Get by with some help from my friends

We sit there and laugh at past high school days. It has been over almost 6 months since all nine of us have graced my basement. The vomit colored carpet, and tired old couch welcome us. We huddle under fluffy blankets and discuss the common topics of boys, cross country memories, food and school.

How far we have all come. Yet how everything is still just the same. My head rests on the lap of a friend I am so close to, yet have been so far away from. It is a distance that will never be scaled. We used to be watertight, but now our friendship rings a hollow, lonesome sound. A sound that takes you back to the times when we laughed in your car. Our hands laying luxuriously in the spring air. Feeling sexy in our track shorts. Singing with the radio. There was nothing that I wouldn't have done for you. We were going to be together forever. I suppose it is funny to look back on now, because a 16 year-old's forever is not to long. Now, two years later, tears prickle behind my eyes at the sight of you. You seem so whole without me, yet I am broken with need. Need to talk to someone who cares and understands. Need to be given even the smallest fraction of your time.

The one across from me giggles. She is swelling with a new found joy, yet also with a shameful joy. We pamper her and talk about plans for the baby. She ladles out helpful advice. Never have I known someone with a bigger heart than hers. Never has she said a untrue unkindness. We all look upon her with worry, because the man who she is with, treats her like shit. Plans to egg his house if he does not cooperate fill or hearts and minds and flow out in laughter. Please recognize your beauty Ray. For it is worth something, as you are.

Back from St. Lewis, another girl smiles. We all wonder what she thinks about, because she is the smartest of us all. Not only has she gone the farthest away, but she goes to the most highly ranked school out of the nine. when she smiles to herself, and we wonder what humorous intellectual predicament has found a way into her mind. We want to know about how things are, in a place so new, and she shares the smallest snippets to us, unaware of how much we miss her.

Ellyn simply sits. Brightly she shines. Hardly anyone notices how quietly she gets up to get Ray another glass of water, or serve the rest of us some of her delicious treats. Her quiet grace is a blessing to us all. Without her we would not be here, because she is really the driving force behind me wanting to host this sleepover in the first place. The thing about Ellyn is that she is like a warm light. She makes the rest of us look good. She is the perfect example of a Christian servant. Because she does not make you feel bad while she does serves you, instead you just feel cared for and loved.

Long brown hair drifts over the back of a girl chomping on crackers and dip. She slides it away from herself, demanding we take it away for good, but then goes in for seconds. I marvel in wonder at how much she eats yet at how slight she is. Out of all of us, she is the clumsiest, squeakiest, yet also the most stylish and the pretty. That is the word you think when you see her. Pretty. Not exotic, plain, or glamorous. There is no flashy wonder as she puts her retainer in and takes out her contacts. But she is in a constant state of prettiness. But she never acts it, which is much appreciated by all of us, that way we never have to feel ugly around her. She tells a story with her hands, while we all listen and watch as her hands dance from side to side and seem to tell a story of their own.

Next to her are two red heads. The first of which laughs a loud boisterous laugh. She speaks sarcasm fluently and is always first to correct you if you are wrong, to protect you if others are mocking you, and put you down a notch if you get cocky. She is truly a great asset to the group. She throws a pretzel at me and I retaliate by tossing my sock onto her face. She is our business women. She can tell anyone what to do with such authority, that they will do it without question.

The other red head laughs at her own joke. She laughs at her own stories. She brushes out her iridescently red hair with her creative hands. She always has the oddest experiences, clothing, and comments. She is going to either be the first to die (because of some crazy trip/risk she would take) or she will outlive us all (due to the fact that she laughs more than all of us combined.) Mind, she does not giggle. Her laugh is genuine, it emanates from her belly. I remember the cwi class we took our junior year, when I read her cursive writing and became envious of her whimsical writing style.

The last girl sits next to me on the couch. She is by far the funniest of all of us. Her quick comments set us laughing. She is so small and cute. No one I know has ever been able to resist just hugging her. She can get away with being a little bit mean, just because everyone always knows that it is 100% a joke. I do not know anyone else who can pull that off. She takes your flaws and makes you be able to laugh at them, and enjoy them, without ever feeling like you are lower than what you are. It is a skill that I would not mind having.

