Rewritten

As the lights dim in the room, my hand finds his, our fingers intertwining never before fitting so right. My head rests slightly on his shoulder, his breath in time with mine. His lips are softly placed on my forehead, they linger, make me forget the broken promises of the past. I gaze up to have my eyes meet his, hazel in color they shine brighter than ever letting myself get lost in a moment of false emotion, but none of that matters not when I’m in his arms. I want nothing more than our lips to become more than just external pieces of our selves. One simple kiss turns into eternity of hope and love and belonging. I press closer trying to get myself as close as possible never wanting to experience life without him beside me. I don’t want this to be the last time I see this, I feel this, I won’t let this end because nothing is ever better that way, i love everything he does and will never go anywhere. I love him...I’ll love him forever.

As she wipes away the blackened tears she finds herself still in his arms, she pushes away ready to escape and leave everything he ever said behind her, ready to act as though those words he said never existed. Her body shivers at the fact that never again will she go crying to him, never again will she hear I love you, never again will she be what he need . She still loves him, she said she always would and she meant it. He walks off the front porch of her house with a flood of tears streaming down his face. He keeps his back to her so he can't see the mess he created. He still loves her.

Weeks and months fly by, her head still in a daze, nothing is done without thinking of him and she can't seem to wipe her heart of those previous months. As he tosses his graduation hat in the air she contemplates rushing the field being taken into his arms and smiling thanking the heavens above for this boy who is everything she's been praying for. Instead she slowly hops the fence and strolls to the newly gone seniors. Their eyes meet and she smiles gives a thumbs up and keeps forward wondering when he will ever stop being the one thing she wants the most. The rest of the night means nothing.

She sits upon the moving boxes stacked in her room, looking at the walls that bear pictures of her life. The one that catches her eye isn’t where she is perched upon the lap of her favorite grandfather, or the one that shows her friends all lined up trying to accomplish a stance only Charlie’s Angels should be allowed to do. It isn’t the picture of her former best friend that holds so much underlying tension and pain beneath the glass, nor is it the picture of her, silent, eyes slightly closed, reminiscing in black and white. It is the picture of him and her, and she can’t help but shed a tear thinking back to that day, and how nothing could ever amount to what she felt. As she stares into that picture, she realizes she was foolish to think something so naïve could out last all the other memories that surround her. And as the last of her childhood life is packed away and she begins to move on, and packs away every thought she ever had of him.

Deep into her studies, nothing comes to mind often other than math equations, lab schedules, essay prompts, and Saturday night parties. On occasion a guy catches her eye, throws her a quick smirk, and continues on. Nothing goes beyond flirtation and a steamy quick paced fool around. She has stories to tell to friends, and they all laugh and congratulate her on each accomplishment, but something is always missing. The connection, the passion, the comfort, and the memories she packed away. Before long, every emotion pours into her being, flowing through her entirety, energizing her. Lights beam down on her differently than before. Everyone seems brighter, people seem to laugh more, guys seem more attractive. There is a new bounce in her step, and although she is no closer to finding romance, she no longer misses him, or wants him, or needs him. But she does thank him for allowing herself the possibility to fall in love all over again.

*Pieces of this story are taken from real life experiences, however not all events have taken place.*

Anna

I have come to realize, many of you may not know a single thing about me, and that's ok, relationships take time to build. I figured it was time for a post all about me, the ins, some of the outs, and after this will be coming the usual poetic shit, and some stories!

Hi my name is Anna, I’m 18, Hispanic, 5'4", and no I don’t have the perfect body. I'm a strong catholic who occasionally makes mistakes. I'm always determined, I care too much and I’m a hopeless romantic who doesn't believe in perfect moments. I love to laugh and have sarcastic arguments. I believe cuddling is more important than sex could ever be. I’m afraid of getting hurt. I cling to people because I’m afraid of being forgotten. College is my playground, there are so many doors opening, and I want to go through them all. I love my friends, old and new. Family and friends are what matter most to me, they are my driving force. I like helping others, because I feel in a small way I’ve changed the world. There is no longer a necessity to hide who you are, and I like who I am. My smile is genuine, my laugh too loud, and my belief in everyone never ending. I give second chances, but never third. My trust is easily gained, as long as you do the same for me. I know what I want; I know how to get there, I’m not sure if I can. My biggest fear is not fitting in somewhere. I watch foreign films because they make me feel worldly. I want a relationship that requires minimal drama and texting, tons of laughing, and surprise. I am an independent, jovial, everyday girl who happens to enjoy the life she lives. And my favorite song is Over the Rainbow, accompanied by a ukulele.

