there are some days where I wake up enveloped in a sadness that I cannot seem to fight my way out of. and those are the days that twist themselves into my memories and will not let my heart let go of. these days of sadness are overwhelming me and strangling me, so that even the days of happiness are beginning to fade away and spin into the dust. this sadness blinds me to everything. this sadness wraps itself around my lungs and weighs heavy, heavy, heavy, on my mind. this sadness is too strong for me, this sadness reminds me of how I am young and I am old all at the same time. too young to fight it. too old to fight it. this sadness seeps its way into my very breath. this sadness clenches my heart within it's hands, it makes everything hazy. this sadness.

and I’ve grown tired of remaining unchanged. the way I promise myself to be “different tomorrow” every night as I lie awake in my soothing bed. the way I forget my lovely vows when the alarm rings to summon in a harsh new day. the way the day rushes on at such a daunting pace that all my energy and strength is consumed with making it through. and again, by the end of the day I’ve remained unchanged. I cannot seem to break away from this pattern. it’s almost as if I have no time for any actual thought processing until the evening hours, when the day is over and most opportunities already lost. I suppose it should be a simple enough thing to remember what one wants most to change about themselves, but the ticking of the clock is often too consuming for me to pay attention to such little details. there is no easy way about becoming something. everything takes time of course and there is no set date on changes. yet somehow it seems as if I could be taking ground in some way. that I might see growth in at least an area or two. and most days it feels as if I’m actually falling further and further backward in any gain I once made. is it just the busy days full of rushing and focusing and breathing, or is it something in my soul that has grown weary of always fighting so hard to be strong? have I truly lost the time, or have I simply lost the will? do my vows each night grow shorter, and my resolve weaker with each passed day? perhaps there is no blame for time, just blame for my lack of inspiration. I don’t know how I can want so terribly badly to be better... and yet live so completely unchanged. can you want something and not want it at the same time? and can it even be called desire if it does not drive you towards something instead of charging you to stay the same? most of the time I find myself asking questions that simply do not have answers, or at least not easy ones. I hate that I can’t change that. but I can’t seem to change anything these days. and maybe I don’t even want to anymore. that’s sad. that’s lazy. that’s not what I always promised. but promises grow weak and wishes even weaker. and weak seems to be the best way to describe everything about me these days. and perhaps I don’t even want to be strong anymore. because weak is too easy and strong takes too much time. so tonight I’ll promise myself to be “different tomorrow” and tomorrow I probably won’t be. and I’ve grown tired of remaining unchanged. but I’ve grown tired of trying to, also.

There is always some sort of sadness that accompanies endings. because an ending is a finishing and a letting go. and all of those things are connected to holding tightly and trying hard and starting, and those things are painful and difficult and rewarding. perhaps that is why we feel so sorrowful when a time comes to it’s end. because it is a finishing and a letting go. you can’t hold moments in your hands only in your heart and you cannot recreate moments, because the feelings will never be the same.and that is sad and that is painful and that makes endings difficult. sometimes endings are good. and despite the sadness that follows it is good to have loved something so much. that it took sorrow to see it go. this project wasn’t supposed to be so filled with emotion. I certainly didn’t have any idea how difficult writing every day would be. and it’s almost certainly made me more cynical and bitter towards the world. but at the same time it has made me more aware of how desperately I want to change the way the world looks at beautiful things and how I look at them. and how I look at things that don’t seem beautiful. there is always some sort of sadness that accompanies an end. because an ending is a finishing, and a letting go

may the walls you build be paper-thin, and your bridges firm as mountains. may you always be translucent, and may you always remain a mystery. you must be as strong as redwood and as gentle as a lily.  you must not let the waters sweep you away, but you must bend like tree branches with the wind.  may you hold tightly to everything, and may you know how to suddenly let go. may you be bold as a lion, and yet meek as a tamed mustang. you must love as wildly as a sunbeam, and forgive as easily as the scorched earth. you must be brave and face the thundering skies, but learn the comfort of crying in the rain. may you never have to say goodbye, and may you live like you already said it. may you stand your ground all alone, and may you never leave anyone behind. you must be able to be heard above the crowds, and whisper softly in anothers ear. you must wield a sword of fire, and a scepter of peace. this is my hope for you, that you may have all the passion and grace to lead and be led. that you may have all the best parts of good, and all the lessons learned from bad. that you may be a mix of every piece of broken, renewed, treasures. this is my hope for you. may you never be disappointed in this beautiful journey, filled with heartache and happy, earned, tears.