I have draped my love over these girls. Prayed for them, laughed with them, watched them grow as I grew, ran with them, ate 8 pounds of gummy worms with them, and let them change me. We are what our friends are, and that is something I am proud of. Thank God for my friends.

No Words

I wish the words would find my lips and sink into them.

China White

Paint is permanently in the wrinkles of the gray man's hands. He tells me about the house he owns, and has painted China White. I wonder what brand of paint he used, and what shine it was. Eggshell, or our most popular category- Regal. I press 'special client' button and type my three number code into the cash register.

He tells me about how his wife liked dark, bright colors. But they made the three bedroom house look small and cramped. Like a child playing with an adult in a refrigerator box. The little homemade doors flapping open as the adult struggles to bend inside.

He smells of paint thinner. I type in and scan the washed out color of paint. The off white color looks sad and dreary but slightly hopeful. I suppose that comes from the extra amount of red he requested be added. It gives it a slight blush. Like a student questioning a teacher.

The man tells me I look like my father as I reach for the tired, old bills in his hand. I smile and tell him that it is what every 18 year old girl wants to hear. He laughs, and tells me that my father would make an attractive woman. I smile and hold out his change which he grabs with his hands. I wonder how many different paints are on those hands. The washed out colors all tell the same tale of old peoples houses and garage doors. There are no surprises, but for the little bit of childish teal that jumps out at me. The color is common in babies rooms, and I wonder if this man has recently become a grandfather.

Someday, I hope my father comes into this store. Laden with a dreary colored paint, yet also barring marks of the slave labor I will force upon him. When I ask for teal walls in my child's room, and he paints it for me. I doubt, however, the girl ringing up the paint will be as creepy as I am though. Looking at the paint on a painters hands, is like looking at the rings of a tree. They are found all around the heart, and can be counted. Yet they are also private, and should only be noted if necessary.

To have such thoughts

Every single time

is like the first date.

I check my hair in the mirror a billion times more than normal

every sensation

every touch

every whisper

is like dynamite to my heart.

Nervous,

I try to confidently make you notice me

value me

love me

At the end of the day

we reach the maturing point

when your lips meet mine, casually.

If only we could start this way

instead of my forceful fumbling with conversation

while you warmly laugh

and try to lure me away from my own stupid thoughts.

My Wish For You

I hope your life rolls satisfyingly

I hope your name never is a stranger to my mouth

I hope you can still look out at the world as true as you currently do.

The smile we share captures the purest element of friendship

people around you feel safe

relaxed

and hopeful

that they might one day give you what you have given so many

refuge.

Kindred Spirits where art tho?

I tire of the exhausting process of trusting people

Putting stock in what people promise.

Growing weary

like bending down to lace up my running shoes

standing up

only to realize that I am already spent.

From nights poring over the pages of books

from nights of endlessly typing out notes and papers

from nights with my phone glued to my right ear

the dials etching a grid-like design into my freckled cheek.

Trying to convinse people

who either know nothing of my past

or nothing of my heart,

to value me.

I wonder if this is the reason old people seem to shrink.

Because the weight

of making lasting friends

pushes down on them.

What more is there to do.

Realizing

The moment I noticed

that I missed you.

Was the same moment

we both had our lives in boxes

and the boxes in our arms

and our arms carrying those boxes

off to dorm rooms

I miss your smile

your golden happiness

the quiet way you could make each person feel cared for.

I miss teasing you

and knowing you

and having you know me.

I hunger for a comforting word

that means so much

when everything feels like it is falling apart

sometimes you thread a needle

and plunge it into my heart

stitching neatly

the holes

into wholeness.

You are an image of kindness and graceful poise

and you will always be valued highly

in this heart of mine.

Behind the Mirror

I am unfeeling

or at least the feelings have been left behind

in the image of myself

that I have pushed nonchalantly behind the cold silver.

The world is so cold

that I push the best of myself

behind a surface

so that it can numb itself to the cries of a needy world.

That way I can sit and eat my food, complain about the reading assignment I have yet to complete, and forget that there are children out there that need to simply be held.

My arms are empty.

And my cares have been pushed into the mirror.

How fitting- seeing as I live in an image based society.

