luna blue

in one hand i carry a life full of things i've only ever wanted for the people i call mom and dad.
and in the other i clutch my dreams.
and i'm standing over a casket that looks a lot like fear.
and i can't decide if clutching and carrying are the same thing.
the wind blows my hands back, reality and illusion fall threw the wholes in my soul.
my dreams fall left and i fall right.
i guess blood looks better on my hands then sparks do.

my dad looks proud and tightens up his tie, 
he has a smile big enough to push me off the cliff i'm standing on.
and it does.
but falling isn't so bad when hitting the ground is all i've ever wanted.
falling really isn't that bad.

i know because he fell really hard, but i think he's happy now.
and i think that she might of tripped, but she said the ground felt like a pillow.
a pillow that was a little like fear, but tears look best on fear.

tears look best on faces and hands and shoulders.
and the ground looks best on me.

so falling really isn't that bad.

It's tangible, it's not some feeling, it rocks your brain and crushes your bones, 

Here's to the girls who don't call themselves a clique, wipe that $30 Mac lipstick off your fake smile.

To the hipsters I guarantee no one's going to care that you wore black every day and died your hair purple.
Here's to the girl in my A2 class.
Here's to the lunch room eaters, and the sweatshirt wearers.
Here's to the 4.0 kids and I'm sorry I didn't come kids.
Here's to the jocks and the stance socks.
Here's to the 2 AM bedtimes and the 4 PM cry times.
Here's to the kids alone in the hallways.
Here's to the football, basketball, soccer and baseball players who sit by the knight.
Here's to my seminary teacher... I'm sorry
Here's to the boys who hold their heads high in the hallways, look around you're, not as cool as you think.
Here's to the friday night football games and baby powder.
here's to my A4 class
And Mr. Nelson...thank you
He's too my best friends, and my fake friends.
Here's to the classrooms and the commons
the dances and black lights.
Here's to knighting and trucks.
Here's to my unmade bed.
here's to the dirty looks and the I promise I didn't steal your boyfriend.

Heres to Hunter
And Terick.

Here's to writing and rewriting and seeing.
Here's to the kids in the front row of our class, keep your heads down because I bet if you looked up something would change you.

Here's to the half of you who hate me now, a third of you who despise me, and a few who want me to write stories on the back of your eyelids.

Here's to you, I love you.

And here's, here's to me, because if I didn't say it who else would?

Here's to this, here's to high school.

and she had the sun in her hair and the stars in her eyes.

i shouldn't have writers block.

i'm a 18 year old girl with the emotions to go with it.
theirs boys and drama and girls, and how hard high school is and all that superficial crap that the halls are lined with.

and i want to write about the stuff that every one writes about and i want to write about high school, and, love and people, and life.

but i'm 18 and i haven't lived that long so i cant really give life advice, and i thought i knew what love is, but turns out i was wrong, i hate drama, and high school is great but sorry i have nothing to say about it. and people.. wells turns out i don't know people as well as i thought.

i have writers block because all i write about is how she stole his heart and i broke my own.

and i'm trying to be different and its hard.

and i never like anything i write.

i want to love the words that come but they all end up being about her and him.
and i'm not a fan of her or him.

delete, gets hit to much and the publish never does.

so my blog sits with posts from months ago.

and ideas and drafts from days ago.

and words i liked when i loved him.

i told my dad i have writers block and he said that i shouldn't because i'm an 18 year old girl with the emotions to go with it.

then he said with all confidence that someone can have when they write for a living.

find out what the character wants...

then i said

what if she doesn't know what she wants?

When the only music I listen to is the 1975.
I walk the halls dragging my personality with a rope hoping no one smiles at me.
The humming of peoples voices is too much for my ears.
Times when the broken clock is a comfort.



Tears rim my eyes as I stare at the piles of homework that will never get done.
When the teacher reminds me of the test I kindly let escape my thoughts.
Almost rear end 13 people driving home from a cold uneventful weekend night.

My friends clap in front of my face, helping me escape from the prison of my mind.
I trip on the stupidly placed stairs in the commons.

The days when the word vomit doesn't come, and a brain freeze is not just a figure of speech.
My mom yells at me to do something I will never remember.
Days when "I will be logged out do to inactivity."
When i'm to tried to even push snooze.

Days when I say throw another because the loads already too much and one more won't hurt.

When reading with the rain isn't enough.
No matter how many times I try and say it, it gets caught in my throat and becomes mixed with all the other unneeded words.