What We Thought We Had

A happy little life that I lead.  I prance my way through life, sometimes pausing to glance back at at the world I have left behind.  No complaints about my friends or family.  Both are more than I could ask for or deserve.  I have many people listening and many people to listen to.  This is neither lonely or boring.  I have a job.  I have a best friend.  I am not untalented in the world of athletics.  My own little world revolves around me, and when times get semi difficult I can just sink into it.  Each day that passes me by, leaves me a little further from my destination.  No matter how fast I can run, or how much I talk through my problems; I just cannot seem to get back to the point which I started.  I am so turned around- I am unsure of where I began.  Now that I am free to be my own person- my once strong mold seems to have melted into unshaped goo.

What do people wish for?

The moon perhaps?  Or a 36 on the ACT? Or the love of someone that they hold dear?  What do people really want?  Deep down what do they need?  At the core of what we are each human has a secret desire- something that they want to achieve- acceptance, grace, forgiveness, love.  Whatever it is it gnaws away at our souls until we attain it.  What do I really want?  Sadly my heart of hearts would prefer for me to remain silent on this subject.  I would be giving too much away.  I like to be a mystery and that would take away from the secret that I hold just under my coat pocket.  Something to treasure- to take out and shine- to lift us up.  Of corse it could also bring us down.  Like a secret weapon.  An automatic tear jerker.  Something that could possibly destroy whatever self confidence we hold on to.  Vestiges of hearts and hopes.  Remains of happily shattered days.  Down to our hilt- what we wish for.

One Glance

All it takes

to see me for all that I am. 

Simply 

a girl looking out a window

watching the sun fade away.

A girl glancing down to her sister

smile on her face.

A girl struggling at the end of a race.

A girl walking in the moonlight

alone but for your eyes

a girl that is waiting

no longer searching.

Moderation

Lost in the cycles of loneliness

 I sit across from you

and tilt my head

so as to see your crooked smile

I can not explain my feelings to you

because you can not understand the

pain I feel inside my heart.

This makes things stretched

along the roadside

neither of our faults

yet we somehow tripped over the crack

and fell into the bosom of the world 

Looking out the window

Waiting

For the happy friend

who seems to have it right.

The doors slide open

and locks always click in their places.

We sit

waiting for our hands to be held.

For smiles to be searching 

for something more.

Waiting for second chances

when fakeness is wiped away.

Waiting for them to see

all that is here

and more.

That is what we are waiting for.

Plausible 

So close to our outstretched fingertips

you and I sit

dreaming.

Of stories that could actually come true

not just in the flickers of our mind.

Deserved and tardy

actions will ring the bell.

Car doors will be opened

and smiles will be paid.

Wayside glances taken in,

and reality will become real.

But first we must turn our hands around the clock

twisting them into uncommon angels.

Worth It?

Boys,

honestly- boys are the connecter of the female gender.  I mean a common enemy unites us all right?  People often say that I talk/think/worry too much about boys.  In my defense I would like to put out- hey- why do you think I have so many friends? Common enemy and all- that is the answer.  

Yes, I do talk/think/worry about guys.  I talk about them because they are a interesting, drama causing species and really is there that much more to talk about?  Shallow, yes.  Stupid, yes.  Pointless, yes.  But unentertaining and boring, I think not.  I think about boys because I have a avid imagination that likes to run wild with great stories.  Usually involving my own amazing heroics or self sacrifice.  In my stories, I always get the guy.  I charm him by my blue eyes (believable), quick wit (a stretch but conceivable) , and my suddenly short, perfectly proportioned, petit body (hmmm... not going to happen).  I worry about guys because I am afraid that I will never find a guy who is going to "wear a pant leg".  I mean, I am an extremely intimidating and outgoing girl.  It would take a lot of courage/ a very interesting type of guy who would even think about wearing part of the pants.  Both of these qualities are ones that I am looking for in a guy.  There are plenty of guys who have mistakenly liked me.   Bad idea, let me tell you.  I am really cold.  I mean cold.

