words

Parentheses

You're born and in a snap you're paying rent and buying toilet paper and all of your utensils belong to you

Your heart is covered in tape and hot glue and pushpins and strings

And you are no longer a child

And all the words you have ever spoken exist in between two parentheses on your face

You're born and all of these things really do happen in a snap

But five minutes can feel like a lifetime when you're waiting for the final beep on the microwave 

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I really hope that whoever I end up with loves books so that he will understand my references to literature and we can lay in bed together and read and have a huge library created from the combination of two individual lifetimes

The Garden of Me

The pockets of this neighborhood are well worn with nostalgia. I walk the streets at sundown and listen to the wind, and the birds, and the volume of the world alive -- cars vroooming down side streets, the leaf blowers familiar racket, children laughing, dogs barking, and the sound of my high-tops lightly trodding on concrete.

And in this outside space - full of so much normal that, sometimes, I forget to listen - I exist so freely, and the dream narrative that runs through my mind becomes something possible to create.

I am fully awake in this fresh air suburbia, and I am writing my own story in the clear blue of my mind. And all the things I want to be, and do, and see are penciled in on the pages of time stretched ahead of me. And I realize now that it’s up to me to place these seed ideas into the soil of my life garden.

What I put into this earth matters, so I’m doing my best to sit in this planting place each day and tend to the precious life that is growing here. I never want to stop stopping to smell the roses or stand in awe of the bougainvillea, because I understand, now, how long they took to grow.

Someday, when I tell my kids these stories, I’ll start by describing the way the sunlight felt as it poured onto the garden of me.

Heartstrings

Like moving to a new home in the same town

It can never be the same twice 

 

All the days we’ve spent growing up apart  

All the days we will continue not to know each other 

All the days we will become more and more our own as we become less and less each others

 

Stories are happening to us and we don’t pick up the phone to call and tell about them with excitement still in our voices 

 

New life has become us and will continue to become us

No more hellos or how are you’s or ice cream sandwiched between two fresh out of the oven chocolate chip cookies 

No more childhood stars on the ceiling to watch over us as we sleep 

 

Stark stale silence

Forever to fill the space in between us

 

Funny how happy I am, despite the whole thing

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