I stand one hand touching that of my other half

and all I can think about is how I should try to be more beautiful.

Power Player

There they sit

on their shelves

so much higher than the rest of us.

Smiling down.

because of their pristine fragile condition

they have earned the top shelf.

By nothing but the glory of their making

not by the glory of giving.

Temptation

In the passion of a moment

everything feels so right

I steal myself into thinking

that the stars could be mine

But every time we break apart

I know that we should stop

and we do

but it leaves both of us wishing that we had not

Taking a step back

asking before an action

has kept us so safe

and innocence of a smile can make it all okay

Please keep ducking any temptation with me

be satisfied with just my kiss

if we wander past any lines

take my hand and walk back

away from bliss

I keep running and running

away from any of the current choices I have to make.

I hide

I avoid

I run.

But when I just sit here, over the covers

I realize

that it is much safer for both of us

if my dreams

are the kind you can only catch

with long legs

and a butterfly net.

Stale

Old friendships can be comforting, and loving, and glad. Starting college I really appreciated being around my high school friends. They know me.

But right now I would prefer not to be known.

Because what they know is that

~I am immature

~That boys are my favorite topic of conservation

~That I liked someone who would never like me back

~What I have messed up

~What bothers me

~That I always argue

~That I can be mocked

I would like to bloom. I want to spread my wings

I want to have the ability to struggle, without my past blunders dragging me down.

Just let me be someone new. Let me be grown. I want to be respected and loved, not ridiculed and poked at. Look at me with new eyes, because right now I am tired of being seen as a foolish girl. I have made life choices that prove me to be a women.

Let me be.

This elegant contradiction of a person.

Relief

The world is hot and full of dizzying designs

they swirl

and flair

and stun my mind.

The humid air frizzes ever particle around.

But there is a night sky

with calm, cool stars.

The grass is soft and new

everything is fresh

and everything is you.

Made Broken

Endless amounts of advise

built in from past errors

made

by the characters I befriend in novels.

Long and a long stride to match

given to me by the

hands

of God.

An over analytical mind

scanning over faces and emotion

longing

to know the stories and the feelings.

Where will this world lead

the bubble I was made in

pops

and I stop my shiny ascent.

And fall back down.

down.

To where earth is shattered.

A sick excuses for a women

My legs are folded

your arms are wrapped around my hips

and every part of me knows

that I am yours.

;)

Sometimes making out is all that is really on my mind.

Perhaps we have not seen that each other in a long while, or when we just recovered from a fight, or we just jumped off a bridge into a river, or I just watched Pretty Women and now I am super hyped up on chick porn.

I find my mind to be a lustful, passionate thing. The mere thought of his warm hands on my sides drawing circles as his mouth gently presses to mine in the wanting way mouths tend to press... sigh... makes me reach for the phone.

The phone call that ensues is not a wordy one. It is dipped in desire, which mutes whatever words flow from our conversation. Too much is happening for you to come over here and give me the kiss I want. I have too much homework, and you have work. The importance of the desired make out session is deemed a nonissue. I go back to my studies and you go to work.

But it does not help with the longing to have a kiss in this irretrievable moment. Next time I see you, I will retrieve it.

Wake up

They say that being in a relationship teaches more about yourself.

I learned that I am selfish, argumentative, and I talk a lot better than I act.

I love you

Your small warm hand in mine.

Your tie dye sweatshirt you got from our family trip to the ocean.

We poke our brother.

We laugh at our matching feet shape.

The world is a wonderful place for you.

The openness of your smile is like a fingerprint that God left for all to see.

I watch the wind flit across your face and brush your hair

as you look up at me.

There is no love as pure as this.

How Am I? Excuse me.

Scene- the common room of my dorm.

People- four girls that I have been going to youth group with and talking about faith with. Three guys, one of which has conservative Christian upbringing, one is Catholic, and the last is a agnostic.

Subject- Evolution.

The Catholic guy mentions that he argued about evolution with his Christian Reformed roommate for about two hours the other day. Immediately the four other girls stare at him with disbelieving gazes.

"You believe in evolution?" one girl asks in disbelief.

The boy looks over to her and says, "Yes I do. It is a scientific fact that micro evolution exists. As do adaptations."

