Gold Chain

love. cry. numb, birds and bees.

2009-05-28T20:19:00.000-07:00

Message. Walk. Laugh. Ferris Wheel. Terrified. Grasp. Walk. Giggle. Rides. Glide. Stop. Sit. Lean. Love. It all reminds me of you. These words that are ordinary but so magical to me. They all hit me like a semi truck going 105mi on the highway. It was fast but I loved it. I loved this feeling. You were nothing special that was everything to me. I brought you up when it wasn't appropriate. My tongue loved your name. It ached to speak it once more. Nothing was better then you. Even when I was upset with you it was perfect. You were the only one who made me laugh while I was crying. Who cared about what I didn't say rather then the junk spilling like saliva out of my mouth. You didn't care about what they though and neither did I. I never focused on what other people thought or said because, I was only fixated on you.
Tears. Scream. Ice Cream. The Notebook. Poetry. Lost. Hopeless. Without. It was over. We just ended it. For no reason. I missed you everyday and you didn't even know it. They taunted me. Told me you wanted me back. I was obsessed with the idea. Just to find out they were lies. All of them fed like starving dogs on my pain. They laughed when I was humiliated. You always told me it was okay. But you never stopped them. Never told them to lay off. Never said we as "a thing" ever existed. I hated you. I hated myself. I hated them. Everything about you, I wanted to confront. Why did you always wear sweat shirts? Why did you only hang out with them? Why did you never text me back? Why her? I cried. A lot.
Numb. Nothing. Painless. Lost. Empty.
Everything about you I'd put up a blockade. A wall. So you could never hurt me again. You smiled at me once, twice, three times. The wall got lower and lower. Now I'm scared. Petrified you will hurt me again. Scared of what I'm getting myself into. Nervous of falling to hard to fast. I don't want to repeat previous mistakes. But I can't stay away from you. You draw me to you like a mosquito to a UV light. Once I get near you I'm destroyed. But maybe. This time you could be the flower and I could be the bee.

Skittles and an english project

2009-05-25T19:52:00.000-07:00

It all started because of a stupid english project. I dreaded it, you were dull to me. The normal jock type. You never looked at me. Never wanted to know me. I hated you for that. I just wanted you to see me like no one else has. I researched you. You made me laugh. I laughed so hard I cried. I didn't know what this feeling was. I liked it. It scared me. Then I presented my poster of you to the class. You smiled at me. Bright. My cheeks turned hot pink. I glided my teeth against my lower lip, and looked down to the warn out carpet. The bell rang. It was over. This feeling, I was sure would soon leave me. It didn't. You messaged me. Once a week. Five times a week. Once a day. Twelve times a day. I loved it. I wrapped myself around the thought of you. Then just when I thought you were my Leanardo, you ruined it. You threw my feelings on the ground and stomped on them with your baseball cleats. It's been awhile and now your lingering back into my life. I'm scared. I don't want to cry anymore. I no longer want to need you. Except for some reason I can never stop.

random!!

2009-05-20T20:19:00.000-07:00

My Ipod is blasting dont stop believin' by the Glee cast, and I'm pretty much just jammin out down here in my basement at 10:20 PM. My mouth tastes gross. I can taste the resedue of puffy Cheetohs on my tounge and I want to brush my teeth, 1043 times. It's nice and cool down here for being 80 some degrees outside. To bad my rooms on the top floor. I hate sleeping in my bed when it's hot. The blankets and sheets stick to the sweat on my body caused by the blankets and sheets. My pillow never lays just right and I almost feel like it's going to soffocate me in it's death trap of heat. So of course I wear the lightest things to bed, so not to get to overheated. Then mother nature decides to be her annoying self and makes it absolutly freezing in my room by about 4 in the morning. Hence why I wake up, wrapped in my lovely ball of red swuede comforter. Mornings suck too. Especially when you didn't get enough sleep the night before which is about, 104% of the time for me. I mean once I get everything done whether it be homework, work, new shows on, dinner, cleaning my room, doing the laundry, taking a shower, ect. it takes up the majority of my night. So having to wake up at 6:45 just plain sucks. I'm counting down the days 'till summer. Except I'm going to miss school. I see everyone everyday. In the summer all the people who signed your yearbook with their numbers on the bottom with a cute little call me note attached, never return your texts. So you spend the whole summer with the same people. Which isn't bad, but a change would be nice. I do have a biology book shrieking my name right now, duty calls.

He's just not that into you

2009-04-19T15:30:00.000-07:00

We climbed on. I have to admit, I was nervous. But I knew I'd be alright just because, you were there. It jolted. One, then two, more seats closer to the top. My legs shook. My intestines were training for the Olympics inside my stomach. Then another quick jolt and we were moving. Laughing. Everything about the way you spoke made me smile. Even when I thought, the cart was going to kill us, you still managed to make me laugh. You leaned forward, looking towards your friends. I screamed and clenched my hand to your leg. Once, twice, then after three grabs, you got the idea that I was scared. You held me, tight but secure. I loved every minute of it. Soon and fast the ride was over. We climbed off hand in hand walking around, being together. I've never been so happy, so sure it was real this time. Then a quiet walk home. It was dark, the street lamps were shining brightly, casting our shadows perfectly on the sidewalk. We talked. About everything and nothing. But it was, something, to me. Soon after, it stopped. The calls, the messages, the love. Then came the tears, ice cream, and the Notebook.
Why do feelings have to stop. Why can't they just keep feeling forever. They all say, "He doesn't deserve you...he just wasn't ready...there are other, better fish in the sea, he just couldn't handle an amazing girl like you..." Bullshit. It's all bullshit. They tell you things like that, so you don't think it's your fault. Instead it makes you want to compromise yourself, so he does deserve you, and can handle you. You change your morals, your clothes, your friends. Just to make one guy happy, who has probably already moved on.
I'm done with it. Done with the disappointment. Maybe if I completely hold back, I'll never get hurt...again.

"Being lonely ... being alone ... for many people ... sucks. I get it, I get it, I get it. But still I have to say that yes, my belief is that being with somebody who makes you feel shitty or doesn't honor the person you are is worse."

Daddy Dearest

2009-04-13T17:39:00.000-07:00

"You didn't even know him...besides he wasn't a good father anyways..." Her words sting in my eyes, like the first sense of chlorine grasping your pupils. My lips were dry. I could taste the sticky substance that used to be my, berry bliss lip balm. I was choking on words. There was so much I wanted to scream at her, that it was all bunching into a blob, lodging into my throat, waiting to be first. A tear was my first reaction. Instead of letting her see me so weak, I walked to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me and, just letting it all go. It was strenuous not letting the sobs break free from my chest. As each tear came cascading down my cheeks; I blocked them with a wad of toilet paper. After about five minutes I came out, but only to return to the bedroom. Where she couldn't hurt me anymore.
It has almost been 14 years since he's passed away. My father. The man that gave anything and everything just to make me feel happy, safe, and loved. It doesn't feel like 14 years. Sometimes I'll catch myself crying as if it were yesterday. I remember it like it was yesterday, like a bad dream.
I woke up at his girlfriends house. Usually her daughter was sleeping in the bed next to mine, that night she was gone. So I got up, opened what at the time seemed to be a huge wooden door, and tip-toed to the living room. I remember the carpet was a light creme color, and it was soft underneath my cold toes. The TV was screeching. Screaming in pain for someone to turn it off. I just stared at it for a few seconds, cocking my head to the side, and wrinkling my eyebrows. I presumed, and walked to the kitchen. The main light was on dim giving an ere blue glow to the room. There was a half spilt cup laying on it's side on the monstrous counter. I touched a single drop of liquid, and walked down the dark hallway towards their room. I hated the dark, everything about it made me want to cry, and run. Instead I kept going, creeping down the hallway, just so I didn't wake anyone. I let my three year old hand clasp the doorknob, slowly turning it. Inch by inch. Finally it swung. Revealing everything normal. Except they were gone. The blankets were tasseled in a ball. I don't remember why, but I ran fast into the living room. I threw myself against the main door, hugging my knees to my chest. Soon there was a knock. I bolted upright, only to see her neighbors, smiling down at me. I remember they made me watch Tom and Jerry reruns for a good hour before, my aunt Julie picked me up. I woke up the next morning at my grandma, Rose's house. When I saw my family they were all huddled in my grandma's living room. Crying. Their heads turned to me. They made a path between my mom and me. When I got to her she told me, "Kaila, sweetie, daddy's gone." Somehow I just knew.
So when people make fun of me, or tell me I didn't know my father. I get so furious, that I feel my muscles will snap, from tensing so much. So when she told me I didn't know my father. That's when I wrote my first published poem.
Thanks dad
I love you

