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My Woodcutter and IThe other night, my younger sister, my mom, and I somehow got on the topic of princes. They decided I need a prince to come sweep me off my feet. I have since decided I do not need nor do I want a prince. A prince would be too formal, too flashy, too ornate, and too busy; not nearly as comfortable as I would like to be. I want a woodcutter (Do not say lumberjack because a lumberjack and a woodcutter are two completely different things in my head. My fella doesn’t wear plaid and overalls, thanks very much.) I want someone quiet-like but goofy, slightly awkward like me, someone I can snuggle with and not have to worry about looking good enough or having others watch us. I want someone simple. Not simpleminded, but simple. I want a little wood house deep in the forest where me and my woodcutter can live. He can chop wood during the day and I’ll keep a garden and clean the house, go draw water from the creek that will naturally be by our house (because wells just haven’t
The Pen CapThere is a pen cap stuck in one of the holes in a pew on the fourth aisle up in our Chapel at Church. We put it there. Or at least one of us did. I don’t know how or when it got there, but ever since it got stuck there, it has marked my family’s pew at Church. We have sat in that same row every Sunday for at least 10 years, except those days in which we are too late to get our usual seat or are on vacation. However, a little while back, maybe two weeks, maybe two months, who knows, we found the pen cap missing. We were immediately disappointed, as it seemed to match our family: loyal, faithful, but slightly askew, quirky, idiosyncratic, you know, just kind of…weird. Fun. A little bit irreverent but still respectful. The fact that that little signature of ours was suddenly gone distressed me for more reasons then one: It marked change. It meant moving on, and growing up. I am 21 and therefore, I am almost finished with my Bachelor’s Degree. My two older siblings
Pretend it's MorningThis morning I had to wake up at 5:45 in the morning to get ready for work. All types of feelings were aroused in me by this: anger, irritation, exhaustion, hatred for my boss, etc. Until I realized something: It was quiet. In a house with 7 people, there are rare moments when all of us are home but the house is quiet. I reveled in the silence. The house was so peaceful there, with the moon peeking in through the window, as if to check in on me before leaving for its hiding place behind the sun. The stairs creaked unnaturally loud, groaning in exhaustion, as I crept up and down while getting ready. I love those edges of the day, right before its deathly night, when everyone is just entering Dreamland and those precious moments before the sun awakens, when Dreamland is starting to drift away, and it creeps out of your head leading you to consciousness. I loved creeping around the house at that hour, quietly making my breakfast and saying hello to the sunrise while everyone else was just
There is a houseThere is a house, where stairs creak, and windows squeak. The house lies forgotten, dust embedded in every corner, age written upon every stair railing and piece of rotting wood. There is a house that lies in a place beyond sight. The only way there is through those that know the house already, and those people never speak of it. Only in hushed, reverent tones, in the silence of the night can the house be spoken of. The house is a memory, which cannot be reminisced without the bitterest and sweetest sorrow. There is a house that no one speaks of, for fear of the house disappearing from memory forever. The house is a dream, an elusive picture that fades as one tries to catch it. People may stop and rest, but they may never stay. There is a house, a house that bring peace, rest, and joy. There is a house that is so familiar people ache with the memory of it, for the house is home. And home is within the heart. There is a house that is a heart, a heart of a person that has forgotten, who
There is a meadowThere is a meadow, where the wind dances through the trees, and the sound of leaves rustling echoes back through the wind. The leaves chase the wind, exulting in the wind’s excitement. There is a meadow, where the sun shines and stretches itself as far as it can reach. The sun relaxes, enjoying its safe haven and sharing its glory with all that it touches. Warmth emanates from the sun’s rays, brightening the meadow. There is a meadow that has a river. The river has rocks, colorful rocks, plain rocks, rocks that have seen dinosaurs, have been stepped on by every kind of animal, have been tossed by playful children, and have used as stepping stones. The water rushes over the rocks, cleansing them in its hurry to get somewhere only the water knows. There is a meadow where flowers grow and birds sing. Dandelions flutter in the breeze, and birds soar through the sky, plucking at bushes and singing of the joys of the peace of the meadow. There is a meadow where the gate is a brea
In case I ever forgetIn case I ever forget myself:
In case I ever forget myself, and lose who I am in the chaos around me; in case one day I wake up and forget that I was once alive; in case one day I drown from the noise in my head; in case one day someone tells me who I should be and I believe them; In case one day I think I'm not good enough and start to believe it:
I like rain walks. I like to feel the water on my skin and the smell in the air and the raindrops clouding up my eyes. I like that I feel alive and close to the earth as I hear the skies rumble and the nonsensical rhythm as the rain falls, not caring where or how it lands.
I love the beach. I love that I never feel too big for the ocean, and that I always feel slightly threatened yet safe standing in the tide. I like the feeling that this world is bigger than we could ever understand.
I love music that makes me cry. That pulls at my heartstrings and refuses to let go because it's what I feel inside. I like when I don't understand how I feel
I am twilightI am the sunrise and the sunset.
I don't shine like the sun or radiate like the moon.
I just hang in the heavy air of twilight.
Beautiful ThingsThe end is coming and we both know it.