All at once the four girls, and the one conservative boy start muttering and clan together in the circle. One of the girl gestures to me to join, so that they can shut anyone who does not agree with them out.

"What? I believe in evolution." I say nonchalantly picking a fuzzy off of my sweatpants leg.

Another girl turns to me and gasps. "I do not understand," she says "You said you were a Christian- how does that work?"

Never have I felt so insulted. How long has this girl known me? A week and a half, and we have talked about a lot of other things. She knows that I do not drink, smoke, or have sex. She knows that I am trying to work on my relationship with God. She knows that I talk to him aloud in my dorm room sometimes, and that I can be found sitting alone and laughing as though sharing some inside joke.

I stand up from my arm chair. "Listen, first of all you do not know me that well." The four girls look at me with wide eyes. Their eyes are glazed over. I can see that nothing I can say will ever make them understand or respect or see me as the same 'worth' of a Christian as they are again. "But if we are going by the bible here (which you all have been quoting nonstop) I think there is a new testament verse that says something like this:

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God's one and only Son. This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God."

I looked into the girls eyes, "And I am pretty sure that in there it does not say, "And everyone who believes in him and does not believe in evolution is not condemned. So I am pretty sure that just because I believe in the fact that Galapagos finches adapt to their environment does not give you a right to ask me that question."

The small pixie girl turns to me and shakes her head.

They all look away. And discuss how dinosaurs died in the flood. And that carbon dating does not work because the flood waters pressure pushes down and makes the carbon dating look later than it actually is.

I find myself thinking, 'I thought at Grand Valley I would be shut out by agnostics, atheists, or some other world view/religions. Ironic that I find myself being shut out by Christians who will not even listen to a intellectual argument.'

I thought Christian High was preparing me to be among people who (by definition) do not believe in the same things as me. But in the end my school gave me the tools of discussion not to be swayed by this kind of peer pressure. I will not drink. I will not smoke. I will not have sex. I will not change my beliefs just to fit in. Thank you Christian High for this unexpected gift.

I do not believe that people came from apes. I do think that dinosaurs did not die in the flood, but were in fact around and gone long before humans walked the earth. I believe in micro evolution. Not macro, and I obviously believe in intelligent design.

Is it not faith that we can trust that God will make necessary adjustments to life on earth?

Evolution reviles our Lord to have patience, cleverness, and love for the things He created. God does not just let things be stuck in how they are, no He allows everything to grow, and change, and be better than it was before.

The New Friend

New people

swarm my vision

names I must remember,

my mind surrenders.

Your small face pushes from the crowd. I recognize you.

We smile,

and sip smoothies.

We begin to share, and reveal, yet always hide and cover up

the spots that we do not like so much about ourselves.

Your long perfect hair smiles kindly at my frizzy pony tail.

Our plastic smiles grin in a way of camaraderie to each other.

The choreographed movements of our body language laughs with the other's awkward motions.

Slowly. So slowly I hardly dare to breath,

like a snowflake on my mitten

our wax expressions melt.

The first breath of a friendship is laughter

the snowflake melts away.

Now our eyes look deeper into the contours of our past,

and we are just two friends

sipping our slurpies sophisticatedly from straws

and laughing about the stupidity of beginnings.

Hidden Somewhere

I feel your pain. It whispers of self denial.

I want to tell you

that your heart will always belong

a little bit,

to the first your heart loved.

But it grows back.

Sometimes to heal whatever wound you may have

you must find a piece of yourself

that you have always been unwilling to give.

Hide this piece in

the arms of a tree.

Wrap it in soft moonlight,

lovingly press it to the rough bark

and tell this little secret of your heart-

About your dreams of children,

about your endeavors of joy,

about the freedom found in a sharpened pencils and smooth keyboard keys.

Hide it in a nook.

Never go back to look.

Cuddled up

to my book.

Living in a dreamworld

happier in my own life.

Fragmented

lovely

thoughts

flourish

fumble

I love you.

I belong to someone other than myself

weird

Spin Me Round.

Laughter fills the empty spaces of conversation.

Looks that hint

touches that whisper of a kiss

and conversation that tilts toward love,

all linger in the 13/15ths moonlight.

