Why, oh why.

Oh God, things used to be so much easier.
Now all I see are faces I used to recognize
and names I used to know.
The grass isn't much greener on this side.
Please take me back. 

Daddy

Twelve years ago:

You would walk in the front door

to see your little kids running towards you with smiles on their faces. 

Momma always said this was your favorite part about coming home. 

You'd pick me up and swing me around

and I'd say, "Daddy, I'm so glad you're home", 

as I give you a big kiss on the cheek,

and you'd give me a kiss on the forehead,

all with radiant smiles on our faces. 

Today: 

You walked in the front door

to see your children walking towards you.

Momma says I should go say hello, and welcome you home. 

I'd give a quick hug, 

utter the words momma told me to,

and try to walk away with a smile. 

You hardly even noticed the effort I made.

Oh, Daddy. 

Watching those old home movies tonight

made me wish we were still close.

Close enough for me to say,

"Daddy, I'm so glad you're home", 

and for you to give your little girl a kiss on the forehead. 

Daddy, 

Come back to me. 

If you really knew me

If you really knew me, you'd know that I actually enjoy writing, I just think I suck at it.
If you really knew me, you'd know that I love taking baths when i'm stressed,
it calms me down.
If you really knew me, you'd know that my cats are one of the most important things in my life,
I would take a bullet for them.
If you really knew me, you would know that I am a good friend if you get to know me.
If you really knew me, you'd know that i'm going to miss the people in my Creative Writing class
because they accepted me for me.
If you really knew me, you'd know that I like to smile and laugh.
If you really knew me, you wouldn't have to read this post.
Bye bye.

Remembering What Once Was

I remember when we got a flat tire on the first date
and how your dad had to pick us up in his Police car.
I remember when you spent my 17th Birthday with me
and I paid for the movie tickets.
I remember you vividly.

I remember my old home in the desert state,
the one with no scenery, with the exception of some cacti.
I remember walking home in the heat and I remember enjoying it.
I remember the 15 watermelon slices that gave me a tummy ache
and I remember how I still love watermelon.
I had it yesterday.
I remember the pool, the three best friends, the sun.
I can't forget the red ribbon they tied around the lamp post in front of my home when I moved away. 
They told me they visited every day and tied the knot on the red ribbon tighter than they had the day before.
I remember Mesa, Arizona.
My childhood.

I remember when people played with Barbies for fun.
Not just because everybody else did.
I remember when kids at recess yelled "four-eyes" to the kids who wore glasses.
I remember recess and my Kindergarten teacher with the same last name as me. 
She always said I was special and she made me smile.
I remember braces and how they hurt my teeth. 
At least now I have a good smile,
as long as I keep my retainer in at night. 
Daddy makes me wear it every night, but sometimes I take it out
after he says "goodnight".

I remember making chocolate chip cookies, 
the smell of burning cookie dough filling the house. 
They don't know I know, but my family never actually ate them.
Never.

I remember Neon Trees "Everybody Talks" blasting int he car 
because it was our theme song for the summer.
It was the summer where we all stuck together and we sang our hearts out like it was nobody's business.

I remember Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup and Saltine crackers being forced down my throat when I was "sick".
I just really didn't feel like going to school.
I remember how music helped when my heart hurt.
I remember the songs you wrote for the girl you loved 
and how I sang along at every concert.
I remember how you used to be my best buddy.
And how we haven't seen each other for a long time now.
I hope I can see you soon.

I remember when nobody at my high school had died.
Those were better times.
Even if it only lasted up until December of my Sophomore year.
I remember the boys who never said "hello" to me because
I was quiet and different.
Oh, how it hurt me inside.
I always told momma I was fine.
But she would never believe me.
I remember how she cried when she almost lost her baby girl
for the third time.
And I remember how happy she was when she knew it'd be the last time she would have to cry.
I remember.   

Jungle

Won't you follow me into the jungle?

Won't you follow me up the steep hill of life?

Down to hell,

up to heaven,

only to go back to hell in the end.

Just for fun.

