Oh how i love ice skating.

Walking back through this place is like reliving my favorite dream, the one where your hand is my only warmth and your eyes my only comfort.

No one else around even matters.

My only focus is you.

The rink is filled with memories of us, frozen through the ice into time. All of our memories and old feelings are still echoing off the cold, white walls of this circular paradise.

The deep, burning contrast of then and now is enough angry heat to melt the hard rock ice we once stood on.

I am now alone.

Watching the old us, go around and around.

In my moment of chilly solitude I watched as couples held each other together.
And then i watched the people confident enough to skate alone hold themselves together.

And i couldn't decide who i would rather be.

After more observation, i realized that the single people held themselves up a whole lot better than any of the pairs could. Alone, they could stand their ground and skate with even a certain elegance, a beauty that only something strong can send off.

But then there was the other beauty, the one that was harder to watch and easier to envy. Every time she lost her balance, she desperately reached out for his hand and he would catch her. They laughed. She didn't look around out of embarrassment, she only looked towards him. And every time she would stagger, again he caught her and helped her get up and held her tighter the next go round.

So which is better? Being strong enough to stand on your own? Or allowing yourself to become weak in order to strengthen a bond with someone else?

Relationships make you weak as an individual, because you let down those walls. When you're alone, you depend on those walls to hold you up, make you strong, and to protect you from the hard fall that you know is waiting for you.

I was scared to fall when i was skating alone.

But I think I'm more scared that if i skate with someone, they will let me fall.

I don't even understand this one, so it's okay if no one does.

“How did you get like this?” he asks. And I’m not sure if his question stems from curiosity or concern.

I can’t even look him in the eye as I collect the answer inside my head, in fear that he may see through the fact that I am only pretending.

“My life these last few months has been like a painting. A lot of thought has been put into it, people have stared at me trying to figure out what I mean and I have been shaped carelessly by the hands of others. Some strokes were soft and careful—almost caring, and others were rough and inconsistent. I became like this because someone painted outside of the lines. They didn’t care enough to stay inside.”

He looked at me like I was crazy, but I did not expect him to understand. After all, he himself had become one of the faults on the canvas of my heart.

“The artist had left me unfinished and with too much contrast. Before I had the chance to become perfect beauty in their eyes, I was given up on and put on display. I was not ready for the critique of someone with an eye for these things and I certainly did not want to be in the show where everyone could stroll by and openly judge me by my mistakes. I wanted to scream at them from my spot in the frame ‘They made me this way! This blunder is not mine.’ But I know they wouldn’t listen, they too have learned that words mean nothing.”

By the look on his face I can see that he is slowly beginning to understand, and the look in his eyes mirror the pain I had once allowed mine to show. Poor guy.

“Yeah, I became this way because I handed someone the tools to shape me. I wet the brush, laid myself out to him and trusted them to allow me my full potential. At first it was great, the brush tickled down my spine softly, and we giggled together. As he stared at me I could see the reflection in his eyes of what I was becoming, and it was beautiful. But then the sun went down on us and his eyes began to stray. I was neglected, and the paint got lumpy and dry. So when he did press, it was harder and sloppy and the tickling turned to pain. And I couldn’t see my reflection because his eyes were closed to me. So I did the only thing I could thing to do, I had to survive. I didn’t even flinch as the bristles moved painfully across me. I didn’t even flinch when the comfort of his humming voice turned to a dusty silence. And when he left me up there, alone, incomplete and still dripping from the spill of black… I didn’t even flinch.”

I watched the words soak in and the careful response leak from his lips, “So… they just used you, and left you there. And now the colors that were once bright and bounced off of the simpleness are mixed together, to this color? The way you are now?”

“Black, you mean?”

“Yes.”

It was hard for him to accept that. No matter what colors and compliments he tried to mix in, it would only make me messier.

“I think it’s time to start over.”

Me.

Self-proclaimed hypocrite, optimist and heartbreaker.

I am the epitome of a tortured soul

And sometimes, I’m just a big, fat faker.

I keep my money in a shoe

And my secrets in a box

The boy at the party tells me I’m interesting

But if he only really knew.

