The Pleas Of A Curious Heart

I don't understand the stars anymore.
Even though I've always known
the map to your heart never existed.

I can't find you anywhere, but I need you.
I've never seen you, but I need to.
A diamond in the rough you, you stay hidden.

And maybe this is a good thing…
but this dress can only stay so white,
and my heart can only pump for so long.


And I'm waiting… for our lightning to
strike. This humidity scrunches my hair
and wetens my nose, the same rock shines
through my window with visions of you and I..
that is my only lullaby.

Because going from 100 to 1 is pointless.
Counting sheep was never my style, and
waiting for you continues to be an
unfinished game that never fancied me.





I wish you could take my hand. Come with
me in one arabian night I could show you my world.
In a way that would convince you to stay…here
with me. forever. Our hands and hearts laced for
eternity.

                                           Until these parted plates of our souls shift to form
                                           the perfect puzzle of a romance, I'll wait. I'll wait
                                           for you. As long as you do the same, my darling,
                                           please, do the same.

The Truth About Love

You didn't write yesterday.

and I keep telling myself it does't mean anything...but songs that don't make 
sense have the greater meaning and the girls with soft hair and no make up 
are the most beautiful..

I keep my mouse on refresh, as if every time I click it sends you a reminder 

to respond. That way I'm not forgotten and the silence acting as tension in 
my chest can release. 


I am convinced that the real killer is love and heart attacks are merely the 
aftershock. Yes drugs cause harm, and alcohol causes damage but love, love
is straight poison....

...because you didn't write yesterday. And I keep telling myself it doesn't mean
anything...I pour myself a glass of reality, tilt my head back, and take the shot.

Ticking Clock

I remember when dressing the walls with felt markers seemed like a good idea and feeling like Picasso felt like freedom. I remember forcing myself to like the color "dark green" simply because it's the color of my birthstone. But "dark green" got old and it never looked pretty on my color-book pages. I remember sleeping just outside my parents' bedroom doors at night, believing that the monsters couldn't touch me as long as I stayed in that doorway of protection. I was warned about the ones under my bed or in my closet, but Monsters Inc. never taught me about the monsters that twist and play with your heart and mind, those we call friends and even lovers.

I remember when my world looked so small. When I thought the mountains were too big to climb and if you reached the top, you could see China on the other side.
I remember being willing to change the cake and even the entire theme for my own birthday party, just because my "Strawberry Shortcake" invitation wasn't the cool girl in my homeroom's "cup of tea." I remember when going to sleep was a chore and waking up after the sun was expected and not a privilege only given on Saturdays.

I remember getting a "talking to" from Mrs. Calvin, my first grade teacher, after being late to class. Little did she know, I was with my family in AF canyon taking possibly our last family picture with my dad. All due to a sickness that filled and poisoned his body. As if its demons were merely a spoiled orange in a full crate. Eventually, we were all infected. I remember only being seven, when the word 'cancer' reminded me of a small crab, not the probable death of my hero or the cause of emotional and spiritual pain one can only experience when told their husband has a matter of months, if that, and you're on your own.

I remember when we had breakfast for dinner. The eggs seemed to cook better, the bacon revealed its maple muster and the apple juice tasted just a little bit sweeter. 
I remember when nobody was married or moved out. 
When life seemed constant, but never simple. When the world appeared to be perfect, a perfection that could be reflected off the flowers that only grew in April. 

I remember wanting to just be big. I remember asking Time if he could go a little slower. Or maybe even put his powerful hands to good use and reverse the clock. 
But Time isn't a life saver, he doesn't grant wishes or take commands. He is Time. He runs out. He leaves you with memories and "I remember" tales, only to be reminisced. Because at the end of the day, we're the ones consumed by Time and adjusting our watches. 

BLACKOUT

10 in size but I love the same.

Instructions

How to: Break Someone's Heart

Step 1:Get to know the person you're dating.
Step 2:Spend every single day with that person. As much time as possible.
Step 3:Have serious conversations with them.
Step 4:Tell them your deepest secrets.
Step 5:Kiss them.
Step 6:Say, "I love you."
Step 7:Smile, just smile and walk away. As if nothing ever happened.
Step 8:Congratulations! You're task is done.