Won't you follow me up the canyon

to gaze up at the stars we've named after the people we love?

Of the people who have let us down.

They probably named a couple after us.

Won't you follow me into the jungle?

Follow me to the end of the yellow brick road

where we can find our way back home.

Follow me to the Windy City

so we can find a home to go back to.

Won't you follow me into the jungle?

Let me come to you so I can show you where my heart lies.

Let me follow you forever

so that I will never be lost.

Won't you let me follow you into the Jungle?

My "Friends".

Instructions on how to be nice and make everybody like you:

1. Don't be a heartless wench. 

The end. 

They don't like me because I'm not like the others. I have no "cushion." I'm different.

I'm Jealous of the Rogue Planets

"When I was a kid I used to count backwards from ten..."

I'm jealous of the way her childhood appeared to be. 

I wish that's what I could have done as a kid, what I could have worried about,,

what I could have had on my young mind.

Simply counting down from ten.

"I think of you at ten; the first time I saw you. Your smile at nine and how it lit something up inside me I had thought long dead; your lips at eight pressed against mine and at seven, your warm breath in my ear and your hands everywhere. You tell me you love me at six and at five we have our first fight. At four we have our second and three our third. At two you tell me you cant go on like this any longer and then at one, you ask me to stay."

I'm jealous of the whole thing because when I count backwards from ten it goes like this.

I think of you at ten; the first time I fell into your trap.  

Your lying eyes at nine and how they pulled me into something dark I never thought was there.

Your poisonous lips at eight, whispering dark secrets into my ears and at seven,

your hands pulling me in every direction, never letting me go.

You tell me you will love me at six and at five you prove yourself wrong.

At four we have our fourteenth fight and at three you convince me to stay.

At two I finally see the liar you are and I tell you I can't go on any longer

and then at one, you walk away like it was nothing.

I know this whole thing was probably a silly way to show how i'm jealous of this poem

But things seem to have ended much better for Lang Leav than they did for me.

Naptime

I just laid in bed,

cuddled up with my best friend,

and let the whole world pass me by for a couple hours.

It was nice and definitely something I needed. 

Naps are good. 

I just hope I can get to sleep tonight. 

Man in the Moon

I wonder if the Man in the Moon is like me, or the other way around.

Does he feel like I do? 

Does the Man way up in the sky have a soul mate?

Do I even have a soul mate? 

There are so many questions i'd like to ask him,

if I could.

I wonder if he can feel pain.

I wonder if, when the astronauts landed on his surface, it hurt him just a little.

I bet he tried to tell them that he didn't appreciate them standing on his face,

but they couldn't hear him.

How could they have known? 

He's just the "Man in the Moon." 

I wonder if he gets angry.

Does he express his frustration to the stars?

Or does he bottle it all up inside, 

like I do? 

I get the feeling that the Man in the Moon and I are more alike than we think.

I know this sounds strange, but it is often on my mind.

I think we all have a little piece of the Man in the Moon inside of us.

He feels, like we do.

He hurts, just like all of us.

He has outbursts of sudden anger, just like you and I.

He's no different than we are.

Think about it.

March Madness Mash-up. 2014

I shall be telling this with a sigh,

Just like moons and like suns.

My bones said, "Write the Poems."

It seems only yesterday I used to believe

What he feels for me.

And you were probably

The best reason I ever heard,

I want it to confirm.

I used to say,

"Do not go gentle into that good night",

And we were lost for ages.

When youth and blood were warmer;

the sky of the sky of a tree called life grew higher than the soul could hope

or the mind could hide,

And we would write letters to the ones we loved.

For everything that's lovely is

twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

to strike straight.

But I like it because it is bitter, 

because it would frighten you, 

hopelessly.

To think that all this time,

the loud voice is famous to silence,

that having once been told, we played along.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

WHEN I was one-and-twenty

my heart broke loose on the wind,

because I wanted so badly to return the favour,

and I didn't even learn to love.

Proving nature's laws wrong, 

we shall WALK with a WALK that is measured and slow,

realizing we had never actually been rescued.