Sleeping with my eyes wide open

2009-04-07T18:51:00.000-07:00

The TV's bright picture, reflects vibrantly against the posters and, frames hanging on my walls. The voices pierce my ears, waiting for me to turn over and watch. I can't sleep. Left, right, stomach, back, I flip. Never getting comfortable. My back hurts, my eyes are heavy and I need this. I haven't slept well in almost a week. I threw my red suede comforter to my right and slowly made my way to my carpet. Stepping on clothes, magazines, and what ever else lives on my carpet, I turned the TV off. Bad mistake. I was lost in the darkness engulfing my room. Immediatly I became alarmed and scared. I sprinted. Hoping to land on my bed. Instead, I slipped on a magazine, lost my balance, fell on a hanger, and hit my head on my amp. I let out a groan. Oh how I hate sleepless nights. I slowly climbed to my feet and, turned my TV back on. I sat on the edge of my bed, giving my pillow a few fluffs. I was finally comfortable. Drifting into an easy slumber; thoughts of him took over my mind. I woke up once more. This time my comforter was on the floor, my second pillow was thrown against my bathroom door, and I was out of breath. Another groan escaped my mouth. Determined to get sleep, I plugged in my Ipod. Soft, suthing, music traveled out of my enormous black speakers, just so quietly. Then, it hit our playlist. I immediatly bolted out of bed and, ripped my Ipod from it's chord. Angrily, I fluffed my pillows once more and went to bed unsatisfied. 5:36 AM. I woke up once more, pleading my eyes for more sleep. I tossed and turned knowing I had to be up in a short while. I couldn't take this. I couldn't take endless thoughts of you. 7:20. Woke up late, once again, you throw me off. Shoot me.

Full House, headaches, and New York City

2009-04-01T13:55:00.001-07:00

My dream has always been to work for Seventeen Magazine. Well after writing to them in the beginning of March, they finally sent me a response. They gave me great advice. One thing in there though was, "...consider going to college in New York City." I want to be prepared to go to college but I so badly want to just go back a few years. I don't think I'm ready to make decisions that well end up setting me down one path or another. I know I've been making choices my whole life. Just none that have been so extreme. I think the reason I'm scared to go to college is because, that would leave my mom at home alone; and I am VERY clingy towards always being close to my mom. Tonight she wants to go to the college fair. I'm dreading it. I don't want to grow up. When I was younger I always dreamt about finally getting to the High School, being a senior, and going to college. Now I want to go back to the first grade, when all I thought about was what time Full House was on. Don't get me wrong I'm excited to do what I love everyday. But what if something goes wrong? Or I don't get the job I really dream about? How will my life be? I've been thinking about all of this so much I have a headache. I want to scream, cry, maybe even pull out my hair. Anything to get over this nagging pressure, of making choices, that will make me someone in the future. I wish I was born and raised in New York, so going to college there wouldn't seem like a big deal. Then I almost feel like an idiot. I hear a lot of buzz about people getting out of Albert Lea, far out of Albert Lea. Their excited. Why aren't I excited? Why is it that I am so scared to leave home, go to college, get married, have sex, have children, and grow old, and nobody else seems to be? Maybe I was just born to be afraid of exciting things. Or just more prepared then the others.

What if, no thanks:)

2009-03-30T08:11:00.000-07:00

My IHome is blarring through the speakers that are way to old to even function without making some wierd squeeking noise. I wanted them to work. Just for this song, for these three minutes and forty two seconds. But it doesn't. It squeeks and rattles, and makes a terribly annoying noise to the point where I just give up. I've been doing that a lot lately. Giving up. Not being patient or understanding with things and situations. I just blow it off. Somehow there is this feeling I get of guilt. But then sometimes it feels good. Like I don't have to care about all the little nothings anymore. All the little dramas that don't matter. Then I do the "what if" scenerio. "What if he would have changed....What if that was a good ending....What if...What if...What if."

Please don't swat me no more

2009-03-13T20:26:00.000-07:00

I was always the confident one. The one who didn't care what was going on, or what people thought of me. Until I met you. I soon took more then an hour to get ready in the morning. I tried on ninety outfits before deciding with the one I had on first. I bought vanilla chapstick. I went all out for you. Then it was over. Like the end of a good book, like the defeat of a close match, like the end of your favorite song, it was over. I thought I was fine. I only cried everyday for about a month, when we stopped speaking. Until you sat right behind me and I couldn't resist. Every time you put your foot up on my seat, I shivered. I acted annoyed but secretly I wanted more, more then you would offer. Then came time for a switch. Again devastated because you weren't there. Having to see you with her, laughing, wrestling, driving. It kills me. Cliche I know. But it litteraly does. I can't breathe when you walk by, my lungs fill with lust, then my heart shatters. It spills into my eyes so I can't blink, cascades down my legs into my feet so I soon become imobilized.
Why sometimes does fate decide to only have one player in a game for two? Did I do something wrong in a past life? I don't think it's fair that I sit here, hoping, wishing, praying, watching, needing, while you kick back not even knowing anythings going on. I purpously walk past you, nudge you, smirk at you, but nothing. You brush it off like an annoying bug lurking on your shoulder. I'm done. I'm done being brushed off. I need this so bad, it hurts. It's all I focus on. I can't concentrate. Not even now while I'm trying to write this.

dreadful dizzy dangerous disgusting disapproving daydreams

2009-03-06T11:26:00.000-08:00

Dreams. I can't even bare a glance your way. Everytime I try I feel my stomach churn. My emotions overcome me and I can't breathe. I don't even want to. All I want is steal more glances your way but I can't. Your forbidden. Maybe that's why my thoughts crave you. That's why I can't think at all. I don't want to think because it's endless thinking of you. I can't stop myself. But I don't want to. I love that i need you this way. But then I remember I'm suppose to hate you. All of my contradicting thoughts make my head hurt or maybe it's the furious butterflies bruising my stomach. Dark purple little dents develop across my interior. I feel it with every breath I take in so sharply. There are about twenty kids surrounding us. Yet I only see you, i only hear you. Your laugh, your voice, it haunts my thoughts. My mind pushes my body towards you. The closer I feel the further you walk away from me. Soon I'm falling and I can't stop. Until I'm crying, pleading for you. Then it's black. I awake.
What is a dream? It's intense. It's exciting. It's vivid. But sometimes terrifying. What do dreams even me? Is there a significance to them? I feel as though it's your sub conscience way of telling you somethings up. Either with mixed messages or something so easy as you should go to the bathroom right now.
It scares me wondering what my dreams mean. Do I secretly want what I dream about? Should I persue the person who I'm dreaming about?
All of these thoughts race through my head on top of the fact I have a pretty heavy dream to deal with. It gives me a headache and I just want to stop. Until I go to class and your right there. Staring at me. And I can no longer escape what I tried so hardly to forget. You smile. I cringe. I can't help it the lop sided butterfly feeling is definitly not my style. I don't even know why people like this feeling or why they think it's butterflies. It makes me want to throw up, because it feels like unsteady frogs leeping around in the pit of my stomach. I loathe this feeling but I never want it to stop. Maybe it doesn't have to.

