The Writer

It frustrates me to know that there are amazing stories and thoughts coming out from the fingers of...

Sat, 01 Dec 2012 02:19:45 -0600

It frustrates me to know that there are amazing stories and thoughts coming out from the fingers of others, when I can barely catch up fast enough to finish the sentences in my own mind.

It frustrates me to know exactly how many times it took me to write out that last sentence in a way that could accurately convey my thought.

It frustrates me to know that I don’t possess the skill enough to accurately convey my thoughts with words, and so I have to resign myself to feeling wholly unsatisfied with my own writing capabilities.

It frustrates me to know that thoughts can become lost in translation within one’s own mind.

My thoughts don’t come wrapped up in a pretty little box.

I know hospital rooms.

Sun, 15 Apr 2012 23:52:00 -0500

When I was twelve my appendix started to swell at a water park with my family. My mom and I thought I might be getting my very first period, so I stayed fully clothed and clutched my belly while laying out on a pool chair under and umbrella. It was loud. I had a book, but reading would require I release one of my arms from my aching gut to hold the book up. I remember burning light peeking just so through a bend in a pool slide, the only thing providing me shade as the movement of the sun rendered the umbrella useless. I remember resting the book on my face, trying desperately to fall asleep with its smell being my last thought before dozing off, instead of my nap being tainted by the memory of the searing pain in my body.

The drive home was horrible. I was all but wailing in the car. I think I drove my parents mad for the whole 20 minutes. We lived in Singapore, driving never took long.

I claimed the couch as my own for hours afterward. As soon as I pinpointed the source of the pain my mom whipped into action, shooing me into the car before I could even protest. Less than an hour more of delay and it would’ve blown, said the doctor three hours and a minor surgery later. The picture was the best part — 13 centimetres of potential destruction. It was grand.

Actually, I’m mistaken. The best part was the third night I stayed in the hospital for recovery and my IV drip popped open. It was the little vial that held a tiny amount of my blood for god knows why. I woke up with my paper hospital gown, underwear, and sheets completely drenched in red. The nurses assured me that I hadn’t actually bled out every last drop of precious life juice that I had held in my pre-pubescent meat sack.

“It’s just the liquid bleeding out, sweetheart.”

Oh, right, of course. Just help me clean up and stick the damn needle into my hand again, I want to go back to sleep.

Sometimes I'm still that girl.

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 14:19:09 -0600

Sometimes I’m still that girl who didn’t understand the difference between being insecure and being aware of your flaws. Who didn’t understand that being alone doesn’t mean you are lonely. Who didn’t understand that you have to have faith in yourself before you can have faith in others.

Sometimes I’m still that girl. Only sometimes. I am the girl who understands the difference between being insecure and being aware of your flaws. Who understands that being alone doesn’t mean you are lonely. Who understands that you have to have faith in yourself before you can have faith in others. I am strong, I am secure, I am full of faith in myself.

But sometimes I am still that girl.

The best thing to do when you’re feeling this kind of feeling is to write it out. Words are...

Fri, 28 Oct 2011 00:12:00 -0500

The best thing to do when you’re feeling this kind of feeling is to write it out. Words are the most difficult, they force you to think and to feel and sometimes you’re just not ready, your mind too soft and exposed, but they are relentless and they pour out of you like a hot, burning, gushing flood that twists and crests and breaks against the shore, and you pause to feel these feelings because if you don’t stop now they’ll wash away from you and all you’ll have left is the trickling of fragments running down your cheeks with no remorse or consideration, and the salt will tickle your tongue as it drips into your mouth and down your throat and into your stomach and they churn and churn and churn and churn and you are trapped in an endless cycle of lost emotions.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” No. No, I did not.

Wed, 26 Oct 2011 00:21:02 -0500

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

No. No, I did not.

What I wanted was to hold you close, or more accurately to have the ability to hold you close with...

Tue, 25 Oct 2011 22:48:00 -0500

What I wanted was to hold you close, or more accurately to have the ability to hold you close with it meaning something. Anything. Happiness, sadness, pain, anguish, ecstasy, fury. Any fucking thing. And maybe I’d never have the strength to hold you close and let you into the beating mass buried deep inside my cavity, but goddamn it if I wasn’t going to try. It might break me - it’ll probably break me, and I won’t ever be me ever again, but I’d still try. You deserve someone who will try.