But that's not all-

We wanted to GET OUT.

But we miss it every time.

And I am so relieved, so relieved- and a little disappointed.

Now, there is a pretty girl, 

lost out in the woods.

It was not always this way,

for bravery runs in MY family.

And so when your heart begins to beat,

stand still, yet we will make him run.

-I am nobody! Who are you?

-I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

And tonight is filled with rage,

it's too late,

"They won't last,"

With a heart made from the neck of a giraffe because

I want my love to be long 

long

long

long.

I remember.

I felt the life sliding out of me,

like a heavy load, 

drugged perhaps by the hum of a long afternoon.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

I've never really stayed in one place,

for life's not a paragraph

and death I think is no parenthesis.

And my soul keeps trying, trying

to be STRONG like that.

Like you.

And you fit into me

like a hook into an eye.

Space Camp Rough Draft

I never wanted to be an Astronaut, not once did I dream of being a Dentist. I never dreamt of being a Ballerina or a Singer, a Composer, a Teacher, a Dealer. No, I always dreamt of being something more.  Something bigger than what everyone else wanted as a child.. 

I didn't want to be the same as the other kids. The kids who played dress up and went Trick or Treating as a Princess or a Fireman because that's what they "wanted to be when they grew up." But it was really because that's what their parents picked out for them, because their friends thought it was "cool" and they should all be Princesses and Firemen. 

But now the girls go together as a big group of Lifeguards with shorts that are too short and the guys dress up as the Football Players they already are. They go with the crowd, they don't know what they want. They do what makes them "cool". 
Well, I know what I want.

 I've always known what I want, unlike any of you other high school kids. To the kids who have doubted me and my ability to succeed with what I want to be in life, just you wait and see. This is my space camp and I run the show. 

Your name looks like Jack Johnson

Everybody always tells me how much they love Jack Johnson

and it gets boring after a while.

Because I loved Jack Johnson, once upon a time.

Nobody loved Jack as much as I did, that's the truth.

I loved you.

I loved the way you would play Jack's songs in the car like they were your own, 

and I would always dream of making Banana Pancakes with you one day.

Because it was always rainy and there was never a need to go outside.

I loved you.

I still remember the day we met, sometime during your last year of High School.

And even though it wasn't anytime in early September,

it felt like it with you. 

You were my Jack Johnson.

I loved you.

I thought love was the answer for all of the questions in my heart,

but life happened and now we're here.

You're somebody else's Jack Johnson and i'm somebody's nobody.

I'm just glad that it's all understood.

I'll always love you, bud.

This one goes out to my best friend. You know who you are.

-Ruby

Fireplace

I don't know why I think about you anymore. 

I mean, yeah. I see you at school in the halls almost every day, 

And I think about you because I see you. 

But that's not what I'm talking about.

I think about you when I'm trying to fall asleep at night.

I think about you when 17 by Youth Lagoon is playing on repeat. 

I think about you when I have a craving for crepes, 

When I sit by a fireplace.

That's bolded because it was special to me.

And because my fireplace doesn't work worth shit. 

Point is, I can't stop thinking about you. 

And I can't stand it. 

I put 17 on repeat with the hope that it will lose it's meaning and 

become just another song that I find to be sorta rad. 

I have a recipie for crepes now because I don't need you 

to show me how to make them anymore. 

I can do it on my own.

I sit by other fireplaces, hoping that the heat from each one

will feel the same as your fireplace did

so that it won't have any special meaning to me. 

So that it won't keep me up at night with the thought of you. 

My mind is so worn out from thinking of you. 

If we took a look at my brain, all you would see are ashes. 

Ashes created by the thoughts of that stupid fireplace. 

I just wish my own damn fireplace would work. 

I'm done thinking of you. 

To Remember Forever; To Always Forget

I'll remember forever: you.

I'll always forget: us.

I'll always remember the nights spent gazing at the stars

I'll try to forget the feelings I had those nights.

I'll always remember the fireplace and how it warmed my frozen toes

I'll try my hardest to forget how you thought that was cute. 