The exuberance we show is nothing but a mask. A facade to hide the truth we both know: This was never meant to last. It is foolishness to pretend otherwise but the sunset is to beautiful to give up, so we cling to its rays with a desperation that makes the angels cry. This is the most beautiful thing we've known, and beautiful things never seem to stay.
You Told Me That You Loved MeYou told me that you loved me
And breathed life in to my world
You told me that you loved me
And you’ll always be my girl
You told me that you loved me
That I’m such a special man
You told me that you loved me
And we were part of His plan
Now you tell me you don’t love me
But you still let me believe
You tell me you don’t love me
And you never let me grieve
You tell me you don’t love me
That we can only be friends
Then you tell me you still love me
But never speak to me again
in the big blue.
So alive in the surf,
so afraid to break the surface
Staring up through the dappled sun,
tail swishing in wonder.
How i wish for
the Celtic Sea
is my big blue playground.
My bravado grows in the night.
are just bright enough to guide me.
The moon controls the tide,
the dawn sends me
Did You Love MeDid you love me then?
Do you love me now?
If you ever did
Can you tell me how?
How you could leave me
And love someone new
Was it really that easy
To leave me and you
You live in our house
And sleep in our room
While I share with a mouse
In a depressing gloom
I still have your picture
The one where you laugh
When you loved me for sure
And we didn’t have a past
I still catch a whiff
Of your love and perfume
But if I step off this cliff
I will be with you soon
So meet me at the end
And we’ll ride off together
And our souls will mend
My SkinMy skin my skin
Why does it begin with my skin
Is this world so worldly
Is everyone's pride so lordly
Why is my skin unworthy
Unworthy of your touch
What does my skin have to be
Does it have to be half of me
Why do you have to laugh at me
Laugh at me so much
My skin is only part of me
But it’s the only part you see
I wish someone would set me free
Free from your words clutch
What would happen if my skin was gone
Then would I be a beautiful swan
Would I be a delicate fawn
Why is my skin a crutch
Beneath my skin there is more to see
Beneath my skin there is more of me
Beneath my skin i am free
Free to be me and such
My skin my skin
Why does it begin with my skin
and not with me
It Hurt My Heart.You were here....
Now... You're gone....
I don't understand what's going on...
The tears are there...
The shakiness too...
I'm screaming inside. "It's not True"
I can't think Straight...
My mind is a mess...
Why do I feel like it's a stressful test...
I swear my heart just turned cold...
One made of rock and stone....
But not even I would have known...
Who thought this could happen...
A life taken away like that...
It feels like someone just beat me with a bat...
All your friends care right now.
And yeah we're all crying...
And now, its like the stars brightness is dying...
It was so fast...
Who could have thought...
Or is this just a sick joke we all bought...
I still don't believe it..
And I refuse too...
My soul's crying. "This isn't true!"
I don't know where to start...
Or where to even end....
But you were a good friend.
And if the story is true...
Then I wish you well,
As I hide in this cell,
Carry on, you were strong!
And I'll remember you like you aren't gone.
PerspectiveTo me I am nothing
To me I am worthless
But to others I am everything
And to some I am priceless
It is all in perspective
About the things I refuse to see
All I can see is something defective
Self consciousness blocks out the things I could be
Yet my friends see something with prospective
They see the possibility of greatness in me
EmptinessThere's nothing that holds me here
Nothing to keep
Just the everlasting suffering
Down there in my deepest deep
I won't pass the test of life
Everything I touch fades away
I'm not good enough to survive
Loneliness is ruling my every day
I believe only lies
The demons are chasing me
I run with blindfolded eyes
Dragging me into everything I don't wanna be
In these dark days now it's showing
I'm nothing more than an illusion
It's clearly to see where it's going
My life's damaged by intrusion
Blinded and chained down
I'm locked up again
Once again expecting to drown
All my efforts were in vain
He's like a ghost within me
That is draining my soul
Keeping up the forever agony
I'm sure that's his goal
Love Trapped In DarknessSurpassed by the ones confirming you're lost,
Forced into nothing, unaware of the cost,
Faded, berated, broken, and tried,
Unforgiving of the tears you've cried,
Cast into darkness by the ones you held dear,
It's anything and everything you've now come to fear,
Scared, alone, and taken aback,
It appears as if life has faded to black,
But even you know that better days await,
They're just hard to see in your current state,
Until those days come, you must do your best,
You must show the world you are not what they suggest,
You're NOT lost, You're NOT done, You're NOT gone,
You're going to show them that you still can go on,
Forget what they say, what they do, what they think,
Because when the darkness subsides, you'll no longer sink,
When you arise from the darkness, there I will stand,
Ready and willing, reaching out my hand,
Together, we will find a place to hide,
A place where the darkness cannot come inside,
We'll hide there forever, just you and me,
And live there together, happy as
Remembering YouI remember your smile when you looked my way.
It gave me confidence every day.
I remember your laugh when it was free from care.
It rang out full and filled the air.
I remember your hands as they stroked my hair,
As you chased away my every fear.
I remember your face when I sleep at night,
And I ponder how to make your burdens light.
I remember your love wherever I go,
And I hope you know I love you so.
Keep in Touch!