I’m actually really afraid of society

And the people I meet

Too much variety

And a high risk for deceit

I look in every mirror I pass,

hoping to see more than what I feel

but really my reflection is all that’s in that glass

and I realize I’ve really lost my appeal.

My heart is only beating cause it has to

And it thrives on an impossible dream

Of being completely who I am

And maybe changing my point of view.

When I close my eyes, I see myself changing the world

It only works when it is dark like this though

Because imagining is the only thing I can really do.

But I promise to try

And further my reach

And hopefully touch the life of someone

Even if it is only with this speech

this probably makes no sense.

darting eyes, making sure they're all watching
you wouldn't want anyone to think anything of you
other than what you show them
so keep them entertained
put on clothes that send the right message
do your hair just the right way
because this is all you are
this is what you have left
so use it, and abuse it.
be used and abused.
because you need this to keep you feeling alive.
regrets like a baseball card collection
add up those stats
and pretend to be proud
when secretly you're dying
by pursuing life.

Cold as you.

"You have a way of coming easily to me, and when you take, you take the very best of me. So I start a fight cause I need to feel something and you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted. What a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day. Just walk away, no use defending words that you will never say. Now that I'm sitting here thinking it through, I've never been anywhere cold as you. You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray and I stood there loving you and wished them all away. You come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you. You never did give a damn thing honey but I cried, cried for you. And I know you wouldn't have told nobody if I died, died for you."

fuckkkk you.

Okay.

All of you fucking idiots who decide to attack me, i'd love to tell you that im tougher than you. and that i can handle all of this on my own. and that your words dont hurt me.

i'd love to say that every morning when i wake up, i put on a suite of armor that protects me from all the nasty words and judging stares you are going to throw at me that day.

and i'd love to say that when you say something to me, that causes my heart to fucking drop and stretch and tear, that im going to be able to say something so clever and mean back that you are going to want to take it back.

but i cant fucking do that.

it hurts.

and i dont care who you are, or how much i SHOULD care about what you think of me, its going to hurt.

im trying my best.

and i already know thats not good enough, i dont need you to tell me.

you think i dont know im a walking mistake? and that i hurt people? and dont always do the right thing? dont you know that shit like that keeps me awake at night?

please, just cut me some slack.

im only held together by so much, and i've worked so hard at getting those pieces of me to stay together. But they're barely hanging on right now. and when stuff people say cut into me like that, it just tears up all i have left. and i fall apart.

The Fairytale

Our minds were unavoidably corrupted by the good intentions of our parents who sent our minds into a sleepy slumber by softly reciting bedtime stories to us at our vulnerable young age. Subliminally, we were taught that the only story worth telling was one that ended in “happily ever after.” Dear Disney, I have a story worthy of being mentioned, a story with more lies than Pinocchio, more magic than Peter Pan, and more love than Cinderella. This story, however, does not have a happy ending.

“We were never in love.” I mumbled more to the darkness of the pavement than to him, but his reply echoed throughout the cul-de-sac and still forever through my mind today, “Don’t say that, yes we were.” The silence that followed due to the magnitude of that statement added a cushion between us as we walked unevenly along the curb. My heart was used to the marathon pace that it beats to when he is around, but this time the adrenaline came from fear, rightfully enough. Where has this love he seems to believe so deeply in been over the last few months? I’ve been sleeping beauty, waiting for loves first kiss to awaken me for a year now and the prince standing in front of me has been less than charming. Yet, here he is now after the clock has struck midnight, the spell broken, and my shining chariots have rotted into pumpkins, telling me I have been living a fairytale all along and didn’t even know it.

The chocolate brown of his eyes were filled with nothing, almost as if they too, like our apparent love, have lost their spark. Though, even in the night I could appreciate the beauty of them. Was our love still beautiful as well? Something kept me from asking why, if this is love, are we saying goodbye? Why am I being swept away, instead of off my feet? I want love to save me, instead of leaving me with a need to be saved. Like Aladdin, you showed me a whole new world, but I am now lost in it. Is there enough magic left over to get me back?