Bloom

2009-03-03T19:03:00.000-08:00

My fingers glide through each page almost faster then I can read them. I'm so overloaded with emotions I need to read what's going to happen. She kisses him the, "Wrong" boy for her. I want to scream, laugh, and cry all at the same time. Goosebumps rise throughout my body. My breath quickens, the more I need her to kiss him. My eyes water at the pure thought of how extatic she is. This girl who has never felt love because her mother abandoned he, her father is never home, she is an only child, and her friends don't realize the real truth of it all. Until this kiss. As I study the page my mind races.
My father died, I am an only child, a lot of the time my friends never know, so where is my kiss? These books are so amazing but then so annoying. Every book I read gives me false hope. False advertising somewhat. They introduce a girl similar to me that meets a mysterious boy falls in love has one fight but still ends up with love. It's sickening.
I do everything these girls do. I'm quirky like them, shy like them, I even think like them and I'm still waiting for Brad Pitt with a paper bag lunch to walk through period three.
A lot of people say it exhists but you just look in all the wrong places. Bull. Some people are just the lucky ones, the exception to the rule. And have you ever seen the exceptions? Skinny, gorgeous, and perfect. The right girl, the girl every high school boy lusts over. Can't society mix it up a bit, and give all the plain jane girls like me a chance?
It's hard writing in a blog what exact emotion I'm talking about. Not even a poem of mine would sum it up, but what do they even sum up lately anyways?
I guess what I'm trying to say is keep reading about all of these girls and maybe you will turn into one.

innocent little beatings

2009-02-26T19:54:00.000-08:00

There were over 30,000 children under the age of 4 abused last year. Either sexually, emotionally, physically, or mentally. Help with the awarness of child abuse.

Fetal position, in the bed she lays,
twirling her finger in her birds nest.
Cuticles are torn, hangnails approaching.
Nails are bitten below stress level.

Her beaten plush dog beneath her shakes,
configuring if he will stay or go.
One more night of lint supper wont hurt.
Tremble; hearing his boots approach the door.

She crouched into the corner of her un-kept bed.
Dreading the things that the teacher might have said.
She knew about the bruising before the bell had rung.
Now he looked at her indignant, clenching tight.

That's when he swung hard brazing her cheek.
Her round chubby face oozed with blood.
Lips were cracking, without water she felt weak.
Another blow, against his innocent five year old.

She knew not to scream or he would hit again.
Silenced, like a slumbering baby; so peaceful.
He threw her to the floor, his foot found her stomach.
One stomp, two stomp, three stomp, four.

This time she screamed. She hollered loud and clear.
Until he silenced her with a blow to the eye.
As she whimpered against her carpet he scowled;
Without food she would go for the rest of the week.

As the end of the week approached, she ate.
He knew, she could feel that he knew what she did.
Her skin craving to crawl off her body; pleads.
One look and she knows. It's over from here.

He takes her by the neck to the bathroom; stifling.
Banged her forehead against the cold toilet seat.
Jabbing his finger down her throat with force.
She loathes the feeling as it inches up her throat.

It fills the toilet to the rim, leaving access blood.
She sobs, as he kicks her in the chest forcefully.
No longer does she breathe, but she smiles.
She will now be happy, and away from the hate.

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me?

2009-02-22T19:11:00.000-08:00

I was at the highest of highs. Sitting in my computer chair, which contains now half the leather then what we bought it with, IM'ing you. I couldn't stop laughing. You had me so engrossed in such a silly keyboard I couldn't stop myself. You had said something cute and I bit my lip, thinking about what you looked like at that moment. It was now going on one in the morning. I should have been exhausted. I shouldn't have even been able to keep my eyes from shutting. But yourds were like close pins clasping my eyelids open fiercly. I just wanted to see you. Even if we couldn't speak. Even if we just sat there staring at one another. I needed you. My eyes needed your presence like pancakes need syrup, like Ipods need headphones, like a ferris wheel needs a boy and a girl holding each other at the top. It was desperation. Then a flash of light surged through my computer. I was anxious to read what you had said. Until I read it. You had just wanted to be friends. Which was fine until you stopped speaking to me.
Why do people use the terms, "I really like you, but I just want to be friends?" Why not just say how you feel so when you don't pick up your phone, don't IM, and don't wave in the hallways, no one is freaking out about it. They give you hope.
Something to hold onto, so maybe it wont be so bad.
It's just worse.
Everything about it sucks. I wish there was a creative adjective to use here but there's not. Sucks pretty much sums it up.
You sit there, checking your phone for a new text or a missed call. You sign into Facebook more then twenty times in two minutes hoping you have a new message or notification. You log into your Hotmail account for maybe a missed message there. Then finally your home phone, then MSN, all these things leading up to such an engrossed fascinating drama that you can't quit. Your obsessed.
So why don't they just say, "I'm not into you anymore."
That could work. Sure it would be heartbreaking. But you wouldn't have to deal with all the exhaustion of trying to still catch their attention.
Or maybe that's what they want. People like when they are liked. So maybe they want all of the attention or the power. So FYI, when you are no longer interested.
Don't pretend to be.

done

2009-02-19T19:27:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been so frustrated, you can't even cry? Each sob that tries to come out of your throat gets caught. You want to bang your fists into the wall, anything to let it out, but you don't. You just sit here and type your blog. That's what I do anyways. I hate them. Hate is such a plain word though. I loathe them. There is nothing more I'd like to do then to just scream in their face until no sound would come. I would truly love that. Why do they think they can just treat her this way, my own mother. She's my best friend. I see the hurt in her eyes. Every time they speak there is a twinge of a knife that just keeps shoving deeper beneath her skin. I loathe it. When they speak each hair on the back of my neck stands up, as if I'm plunging down an ere roller coaster. Their rhythmic gashes of hate whipping at us from each direction, hitting a nerve every time that makes me want to break. I don't even know how to end this blog. All I know is I can't even write anymore.

Adults should have sex

2009-02-16T20:12:00.000-08:00

I listen to my mom ramble on about all these amazing memories she has from when she was in High School. I sulk, envious of the joy she has just remembering them again. Why do we try to rush adult hood? Teens who are pregnant, drinking, having sex, saving all their time doing one thing. What do they have to tell their children about? I come to school everyday and the new gossip is who is having sex with whom, who got drunk this weekend, whose pregnant, and usually telling these stories are the kids who just sat at home and observed it all over the weekend. Why do we want to experience all the things meant for certain ages so young? Maybe that's why some adults are so boring, because they did all the adult things when they were my age. I just seem to not be following the band wagon here.
Then I think what's the point of sex in high school? After a few months the couple is destroyed, and now everyone in the entire school knows that they had sex. For me sex is a personal thing shared with one person who you are completly comitted to. I don't want everyone, even people I don't know, knowing that I've lost the V-card. So why do it? Do you think you're going to get married? Because 7% of High School relationships result in marriage, and 5% of those get divorced. So why not wait?
I guess I'm still sitting here the minority.

