Silly, isn't it

Silly, isn't it? Love. You know, words can't describe it. Actions can't do it justice. No, we just have to trust it. Trust that feeling.

But that's tough now days. The more advanced the world gets, the more explanations people demand. And how do you expect to explain love? Who is truly foolish enough to ask such a question?

Modern society, I guess. Those who feel entitled to an answer for everything, I guess.

He asked me recently, "what's the difference? What's the difference between me and everyone else who you've seen? Everyone else you've opened up to- past friendship." And is stood shocked, dumbfounded and overwhelmed. My face , unexplainable. I managed to stumble over some words, come up with an answer I knew would suffice. I knew the true answer would scare him. The true answer scared me.

You see the true answer, required no explanation.
The true answer required three simple words, a feeling that could be worded no other way.
You see the true answer was I loved him.
But the trouble with love now days, is we think we can explain it. We think we can come up with better words. We think there's a softer, more cautious way of telling it. And that's where we are flawed. There's no other way to state it, no safe route, no 'simple' explanation.
There's just I . Love . You .
We're just not brave enough to state it.


Sincerely,
Laughing at love

I want to appreciate a lunar eclipse

Thank god for social media now days. Honestly. If it weren't for the internet I wouldn't have known that tonight was a total lunar eclipse. So shoutout to that.

I'm not sure what got me so excited about tonight's lunar eclipse, but suddenly it was 1am and I found myself feverishly moving my queen bed across my room so I could lay in bed and stare out the window.

And that's what I've been doing. For about 45 minutes now. Curled up in my heated blanket. Music softly playing in the background.

Im soaking up this moment.

You see, I'm not sure if I've ever seen a lunar eclipse. But if I have, I don't really remember it. That's the problems with memories, you can forget them if you don't appreciate them enough at the time. So I thought it important I replenish the memory, and really savor in this lunar eclipse.

Maybe I'll make a wish. Do you wish on a lunar eclipse? No? Ah well, I plan to.

How cool huh?
I can't think of a better, more literary, way to explain how much our world and all it's wonders amaze me.

No matter how old I get, I promise to keep pushing my bed to the window, staying up till too late, watching the moon. No matter how early my classes might be, no matter how early I may have to be to work, no matter how tired I may be. I'll stay up.

It's the little things like this that keep us young, all the little wonders screaming 'I'm still cool, don't grow too old or good for met yet'

A sliver of the moon is left, my computer screen has gone to sleep and the quiet music is left playing, so I think it's time I go back to my moon.

Yes, my moon. Because from my perfectly positioned bed, from my old Victorian windows, I've got my eyes set on the moon; making it mine.

I'll remember this lunar eclipse.


Sincerely,
Laughing with the moon

We're All Battling the Little Hand on the Clock

The older I get, the more sentimental birthdays have become for me. Not even my own birthdays, but the birthdays of those I love around me. Whether someone I love is turning 6 or 60, I really feel that year passing is incredibly important. Sure they're getting older, growing wiser, moving closer to adulthood or old age for that matter. But what we seem to forget about birthdays, when we are busy celebrating the fact this person is alive, Is that we were blessed to have so much time with the individual. Sure, when someone's turning six, it may seem silly to think 'I'm blessed to have spent six years being a part of this child's life', because you assume theres so much time left. But the older I get the more I realize how crucial and how much of a blessing time truly is.

We count our lives in days, and every year being 365 days seems like so much time. But when I look at the people I love,  2million days still doesn't seem like enough, and 365 days feels like absolutely nothing. You see the older I get, the more I realize that tomorrow is never guaranteed, and though this may seem like a sad thought, it truly isn't. The fact that our lives could stop at any second, is cause to celebrate. What good would time be, if it went on forever? If we didn't have a limited amount of time to show the people we love, how much we love them, then we would never try with all our might.

You see, the fact we are guaranteed no certain amount of time with a person, makes the time we have so crucial. The fact every moment count be the last, makes every moment monumental to our lives. It's terrifying to think that every moment could be someones last, even our own, but as scary as it may be; it's liberating. This time crunch we're all in, gives us the motivation we need to act in the moment, to follow our instincts.

This time crunch also is what makes everyones birthday, so sentimental. At least to me. Every birthday serves as a reminder to me that time is short and I've only got so much time left to say everything I need to. So I better start talking. I better start telling them all those things. I better start showing them how much I care. Because if someone I love were to die tomorrow, I would want to be able to say I worked my hardest, gave all of my heart, and never stopped showing them how much I love them.