How to: Mend Your Broken Heart

1.Just Cry. Cry it all out.
2.Sleep. Take a break from the world.
3.Listen to happy music only.
4.Pray. Seriously though, do it.
5.Surround yourself with loved ones. Especially your nieces and nephews. They will brighten your day like none other.
5 1/2.Take all the pictures of you and them or any pictures that remind you of them off your phone. Get them developed. (Costco does a really nice job just btw) Once you pick them up, put them somewhere you can't see them but you know where they are. Delete all of those photos on your phone. When you're ready, throw the developed pictures away.
6.Focus on the future. What you have to look forward to.
7.Smile, leave what happened in the past and move forward.
8.Well done, YOU are now done. You are mended. 

The Kid Artist

Jealousy

P.S.
by: Jewel
I wrote those
nice poems only because
the honest ones would
frighten you.

I am beyond jealous of Jewel. This poem is the essence of short and sweet, kind of. I find this poem perfect, especially the title. In a way it's kind of a slap in the face to whoever this was for like: hey, you just got Jeweled.

Tunnels

Just a heads up, this blogpost is entirely religious. I don't usually post about this subject so consider this a risk. 

I'm still afraid of the dark.
And maybe it's because I'm afraid of the unknown.
You know, I've reached another tunnel. As thick and as dense of a human's eye all I see is darkness. With every step the fear grows. I can see my future fading farther and farther, I'm starving for something new, reaching. Reaching. 
At last I grasp it. I clench it with hands made from dreams and birthday cake wishes. Help is no longer a word. It's a necessity. My vision blurs. Salt fills my eyes until I see a glimpse. I see a hand. I see a light. The bitter salt loses its sting. 

And I remember.

I know the man who created the moon. 
If you don't know Him, let me show you who He is and what He means to me.

He is patient.
He is kind.
He is loving.
He is my everything.
He is my world.
He is my light.
He knows me. And I know Him.

For a second I pause. Warmth fills my heart to my very soul. A love indescribable overpowers the fear.

I see Him.
I see all His glory.
I praise Him.
He reaches for my hand, we share and embrace.

Instantly, comfort overwhelms me.

He takes away the fear. He adjusts my lens. He sharpens my vision.  
He is Jesus Christ.

Now the tunnel brightens. 
I'm not afraid of the dark anymore.
I crave the unknown. 
I can taste it on the tip of my tongue.
I want it.

The salt returns like sugar, sweet sugar. The only kind of tears that are brought by gratitude, love, and hope.

There will be more tunnels. 
Just like this one.
As my journey continues, I hope to never forget this man, for He created the moon and He is my God. 

Over the Atlantic

Europe fascinates me. 

The cobble stone streets are laced with history.
Multi-colored buildings are the homes and shelter of the people with different word of tongue. Whom everyday place a death wish to their broken lips out of habit. Cigarette smoke fills the air. A smell that will always remind me of this continent and my time here.

When it rains, there's peace. With this peace brings beautiful rivers that ripple against a bridge's walls. Copper covered buildings, sculptures one could only dream of viewing. Detail which makes your brain wince at the sight. The thought of creating it is unbearable. 

These are stunning places I never wish to leave, but at some point, it is time to come back to the free soil.

"You're a rich girl and you're goin' too far cuz you know it don't matter anyway…" -Hall&Oats 

The Difference between my Bones, my Brain, and my Heart

My heart and brain are empty with regret while my bones continue to be full and work wholeheartedly.

My brain isn't as developed as the kids at Harvard. But my bones are stronger than theirs. They have to be...after all I've been through. 

My heart screams:
"I'm tired of feeling. I'm tired of pumping your blood around your body."
While my bones tell me:
"I'll carry you through. Rest on me. I'll carry you through." 

I rely on my bones.

I rely too much on my bones. And one day they'll crack from exhaustion, and become as hollow as the rest of me. When that day comes, I'll know it is time to lay and rest. For the sake of my bones, I'll have to rest. 

I walk through this life, and maybe one day, I'll see this world for all of it's beauty instead of it's insecurities. And maybe one day I'll listen to what my bones plea.

Until then, I continue through this life listening to my head and my heart, my brain and my blood supplier. The two places where I have found happiness, the things I turned to. 

But, those things have betrayed me. 

And I can feel my trust failing, fading. 

World

I want to see the world. 

Not just to visit, but to live. 

I want to experience being immune to the heat in Brazil. Clapping outside of houses and having dessert pizza and maybe even get really fat. 

I want to brace the cold and beauty in Alaska. I want to shut my blinds and curtains in order to sleep. I don't just want to see the Northern Lights from my computer screen, I want to breathe them in and truly see them. 

