to a man she thought would make her happy. She'd have two wonderfully well-behaved children, a boy and a girl, who had everything but at the same time had nothing because their parents were too busy making money to make friends with their own children.

If I was perfect I wouldn't spend time every day walking in freezing cold water and letting mud squish between my toes. I wouldn't ask anyone to meet me there to just talk, because I wouldn't understand the value of understanding.

The perfect me wouldn't ever lose her wallet or her cell phone or her bobby pins because everything would always be in its place.

If I was perfect, people would pay attention to everything I do wrong and forget to focus on what I do right.

If I was perfect, I would be pretending. I would pretend that my perfection was worth my isolation when really it wasn't.

The perfect me would never know what she was missing out on. She wouldn't feel sad, but she wouldn't feel happy. She wouldn't understand the way the world really works and she wouldn't understand herself. She wouldn't know that beauty is found in imperfection.

If I was perfect, I would never start laughing while drinking soda and I wouldn't spill anything. I'd stop tripping over my own feet.

If I was perfect, I would be irrecoverably flawed. I'd be skinny to a fault and forever worried about my appearance.

If I was perfect, the only thing I would regret is everything.

The perfect me would be someone people praised but nobody actually talked to.

If I was perfect, I wouldn't be able to appreciate the bruised and broken things because I would never see them.

If I was perfect, I'd never be able to love myself because I wouldn't know what I was supposed to love.

If I was perfect, I wouldn't be real.


Because imperfections are beautiful and imperfect people are more inspiring than perfect ones because of the way they deal with their imperfections. Perfection isn't worth the heartache that inevitably will follow. And that's all right with me because I may not be perfect, but I'm worth it.