When I was in junior high, I came to the realization I had pretty old parents. My mother and father had never seemed old to me, they weren't in wheel chairs, they were still working their asses off, hell they were still jumping out of planes and riding motorcycles like it was their day job. But, they were in the scheme of time, old. Being 19 and having parents who are 55+, is scary as a young adult, especially as a teenager. I used to worry about all the events in my life I had to make sure I did in time. I had to make sure I got married in time, make sure I graduated college in time, make sure I had kids in time.

I didn't want to take too long because I knew I couldn't control time; so in order to conquer time itself, I thought I had to speed it up. I wanted to make sure I did everything in a timely fashion, so that I could get it all done.

Then in 8th grade my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. And time started to threaten me.

It felt as if I were racing against time for so long without feeling any threat of losing, then in the blink of an eye, time was a few feet behind me keeping pace with ever step I took. Time was right behind me chanting and trying to beat me down; 'I can catch up, I can beat you, look out'.

Luckily, time never caught up with me in 8th grade. Time never stopped for my father. I was given back my watch and left to keep time for myself. But the fact that it could have caught me, began to teach me to appreciate time. I realized time was a strong competitor, not to be underestimated.

I quit looking at my time with my parents as a calendar that I had to squeeze a certain number of things into and started taking things day by day. Now I'm not saying my parents are by any means going to die soon, but Ive learned that regardless of age, we all can die any day. Don't worry about what needs to be done, what you might miss out on with someone, or what can't be fit into the time you've got. Just focus on the time. Focus on every second.

If we dwell in time, if we count the minutes, we cause ourselves to fall into the trap of  time; believing we are limited. We fall under the control of the little hand on the clock. But if we quit looking at the clock, quit counting down the days, quit worrying about the future; then we have the ability to make the most of the time we've got.

Fit everything you can into your time. Say I love you as much as you want. Hug the ones you love, even if they tell you not too. Never spend to much time angry with someone. Remember forgiveness will always be a better way to spend your time. And never, ever, worry about time. It's not something you can control.

Sincerely,

laughing at the face of the clock.

I Must Have Blinked

I have this theory, it has to do with blinking. 

I think when we blink, we miss more than simply a millisecond. 

No, we must miss more than a millisecond. 

Because I swear, I just blinked, and you were telling me you loved me. 

But, I had only blinked. 

And you can't tell me in that millisecond, everything changed. 

You can't tell me in a millisecond, you fell in love. 

But, you tell me you did. 

And so I believed you. 

And we went on our merry way, hand in hand down Rooney Street. 

And it was just past midnight. 

But, I must have blinked. 

Because suddenly, it was the morning. 

And I looked around. 

And I searched for you, all over and around that house. 

And it was just past eight. 

But, I must have blinked. 

Because I couldn't find you, I couldn't find you anywhere. 

And I can't figure out why. 

And I know you were just lying next to me. 

And I know just last midnight, you told me you loved me. 

But, I must have blinked. 

Because you aren't coming back, it's been two days since midnight. 

And I really thought you loved me. 

And I believed you when you said you fell in love in that millisecond. 

And I thought we'd get married when we woke up. 

But, I must have blinked. 

And I must have blinked again.

And blinked again. 

Because you've been gone four years, and your urn lies on the mantle. 

And it all just happened so fast. 

And now I can't remember the the last time you were here. 

And I know just last midnight, you told me you loved me. 

But, 

I must have blinked. 

Sincerely, 

Writing not so funny make shift poetry now I guess 

Still laughing at life, just not this poem 

A Poem For My Beloved

A Poem For My Beloved 

Poetry is a joke. 

You can format it however you want,

       and they'll call it 'literary'.

Well what's so literary about it.

       I don't believe in meter. 

       Why rhyme? 

I could just spew jibberish.

Cat. 

Poetry is a joke. 

Stanzas end.

Sentences start on one line 

        and end on another.

        How's this for art? 

Poetry is a joke. 

But you are like poetry to me. 

You are a joke. 

You toy with my life however you want.

         and I call it 'love'.

Well what's so loving about that.

       I don't believe in your words.

       Why try? 

You could just spew bullshit all day.

Integrity. 

Our relationship is a joke. 

Please just make it end. 

Start the week loving each other 

          and that ends on the next. 

          How's this for love?

Poetry is a joke. 

But you are like poetry to me. 

Sincerely, 

laughing at this 5 second creation 

Retaining Walls

I need to write. So give me a moment of peace.