He banters

and breaths

I roll my eyes

and smile with my curvaceous lips.

Words containing fresh ideas spill out

from the womb of my mind.

He takes my newborn ideas

cuts the cord

and wraps them in soft flannel plaid.

But I get to name them

A Time To Hold Together, And A Time To Let Go

Timing in relationships is almost more important than chemistry. If you find the correct person to be your friend, boyfriend, or respected and idolized life model at the right time, it could stick. But if you find that person in the wrong time.... It slides away.

Friendship wise, I have glided though a variety of people and close friendships. I have listened, advised, and tried to be there. They have comforted, confided, and shared. Blessed is the word I would use to describe this crowd of people who have given so much to me. Some I met at exactly the right time, others I met at the wrong time, and the friendship is now fading.

Guys have always been equally simple and confusing to me. I can read all I want, but when the time comes to commit to one of them, I can't. Timing on guys frightens me greatly. What if I have met the perfect guy at the wrong time? Well I am sure college will clear up the question of whether or not my relationship will work.

Life models. I have idolized many teachers from my high school that I have known since the time when I still wore diapers and fell asleep with my dad reading to me at night. I am unsure which I will keep in contact with.

Like a pair of socks.

Lending my napkin because you tipped over your pop can.

Singing love songs in your red jeep.

Drifting in the gray area between sleep and awareness on your chest while you read.

Pushing you when I think you are not paying enough attention to me.

Curling up next to you for warmth.

This is friendship. This is love.

the two go hand in hand, just like us.

I Skipped Preschool. Help Me Out.

Should I be the one to say it first?

I was the first to notice you

I was the first to ask you out

I was the first to smile

I was the first to dream

I was the first to ask questions

I was the first to laugh at a dirty joke

I was the first to fall in love

Should I also be the first to tell you?

Or should I wait my turn?

Just Lie To Yourself

No thoughts flit through my mind.

I don't love him.

Praying is something I do regularly.

I am not vulnerable.

Purity is always the first thing on my mind.

I am humble.

These things don't matter to me.

I deserve the blessings I have been granted.

There is nothing I fear.

Lie to yourself.

Maybe you will feel better too. Or maybe that is also a lie.

Simple

The kind of smile that fills you up. My brother smiles that smile at me with one eyebrow raised. He leans over my book to purposely cast a shadow on its creamy pages. "Hey sister." He states emphasizing the word 'sister' so it sounds more like 'seeestar.' His fresh blue eyes glimmer at me as I try to shoot him the kind of look that would allow me to return to my book. Mission abandoned. Sensing victory, he sits down on the brown/sepia faded chair, and begins to twiddle with a twig. He flicks it at me and it hits me in the face. His expression of joyous shock and the slightest twitch of fear makes me laugh. He condescendingly teases me about my boyfriend while turning the conversation artfully over to the world cup.

Eliot has a way with all people, but he has a very special way of getting to people who do not care to be reached. Someday I will find the words to tell him that he will always be the first man in my heart. But for now, I will show my love by throwing him headfirst off the dock.

Define Friendly

"Your so friendly."

The echo resounds

over and over inside cards, and out of the corners of friends mouths.

What is friendly?

Dictionary says:

Friendly:friend·ly adj

1. characteristic of or suitable to a relationship between friends

2. tending to be beneficial or favorable toward somebody or something

3. not antagonistic toward or in conflict with another

4. with a pleasant welcoming atmosphere

5. not played or undertaken in a fiercely competitive mood

6. safe or easy to use or operate or easy to understand (usually used in combination)

adv

in a manner that befits friends

What does this mean to me?

I am not sure. Am I "tending to be beneficial or favorable" to random people because I am that way, or am I that way because people expect me to be?

All questions of value.

But the answer lies within me, somewhere beyond school functions. To when I am leaning on the counter at Sams club. A man leans over, also exasperated with the slow pace of the employees. He turns and hesitantly smiles at me. I can tell he does not want to annoy me, and in that single instance I take in the slightly stained coat, the mixture of worry and laughter lines that are engraved onto his face, and his calloused hands that hold a worn wallet.