That I was cute.

I will always and forever remember the times spent talking about our lives and the mistakes we had made,

I'll try really hard to forget what I told you about myself.

But you will never forget.

I will always remember the way you would stare at me, 

saying nothing at all, 

smiling all the while.

I'll try my best to forget the butterflies I got when you told me it was because I was beautiful. 

I'd like to try and catch them all and put them back in my stomach.

Maybe you can help me?

I'll always remember the time that I kissed you by my car for the very first time,

and how you were caught off guard.

But it was a good thing.

I really hope that I can forget how badly I blushed 

and how your lips tasted on mine. 

I'll always remember how I apologized for everything

even though I didn't really know what I was apologizing for.

I'll try to forget how mad it made me that I was the only one saying "sorry."

I'll try really hard with that one.

I'll always remember scrolling through her pictures on all the social networking sites that mess with my head,

and thinking to myself, "Wow. She's really pretty. He's lucky." 

I'll try so hard to forget how it felt like somebody had stabbed me in the heart. 

I think it will be good for me to forget.

I promise i'll try my hardest.

Because

I'll remember forever: you.

I'll always forget: us.

I told him I would paint this picture for him.

Don't even know why I did this.

I'm insecure about a lot of things, as I'm sure we all are. 

But if I told then all to you, it'd take too long. 

Maybe on another post. 

My head hurts now.

Bye.

Death

"A pale white face 

And deep set eyes

Your lips glued shut 

And hands by your thighs.

Your expression is painted 

Like a Victorian doll

Red lips, flushed cheeks

No expression at all.

You're dressed delicately

With flowers in your hair 

Your features absent of pain 

Sorrow and despair

The smell of rose lingers 

Mixed with decay

How beautiful you look

Now your life's slipped away."

Anonymous.

This poem is the poem I found when my best friends mom died

And I went to look in the casket, praying for it to be empty.

But it wasn't.

I sat in the corner and cried.

That part was worse than the service. 

Idk

Wrap me up in flowers
Strap me to a tank,
There is no peace in love or war
So please just let me sink. 

Loves of My Life

I love the sun.

I love seeing the tulips blooming in my yard.

I love to sweat while I pull weeds in the backyard.

Nobody likes to pull weeds. 

I love shutting out the loud voices of people

in the halls with my headphones and music.

I love getting more freckles on my face

even though I tell everyone that I hate them.

I secretly like them because they make me feel pretty.

And that's OK, right?

I love the boys who ask girls to dances

because they put themselves out there for the ones they like. 

Or even asking a girl because they know she's never been

and she really needs it. Those are my favorite boys. 

The nice boys.

I love my kitty cats because they love me no matter what. 

My sister and I plan on having 10 cats when we're older.

We'd pick cats over men any day. 

That was irrelevant

 but I felt like this post needed some humor. 

Even though half of you thought that wasn't even funny. 

Oh, well.

I love feeling the summer breeze on my face,

watching it whip my hair around.

I love to change things about my appearance. 

It makes me feel like a new person 

but my personality still remains.

I love warm blankets during the winter

because they remind me of the summertime.

I love watermelon.

As long as it's the seedless kind.

I don't like to spit out the black seeds.

I once ate 17 pieces of watermelon in Arizona

and I got a horrible stomachache afterwards.

Somehow, I still love it. 

I love the way he loves me. 

No need to elaborate.

I love the boy who played Peter Pan. 

I always wished I could be Wendy. 

Maybe I can shoot the Wendy Bird down..

I love music from movies.

Especially the ones with an orchestra. 

How to Train Your Dragon has the best soundtrack.

I love my little sister and how close we've become.

I might even get a tattoo of her birthday in Roman Numerals

when I turn 18. 

Maybe then my mom won't be so mad.

These are the loves of my life.

Fears of the Unknown

My fears are the following:

The monsters under my bed. Unlike Rihanna, the monsters and I are not friends.

Spiders. Whether you consider it an irrational or rational fear,

most of you will scream like the little girls you are when you find it to be hanging out in the bathroom stall with you.