I am Anna.

THIS is me.

Pretty in pink

Pretty. This video made me cry. How true it is that sometimes those closest to us dont see what they do, and you become angry...when really they dont look at you that way at all. Pretty. I realized that those I call pretty, are beautiful and those i call beautiful are fake. I have a skewed perception of the world, with no one to blame but myself. Pretty. Men can be pretty too...i'm just not sure what that means in the whole scheme of my mind.

Pretty.

“Courage is the discovery that you may not win, and trying when you know you can lose.” -Tom Krause

Putting my self out there is a difficult thing to do. For those of you that personally know me you might find this shocking. But truthfully, being loud and funny and outgoing all the time is hard for me. Sometimes I want to be the quiet girl in the back that just laugh at the jokes being told. But deep down I know I would miss out on so many opportunities.

Courage. I don't think it means you can fight tigers with your bear hands, or stop a bus about to hit a small car. I think courage is speaking your mind. i give mad props to the person who is able to stand up and say "I'm not ok with how you treat me" "I hate the way you put yourself down" "I am amazing at what i do...so you can put that in your juice box and suck it" "I Love you."

The world needs more courageous people. Be that person. But part of having courage is knowing the limits. Sometimes staying quiet is just as hard as speaking up. There has to be a balance, cause if everyone expects you to speak your mind everytime, then they'll always know what you're thinking. And sometimes...things should be left as an internal monologue. Not everyone wants to know that you think of your math teacher in a speedo.

“Only a brave person is willing to honestly admit, and fearlessly to face, what a sincere and logical mind discovers.” Rodan of Alexandria

I spend too much time thinking with my eyes open, I need to feel the world rather than see it.

This is my advise to myself...feel don't see. I suppose I can share it with everyone else. Maybe then everyone will be a little kinder to the elderly woman sitting next to them who drops her newspaper, or the person trying to hold open a gate and get their bike through at the same time, or maybe just maybe people will begin to say thank you...and mean it. We live in a busy world...a self focused world. I know there are people around me hurting, I mean truly hurting, yet i continue to focus on the pettiness that surrounds my life. I know that a simple kind word can make a person's day better, or a hug that makes a person cry can change their life.

There are so many people in my life that have changed me. As I sit and write tonight, that sole tear streams down my cheek, because i live a blessed life. I hope those of you reading can learn with me to become part of something bigger. Something Deeper.

I have a challenge for all of you, myself too. For one week-7 days write daily, anything...something...just let it be your own words. I don't care what it is you write. but when you do write, allow nothing to stop your flow. So many times I sit to write and I edit my thoughts. I silence myself. Don't let that constant judging attack you when you should be most comfortable with yourself. I will do all of this with you, and I will post it here. Lets do a little self discovery together. if you are feeling brave, even just for a split second share what you think...all judgment will be put aside. If you are uncomfortable doing so that's ok too, sometimes its necessary to hide your thoughts from the world, just don't hide them from yourself anymore.

I hope that by doing this, I find a better part of me buried inside, one that is able to look beyond my outer distractions and truly feel the world around me. But more so...I hope someone does this with me, and they find what they've been missing.

Love. Peace. Silence. Belief.

A Chicken Scratch Life Story

This is my world...The happy, the sad, the confusing, the jumbled, the fragments. These are my thoughts....simply me.

There is a place to begin and end...the in between is what you make of it. There is a time and space for a lack of originality, but as we float through the universe, each finds their own voice, a unique something worth being known for, worth living for.