I smile back at him, and allow my smile to fill my entire face. He looks surprised yet pleased at my enthusiasm. Then my mind finds questions to ask him on its own accord, and in no time we are swapping story after story. I question his education, his children, and his garden. Our conversation meanders over the economy, and the weather. We discuss and laugh over youth and how it is wasted on my age group. He confides his slight worry that his grandson is dating a "floozy." We gab until both of our picture packets are handed over to us by a sleepy employee and then nod our farewells.

My friendliness is not conformed to society. It delves out of my eyes at the slightest hint of a smile, and it lovingly whispers clever questions in my ear. No matter who I become, or where I end up- I know for certain that it is a part of me.

My Waist Seems Thinner

When your arms are around me I feel somehow beautiful. I never really feel beautiful unless I am spinning. So I suppose it is fitting that when your hands grasp the sides of my waist, right in between my hips and my ribcage, that I feel free because it makes my heart spin.

We speed by the wind on the quad and follow the full moon. My hair billowing back, left behind with my shout of jubilee. The air is cold, but I am warm, clasped against the night. We cascade over long grass, and zip around trees. There is nothing as exhilarating as turning with the quad.

Somehow you make me feel pretty, without haughty. You make me smile, without motivation. You make me laugh, without sarcasm. You make me feel, without letting me judge myself. Each second slips through as I struggle to find the words to describe this feeling of flawless imperfection. Somehow everything is just right. The wild calmness, and the voiceless verbosity of the situation captures the part of my mind that wishes to never be tied down. I find that I am not tethered to you, but that I am the one holding on.

Somewhere Beneath the Sky

Breath in

and exhale.

Become aware of your surroundings

the smell of the dune grass

and the hesitant rain.

Forget the wet sand,

the whispered tears,

all those times you have failed.

And enjoy the feeling

of an arm wrapped around your waist

in just the right way

to make you feel unbelievably thin.

Light a smile

right there on your lips

and remember to breath again.

And to live.

Lets Just Leave This World Together

The other night.

Was fun... in so many ways.

I was sure that soon enough it would happen.

That I would realize something.

Unimportant Year

17 is such a forgotten year

I always never cared to tell passers by my age

because 17 is so boring

I shed that burden tonight.

And will gleam

in my super sweet 18.

Fumble

Blindly reaching for the next branch, I realize the one word that describes me best. Fumble.

I fumble with my words, trying to find the best fit.

I fumble around my friends, attempting to be there and have them be there.

I fumble

convincing myself to jump into a lake of sub 32 degree water.

I fumble

talking to you about my worry and fear.

I fumble

with relationships, baseballs, pencils, and self righteousness.

I fumble

around the line of wrong and right, of feminine and masculine, of flirtation and promiscuity, of strong willed and forceful, of forward and blatant.

I pretty much fumble everything I have to hold.

But somehow I fumble the fumbling so that in the end

I hold everything.

A List Out There

There is a list out there.

There are numbers running up and down the side of the paper.

Filling it

concisely

with the 7 reasons that you are dating me.

1) I have energy to do the outdoor activities you love

2) I can read faster than you

3) I get my hands dirty on a regular basis

4) I am apparently easy to read

5) I am dam forward

6) I can talk to anyone

7) I have soft lips

and yes, I added number 7 because it is just true. Tough it out people :)

This Works

Catch in my breath

flush in my cheeks

that is all your fault.

I never knew that it could be this easy

this simple

this fun.

Something in the night air

or in our hands that hold onto each other.

is effecting my mind

making me see past all the impossibilities and letting me see

that

this works.

Things Left Unsaid

The space between two seconds

gapes wide

enough for me to see

for barely no time at all.

The things left unsaid.

The gleam in your eyes

opens with

a whistle and lets me hear

for a dollar or less.

The things left unsaid.

The fidget of your smile

alludes to secrets

real enough for me to touch

in the palm of my hand.

The things left unsaid.

The whisper of the rainfall

cleans ruins

allowing me to taste

no hinting involved.

The things left unsaid.

The hovering sweat on your brow

draws sand pictures

pointing me to smell

even the scentlessness of.

The things left unsaid.