The Future and what it holds for me. Will I get good grades like my older siblings and have the career I want?

Will I disappoint my professors, my friends, my parents?

My Parents. . The things they hold over my head, 

threatening to drop the blade on the guillotine at any second. 

The love they try to show me, 

the same love that I can see through so easily.

But fears can be conquered. 

And one day, I will conquer this particular fear, and I hope that my parents will do the same.

I hope that they can conquer the fear of losing their daughter. 

Just because she isn't Mormon.

I have a lot of fears, more than I can count.

If I tried naming them all, you'd be reading for hours. 

I'll spare your time. 

Peace.

"May I?" -Remy Raine

“I like your hair; 
May I play with it?
I like your eyes; 
May I penetrate them 
with mine?
I like your nose; 
May I nuzzle it?
I like your ears
; May I nibble them?
I like your lips; 
May I bite them,
gently?
I like your neck
; May I give it some
love bites?
I like your back
; May I leave a trail 
of kisses?
I like your arms
; May I squeeze each one
into a hug?
I like your hands; 
May I pull them to the
side of my face?
I like your chest
; May I rest my head 
on it?
I like your tummy; 
May I tickle it?
I like your legs; 
May I wrap mine 
around yours?
I like your feet
; May I use mine 
to play with them?
I like your heart; 
May I be in it?
I hope you like mine; 
You’re stuck in it”



I apologize, but I really enjoy Remy's poetry. It's another Tumblr thing.
I hope you'll understand, Nelson.

"When I Said Fragile" -Remy Raine

“Someday you’ll understand 
what I meant when I said that word


What I meant when I rested the palm 
of my hand on your chest and said, ‘Fragile’ 


What I wanted you to feel 
when I started to trace your eyebrows
with my fingers and said, ‘I like this’


What I wanted you to believe 
when I proceeded to trace the lining 
of your eyes and repeated, ‘I like this’

And how I continued with your 
nose and your lips, ‘I like this, I like this’

And how I gently passed your neck, ‘I like this’ 

And how my fingers stopped when they 
brushed your left chest again, ‘Fragile’

Someday you’ll understand 
what I had in mind when I said that word 


What burning desire I had for you to know
that I wouldn’t break your heart
like the others did in your past 


That I would never make empty promises


That you could trust me when I say 
the words, ‘I love you’


That I would take care of that delicate heart of yours

Someday you’ll understand 
how I felt when I said that word

How I was crying inside when I spoke it
 
How I felt the pain that you were denying
How I was determined to prove you wrong

How I would go through day and night for you

Someday you’ll understand 
my intention when I said that word


Why I said it even though I was more 
broken than you would ever be


Why I wasn’t willing to let you pay
for his and his mistakes 


Why I ignored my own pain 
and cried for you instead

 Someday you’ll understand
what I wanted when I said that word

What I wanted you to realize 
when I touched you there

To realize that I was ready to bleed for you

To bleed from the cuts on my fingers 
as I pick up the fragments of your heart
and make it whole again

Someday you’ll understand
why I left my hand there and said, ‘Fragile’


Why I didn’t want you to make love to me


That all I wanted from you 
was to let me love you


Even when I secretly wished that
you would fight for me too ”

Alternate Synonyms:

These are words that can be used in place of the word: DIFFERENT

Enjoy.