Driving, singing, sipping, believing

2009-02-13T07:24:00.000-08:00

It's wierd. How one minute of your life your happy, there's that one person. They're new. They make you feel so amazing with every little thing they say to you, and every action that happens with their body errupts a new kind of happiness in you. Just driving around with them for hours on end is enough. Blasting music, singing at the top of your lungs, laughing, and sharing secrets. It's perfect. You could never imagine a better life. Deep down you both feel the connection. Then one day it just stops. For no reason in particular. They stop texting you, you stop hanging out, it all just stops. There is a vacant whole that was once filled with amazing memories, you both shared. Now it's empty. Some songs are hard to listen to. You can't help but think if they listen to the same song and feel the same way. You can't drink certain beverages without remembering how you stopped at the park to throw away the extra nothings at the bottom of the cup. Sometimes its hard to even pick up your phone. The pure thought that the one text message alert you have wont be from them. It's irritating, and it hurts. You don't know exactly how to talk about it in a way to make the hurting stop. I don't really think you can. There will always be a part of you that pangs for that feeling again. You wont get it back without the pressence of them. Sometimes it makes us stronger, other times it makes you upset. Most of the time the upset takes over. But then there is a part of you that just hopes it will get better, but prays it wont always be this way.

Good morning, no thanks

2009-02-10T19:34:00.000-08:00

"Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you over again..." blares against my tin stand sounding that slumber is over and it's time to wake up. The vibrations from my phone shake the stand creating an annoying buzzing catastrophe. I grumble. Yank the phone from my charger, turn it off and let it slide from my hand falling on a pair of jeans. I throw the covers over my head. They're fresh from the dryer warm. My toes curl as I stretch my legs further and further outward. Yawns erupt, from my not yet brushed mouth. I reach over my mattress stretching my abdominal muscles stretching them like an over used rubber band. I shake my hair free from a half fallen out pony tail and swing my legs over the edge of my bed. I sit groggily. The sun is shining. I roll my eyes. I hate morning. The cold air greets me with a slap on the face when I open my bedroom door. I step into the bathroom beginning a normal routine. As the cold water from the shower head thrusts upon my scalp it dawns on me. It's Saturday.

Shallow America

2009-02-01T18:41:00.000-08:00

They stare. In the magazines they laughing, popular, and skinny. Next page. Kissing, loving, and skinny. See a pattern? These magazines portray an image, that not every girl in America can live up to. Girls of all ages stare. Idolizing the girls before them. Then to the bathroom they travel. They stare at themselves, critiquing. "What if my butt was as round as Kim Kardasians?" "Do boys really like lips like Angelina Jolies?" "If I lost a few pounds, would I have a boyfriend." These questions racing through their minds. Then what? Do they get angry and cry, or throw up that last fry they ate? Maybe they don't even eat at all. America is shallow. In 2008 over 5.8 percent of Americans were bulimic. For what? Are bosses, boyfriends, girlfriends, parents so shallow that one person would feel the need to vomit everything they have eaten to the point of exhaustion? What will it take to prove to the world that outer beauty is nothing. Your apperance may reflect who you are on the inside. But eating foods you enjoy does not chatagorize you in any way. If you or someone you know suffers from any kind of eating disorders there are people who will help.

love is like a song

2009-01-28T19:21:00.000-08:00

Night life. The dark mysterious, arousing night, is the only time I can sit and think. Think about how every song on shuffle reminds me of you.

"How long will I be waiting,
To be with you again
Gonna tell you that I love you,
In the best way that I can.
I can't take a day without you here,
You're the light that makes my darkness disappear."
The song drowns on and I picture it. We were gliding so carefully in each others grasp. Then I click next.

"And I saw
Pictures in my head
And I swear I saw you opening up, again
Cuz I would be heavenly
if baby you'd just rescue me, now."
I was screaming now. Shouting the lyrics by Matt Nathanson so loudly I could feel my body shake. I felt so alive. Then I pressed next when I soon remembered you.

"I live here on my knees as I
Try to make you see that you're
Everything I think I need here on the ground.
But you're neither friend nor foe though I
Can't seem to let you go.
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down
You're keeping me down, yeah, yeah, yeah."
I stop; intrigued and listen. Then they form. The tears that have been brewing in my eyes for months, finally show up. I want them to keep falling. I have never wanted to cry so hard. When I start getting a headache I stop. The blood rushing right on top of my eyebrows stings. I lay down on the floor and press next.

"In your eyes
Let's sleep till the sun burns out
I'm melting in your eyes (I'm melting in your eyes)
Let's sleep till the sun burns out
I'm melting in your eyes."
As he whispers the next note, I hum. Eyes shut, heart racing, laying on my carpeted get away, humming. I didn't know what to do. Cry? Scream? Throw my clothes around a few times? I sat on my bed defeated. I couldn't do a thing. Because nothing that was in my room could equal the emotions I would have if you were here with me.

Next.
"But somewhere we went wrong
We were once so strong
Our love is like a song
You can't forget it."
I sang it in a whisper. Eyes were shut; relaxing. Have you ever been so calm you need to move one of your body parts because you're not sure you're even alive?

Tranquil: free from agitation of mind or spirit
I felt tranquil, almost as if you were the only one able to get my heart beating again.

These words are not my home

2009-01-27T19:09:00.000-08:00

It hurts. Their words that fly like bullets cascading out of their mouths. They hurt. Do you ever feel like if you listen to the things they say you'll lose it? I want to lose it. Just get up and sprint out of here. Run so hard, so fast, I fly right over their irritating vocabulary. But I can't. I won't. I'm scared; why? How can just a few syllabols change the entire flow of my emotion? I tell myself, "Their not worth it. Just calm down. Their not worth it." Then they speak again. More bullets flying at my still figure. I cannot move. They have me drilled to the floor as their lashing words strike me again and again, like a tattered leather whip. I think about their words every day. What are they suppose to mean? How do I take it? But most of all, how could these individuals, these once caring individuals say such things? Maybe they're suppose to be here. Maybe they're suppose to help me grow a back bone. Or maybe they were suppose to be gone, before they came.

What is inside is discovered

2009-01-13T19:09:00.000-08:00

It's here and I can't open it. My brain isn't making the connection to my hands to rip it up. So here it is lying in my hands. Still. My eyes wont tear away from it. It's like watching the scary part of the horror show when all you want to do is peel away. But here it lays. Clasped in my palms, the edge of the envelop starts to get warm as my palms begin to sweat. They're clamy and I hate it. I hate the feeling of sweat almost as much as I hate not being able to open this envelop. But what if they reject me? What if all of the preperations I had went through to get this one ready, fails? What would I say? The envelop shakes in my trembling hands. Deep breaths and short breaths pass the time and it still sits there in my hands. Open it. I'm screaming in my mind to just open it. But I don't. Then I second guess. My poem wasn't that great. I should have choosen another one. I should, I should, I should. Then the top tears. I'm doing it. I smile. It's happening it's opening I stop. I can't do it. I just can't. The blood rushes to my fingers, and they're hot again. And I hate it. One more piece is torn from the top. Adrenaline. Then another then another. It's opened. My hand slowly rests inside it's smooth interior and I feel it. I rub the pads of my fingers along the paper. It's gold. I rip it out of the envelop. I just can't wait and before I know it, it's opened fully exposed and I'm reading.

Dear Miss Kaila Beckner
Congradulations! You are now featured in the top ten of our. . .

I scream. Louder then I should have. Louder then my throat could take and I cough. But with the excrutiating cough I smile.