Lost in the here and now because I'm focused on the tomorrow, the tomorrow that holds acceptable happiness, the conforming smile. Lost in the here and now, wishing for a yesterday that makes sense. It is all unattainable....everything. Yesterday, tomorrow...they're all just past or future today's.

Confused scramble, loss of words, likes and dislikes, all just storytelling without the pictures. One day my rambles will be heard and loved, and understood. One day the world will know me and my emotions. The character based on me, for me. Described in plain English, described for the masses, written for me.

No one will know it, no one will see it, no one will believe me. No lies, no smiles, just me, lost in a world she pretends to understand. The heartache, the wrong choices, the internal monologues spoken aloud, controversy worthy, no hidden meaning. No happy ending, if it even ever ends.

Play on words, play on meaning, music covering the hidden thoughts as she sits on the floor, penning out her possibilities.

Live, breathe, succeed, love.

A Chicken Scratch Life Story.

“The one who loves you will make you weep.” -Argentine

The idea of love is contagious, so is the idea of success, honesty, and contentment. Love, what is it? I don't think any definition does the word LOVE justice. Four little letters, one syllable, so many meanings. Love goes beyond affection, beyond passion, beyond sex.

I don't think that one could say that to show someone love is to surprise them with roses, buy them jewelery, and to fully support all they do. To me that isn't love at all. It might be that my idea of love is skewed, misshapen, or maybe that feeling i get isn't love at all and I just don't know it.

But for me love is the fighting, and the pain, and the nights where you're sick and that person who you love, and who loves you so much is willing to sit up with you while you sneeze and watch scooby doo.Love is knowing when to tickle a person and how they take their coffee.Love isn't just the smiles you share with each other, but it's about the way your hands fit together, and how you can see in their eyes that they had a bad day. Love isn't sitting through a chick flick for your girl, its sitting through a chick flick with your girl and being able to make fun of it cause you know no matter how upset she acts, she thinks you're funny.

Love is acceptance of ones true self, seeing a persons flaws and loving them more because of them. Love is that song you hear on the radio, maybe the backstreet boys (cause they always have a way of putting things), that makes you cry because it speaks right to your idea of love. There all of those cheesy love things that go around on social networking sites that say "loving someone is giving them the power to break your heart, but trusting that they'll never do it." Sounds poetic, sure. But really...love is knowing the person you love will more than likely hurt you, and trusting they'll help put you back together.

Love is an idea, a changing, breathing, living idea. It does not come in one size or shape or one condition. Love SHOULD be like a language, not spoken for proficiency but rather for pleasure. Do not make loving someone a chore, or you will never be satisfied.

“I laugh, I love, I hope, I try, I hurt, I need, I fear, I cry. And I know you do the same things too, So we're really not that different, me and you.” -Colin Raye

The world is at my fingertips

Reaching grasping hoping

no longer waiting to exist, but merely existing to wait.

With my eyes to the sky

And my head in the clouds.

Angels whisper of the coming of the kingdom to those who make the effort of understanding.

I question my intentions with you standing by me

expecting to Hear the I love you of your life Time

Only to be left with an empty coffee cup.

The grounds at the bottom staring into the face of a born again lover.

We take pride in the Talking and laughing that fills the empty silence with commotion sharp like a freight train.

Pointless noise fills the lines of notebook pages while we scramble to create a song of accepted emotion to produce for the masses.

While staring into the eyes of an infant

past Present future are embellished with wishful thinking,

and the nature of man kind is Nothing bigger than a mathematical equation,

Used to define space and time Beyond the inception of our dreams.

The dreams I've created

The one that I've taken for granted

The one I share with you as the sun rises beyond the pier of the silent beach while the sand is scrunched beneath foot steps Of despair.

And while I Wade in the low hum of city lights

I continue to estimate the importance of a notion.

A notion dedicated to changing what lies deep under the crust of humanity.

Beneath the callused hands of the man on the park bench are years of growth and love and harmony with uncertainty.

