Vidasubliminal - Weinen

I hope we never stop being friends

I would really like to move to Amsterdam with you

And ride bikes to markets

And walk in parks

And listen to records and play chess

When we talk I forget the nightmares

And when we talk I don't remeber how sad I am for a bit

Your haikus are my favorite time of the day

Birds sing better songs on Wednesdays

My coffee tastes best when it's the color of your eyes

And I care so much when I write but suddenly i didn't care at the highschool when no one else would yell the cheers louder than me and I didn't care suddenly in the store joking loud with my sister and I didn't care when people thought i was weird because i hang out in the corner and wear dark clothes and makeup and like what I like and I don't care

I still wasn't over you when I walked out those doors. It really is dawning on me, now, in my bed, in the dark. That today, this day, would be the last I would see you. I'll look for you in everyone I meet, it's a curse and a promise.

I'll use the poems I wrote about you to fuel the bonfire I'm having with my friends and watch the ashes go up and fall back down on them like gray snow

The ashes of the words I wanted to say to you get caught in their hair and makes the smell linger even after the night has died down and the fire is out

I'll cut apart the braclets I made you and use them to make matching necklaces and earrings for my friends and get happy everytime they wear them

The beads I wanted to see on your wrists will shimmer on theirs like a little reminder

I'll play your favorite song for my friends the one you were always humming in class next to me and add it to our shared playlist

The song I'll now associate with my friends

And I'll cut out every part of you from my life and you'll never had existed

Everything that was yours is theirs because there is no more you

I'm not made to sit at my desk and listen to someone else drawl on and on about something for 45 minutes

I'm not meant to sit in a room with 200 other kids and be forced to go back to our separate classrooms after 30 minutes of eating mystery food

I'm not meant to be forced to toss a football back and forth or run a track

I'm meant to read and write and sit in tree houses and wander in fields

I'm meant to wear flower crowns and eat berries and olives all day

I'm meant to befriend the trees and deers and paint with flowers

I'm not made to sit in school

In a place where my voice doesn't matter

lately i've been really grappling with the pain of not being able to do everything. of growing older and letting the window of time in which i COULD have done something lapse. i can no longer have started something before the age of 19. i can no longer claim to have loved something i start loving now since childhood. i can't dance for my career for the rest of my life, i have to choose whether i give up being a stem major for the rest of my life within the next two weeks, i am long past the point at which i could have done anything but the things i am currently involved in for all four years of college. i'm terrified that if i go back to things i used to do i wont be as good at them as i used to be. the time for that would have been the second i left. how different my life would have looked!! would i still have lived with the people i do now?? would i still have done the things i did this year? i'm grieving my inability to have a foot in the door of timelines i'm not in, of only having the feet i can stand on in this one. i don't know how to let an opportunity get by me. i cling to as many as i can get my hands on despite knowing i would enjoy each more if i spent less effort clinging to the lot; i mourn each that squirms its way out of my desperate grip, grieving one less egg in my nest. when i am gone what will remain??? what legacy will i leave behind???? i won't know; i'll be dead. so all that i can do is gather as much of life as i can in my grip, and every inch of it that escapes me is a little death of its own. HOW DO YOU COPE.

(may 18???)

"to smithereens" is one of the worst things to be blown to. right up there with weezer