Yet again another envelop to be sent

2009-01-12T16:45:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have that feeling where you are so ecstatic and overwhelmed by accomplishment that nothing can take it away? That's how I'm feeling right now. Most people don't understand the importance of this envelop but for me it's like having 1,000 Christmas's hit you all in a matter of five seconds; or realizing your parents are giving you extra money to buy all the new things you have been fantasizing over for the longest time. For me these envelops hold more significance then any kind of gift wrapped sweater or cardigan anyone has ever given me. These envelops are notifications from certain publishers notifying me my poetry will be in the top ten of their new book. How amazing it is to come home from an irritating day at school, walk through all the snow while soaking your feet in its ice trap, opening the mailbox to find that one thing that's so important you will remember it forever. Right now I'm waiting on my fourteenth poem to come back. The wait is like seeing all of your Christmas presents and waiting for days to open them. So far I haven't had a negative response from a publisher and lets hope I wont for number fourteen.

Snow envy

2008-12-14T10:19:00.000-08:00

Have you ever missed someone so much it physically hurts? Every time you think of them it just throws you into a frenzy of pain, and you don't know whether you want to cry, or throw up, or even both. When you lose someone so close to you, it hurts like this. And you'll never know the pain until it happens. Until you wake up in your child like bed and he's gone...Sometimes I find myself searching for him. Like maybe he's still here, or reincarnated or something. Do you ever feel frustrated while looking for someone that you don't know. That's how it feels. Day after day I search, I miss him, I cry. Still it doesn't bring him back. I was watching Jack Frost with my mom, and when Charlie found out the snowman was his dad and he didn't have to search anymore, I envied him. It's funny you know envying a person you don't know, or more likely a fictional character. But I did. How amazing, and phenomenal would it be to see him again, to hold him, for him to tell me it will be okay, that he's still here. Who knows right? I hear we're suppose to get a storm;)

Snow ballerinas

2008-12-08T19:06:00.000-08:00

The notes coincide with her rhythmic feet dancing circles in the flakes.
Pirouette; so graceful, as her battered ballet slippers soak up the ice.
Locks of curls hang in her focused eyes, as she concentrates deeply,
Her eyes on her feet, his eyes concentrated strongly on her.

The leotard stretches with her back into a perfect C as her right leg jumps.
His eyes captivated and enthralled by her body’s angelic movements.
Tip toeing her arms stretch over her head, then she stops and stares;
Looking only at him, her eyes fixated on his chest collapsing rapidly.

Slowly she is balanced on one foot, on one toe, and his gaze holds her up.
Higher then she’d ever imagine, his eyes holding a grip on her frigid body.
She exhales and the ground shakes, he’s waiting to catch her, just grasp her.
Whatever it takes to reach out and touch her, if only the flakes would stop.

They don’t…they hold their power trying to break her into imperfectness.
Her feet leap, as her arms fly, she wisps through the snow faster then the wind.
It spins her strongly closer to him, like he is the weatherman casting his forecast.
Just then their skin brushes and the snow stops, the world stops, but their hearts race.

The book that's being written

2008-12-07T19:21:00.000-08:00

Chapter one
Lily
Lily Christensen held her head high as she began her slow, long steps, to the front of his house. She wrapped his flannel shirt around her tighter as the New York breeze wisped through her. She could feel the goose bumps crawling up her thighs, lingering the frigid air. She stopped when she reached the stairs. Hayden’s house was on a hill, the corner of Lexington and third. The bricks with there auburn color, stood out brightly with the autumn leaves. Lily looked up and smiled at the tire swing dangling from the one tree in Hayden’s yard. He used to sit and push her there for hours under the night’s stars then they would lye in the grass in silence.
When her warm finger pressed against the bitterness of the ice-cold doorbell, she shivered. She wasn’t sure if she was shivering from the cold, or if she were truly scared of what Hayden might say to her. She tapped her toe on the dirty welcome mat that lay sloppily in front of the Michael’s residents. Her recently bitten fingernails drummed against the multi colored buttons on her messenger bag.
She saw a moving figure appear somewhat through the textured glass of the door. All she could think of is in 3.2 seconds her whole life could be over. Then what? Who could replace him? No one came to mind, because no one has ever touched Lily Christensen’s heart in such a way.

Chapter two
Hayden
He was listening to his ipod, drowning out her scent in his room with Febreeze. No matter how many squirts came out of that bottle the essence of Lily lingered everywhere he stood. The pads of his fingers gripped his forehead in frustration of the fact she was forever branded in his mind. He rolled his tongue over his lips; still he could taste her peach chapstick.
His mind drifted back to August 10th. He had been pushing Lily on his tire swing for at least a good three hours, and then when he stopped they laid upon the grass in silence. Then she had kissed him, just once, nothing big, but it was to Hayden. He forever remembered the way the peach flavoring of her lip-gloss, never truly faded off his lips.
The chiming doorbell rudely interrupted his thoughts. He climbed out of his bed and sighed as he saw her shadow hidden by his textured glass door. His heartbeat quickened as he grasped the doorknob. In one more swift motion of his wrist his life would be incomplete.
She stood there in front of him, her long chestnut hair laid on her chest covering the top of Hayden’s flannel shirt. A small smile crept upon his face but, then slowly disappeared when he remembered why she was standing in front of him looking so heart broken.

ring a ding ding

2008-12-07T19:18:00.000-08:00

We put up the tree, covered it with lights, ornaments, garlin, and ribbon and I must say it looks spectacular. We haven't got around to putting all of the presents under the tree but we have a few. I love the way Christmas time feels. I get into such a giving mode it's insane. All the things I buy in December are for friends and family; you know just trying to get the perfect gift. And cookies! Who could forget those? My family makes home made frosting, my grandma started it and it tastes so sweet and just not store bought. I love it.

The zapper strikes again

2008-11-29T12:08:00.000-08:00

Last night I was exhausted. I mean I couldn't even roll over in bed, I was so tired. The problenm was I couldn't really fall asleep. See, here I was, thinking of you. How I use to look up to you and, you always made me feel like I was important. But did you really? I mean I look back to things I use to go ga-ga over about you, and now I wonder; why? You never told me I was beautiful, so why did I always think that's what you thought? You never starred longing into my eyes, so why was that the main feature in my poetry? Why do you have this magnetism that draws me to you? It's like your the all mighty bug zapper, and I am the hopeless fly being directed into your light. So why do you want to zap me so bad? It's like you knew how I felt, so why did you keep me thinking we had something? Why did you lure me to you, only to be zapped by your actions.
When I heard how you hurt me, I was frantic. I cried, I screamed, I fought. I was stuck in a frenzy that I couldn't escape. Because I tied everything to you before, and now even these chocolate chip cookies I'm baking at work remind me of you.
Then I slept. My mind untangled knots in my brain, that consciously I couldn't even touch. It sorted it all out for me, and placed band-aids on the wounds.
Now I look back and smile. Why did I waste my time?
The right guy for me, will not have made up features; and the fairytale I write about after a warm fall evening of bliss, will be true.

Bibbity Bobbity Boo!

2008-11-26T20:07:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I have fantasies of finding...,"him." You all know who I'm talking about too.
He's the boy that sweeps you off your feet,
the one you want your parents to meet.
He's the charmer out of all the guys,
the one who loves a good suprise.

And sometimes I wonder if he's out there. Like maybe he's even reading this blog. Who knows right? I mean I just wish that one day someone would write a romance novel on my life. How cool would that be?

I also tend to write poems about a lovely boy whom I've never met. I don't know his name and I don't know where he is. But somehow I know him.

Yearning for that person the one who's wanting me,
Searching but are you out there, my beautiful mystery?
Peeking around each corner, sneaking behind each door,
Running down the hallways, scrambling on the floor.