1.Alternate: arranged or occurring in turns, or seealternative; also, every other (also a verb)
2. Alternative: referring to a choice; also, apart from the conventional or usual
3. Assorted: consisting of different kinds
4. Differing: see distinct, or changing from one case or situation to another; also, disagreeing
5. Discernable: able to be recognized as different; also detectable or recognizable
6. Discrete: see distinct
7. Disparate: see distinct, or incompatibly different
8. Dissimilar: not alike
9. Distant: different in kind; also, separated or far away from, going a long way, or far behind, or reserved in behavior, or distracted
10. Distinct: separate, or readily distinguishable; also, notable or unmistakable
11. Divergent: differing from each other or from a standard
12. Divers: see various (also an unrelated and differently pronounced plural form of diver)
13. Diverse: see distinct, or unlike
14. Eclectic: Drawn from various sources, or see heterogeneous
15. Heterogeneous: consisting of dissimilar ingredients or parts
16. Idiosyncratic: having a distinguishable quality; also, eccentric, or hypersensitive
17. Indiscriminate: see heterogeneous or motley; also, random, unrestrained, or careless about distinction
18. Individual: see separate; also, pertaining to an individual or individuality (also a noun)
19. Kitchen-sink: consisting of noticeably different parts; also, referring to the degrading aspects of poverty
20. Magpie: collected indiscriminately; also, acquisitive (also, a person who collects indiscriminately or chatters, or the bird whose behavior inspires these usages)
21. Manifold: see diverse or various; also, many, or consisting of various qualities (also an unrelated noun)
22. Miscellaneous: see diverse
23. Mixed: consisting of more than one kind (also a verb)

Currently: This was stolen from somebody else's journal and I thought it was good. So i'm using it.

FEELING: A. Happy 
                         B. Butterflies in my tiny tummy
                         C. Loved
                         D. All of the above.
EATING:  Tea and Cookie Dough. I don't care if it makes me fat, it makes me feel good.

LISTENING TO: Fast Car by Boyce Avenue. I saw them in concert and they were really good, so I listen to them all the time. Their music gives me the feels.

HANGING OUT WITH: My really handsome boyfriend who loves me very much and I love him. We're happy.

SMELLING: His really good smelling cologne that he knows I love. 

THINKING ABOUT: My future with him. It looks really good. I see a small house near the city with a little girl and a little boy, maybe a couple cats.. Cats are good. 

Insert name here:

C: for the way you CARELESSLY

cut my heart out of my chest, taking your sweet time

and finishing the deed by saying to me, "it was my pleasure."

O: for the times when I see you in the halls at school.

OBLIVIOUS. 

O: for those instances when I OFFERED my friendship,

my trust,

when I offered you everything I had. 

But it wasn't enough for you.

P: for PERFECT. 

Or not perfect enough. 

Even the journal entries from so long ago

that I RIPPED out to show you I cared. 

I ripped those pages of my sweet, sweet Paris to give you proof. 

There's an alternate word for P. 

PROOF. 

The proof I gave you was never good enough. 

E: for END. The ending of our story. The last couple pages,

blowing away into a deep abyss of hatred and sadness. 

All because nothing was what you had imagined.

Having me around wasn't how you had pictured it being. 

There were no rainbows or Sunshine, no happy endings.

You just got me. 

And that wasn't enough. 

R: for REGRET. Because I regret every single second spent with you.

I wish you could see these words that I hesitate to type with the fear 

of people knowing who I am. 

But these words are worth writing, they are worth speaking. 

I regret the long nights spent in front of your fireplace

and I regret discovering those crazy songs with you. 

I regret the catering jobs, the dreams, the hot chocolate that you knew I would never touch. 

I regret you. I regret us. 

And I'm glad that this was the last chapter of out story. 

Tumblr Lyfe

"Yesterday, I watched the sun touch the horizon.
                In such a way
That even the sky blushed
                And I thought about what I'd do
To do something like that to you."

                   -Anonymous artist on Tumblr.
I loved it so I stole it, even though it wasn't from anyone in our class.
                   But isn't that the point of this class?
To steal from artists we discover from all over the place, to change it up, make it our own...

Or simply leave it how it is. Because sometimes that's the perfect way to steal.

Tumblr is the source of all greatness. 

I find everything there.

And that's where I get most of my inspiration from.

Go ahead, judge. I don't care. 

Love

"I love the way you look at me,
Your eyes so bright and blue.
I love the way you kiss me,
Your lips so soft and smooth.

I love the way you make me so happy,
And the ways you show you care.
I love the way you say, "I Love You,"
And the way you're always there.

I love the way you touch me,
Always sending chills down my spine.
I love that you are with me,
And glad that you are mine."