People rehearsing their swag to the rhythm of the heartbeat within the lives of the children

who understand the meaning of Living

beyond expectations.

“Of all the things which wisdom acquires to produce the blessedness of the complete life far the greatest is the possession of Friendship.” -Epicurus

lucky

–adjective, luck·i·er, luck·i·est.

1.

having or marked by good luck; fortunate

2.

happening fortunately

3.

bringing or foretelling good luck, or supposed to do so.

It is not often I consider myself a lucky person. I don’t win raffles, i always find the penny face down, and even when i don’t walk under a ladder I seem to come in to contact with (sorta) near death experiences.

However I do consider myself lucky in the friendship department. Every time I talk to one of my friends, it’s like my heart does a little touch down dance, jazz hands and everything. It’s that moment where I know I did SOMETHING exactly right. I love calling them…or even better them calling me and just smiling cause I know they care, and laughing cause they understand what I’m saying without me even muttering a word.

 

I miss that feeling, I used to feel it everyday, and it became such a part of me, but I know in time it’ll come back, in time. You see I’m at this new stage, the one people come across every once in a blue moon (and the moon isn’t blue that often), where I’m making new friends, and losing some old ones. Now I know people tell me don’t worry everything will work itself out…but what I do best is worry. Actually the top two things I do best is worry and bake.

So now i sit at my lap top, eating a batch of brownies created by me (not the whole batch, just one piece) and I think to myself…..”wow, I’m lucky. I’m lucky to have and be making so many friends. I know eventually those I was close to may drift away, but hopefully they’ll remember me”

This post is for those of you, who are sitting here reading my words with your best friend beside you: hold onto them

This post if for those of you who find your self a little alone in the world right now: sometimes you have to be your best friend, and then they’ll come running like a bunch of college kids on break, for the homemade food in the kitchen.

This post is for those of you who just lost a best friend, no matter how it happened: you touched their lives.

This post is for those of you who are like me, stuck on a wooden bridge with lava underneath you, and a happy place on both sides: you can always build a better bridge and travel back and forth

“Women still remember the first kiss after men have forgotten the last” -Remy de Gourmont

I don’t know what is considered a first kiss. Cause I have far to many to count I believe. I think I was kissed in third grade by a kid who smelt like apples, I was kissed in eighth grade by a boy who liked my best friend, and was truly gross, and I was kissed by a boy who became a fantastic boyfriend. All of them were very, VERY different. To the point that I’m not sure some of them were even considered a kiss….more so like a handshake, or a wave hello to someone you don’t even like.

It’s that awkward moment there you can feel they don’t wear chapstick, and they’re breathing so heavy you look like you’re in a shampoo commercial with your hair blowing in the breeze, that you realize every first kiss with someone will always be the same. You stand so far apart that you lean in at a ninety degree angle, you’re not sure when to close your eyes cause you want to see when they close their eyes and eventually it’s a staring contest.

Sometimes when you really like a person and you go into kiss them, you part your lips….just a little to show you like what you’re doing and you’re ok with their move…then BAM you come into contact with a face that is kind of acting like a brick wall. It’s not pleasant, nor in anyway romantic.

Now I know I am only eighteen and if I’m lucky I’ll have my chance at tons of first kisses, but so far I can’t see how any of them would be any different. Every relationship starts (and sometimes ends) with a bad first kiss. It doesn’t happen like the movies show…hell my kisses three months into a relationship aren’t anything like the movies. The only possible way a kiss like that can happen is if
1. You’re kissing an actor.
2. you are an actor.
3. You’re making out with your TV as the notebook is playing.

Now just because I say that a first kiss is bad, doesn’t mean I haven’t enjoyed them all, sorta. You see there is a certain factor in a first kiss, the excitement, the wonder if this one will be better, or the sheer fact that the awkward kiss will be experienced with someone who is hhh-attractive (the point where you make sexual noises because they are so stinking hot!!).

So, enjoy your awkward first kiss, it’s a learning experience, it’s a personal connection that you share with that person…sometimes it’s even considered a person’s hobby :)