Do you know I'm out there? Are you searching too?
Please just shout my name, if only you knew.
What is your name my beautiful mystery, do you know mine?
Just jump out from your hiding place and we will be fine.

Sprinting around the corner but as usual it is bare,
Gazing down the dark hallway it's daring but should I dare?
Tip toeing across the floor making every step slow and sly,
Come out; come out wherever you are no need to be shy.

My imaginary mystery please don't make me search anymore!
I've had all that I can take please just jump out from that door!
Counting down to nothing and still you are not there,
You are not over there or, here, you are not anywhere.

Do you even exist, on this planet beautiful mystery?
Do I have a fate or is my love life just history?
If you are searching for me please tell me loud and clear,
I am tired of being solo, dear mystery I need you here.

&& sometimes when no ones looking I smile and wish that he would find me...

The lullaby of my sleepless nights

2008-11-18T16:34:00.001-08:00

The crackling noise of the blueberry jar candle takes the sound barrior in my room to a new level as "Bella's Lullaby," plays it's rhythmic harmony in my ears. The lights are off as my shadow flickers and dances on the poster filled walls. My pillow underneath my head is at the perfect angle making it hard for my thoughts not to drift. My long lashes ache to keep open as I fight my hardest to hit the last note of this beautiful melody. Just then the wind crackles and howls at my window almost begging for an escape itself. I feel the room get colder as I burry myself tighter underneath the red suede blanket. As soon as I drift to sleep, I'm awoken by my workout playlist banging in my ears. A quiet sleep turns into drum beats.

Bellas lullaby - Carter Burwell

The thirteen envelops that changed the world

2008-11-17T06:34:00.000-08:00

Exhilarated- marked by overwhelming usually pleasurable emotion

That's how I felt when I received the third letter. My bare feet speed down the pavement to the frozen gray mail box, a joyous smile spread across my face. My warm hands shivered against the frigid box as I grabbed the pile of letters and bills. Searching and dividing in piles It landed in my hand, all I could do was stand still and smile. Insticts took over me and I ripped the envelop open like a wild animal. It lyed in my hands the letter of success.
Dear Kaila M. Beckner,

We are pleased to inform you that your poem, "Daddy's story," has been published second place in our book...

I couldn't believe it! My hands started shaking and I screamed! I jumped up and down my feet landing hard on the soft carpet. I bolted up the stairs like a lightning bolt, to my mom.
"I made it! I made it!" I screamed at her.
She smiled and hugged me.
Now I have thirteen poems at least in the the five of every book I've been published in.

Adjective that bounce

2008-11-11T18:42:00.000-08:00

Why are people so engrossed in ruining others self confidence? There are different theories out there, they want to feel better about themselves, they don't have friends, or they're jealous of you. I have my own theory. I think people judge others, talk behind others back, and call others names, to avoid thier own problems. Now you might think I'm wrong but, that's the only time I've ever done it. I'm sure everyone does it too, think about it; you have a fight with your parents, you fail your driving test, then you see him/her; your target. You might not even realize it but we all do it.
I'm so sick of being the name in everyones mouth, but you know what's worse? When they speak it to your face. Have you ever had someone tell you what they think of you and it's not pleasent? There words are so hurtful you just want to run and never be seen again, yeah it's happened to me numerous times. Most of the times the person doesn't realize it until the tears start to form. Then they most likely still don't care.
There's this person who's supposed to be like a grandmother to me, but constantly in her mouth, I'm a failure. Can you imagine your step grandparent talking bad about you? I couldn't either until it happened. Her words constantly haunt me...

"You're fat...you're never going to make it as a writer, you might as well give up...why even wear makeup it wont make you pretty...that shirt isn't flattering on your midsection, go change....."
It never stops!

So one day I just overcame it, I remember I heard a song and I realized I'm okay with me so that's all that matters and I wrote this,

Molded Adjectives

Smokey darkness surrounds the pupils in my eyes.

Lumps of air and spit are getting wedged into my throat.

My tongue is dry and all I can taste are your words.

As they envelop me I fall more and more away.

Gripping into my wrists, they want me to feel pain.

Wanting to feel isolation, eyes reminding me of ache.

Tears slip down my cheeks, burning like acid.

As one slips onto my lips, ice overcomes me now.

My bottom lip quivers, as spit barely covers the top.

Eyes close tighter, trying to create a barrier for these tears.

Breath quickens as you look at me with satisfaction.

You have done it, captured me with your venom.

Words suck deeper into my flesh, all I feel is adjectives.

Scrambling over my body like tiny bugs on dirt.

I though, am lower then dirt in your twisted thoughts.

Well to me dirt has never tasted so tantalizing.

So spit on me those adjectives, for I am stronger now.

You are nothing but, another bruise upon my heart.

Molding into a form of blue along the others among it.

Blue, bright, and mysterious, possibly my new color.

Jesus take the wheel

2008-11-09T15:41:00.000-08:00

Awoken froma slumber in the front seat of the pick-up truck, all I heard was, "Kaila!! Hold on!" Immediatly my nails dug deep into the leather seats. I pushed myself against the interior with as much force as I had. I felt us spin, shake, and slide. I didn't see it, because my eyelids kept shut. I didn't want to see what has happening. Then with a hard jerk the right wheels came up about a foot then, slammed our bodies back into place. I opened my eyes. There was no blood, not even broken glass. Immediatly I looked to my mom, she starred petrified out the front window, hands still on the wheel, shaking. She looked to me then, "are you okay?" All I could do was nod as I examined her body and then the car. My makeup that was on the dashboard was now scattered by my mom's feet. Our pops that were in the cupholders were now on top of the dash by my mom's window. There was dark mud smeared on the left side of the car, and grass stuck in my window. Just then someone was approaching our truck. A boy from my class, I knew him and he looked almost as scarred as I felt. My mom started dialing 9-1-1, I can't forget how shaky her voice sounded. They appeared and so did this man, I still don't know his name, when we heard screetching tires. My mom and I looked behind us because, we were now facing traffic, and there was another car in the ditch. The police officer went to them and this kind man helped us out. He wouldn't except the money my mom was throwing his way. And he too went to check on the other car. He pulled them out with his chains, just as he did us. Still no name, and no money. My mom scarred to drive, only went 30mph on the interstate on the way home. Just about ten minutes later, we saw a car slide and roll down a ditch four times the size of what we went into. They rolled, and landed upside down. I was histarrical. All that was in my mind was that could have been me, I could have been seriously hurt, I could have never gradguated, I, I, I. The tears rolled down my eyes in a black mess from my mascara. Never again will I take sleeping in a car lightly.

I miss your smile and I still shed a tear every once in a while

2008-11-02T20:06:00.000-08:00

He is gone. No one can bring him back, and it kills me. I hate the holidays without him, I hate everything without him. There is nothing I can do. My dad passed away some time ago, and it still haunts me.
I hate the jealous feeling I get around my friends because of it. I envy the laughs they have and the overprotectiveness my friends hate. What I would do, to have him here to hate all boys. I'm even envious of people I don't know. I'll see dads holding there daughters and swinging them around, and it pains me. Sometimes I want to run and scream.
Sometimes I can't escape thinking of him. A song will come on about missing your boyfriend and he pops in my head, and I cry because I miss him.
Sometimes I get frustrated because I feel like I can't talk to anyone. Because it happened so long ago people think that it's easier to deal with and they can't understand my tears. But everytime I think of the night he passed I bawl. Tears just run from eyes.
I miss him.

My eyelids shutter to open, as the sound of the crackling TV awakens me.

Swinging my three-year-old legs out of bed, in a hurrying motion to find my dad.