How about we say them

Nothing Like A Bestfriend

We lie on our backs in the mall. Cell phones brandished. From afar this friendship could look weak, the fact that we are unfocused on one another, and entirely enthralled by our phones. But at closer observation the fact that we are laughing deters onlookers from their previous belief in our teenage technological distractions.

In reality, we are not texting our boyfriends, we are not looking at pictures, we are not playing solitaire, and we are not even updating our facebook statuses. Pedestrians and avid shoppers might smile, surprised, by the fact that we are playing with sunlight. Two girls in their prime, lost in their own world of light and reflections. Chasing the others shiny droplet of light around the walls. Dignity abandoned in the springs first sunshine.

I Wish This Could Last Forever

Snow clinging to the sides of trees,

that span and twist into the sky.

A smile flirting with your lips,

we glide

side by side.

I wish I could leave the world behind.

Friends helping me as I slip.

The only thing I could ask for

that is more than what

I have now

is that this would last

till forever's

tomorrow.

Costomized

Tilting my eyes so that I can see you from the corners.

There is so much I wish to change

I wish to change the fact that you can see me

red faced

sweaty

dreary.

I wish I could change your nail biting ways.

The way your eyes

sometimes leave mine.

But there are some things I would not change,

the way your sweatshirt hood wrinkles.

The way my hair sits calmly in its ponytail.

The way we can sit without having to say anything

and that is enough.

My Story Of Atalanta

I speed away. There is nothing faster than my long, bounding stride.. The wind glides next to me, falling into pace with my feverishly pounding legs. That one almost caught me. But no worries now, I am safe. I can leave this world behind in a spray of oak leaves and track equipment. My shoes are no longer new, my baton has been carefully brought back from the depths of my shoe-box, and my heart recently felt flustered.

I will proceed to run. No warning, just bolting. My headstart widens the lead I did not need. Stars glimmer in the night and I blur past. Friends try to stop me, try to understand, try to keep my pace long enough for me to explain. This proves unsuccessful. None can follow the the outstripping speed I have contained. Harnessing whatever power my wild eyes.

Running past you.

Like a gingerbread women.

"Can you catch me?" I throw words past my shoulders. They hit you square in the chest. Knocking your breath out of your lungs. As you gasp rawly against the air, I spurt off into the waves of heat. Humidity bursting like large soap bubbles. The heat from the pavement reminds my feet that they are without protection. I scamper down the side of the mountain and avoid sharp stones. You are left behind on the savanna, your eyes tracing my footsteps.

I stop for an apple which glimmers happily at me. The redness captures my gaze, reminding me of a sunset. I eat it. Then continue. Glancing back to avoid the blaring sunlight I catch a glimpse of you. My shadow, cast long and harshly on the badlands dusty floor, beats you. I see another apple. I stop, and pick it up. I can see my reflection in its depths, tinted red and glimmering with sweat. I devour it. And continue.

This time when I glance back at you, you are nearer. You shout my name, urging me to stop. I want to so badly. But I know if I do stop- you will surely just sprint past. My heart suspects a trick. Then another apple plops down on the sand with a satisfying "Thunk". I glance back, and see you closing in on me. I am so tired, and the apple looks so good. Like a Honeycrisp. So I grab it and eat it. The juice dribbles down my chin as I bite down. Turning around in defeat I see you sprint to the finish.

Finally, a man who can hold his own in a race.

Reaching

The pull on the bottom of my stomach

the yearning I feel at my lips.

I want all this life has to offer.

Blissful, whole, and joyous,

I leap into the air,

I crawl in the shadows,

I saunter with the moonlight.

And in the same instance

in this small blip of time,

I find myself in your arms.

Between being found

and being hopelessly decided.

Somehow everything I fight for

and everything I feel peace in

collide.

Something More

It meant so much more

when you were looking at me.

I fidgeted,

I picked a hair off your sleeve.

Then my eyes met yours and nothing

could steal them away.

Bla

Avoidance is my best human skill.

Heart Slightly Melted

Instead of listening studiously through my exam reviews today

I daydreamed.

First of success(es) in track.

Images of myself zipping by with fire-like passion in my eyes. My hair bouncing determinedly on my back, as though it is the force pushing my body forward with barely a tap. My legs and their raw strength that can tare up the faceless wondergirl in the backstretch.

Secondly of the dance.