Sometimes I’m frightened by how little I feel. My heart’s been pumped full of winter...

Sat, 22 Oct 2011 14:00:00 -0500

Sometimes I’m frightened by how little I feel. My heart’s been pumped full of winter water for far too long, it’ll take more than you could ever imagine to thaw.

I can’t write, because I’m afraid of my heart. I’m afraid of the demons I’ve...

Sun, 10 Jul 2011 08:21:00 -0500

I can’t write, because I’m afraid of my heart. I’m afraid of the demons I’ve locked in my heart. I’m afraid of my demons, afraid of my heart. I’m afraid of the demons inside of my heart.

Feeling incredibly fragmented tonight.

Thu, 07 Jul 2011 10:50:00 -0500

As usual.

Rest in peace,

Sat, 02 Jul 2011 01:55:00 -0500

to the thousands of lives I have failed to live.

Light pollution reminds me of home. Or at least one of them.

Fri, 20 May 2011 21:40:00 -0500

Light pollution reminds me of home. Or at least one of them.

Ay mi corazón, ¿por qué debe tener tanto miedo? Muestran ningún miedo, por lo que es posible conocen...

Thu, 21 Apr 2011 17:50:00 -0500

Ay mi corazón, ¿por qué debe tener tanto miedo? Muestran ningún miedo, por lo que es posible conocen ningún miedo.

So leave me in the dust,

Thu, 24 Mar 2011 03:34:00 -0500

but you know I’ll still be there,
and all these haunted memories,
flow tangled through your hair.

let your words spill out,

Tue, 08 Mar 2011 01:19:00 -0600

they’re just empty bubbles filled with dust.

coffee shop thoughts

Mon, 07 Mar 2011 23:51:00 -0600

leaf decals and plucked wires. the book of deuteronomy. newspaper headlines. ipad. architecture projects. musk. leather berets. macbook, vaio, dell, hp. fuggs. mug ring stains. texting. red glitter. chatter. italians. winter jackets. old music. napkins. order. high schoolers. tabletops. quiet. loud. stale crumbs. grinding teeth. lipstick stains. notebooks. books. words. lips.

filled with the whispers of the day, nodding at the trees with a how do you do.

Fri, 25 Feb 2011 13:20:00 -0600

i knew you once.

Mon, 21 Feb 2011 10:23:00 -0600

17/02/2011

Sun, 20 Feb 2011 18:11:00 -0600

one of the guys on my floor moved out tonight.

D is a faithful, god-fearing individual who was majoring in education and psychology and has been working towards becoming an ordained minister. D’s roommate, T, is a partying, atheist, druggie metalhead. because of some issues at home, D decided to drop out for the rest of the spring semester to be with his family and return in the fall.

yesterday D wrote on a message on their whiteboard, and T wrote a reply later in the day.

D’s message: “so the time has come for me to depart. i will miss my dorm family! peace and love, take care and god bless in everything you do!”

T’s reply: “D- it was great having you as my roommate and getting to know such a god-loving, kind and peaceful person. i’m so glad to have met someone like you. take care of yourself, and god bless!”

i observed T as we all helped D bring his stuff to his car, and he was visibly upset, though he tried to play it off. before D left, i overheard T make plans with him to meet up this weekend. made my heart melt a little.

i don’t know where i was going with this. think i’ll go to bed soon.

i crave connection, feelings are my drug of choice

Sat, 12 Feb 2011 13:27:00 -0600

can’t help but feel lonely this time of year. oh well.

some of my best spurts happen in class, but i’ve noticed...

Wed, 19 Jan 2011 00:06:00 -0600

some of my best spurts happen in class, but i’ve noticed that the quality of my notes is in direct correlation with the amount of time this little book spends on my desk during lectures.

i’m sorry i haven’t updated since 2010. i wrote a lot during the holiday, and it’s continued into the new semester. i swear i’ll try to get back into posting here soon enough.