My story doesn’t end with our silhouettes in the sunset; my ending came in the middle of the night like most unpleasant things. It did not end with a wedding, laughter or a feeling of satisfaction. As a matter of fact, the only thing my ending came with was a broken heart with a promise to match.

"I will always be here for you."

Roll Call.

Every night before I let my eyes slip into rest for a while, I do a roll call of the people i care about in my head. "Julia?" Here. My best friend is doing well, she's found love and has found enough courage in her heart to do what a lot of us could not; she's leaving behind the things in life that challenge her. She's saying, I'm bigger than you and I will find happiness.

"Nicole?" Here. Even the sunshine of just her voice, from hundreds of miles away, can brighten up my darkest of days. She encourages, punishes and cares for me more than anyone i think I've ever met. Her passion for making people happy will change the world one day.

"Brandon?" Here. Troubles and adversity follow this poor kid everywhere, yet he's never given up. He never lets it effect the way he cares about his friends. God, how i love this kid. I will rest peacefully tonight knowing that he is always there for me.

"Trevor?" Here. He's the reason I'm probably awake at this ungodly hour, and also the reason for why I'm counting my blessings instead of sheep. He's smart, brave and one of the most passionate people I've ever met.

The list goes on: family, new friends and old. These memories supply the lullaby for my drifting mind.

But, i want you to know that when my subconscious calls out your name, i will proudly raise my hand and declare you absent. Because you don't belong here anymore.

Good Day.

Every song is one you know. The sunlight catches on your hair in just the right way today, because today is a good day. You step with the beat of the song that the world is humming, just for you. Even the biggest annoyances shrink down to the size of your doubts about the world--- which is hardly any at all.

Changing Winds

I think the wind comes from a sigh. Perhaps, a gust of wind kissed by the sun is just a sigh of pleasure. And cool, darkness comes from the mouth of a heartbroken lover. A wind filled with debris and particles of earth could be derived from the confused mind of an anxious child. A storm is EVERYTHING. So much emotion, it cannot be contained any longer. The clouds build up, the sunshine hides and finally we let it all go with a rainfall of tears. When someone adds a little sunshine to your storm, a rainbow appears. It’s a confliction, but something beautiful nonetheless.

Be my rainbow and I will be your warm front.

Adolescence is global warming; we don’t know what the hell to do about the change. We love the sunshine but beg for the rain, our constant sighs cause a hurricane, rocking the world like an earthquake. Sometimes, life feels like the beaches of California and other times it can be as dry and lonely as the deserts of Arizona.

Vulnerability Is For The Strong.

I wonder if you are as happy as you are pretending.
How could you be, knowing judgment lurks every corner.
All of you.
Who do you think you are being yourselves, dancing as a silhouette in the judging eye of this world?
Sit down before you are put down. Slip into your position of protection.
Vulnerability is only for the strong.
You are weak.
He who has not sinned, cast the first stone—with rocks in their hands they will pound away at the foundation of your being.
Sit down, child.
Vulnerability is only for the strong.
Heartbreak is born from the womb of trust and dies in the grace of eternity.
Let it be.
There is no disappointment that comes if you never try.
Blend in at best.
Confidence is for the shallow-minded because they are able to bounce right back.
Vulnerability is for the strong.

Old feelings.

I try not to look you in the eye,
I know when I do, I’ll be taken on a trip,
One I’m not nearly ready for.

My bags aren’t packed,
I didn’t have time to prepare,
My hearts on reserve,
So please don’t take me there.

As you inch closer,
Figuratively and literally,
I can’t help but wonder what it would be like,
To let down these walls,
Built for defense from crashing waves,
Raging fires,
Bullets of steele,
And words that hurt,
It's not nearly strong enough, however.
It doesn’t block your scent,
Or the things you say,
That make my heart,
And these walls,
Practically crumble away.

Like Moses, you part the sea,
The sea of feelings,
That has developed between you and me.

You’re in control,
Tell me how its gonna go.
Should I ride this wave
Or go against the flow?

Today Sucked.

I dreamt, felt and tasted you.
You were everywhere today.
Thoughts, feelings and needs.

You were in the poems written by others,
the eyes of everyone who cared,
and the object of every desire.

11.1.09

Dear Everyone,

You all suck.