Quota for guys

1) (This used to be "must be taller than me" but I have given that up) must be able to make eye contact.

2) good listener

3) makes up good conversation topics at least 30% of the time. (this is a skill I am finding more and more important) 

4) makes the first move.

5) assertive

6) single 

7) not afraid of physical affection (not like pda but a arm around my shoulders would be nice)

8) is well respected in his friend group

9) the most important - that there is a spark. Plenty of great guys, but if I do not like them then I am not going to fake it or anything.

The question is: is it worth it?  

I do not really know.  Ask Cole.  I would think that it is worth it.  But I really do not know.  I hope so.  Because if it is not then I am going to be angry- that is a lot of lonely times/poetry that I have wasted for nothing.

What will come

A flash of color

will catch my eye.

Suddenly 

I notice that I am silly

to have thought that 

love could be acquired by faking. 

Perhaps you will love me the way I am?

Just Keep Studying (to the tune of "finding Nemo"

A box sits alone on my dresser.  I do not know what is in it and find myself too lazy and uninterested to go and figure out what it carries.  Does this mean that I have lost my inner child? Or does it mean that my primitive instincts of conserving energy have began to kick in?  I mean- I have been studying for exams for eternity.  It makes sense for me not to care what is in the little box.  It makes sense for me to not care about anything except the questions on the coming exam.  But I find the secret inside the box distracting.  A metaphor for my life perhaps?  It seems that the barrier of busy studying could possibly be my goals in life- to succeed in athletics and academics.  The box could be perhaps love.  I tilt my head back towards my notes, trying to block out these literary thoughts that are evading on my strictly mathematical mind.  Perhaps I am too disciplined?  That box is simply annoying me by being a mystery.  I still have not opened it thus completing my metaphor for the box symbolizing love.  Because instead of opening it I write about it.  

Best Friend

Best friends are a important part of life.  When I was little that is what I wished for, a best friend.  Someone who I could be vulnerable around, someone I could be around always, and stand up for.  Back in those elementary days I never had a best friend.  I never met anyone who did not want someone cooler, prettier, or smarter to call their number one.  It just did not click.  But then I changed schools and found someone who I could actually be around and never get sick of.  

I suppose finding that one person who you always want to talk to more, is kind of like falling in love.  It is certainly less shallow than those high school romances which I have found myself a part of.   Best friends last forever; and perhaps this is because you do not ever want to kiss your best friend, so you never have to worry about the physical attraction half of a relationship.  When I say this to the average adult (the part about best friends lasting forever) they give me the line about how their high school friendships never worked out, and tell me stories about fights and falling outs.  I really hope that this does not happen to me and Cole.  At this point, we have survived: attempts at social climbing, gossip, our awkward stages, boyfriends (only on her side), different sports, popularity, dances, races, and much more.  We have talked about the endless subjects of God and moralities.  And the constant problems of boys and other friends.  We have spent so many non-memorable hours together.  When we are around the other we can be angry, truthful, confused, jubilant, sexy, tearful, hormonal, perverted, thankful, pure, and sly.  She is the only person I can cry in front of, willingly.  She is the only person I never really get annoyed with.  When jealousy comes between us we nod to it as a complement.  In many ways we are the opposites- she is short, and flawless.  She knows how to talk to boys she likes without acting like a fool.  She has had luck in finding guys who like her  back.  She has great style, and is popular.  But in other ways we are the same- we laugh at  the same things, and comfort each other at the right times.  Both of us are gifted athletes and have a knack at making friends.  Personally, I do not like letting people get close.  I like to keep others a arms length away, it is easier and less painful to pull away.  She is the only person who I can subconsciously allow to come close.  Some things about our futures are uncertain.  What college will we go to, who we will marry, how many kids will we have, what kind of job will we have.  But something will remain constant-which is comforting because genuine best friends are few and far between-we will be there for each other.