I’m not the kind of person you remember. I guess I tend to fall between cracks and fit into small spaces. I can remember ever since I was little how I was always being told I was the smallest so I had to sit certain places or because I was small I couldn’t do certain things. Even though I’m old enough to have a voice, and to use it, sometimes I find myself falling into that habit of getting pushed to the side. I tend to watch life happen sometimes. sometimes I just watch people for the longest time, and they never notice. it’s funny, watching people. if you do it right, with little glances, they never even notice how you’re watching their every move. they don’t know that you saw them laugh at the joke no one else found funny. they don’t know that you saw their smile drop when someone they love looked anothers way. they don’t know because they don’t watch. I watch though. I watch people. maybe because i’m mostly quiet. maybe because it takes too much work to be the one watched. I guess I tend to be forgettable. I can’t count how many times people have forgotten my name. I still get placed into that “smallest”, “weakest” category by people close to me, and I still hate it. I still hate that the world pushes stereotypes on us and how the people who are supposed to encourage you are so often the ones who cause you the greatest amount of uncertainty. I’ve let myself be placed on back-burners of peoples lives because it’s easier than fighting. easier for them. harder for me. I guess i’m not the kind of person you think about. the kind of person that gets much thought. and i’m used to that, it’s just how it’s always been. but sometimes, on the rare occasions when I find that someone has remembered me... remembered a little detail about me, remembered something I love, remembered to pray for me, remembered me when there was nothing to remember... those moments make me to purely and completely happy. because it feels beautiful and it feels right to be remembered. because remembering means being cared for. forgetting means you’re not important. and i’m not going to be unimportant anymore. I am not going to be forgettable. and if someone wants to forget me, then they’re not someone who will have ever cared anyway. I’m better off with a few who will remember than many who will never fail to forget. I’m not the kind of person you remember, but I must remember, some will never forget.

angry people. it weighs heavy on my shoulders. the way angry people spit out words and despite my own angry moments, angry people make my jaw clench as I try and hold back tears. everything seems so simple from the outside looking in, and it is so incredibly hard for me to watch someone be angry for no purpose. how simplistic and how wasteful anger seems when it is not your own. angry people. I spend so much time shutting out the world. the way angry people want you to be angry with them. the way you’re pulled in despite all your efforts to remain outside, and now you’re an angry person. when all you ever wanted was for angry people to see the simple answers, but now you’re angry, and it is so incredibly hard to stop being angry when you think you have purpose. how important and valuable anger seems when it is your own. angry people, and the way the world won’t let you hate anger. angry people and the way it weighs heavy on my shoulders. angry people. I spend so much time shutting out the world, but now I’m an angry person. when all I ever wanted was for you to see the simple answer. when I just wanted something to be simple, but now it’s complicated, because it’s filled with anger.

you’re not as brave as you used to be. at one time, you would have flown around the world just to stand by someones side. but now you fear to move from the comfort of the spot you’re in. you used to chase after dreams with an impatience of vision. and now all you ever do is sit still. I used to be so proud of you. and now you’re just another disappointment. what must have frightened you so, that you would fear to try? when I see you looking back at me in the reflection, all that I see is a weak and weary cut-winged bird. you used to have such fine feathers that you loved to display with pride. and all you are now is a flightless, fearful, bird. what has become of you, what has changed you so? I guess I blame the world a lot for the way people are and act. but of all the things I’ve ever learned, it’s that who I am is who I have created and not what the world has made of me. I think I used to be stronger than I am right now. and that in turn has made me seem weak. but perhaps it is not weakness but understanding that has stopped my flight. and maybe it’s alright to be fearful of the way the changes feel. you’re not as brave as you used to be. a message to myself. I used to be so proud of you with your fine feathers. and now all I see is a weak and weary cut-winged bird. I’m not as brave as I used to be.