This is the poem that you showed me

Because it made you think of me.

And it made you happy,

so I was happy.

And that,

That is love. 

Just a normal Valentines Day in Creative Writing:

I think my Valentines Box is going to turn out really cool. 

But I apologize in advance to all of my classmates for the Valentines you're going to receive.

I tried to make them look nice. 

It's the thought that counts, right?

Valentines Day is so overrated.

The girls are needy.
The guys are desperate for a date.
Me, I just hate the world on Valentines Day.

But I'll admit, sometimes it's nice to have somebody care enough to take you out on a nice date.
Unless they're really creepy.
Then you pull the "my mom says I can't go" card.
That always works.

I was lucky enough to have somebody ask to take me out on Friday the 14th, which is nice.
I'm really excited because I like this guy.

Then there's another boy who I know really wanted to take me out,
but he told me he thinks it's sketchy to have two dates in one day.
I think it's ok as long as you don't have your tongue down both of their throats, personally...
I was looking forward to spending time with him, cause he's my best friend,
But I don't think I've been the best friend he's been needing.

So Valentines Day sucks because people just get sad.
That's how it always is, nobody is ever truly happy.
Somebody always gets thrown down in the dirt, and unfortunately,
it happened to be my best friend this time.

I wish he would just take me out anyway. Be a man.
Rub some dirt on it.

Roller Coaster

Nobody seems to enjoy roller coasters anymore, which I honestly don't understand because without them, where's the fun in life? Big roller coasters, small roller coasters, all kinds of roller coasters, I love them all.

I love the thrill.

And I know there's somebody out there who loves roller coasters as much as I do, I just have to find them.

 I love the feeling I get in my stomach while going down a big drop, throwing my hands up in the air and screaming at the top of my lungs while people stare. But I don't care because i'm having the time of my life. They can suck it. 

Let's go to Magic Mountain, you and I. 

I'll even buy you a funnel cake.... After the rides.

Won't somebody ride a roller coaster with me? 

Crayola Crayons

It starts in Kindergarten with a box of Crayola Crayons, a piece of paper, and an imagination that is endless.

Now, we wonder what we were thinking in Kindergarten with all those silly crayons, all the stupid pictures we drew, but back then we thought we were the most important people in the world and all those stupid pictures we drew were masterpieces. Hell, our parents even hung them up on the fridge for friends and family to see.

 They must have thought we were pretty important then and that we had a wonderful imagination. So, why isn't it that way now? Why does the teacher make us type research papers rather than draw pictures with crayons and why don't we get a nap time, most importantly, why are there no juice boxes handed out? It's like they're sucking the creativity and imagination right out of our heads and I say we change things up.

I say we get an hour or two during the school day dedicated to being in Kindergarten again because those were the days. Those were the days where we could be carefree and not worry about a single thing. The days where we could take our Crayola Crayons and scribble lines all over the paper, sometimes even the wall, and get put in time out to think about what we did wrong.

Man, what i'd give to go back to those days just one last time. Sometimes, I still carry my Crayola Crayons in my backpack just in case I feel like being in Kindergarten again. 

THESE THINGS ARE HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL:

Like the ending of a chick flick where the couple always ends up together somehow, like the cool rain that falls during the hot summer months, not like the rain we get during these sad winter months, I hate that kind of rain. But you already know that from all the times i've told you.

You make me feel like i'm in elementary school again and it's just a little school girl crush, but those are the best because back then I didn't care what boys would think and I let the butterflies flow right up from my stomach and out my mouth without a single care. If we were in Elementary school and I let those butterflies out, they would engulf you.

You make me feel... well, that's just it. You make me feel. I try not to feel anything, I try to keep it all in and block everyone out so they never get a glimpse of those beautifully colored butterflies. But you, you pull the butterflies out of my stomach and you beg for them to engulf you. The way your brown eyes taunt me, the way the ink on your skin tells a story about who you are and what you've been through, it gets me. You get me. And I get you. And we're meant to be like Anna and Christoff, like Hiccup and Astrid.