I want to taste real basil, authentic mozzarella cheese, and fresh tomatoes on crust an Italian rolled out and created. I want to sit in a boat and row through buildings and under bridges. 

I want to speak French, wear an ascot, a red and white striped shirt, and sit by a cafe with a sketchbook, my thoughts, and a dark hot chocolate in a thin glass teacup. 

I want to go surfing at Bondi beach, just to feel the thrill of the cold water and hot sun on the back of my neck. I want to eat fish and actually like it. 

I want to see the world. I want to experience it. Taste it. Live it.   

Death

I don't like the word death.

It's just a reminder that it is truly real. 

I'll be honest and say I don't want to die. I know my opinion will change once my muscles are weak and my bones no longer hold together, I don't want this life to end, but every day, hour, minute, and second death gets closer. 

Just yesterday I was two years old, riding my mini Barbie tricycle around my backyard, the place where I got all my scars, the visible ones anyhow. Unaware of what "death" was. Seems like just this morning I was picking leaves and flowers to feed the Queen in my outdoor kingdom. (from what I remember, she wasn't impressed)

Now here I am, in my senior year, in High School where I have received more scars, the ones you can't see. I often wonder how time flew by so fast, how my childhood lasted for only a second, a blink of an eye. As I grow older, I realize that life doesn't last forever. Death does and will come, to those I know and love and even to me. I'm not immortal. I'm the exact opposite. Even though it is scary to think about, it's a perfect reminder for me to live my life. Enjoy these times with my friends and family. Learning about death was one of the best things I have ever learned. 

Post #2 This Week

"It will all be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end."

Fears

Let's get real. 

I'm afraid of growing up.
I'm afraid of spicy food. 
I'm afraid of heights, but my greatest desire is to go sky diving when I turn 18.
I'm afraid of "the cool kids." They intimidate me for some reason.
I'm afraid of singing and dancing in front of people, even my family.
I'm afraid of acceptance.
I'm afraid of college.
I'm especially afraid of college girls who are freaking competitive, mainly because I'm not that way.
I'm afraid I'll never get married. (refer to the above)
I'm afraid of tripping at graduation. (heels or no heels? I mean they make my legs look good. it's official, yes to the heels.)
I'm afraid of trying new things.. I really want to dye my hair dark brown, but then I get my hair done and it looks bomb. Decisions, decisions. Maybe I'll do it one day...or maybe I won't. 
I'm afraid of having a baby. 
I'm afraid of not being a good mom.

I'm afraid of you. 
I'm afraid of what you'll think when you find out who I am behind the pen name. Yes, I know that is ridiculous. 

The Other Post

Want to know what the most twisted undeniably worst part about caring about someone is? You still care.

You and I, we play this little game. It's a simple game, not too hard to understand.

The hardest part, most lethal part about this "game" is the waiting. The constant waiting.

This usually can last three to four weeks, that's when that white flag rises.

But this round however, has made it easier to end this game once and for all. You know exactly why.

So I guess I could thank you for that. Because I'm done caring about you. 

Let's Talk About Bricks.

Everything in my life has been planned brick by brick. 

Not by other people but by myself, on my own. 

And now in these next few months another brick will be laid down on top of this mental 

house called my future, and I'm terrified. 

Just Tired Of It.

I'm tired of all the questions, that are constantly asked, because it only reminds me of how miserable this little thing they call disease truly is. It reminds me that it exists, it never leavesno matter how much I want it gone. How much I need it gone. I'm just tired of it.
I'm tired of all these children my age acting like they'll be 17 "forever." Acting like YOLO is a good motto to live by. If only they knew. If only they realized that how they're living will truly hurt them later down the road.
I'm tired of being surprised for the wrong reasons. I'm tired of being disappointed. I'm tired of not being able to know how to help the ones I love. But they know, at least I hope they know, that I am here. I've always been here. To comfort and support. Even when I feel too drained to speak.
Even though I'm tired, I'm grateful. I'm grateful because I've been blessed in so many times of trouble and in times of joy. When I think and count those blessings, I'm no longer tired. I'm more aware and awake than ever. 

DiFfErEnT

I think that's "in" right now and by the time we're all 20 years old, wearing beanies and combat boots with flannels wrapped around our waists. Guys having their haircut like Macklemore and into going up to the mountains and having weird photoshoots with your friends jumping in a weird serious way will all come to an end and we'll be into the next "new thing." To be honest I'm a little too excited about it. I'm kind of sick of the banjos and the weird things that go with it.
So yeah, be you. Everyone is different. You will never find someone who is EXACTLY like you. You don't have to wear mismatched clothes to prove that you're different. You never have to prove that you are different, because you are already different naturally. Be yourself. Be different.