those memories that hit you out of nowhere. and how they kick your world on it's side and leave you wondering how you got there. and how did you get there? maybe you held on too tightly. I used to think we should hold onto everything too close because the pain of losing was nothing compared to the pain of never having had at all... But I don't think that anymore. maybe because I've had so much to lose. and there's this small part of me that wishes I had never been so foolish. because it hurts, you know? of course you do. We've all held too tightly to something. or someone. Or someplace. and it hurts. Because losing means it felt like yours at one time. Losing means you held something in your hands... And somehow it slipped out of your fingers and down to the muddy ground where you couldn't save it if you tried. and perhaps you did try and all you ended up with were dirty hands. Or maybe your hands were already dirty. it's just that memories aren't something you see coming. You can't prepare for how bad it will hurt inside. The way your heart skips a beat when you catch a glimpse of what could have been. The necessary beating of a heart and how certain things trigger a skip. before the memories, it's your gauge for how good it all is. But when it's over the heart skips remind you that you need to monitor it's beating more closely. Be careful to hold your heart too close and to let go of others hearts. because those memories will one day hit you out of nowhere. They'll knock the breath right out of your lungs and leave you wishing you could undo. Those memories. Those beautiful, painful memories.

Humans are so predictable. have you ever noticed how we talk about the weather? how the way the clouds form gives us cause for conversation, but it's of no purpose unless we're weather forecasters. how the rain falling is a speech and how the sun burning or the snow filtering is a poem? we talk about it like we care about it and like it's important. but I think that it's just a space filler. it's something to say. something to discuss. I feel we have lost the beauty and understanding of how good silence is for us. how sometimes there shouldn't be any speaking and more listening to everything. we humans are so predictable in how we talk about the weather. and how we talk about so little of any importance. have you even noticed that we talk about the same things, all the time? we talk about what's happening tomorrow. what's happening today. we talk about what happened. we talk about what we want. we talk about how time changes mess us up for days. we talk about weekends. we talk about holidays. we talk about mondays. we talk. we talk. we talk. we talk. I'm so completely tired of how us humans talk. aren't you? aren't you tired of just saying the same things over and over again and never having anything be different? i'm tired of it. I don't want to be predictable. and by that very desire I am falling into the predictability of humans. we are so predictable and there is nothing new and nothing exciting. nothing to be amazed by. nothing to be intrigued by. nothing to put passion into. because it's all predictable. and it's all meaningless. so let's talk about the weather and lets talk about the world and lets talk about the things that don't change because we cannot grasp the things that could change. that's what we are. little, purposeless, predictable, humans. it's been raining lately. I wish the sun would shine.

You can see everything, in the morning light. every scar. every mark. there is something about the light of a morning that makes you feel so unbearably honest. that feeling that all your secrets can't hide, because the soft light seems harsher than that of the day. the first thing you see every morning, is yourself. and through fresh, new, eyes. you see your choices from yesterday, and you see your failures coming for today. you see the stretch marks crawling up your thighs, and you see the scars and lines that trace your once young face. and something about the morning light, in your eyes, tells you that you're not allowed a fresh start. because you see too much and it hurts. because you see too much and it hurts. the morning light scares me, and I wish I couldn't see myself so completely. because the morning light brings a new day, but it tarries in the old ones. you cannot wake without a reminder of what can be seen all over your body, and all over your soul. you're tainted by the memories the morning light clings to. the morning light is terrifying. because you see too much, and it hurts. because you see too much, and it hurts. so I do not like the morning light, though I do so love each day. and I do not like to be seen as I am, because sometimes the truth gets in the way. I do not like the morning light, for it tells me all I have done. and I do not like the morning light, because it tells me I cannot be strong. because you see too much, and it hurts.