That is when I notice the empty bed beside me, no longer held her,

The game that we were playing before, still lye illuminating against the carpet.

I made my way to the big wooden door that hovered over my body.

The doorknob beneath my grip was frigid, and sent chills down my spine.

The TV was still discordant, making me want to cover my ears for silence.

That's when I noticed the dining room light blaring into my vision.

There was a cup lying on its side on top of the counter out of my reach.

Single drips of room temperature water dripped from its mouth.

The floor haunted my feet with its numbing cold, I shivered;

That's when I noticed the barren hallway that looked like it went on forever.

As I stepped to warm carpet my heart slowed to a normal rate,

The doors to my left and right left me feeling helpless and alone.

That's when I approached his door; never will I forget its presence.

The towering oak above me lingered in my mind as I grabbed its knob.

Everything seemed ordinary but it was looming an eerie presence.

The clothes were still in two separate piles, darks and whites.

The comforter on the bed was disoriented, and no one was inside.

Breathing became heavy, and my chest weighed to the floor.

I bolted; nothing could slow me down, nobody could make me stop, but him.

I reached the living room once again, when there was a tapping at the door.

I hid; I was terrified and shaking in a ball behind the couch, when I saw them.

They were Sherry's neighbors, their greeting held a saddened shadow.

They turned on the cartoons as I sat wondering what was happening,

Just then car lights shined brightly in the window, it was daddy! He was here!

Except it wasn't. It was my aunt Julie, tears smeared on her cheeks.

She picked me up and carried me to her car, and fastened me tight.

The streetlights kept my eyes drifting open, but eventually it was too much.

I fell into a sudden sleep, dreaming up times with my father.

When I awoke I was in my grandmother's house, sheets over my body.

I stepped into the living room, to see familiar faces starring, he was missing.

He is forever gone...

(not edited)

Ringing bells and chimneys

2008-11-02T19:56:00.001-08:00

I can't even wait for Christmas! There's something about seeing people recieve things I've gotten them that just makes me feel so amazing! I love that suspense too, with waiting to open gifts, when I was younger it was excruciating!! Now that I'm sixteen it's still that bad! I love watching my cousins anxiety levels rise the closer we get to the final tearing of the paper. But I also love the before Christmas times too!
Like black Friday my mom, aunt Julie, Aunt Lori, my grandma, and myself go shopping at 3:30 in the morning. Were out there freezing waiting in line for the best gifts for the family. We hit all the ads on Thanksgiving evening, planning where were going first and circling the best deals. It's such a rush! Then when were all done we head to my Aunt Julie's house and sit in her craft room and wrap gifts. I love doing that because, it's a super fun way to spend time with my family.
I also love baking cookies! Usually I do it with my mom, and sometimes my grandma and my cousins.
Thank goodness for the holidays!

The pain that hides within

2008-10-26T21:04:00.000-07:00

So there's a topic that's been on my mind for quite some time now; drug abuse involving children. It's something almost every family can relate to in some ways. Whether it's just a cigarette your little brother picks up when he's four or a used needle your cousin picks up on the side of the sink. Either way, we can all relate to this dangerous and scary epidemic. I remember a time when my own family members were using drugs. My aunt and uncle, would do meth in the bathroom and lock my baby cousins out. Rilee was four, Josephine was three, and Lannon was barely a year. It was heartbreaking watching Josephine cry when her mom had been in jail on her birthday. The thing that hurt me the most was watching how much they knew about drugs at such a young age, I mean no four year old should mention words like pipe, dust, or drug. It made my heart break. So if you know of a friend, family member, or someone you barely know who's using drugs, find them help; don't let the children suffer.

This poem is a tad graphic

Piercing needles inside the bruising skin on my arm,
Hurting inside, trying to get better but all I do is harm,
Inhaling the scent of cold, chilling, death,
Lying here on the couch boiling up this meth.

Ignoring the shrilling screams coming from Lannon's room,
I want to help him but I wont get up, falling into doom,
The kids want to play outside they're begging for some fun,
I scream and hit and carry on, until I'm alone without a one.

I feel my teeth rotting inside my brain with every puff,
Just when I think I've got my fix I haven't had enough,
Cracking lips turning purple, bleeding down my chin,
This deadly fight called meth I cannot seem to win.

Pushing family and friends so dear, so very far away,
I want to give them a call, but I wont get up for days,
Leaving the kids with no dinner, they cry until there sick,
Jittery shaking breaking into a sweat, I need to get out quick.

I find anyone selling crack along the lonesome street,
So cold and so weak I wont even pick up my feet,
I finally find some one with the right sort of mix,
Then I go home and cook it up, a bowl of my finest fix.

I load up some syringes with my magic potion,
Staring at the needle I feel no sort of emotion,
I leave the used needles on the edge of the sink,
Josie grabs one and throws it within a blink.

Screaming and crying she runs, with a sore on her arm,
Trying to fix this wound, I scream but I don't harm,
Rilee begins to cry, at the sight of her little sister,
She tries to run up to hug her and kiss her.

I scream in frustration at the sight of my crying kids,
Then breaking into a cry myself thinking of what I did,
I almost let it happen, let her die from this disease,
Breaking down into sobs I fall onto my knees.

I hold them close into my chest not ever letting them go,
Feeling sicker then a dog I've hit my all time low,
I call the help line for the treatment plan for the day,
Not waiting anymore for the white truck to take me away.

Writing wonders

2008-10-26T20:58:00.000-07:00

So many people have been commenting about my poems that I tend to post on here. All the feedback has been just splendid! Writing for me is a way to escape. I write whenever I feel an excess of emotion usually. I also tend to write about things that have happened to me or my dreams. If you ever read a lot of my poems you'll notice a pattern of love, drug abuse, and poems about my dad usually. I also love reading poems and sharing mine with the world, I'm very open and rarely will write a poem I don't want to share. If you'd like to read all of my work please go to, http://www.poems-and-quotes.com/author.html?id=278534
thanks!

Car rides, speeding hearts, pulled over

2008-10-14T20:07:00.000-07:00

The pounding of my heartbeat was strong enough to hit a ten on the rickter scale. My mind raced and I didn't know what to feel. No words would stumble out of my mouth because, I was too busy choking on the unnecessary. I waited, you smiled, I sighed, we laughed. Every mile we drove increased my excitement. I wanted to go faster, I wanted to be closer, I wanted to escape and run away. The music hummed against the speaker on my leg, the vibrations only quickened my pace, as I reached to turn the volume knob to it's maximum. We gazed onto the road ahead of us waiting for it to crack. Green, we danced, we sang, I screamed, you jumped. Yellow, we slowed down, I reached for it, and so did you. Red, I licked my lips you blushed, so deep. And as I stared at the stop light, I turned to look your way, that's when the color of your eyes became engraved into my memory.

As I close my eyes thoughts of you overwhelm me,
I wish they'd disappear, so I no longer ache with want.
I know you'd never fall in love for the type I am.
Please stop being so wonderful, because I am dying.

My heart is cracking and beating fast whenever you are near,
My tongue stands still for you are so beautiful, I am lost.
I feel as though if I died tomorrow no one would know.
That I'm secretly haunted by the spirit of you.

I breathe in your fragrance and my heart stops beating.
You look to me and smile not knowing how I feel.
Do you think I'd ever tell you, what would you say to me?
Too bad I'll never know, I'm quaking and I'm scared.

To look at you is to stare upon picture perfect want.
I shiver inside my thoughts waiting to look upon you again.
I will be sealed to this spot where you once stood.
Maybe you could turn the corner and stand within me.