I've been avoiding emotions like the plague. I can feel all of them pent up inside me, fighting to get out. I know people talk about getting butterflies in their stomach, but this feels more like bees. They're buzzing around, the sound ringing in my ears, driving me to the brink of insanity.

Do you ever want to just escape? To just wander off into solitude, with a carton of eggs, and just wreak havoc on something? Anything. Just lose it. Take a few deep breaths, clear your mind.

I remember when I was having a rough time in high school, like all teenage girls do. My mother brought me to the grocery store, picked up a carton of eggs and a few apples, then drove me out to this retaining wall off the highway. I could hear the cars speeding by on the opposite side of the big purple barrier, the sound almost soothing to me. Then she handed me the eggs and told me 'Let it out'.

I walked up to that retaining wall and let lose all the anger, frustration, and pain I was feeling. Egg yolks splattered across the wall, sliding down, their whites dripping like rain drops. With every egg, I felt a weight lifting. Releasing laughter, the only emotion that seemed real at the time. Such a therapeutic form of destruction. I splattered apples on the concrete.

I think back to that night a lot. And when I felt that instant joy and release.

That may have been one of the best things my mother could have done for me.
I've never been on for crying, never been one for hugs, it all feels weak. But this, this felt strong. It were as if I took my troubles that were weighing me down and sunk them in the ocean.

I had won

I reminisce on this a lot when why mind begins to turn to a flurry of emotions. I use it to remind myself that I am stronger than the worries that bring me down, while also reminding myself I'm taking life a little too seriously.

Well, that's all

Sincerely,
Laughing at life

Thoughts on a Bridge

I've had millions of thoughts trapped in my head today, not that I've been counting. So here goes something. The tone and mood of this, I cannot explain. I truly am not depressed or any such thing, this simply escalated from my current dread of the cold which I feel has been following me everywhere I go. I started pulling in some metaphors to my life throughout, though I originally had no intentions to. It's not a poem, it's not a short story, it's not a soliloquy, I don't really know what it is other than simply my thoughts in a patchwork of something related to winter.

I guess, enjoy.

Thought's on a Bridge 

Living in the frigid cold is driving me insane, I'm quite sure of it. I will admit, I am foolish in my belief that depression is a choice. However it seems to be lately that maybe depression is simply a matter of perspective. For my perspective on life right now is cold and grim, as are my surroundings, as is my attitude.
No I am not depressed, I have not made the choice to be, but I am going mad. 

Maybe the goosebumps are to blame, forever scarred into my arms, clinging to me like a rain cloud over my head. Or maybe it's the burning of my ears, that lingers constantly, slowly falling victim to frostbite. Or it could be the patches of ice, scattered like mine's across campus, threatening me at every corner.

Whatever it may be, I can't bear it.

I've never looked up the definition of insanity, for I have been sure I am sane, but maybe the arctic air has put me in my place. The cold is cracking me. I'm ice and spring is approaching quickly. I'm a snowman and the drunks have come to bring me down. 

Am I weak to have fallen victim to the tundra? I am sorry to have frozen. Like the hand on an old victorian clock, I'm stuck.
I never wanted to lose, but like the frozen river edges, I can't go with the flow any longer. 

It's hard to think when you're mind is trapped in an ice box. 

It's hard to stay sane when you're mind is shaken, beaten, and bruised with insanity. 

Will you forgive me? This walk has been hard alone.
I forgot to bring you with. 

I've slept alone in this house long enough, furnace burnt out like we did, and I've been left here freezing. With the front door bleeding cold air, I can't help but think this is your fault. Couldn't you have fixed it? A new door, a new window or two?
I wished for a second chance to shield all that was good in this home from the bitter cold.
But no, It seeps from that front door, flee's this house. 

Wishing is for fools, as is sanity. Depression is weak, but then so am I. 

I don't wish to remain in this cold, I don't wish to carry on freezing. I can feel myself giving into the bitter chill, I can feel it breaking me down. But if there's a moment I want frozen in time, this isn't it. I won't let this be it. The cold can attack my body, but I won't let it freeze my mind, not in this state.

What am I thinking? I must put an end to this foolish thinking, the bitter cold is freezing me as I speak and time is short. So I leave you with this, my love. 

You can leave me frozen in this state, you can enclose my mind in this ice box if you must. But as the seasons change, so will I, and all of me you're bitterness has ruined will come back to life. I can feel an escape from this pain, I can see my spring garden blooming. So bring on the chill my love, freeze me in time. 

But look out next spring when I bloom, it'll be you're hell.





Sincerely,
Me.