at first glance a person can seem simple. they’ve got their talents, their likes and dislikes, their family, their information. nothing difficult. nothing out of the ordinary. at second glance a person can still seem simple. they wear shoes without laces and eat pb&j’s every day. that seems simple. but when you finally get past the face and the laughs and the quirks, you realize the complexity of a person.  you see the way they grow sad when they watch a sunrise. and how they tend to glance at the ground. you see the way they light up at something insignificant. only it isn’t insignificant. because they’re complex. a person is made up of a box of tiny fragments found in unusual places and brought together to form a soul. and tell me, how can that be simple? a soul is as intricate as a spiders web, or the fibers in a grain of sand. at first glance they’re just a body. at second glance they’ve become a face. and when you finally get past appearances, you are introduced to a complex and wild and moving and fantastical creature. sometimes I feel like I seem so simple to others. because my likes and dislikes are settled in place and I like to eat pb&j’s every day, and wear shoes without laces. I don’t like to read books with fancy words and I hate that my hair is curly. those things seem simple. they seem easy. but i’m not simple, as much as I would like to be. my soul is sometimes too complex to put into words, much like every soul is. and I suppose the thing about souls is that they tend to stay hidden. and it’s only after someone looks close that they can see the traces of soul written on the outside of a persons skin. maybe all I really need is for my soul to be simplified so that others could see and understand. but that would make it not a soul, just another fake replica shaped crudely into a simple form. and souls are not simple. and neither am I.

Everyone has had one of those mornings. The ones that you wake up expecting great things, yet as the moments of the day unfold you find that rather than greatness, you meet with so much that's filled with wrong. How does this happen? Why? How can you go to sleep with perfect happiness and wake up to a day that doesn't seem to go right? How can a mere few hours of sleep change so much? I guess I've been wondering about this lately because my life is currently a rollercoaster. Just like every other college student. Highschool student. Middle school. Elementary. Oh just like every other person in the world maybe. Maybe there are some exceptions, some lucky blissful ones who have perfect days or at least good days. Maybe some people out there go through life without much pain. Maybe they've just learned the secret behind going through pain and never minding. I guess I'm just not one of them. I've had my fair share of good and I've had my fair share of bad. And I don't mind it so much... I just don't understand it a lot. I seldom talk about my faith and how it affects me, and that bothers me. Because I feel like it should make me stronger and it should make life easier. But most times I tend to feel like my faith does just the opposite. I hate that. But it's true. Having faith helps me through everything, no doubt. But it doesn't keep me from hating every moment of trouble and pain. I guess because everyone has had one of those mornings... And I just want to be a special one who doesn't have to. But I'm just like everyone. I'm no different. I struggle. I learn. And I want to be better. Because I'm tired of those mornings, but I know they'll still come. So I want to learn to expect them and grow and become stronger because of each one. I don't often talk about my faith... But I want you to know I want to be better. And this is the only way I know how. To not disdain one of those mornings and to know that through this faith perhaps I can see those mornings for what they are... A chance opportunity to get where I want to be. A chance to be better. Today when I woke up, it was one of those mornings. I hope tomorrow morning isn't one of them, but if it is... I hope I'll remember to take the chance thats been offered to me. I hope I'll grow through it. Everyone has had one of those mornings. So wake up expecting great things... And when all feels wrong, know that perhaps it is right as it should be. And that one of those mornings is just a chance. A beautiful, painful, wondrous, chance.

you wouldn’t need a token to remember me by. not if you wanted to remember. it’s only the things we don’t care about that we need a tangible reminder of. little moments you worry you won’t remember one day... you will. you’ll remember and many times you’ll wish you didn’t. because memories mean you lost something. you held something in your arms, a moment, an object, a soul... and you lost it. that’s why it’s a memory. and if a person place or thing isn’t important enough to be remembered all on their own without mementos and tokens, then that person place or thing was never important enough to even be known by you. you wouldn’t need a token to remember me by. there are some who will never ever forget. and there are those who will always wish they could. and there are also some who never remembered in the first place. and the saddest thing I’ve ever known is to remember something that did not remember me. to remember a story or a place or something that happened, and for no one else to remember, or for the place or thing to no longer be. it makes you wonder if you imagined it all and maybe that’s why the memories are so beautiful. but maybe it was real, and it was destroyed. and all you have left is a memory. but at least you remembered, and that is a wondrous thing. you cared enough to keep it. even when no one else did. you held something in your arms, a moment, an object, a soul... and you lost it. that’s why it’s a memory. and it was important enough for you to remember. and that is a wondrous thing. you wouldn’t need a token to remember me by. not if you wanted to remember.