Gliding out in my crimson dress, my makeup flawlessly applied. Somehow I look different. People stop to see this strange newness. 'How can this be? She is so beautiful; with her eyes a wild and open blue and her perfect stride as she glides.' They will tell themselves that I have always looked this sweet. My armcandyness will overcome all.

Daydreams are a powerful thing. The can be created after a particularly straining speed workout or after a certain someone happens to throw a smile your way.

Daydreams are unattainable in the kind of way that makes you go insane. Yet somehow the keep us living in the moment- because whatever happens we can always pretend that the outcome is/will be exactly the one we want.

Clap Those Hands

Sad but true

I am happy

and I know it.

*clapping like mad*

More Than Less

Outstretched

She beats me in the back stretch

when the sun is at my back.

She is slimmer and taller,

every day she disappears and every evening she wains.

She holds secrets best of all

she never speaks to anyone but myself.

Sometimes I wish I could join her world

full of pebbles and unspoken rituals.

But it would a world doomed to half following, half leading.

And thats not a world at all.

Pathway to.... well.... nowhere at all....

You get a lead. You lose a lead.

Then you are right were you started.

With nothing gained

and nothing lost

but time.

The Past

Enough

You open the door

and greet me as I cross the threshold.

Everything comes back to me,

all that I am

and all that I am not.

The shock of reality hits me with a sting

like peeling off a crusty scab.

It has scar potential,

but seeing has healed anything that was broken.

For in your eyes I can see my own true face,

and it can love.

That One Person

I hate how one person can make/break your day. He can glance at me and look away or not even glance at all- and that ruins my day. Or he can say something to me in the passing which makes me feel ready to accomplish any goal.

Where is my control?

Assorted, Disentangled, Momentarily Confused Thoughts

Stick fish

are difficult to draw in the dark.

They crawl and bite at the pen,

it tries

and fails

and drowns.

At a moments notice.

I would jump in front of a car,

I would shave my head,

I would sing karaoke,

I would dance in front of the president,

I would bake a batch of cookies,

I would read 100 novels,

I would gain 20 pounds,

I would run 25 miles,

I would cry for several hours,

I would be there.

There is nothing as sweet as laughter tasted after sorrow. Nothing as hollow as rejection. Nothing as bleak as wasted time. There is nothing as shallow as a secret. Nor as blind as fog. Nothing as solid as protection, as indifferent as a smug smile, nor as selfish as tears. There is nothing that can be done, and nothing that can be undone.

We are stuck.

The path you seek. The path we find is the path we wanted to end up walking. It may not look like you expected. Be careful to walk slowly, watch for loose soil, careful in the sand. Do not follow or be followed. Do not linger, or run. Bushwhack when necessary.

The Player Being Played.

First off, men do not fall desperately at my feet, demanding my heart nor my love. So I do not really constitute as a "player". However, I do play games. I scheme quietly. Armed with the power of eye contact, abb muscles, and genuine interest.

Never underestimate the power of genuine interest. It is a skill born, not made. It earns you allies and builds friendships. It ruins grudges, first impressions, and occasionally a bad day. But if used for evil, it can destroy vulnerable hearts.

I always have been the controller. I prided myself on winning the game. Of being able to pull out before I got hurt. Of being able to say the way I felt, so that the pain was over quick. I never stopped to think- "What if others play this game as well?"

What if someone also understood this game of hearts?

Alert the press, I found one.

I think I about to be played?

Reflections on a year past.

I learned a lot of things in 'ol 2009.

like:

~how to play speed scrabble

~what coffee to order

~how to cry in public

~how to remember spanish vocab

~why physics is a two step song and dance

~how to dance dirty

~to embarrass myself

~to skim read

~to fail at many different things

~to laugh at said failures

~to run without reason

~to catch before falling

~to sneakily hold hands

~to break up

~to like country music

~to raise one eyebrow

To everything there is a season. A time and a place.

To be angry, and to forgive.

To be utterly downtrodden, and to be continually buoyant.

To pity oneself, and to take responsibility.

To judge, and to understand.

To dramatize, and to downplay.

To try ones best and fail, and to do less then the best and succeed.

To dream, and to live.

2009 contained all of these.