GIF

When I read everyone else's bogs and see how good they are...

Quote?

I think that says it all.

L-O-V-E

We made these promises we knew we wouldn't keep and yet, we believed.
In the beginning, you made me laugh. You impressed me with your whit which is what drew me to you in the first place. You told me you were "lucky." So lucky in fact you even shed multiple tears in front 
of me to prove it. And I fell for it.

If it weren't for the lessons I learned, the heartbreak I felt, the many times I cried over you, correction, the many times I sobbed over you, I would have considered 2013 a waste of my time. But as the clock ticks and the credits roll on our behalf, I am reminded now, how I should be treated, how I deserve to be treated. Don't get me wrong, nobody is perfect. But I guess you forgot that part when you tore down my confidence with masterful manipulation and placing me at your own disposal. 
Like Taylor Swift you were mean. But like John Mayer I always came back to you when you'd beg me to take you back. 

I was naive and mostly blind, newly seventeen and completely lovestruck. Head over heels. You used to be the person I ran to, the person I told everything to, the man I trusted and ultimately loved.
Look closely, because the key words are used to. You are now a stranger, now an old friend, now the boy I used to care for. 

Through all the fighting, the jealousy, the stupidity, and the hypocrisy I closed the curtains. And what do you do? Beg. 

One more kiss, one more hug, one more chance. Why won't I date you. I guess it doesn't even matter because what do you do when I say no? You slip on your mask, turn on your charm for some other girl seconds later. 

What does this make me? The heartbreak-e? The terrible person for "breaking your heart"? No. I'm the one that got away. And stayed away, because after all that time we made promises we couldn't keep. And in the end, I'm tired of believing. 

CRAYONS

This is for the kids who miss nap time. Honestly, we need more sleep. School is too early. To the "early-birds," No one likes you anyways, especially your smiley faces.

This is for the kids who colored outside the lines and their creations were still considered "art." The arts have always been  dangerous terrain.

This is for the kids who miss that feeling of finally taking off the training wheels. You deserve a victory lap with the Rocky Balboa soundtrack blasting in the background. In fact, go do that right now.

This is for the kids who thrived off sugar and juice boxes. There is no debate, apple was the best kind. 

This is for the kids who had to walk to school. Didn't that just build character.

This is for the kids who always got hurt on the playground or in the backyard with the scars to prove it. Your childhood rocked.

This is for the kids who had nightmares after watching The Phantom of the Opera. I hated that movie and am still scared of it to this day. 

And this is for the kids who miss being kids. Childhood are some of the best years of our lives. 

British Accents and Being Adored

Have you ever watched one of those British series? Downton Abbey, The Paradise or Call the Midwife? If so, you will probably understand why I love them so much. The British accents.
Am. I. Right. In every show, in almost every episode I have noticed what the men call their wives and they are perfect. Dear, Darling, My Darling, and My Everything. It gets me every time. I believe that is the greatest way to show endearment.
With it being February and all, I've thought a lot about love. I've realized that I am one of those girls who is over High School relationships, over #WomanCrushWednesday and #ManCrushMonday, over reading too much into tweets, texts, Instagram likes, and all of those stupid games. Someone who is ready to MOVE ON. I'm that girl that loves to watch chick flicks and only dream of being treated the way those girls are treated. And by that I mean, at the very end, when they are simply and completely adored.
 Every girl deserves to be adored.  
I'm ready. Ready to be adored by a man I love. Ready to have those newly married struggles of finishing school while working, being poor, only eating peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches and top ramon, because we are simply low on money. As stupid as it sounds, I'm more than excited to have that life with someone I will think the world of.

HUMAN

Being human.  

Want to know the worst part about being human? Feeling. That is honestly the worst aspect and yet it's the most important.

When you meet people in life and you become close with them you develop these feelings. They don't even have to be feelings of love or hate just as simple as caring for them. For me this is where it get's dangerous in a friendship. Why? You invest so much time and energy into that person and sometimes it turns out to be the best decision you could've possibly made and other times you could not have been more wrong.

Be careful who you invest your time in.

INTRODUCTION

Let's start this off with a little advice I was given not too long ago. There are two types of people in this world, those who get "funny," and those who don't.