have you ever had a broken heart? the kind that ice-cream doesn’t fix. the kind that time doesn’t heal. have you ever had a broken heart? one that left you breathless and bewildered. one that left you enraged and torn to pieces. have you ever had a broken heart? with the sort of pain that makes you feel sick just breathing. with the sort of pain that makes you feel like you’re suffocating. have you ever been in love? the kind of love that makes you sigh. the kind of love that makes you go back on all the promises you made to yourself. have you ever been in love? love that left you smiling for no real reason. love that left you dreaming of a new future. have you ever been in love? with the sort of person who could leave you. with the sort of person who you’d risk it for. have you ever had a broken heart? have you ever looked for someone everywhere? have you ever been in love? have you ever wished they’d be in places they’re not? of course you have. you’re human. you’re human. you’re human. you’ll fall in love. you’ll have a broken heart. you’ll fall in love. cycles. the way love and broken hearts so often intertwine. and the way they leave you. they’re experiences. with a way of leaving you changed. have you ever had a broken heart? have you ever been in love? did you want to? did you want to? of course not. you’re human. you’re human. you’re human. you’ll fall in love. you won’t want to. you’ll have a broken heart. you don’t want to. you’ll fall in love. cycles. the way love and broken hearts so often entangle themselves. and the way they leave you. how love and how a broken heart, both of them leave you changed. and you’re human. I guess you’ll have to decide if love was worth the broken heart. because perhaps the love was vivid enough to make the brokenness be shallow. because perhaps love is an adventure. and a broken heart is an adventure. and you’re human. love. be brokenhearted. love again.

it’s just an adventure.

I used to love a lot of beautiful things. but the more rules you apply to something, the less beautiful it becomes. all the most wonderful passions in the world, like writing, music, photography... they’ve become so riddled with rules, with do’s and don’ts, that I can’t seem to drum up any desire to pursue them anymore. I’m so afraid that I’ll do them wrong, that sometimes I just don’t even try. It used to be so wonderful to sit at the piano and play what I thought was beautiful music. until someone taught me all about the form and theory behind the notes. and I can’t look at a piece of sheet music anymore without being bombarded with all the “useful” information I’ve learned. I somehow can’t even listen to music the same way anymore. I think about tempo and cadences and pitches. it used to be so wonderful to write down everything I could remember. and now the years have taught me that sometimes writing down everything, good and bad, leaves you breathless and full of regret later. something you write down you cannot forget, I’ve learned. that’s the rule about writing. you can only write what will not hurt. it used to be so wonderful to take a photograph of something beautiful. and now I can’t even take a picture of the beautiful landscapes my father points out to me, because they would never measure up to the other photos I’ve seen. what’s the point? that’s the rule. take photos that others will want to see. not photos of what you’ve seen. rules rules rules rules rules. I don’t love anything beautiful anymore. I love things that used to be beautiful. but they’re stale and they have no life in them anymore. music. writing. photography. only a few of the things I was once so passionate about. sometimes it seems like the only thing an education has taught me is that all beautiful things lose their beauty one day. you will find every error and no longer be speechless at it’s perfection. professors teach you to look for the problems so you can fix them. they never teaches you that perhaps some things are more beautiful left untouched. and I guess I’m tired of all the things I once loved being unlovable in their imperfection.

where has all the beauty gone?

sometimes the things that make you happy are the same things that make you sad. choose the things you'll want to remember someday. just be nice to people. no matter who they are. no matter what they do. that's happiness right there. today I was sitting at a table by myself eating frozen yogurt when another young woman sat down at the table across from mine and did the same. she reminded me so much of myself. thin, with brown shoulder length hair and some pesky acne scars. she carried a purse and a phone, and as she sat there enjoying her treat I felt a huge connection with her. because, also like me, she was alone and seemed resigned to it. I wish with all my might that I had asked her to join me at my table so that she wouldn't have to be alone. and so that I wouldn't have to be alone. but I didn't. and that's how I've always lived my life. wishing with all my might. and yet still sitting all alone. because I don't get lonely, but I know some people do. and that's how I've always lived my life. just because you've always done something one way, it doesn't mean you should always do it that way. important lessons learned. more to be learned and that's how I want to live my life.