A thousand wishes dissapear

2008-10-06T18:14:00.000-07:00

I don't really know what to say. Is there anyway to scream on a blog? You can't really show tears on a blog either can you? I wish you could I wish there was some way to just let it all out hard and fast, just to get it over with. I wish that someone read these and could comfort you. But how do you comfort someone your not with. How do you tell someone your acheing with out officially letting them know. How do you tell her you hate her, without being mean? I guess you can't do any of this. Although I wish you could.

The dissapearing eyes, of a dreamer I once knew

2008-09-29T20:30:00.000-07:00

Sunday night, September 29, 2008, it was about 11:00 pm. Of course school was the next day. So I was pretty sure I'd be dragging in the morning and decided to make my way to bed. Of course I'm a procrastinating girl and it took some time to get everything in place, like my ipod on the "sleep" playlist, my innscents on to the best of there ability, and the window creeked open just a smidge to receive the lovely breeze of the late night. Lying against my suede pillow, my eyes easily drifted into a deep sleep, that's when it hit me, like a 5,000 lb. truck! The most majestic dream I've ever had. It wasn't one of those goofy dreams, where you wake up like, "what was I thinking?" No, it was almost real. It was a rainy day out, but everything from the leaves to the bushes, even the grass, were just filled with color. I walked to this meadow and the grass was a dull green color almost gray, then I saw him. This boy from my dreams I've never met, but I felt like I knew him, almost as if he were my best friend. Unfortunatly in my dream he was tied down...isn't that a coincedence. So I was inspired as soon as I awoke, I wrote it all down in my poem journal and here's what I came up with!

Rain beats down hard, enveloping my body with every drop,
My vision blurred, elongated raindrops suspend on my lashes.
Ruby lips turn plum as the icy air grazes over my porcelain face.
Sliding feet fall out of my shoes as the puddles take control.

Perturbed eyes stare anxiously at the meadow before me.
Flowers loud in the gray grass; then I see him, waiting.
How I wish the rain would evaporate his clothing,I
believe then his skin would jump to me in thirst.

Eyes stare past my exterior, straight into my saddened soul,
Each step towards each other erupts more yearning.
Both clouds of breath almost touch creating a cloud.
Then we are there, noses only inches away from the others.

Our eyes are burning with drive, to touch the others cheek,
His hands tangle in my soaking hair, I blush a deep red.
Then in the corner of my eye she appears, ravishing as always.
His hands left me, with one yearning stare he vanished.

What happens when it all falls apart

2008-09-24T18:00:00.000-07:00

It's like the more and more I try to write about this, it seems like my words are caught in my throat, like a furball. I want to spill everything out but it's hiding in the deep compartments of my throat. My mouth is dry and I can't think straight. It's almost as if I'm ashamed to feel the way I do, but so extatic as if I've just cracked some code. I want to cry but I want to dance, my mind doesn't know which side to take and it's as if I'm on a tilt-a-whirl that wont cease to an end. Then what if I tell you will it ruin everything we've accomplished? What will you say to me, will you even have words? Because I know I don't.

Wanna stop time?

2008-09-23T18:39:00.000-07:00

How do they expect us to deal with everything? By they I mean everyone involved in our lifes, and almost noone REALLY knows everything that's going on in your little messed up world. But who really has the time to find out? I mean there are sports, music, school work, your job, your parents nagging you to clean your room, trying to do your hair to look somewhat decent at 6:00 in the AM!, trying to be the best friend you can be, and dont forget, trying to impress that one person, the only reason you probably rolled out of bed. You all know who I'm talking about! I mean who can focus with all of that going on in one single persons mind! Who has the time to really get in someones head when they can't even sort through there own? It's frustrating and annoying! I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with someone at 3 in the morning, or danced with someone in the rain, because theres no time! maybe that's the problem...maybe we need to stop time for everyone to have one second to get in the minds of someone else? If only it were that easy...I guess I'll put it on the to-do list along with everything else in my life!

Miss him most

2008-09-22T17:39:00.000-07:00

So I guess you'd have to know a little bit of background information before you can truly understand this story. When I was three years old my dad died of a heart attack he was only 32, and at that time I didn't really realize what I was loseing. Well now that I'm older I realize that I'm missing him SO much more! I was watching home videos of us and I noticed he always held me and he always wanted to be around me, my mom says he was engulfed by my pressence. It's hard on me now because I don't feel like I have that feeling from anyone you know? Well maybe you don't because it's not you, but you might. I just really felt the need to just talk about it with anyone, or whoever reads it I spose. Well thanks!
Hope you enjoy your day.

Music

2008-09-20T11:32:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard that one song, that makes your insides tingle? Do you constantly play it over and over again just to get that rush. I do. For me it's an escape from every horrible thing or feeling that's happened that day. It takes my mind off of everything negative. The bass just coincides with my heartbeat and I feel more alive then ever! I have this friend that makes playlists for me, and the feeling I get listening to the unfamiliar songs is just magical. There couldn't be anything more sweet! So if your reading this, take the time to find the song that makes your insides dance!

Abuse

2008-09-19T13:06:00.000-07:00

I was recently told a story today. It was about how a little girl got raped, by her very own father. Emotions overwhelmed me and, I came up with this.

The ticking of the clock synchronized with her heartbeat.
She stared, hypnotized by the flashing lights upon the wall.
Her body shivered, as her jaw trembled in pure horror.
Hissing sounds, coming out as frightened breaths.

Glass that lay upon the floor haunted her innocent room.
Shadows danced on the ceiling, making her shivers cease.
A smile creped onto her cracked and bloody lips.
A lick of her tongue and, the essence of him lingered.

The scent of him soon again flooded her clear nose.
Shuttering she winced in pain biting her lower lip.
Her eyes watered as terror whipped her bare skin.
Dry hands pulled and yanked on her parched locks.
Her heartbeat raced as she heard his footsteps approach.

Trepidation flooded her; the louder the steps were heard.
She grew restless as her nails dug deeper into the cement.
Cuticles bleeding, creating pools along the barren ground.
The door screeched open, and her ears felt like agony.
Never has she witnessed such an execrable sound.

His shadow became clearer as her legs scrambled.
She didn't move she knew it'd be better to wait.
His sly smile made her insides turn and crush, hard.
He had her clothes off in a swift motion with one hand.

All she could do was take the torture of his rotund body.
Each laugh out of his mouth was like another whipping.
He licked her ear with pleasure as she winced in fear.
Being torn away from innocence yet another time.
Her body, a cold silhouette bruised and crushed.

Lying upon frigid, wet, cement, her tears flooding the floor.
Once all done he smiled, and rubbed her hair with want.
He rolled off of her, his child, licking his lips evilly.
Still not sober, so stumbling to get off of the floor.
He walked with pride to the door, turned back and winked.

The ticking of the clock synchronized with her heartbeat.
She stared, hypnotized by the flashing lights upon the wall.
Her body shivered, as her jaw trembled in pure horror.
Hissing sounds, coming out as frightened breaths.

If you know anyone who's been hurt in any way like this get them help.

2008-09-08T19:42:00.000-07:00

So I found myself thinking about the VMA's (video music awards) today, and I got really upset at the fact that people made fun at the Jonas Brothers for owning promise rings. If you don't know what a promise ring is it's a ring worn to signify abstinence or celibecy. I thought it was wrong because, instead of setting the example for all the young veiwers watching not to have sex, I felt that they promoted it. Everyone is wondering why all of these teens are having sex and, wondering why they don't respect themselves, when the "adults", aren't even setting a responsible example themselves, so all the teens who read this. Think twice about your actions, and remember true love waits.