Writing you,

Tonight I watched the last faint glow of the moon disappear forever behind the clouds and I thought that would scare me... But I'm more afraid of the way I felt the weight of your love lift off my shoulders, and terrified at the thought of mine being ball and chained to your ankle...leaving bits and pieces of me in every square inch of every footprint your dusty black shoes are walking away from...

And before I met you I couldn't understand how something so simple as love could stretch to the moon and back, but darling, somehow you made me believe that ours could... But nobody ever told me that Peru was farther away than the moon and 

I think your love is getting tired, love. 

And my knuckles are bruised from wrapping the "E" through my fisted fingers as many times as possible because it's only been 4 months and I'm selfish, 

                                        I know this,

But I can't let myself give you up so soon... 

Not when only 120 days ago I watched you tuck our "L" into your suite pocket, and waved goodbye to "O" and "V" as they stretched through city after city in an attempt to keep up with you and the beginning of everything any of us had ever known. 

And it was only when I lost sight of "O"'s beautiful arches and curves, and "V"'s glorious magnitude faded from view, that your voice no longer felt familiar. And the way your lips felt against the tip of my nose is but a faint whisp of some memory that only reappears in the darkest hours of the morning and the brightest of afternoons.

And I cried when I saw how stretched thin "E" was, and the vibrant colors that once made up my memories of you are now dull and peeling. 

And I started writing when I realized that some part of me wished I could let you go. 

I started writing when I realized that some part of me wanted to let you go... And I think that scares me more than the moon or our love ever could.

 

My World Revolves Around Wednesdays.

I left when you left darling.
I'm not exactly sure how to explain that,
but I'm gone now.

And I think it's because the seasons are still changing without you love.

The days feel devastatingly slow, and the nights are like death. But at least death sleeps. She spends her nights in beautiful silence, and I'm stuck inside my own head where everybody's voices feel thousands of volumes louder and my clothes are always sticking to my skin.

Sometimes it feels like your sweatshirt is the only thing that fits anymore... and sometimes I cry because now it smells more like me than you. And I hate me for that.
I  hate that I walk through the corridors of this college that's filled with people, and that I have never felt more alone in my entire life. And my headphones have become my new best friends because they trick people into thinking I'm cool enough to be sitting here alone...like I don't actually care.

And saying that I've only ever cared about you would be a lie, but it's a damn good one. It's one I wish were true, but if you must hear the truth it's that I don't think I'll ever care for another. 

And I guess that now it's easier to forget you. 

To forget us, because my heart only feels fractured when I'm not thinking about you.. And compared to the gaping wound that consumes every valve of this pumping organ at the very twinkle of a memory... It feels pretty alright. 

And it's 1:14 in the morning and I'm just remembering that I loved you.               

 I'm remembering that for 6 months you controlled every breath I took, and I'm remembering that I have to breathe on my own now...

it's 1:16 in the morning and I need you to teach me again. 

The tears stop at 1:20 

1:22 I forget.

What they don't teach you in high school.

365.242 days ago I made a promise.
182.621 days ago I broke that promise.
21 days ago I watched a beat up, old, pealing, maroon Mazda slowly pull away from the curb that it had grown so accustomed to outside of my house.
The black tread marks your tires left are still there. Only some what faded from the rain you've been missing out on.

These little black keys feel unfamiliar underneath my dirty fingernails...
but maybe that's because I was too happy to write.
Too perfectly content with the lot life had given me,
too swept up in the summer love I'd never before experienced.

"Can this last forever?"

The memories come pouring faster then I could have ever anticipated.

Memories of that summer that everybody envies. Where our skin is brown, and our hair is light. The stars witnessed way too many kisses and lots of "I love you" 's. And I'm sure they gagged at our PDA and the moon smiled when we fell asleep in the grass...oblivious to the wind that roared around us. And I know the planets giggled at our hurried mannerisms when we woke up an hour past curfew.

Evenings spent filled with laughter as our families battled to the death at wii sword fighting, and apples to apples. And always mother's comforting words when things always had a tendency to get too competitive...but I loved that about you. About us.

31 days were filled with bad reception and tearful phone calls...and I didn't think it would ever get any worse.

But what I wouldn't give to hear the sound of your voice right now at this very moment.
When I've just spent one of the first of many Friday nights without you.

Nobody ever tells you how lonely it gets.

365.242 days ago I made a promise.
182.621 days ago I broke that promise.
730.484 days from now I'm hoping to see those lovely brown eyes again darling.
I'm scared for 730.484 days from now...
But I can't wait to break more promises with you.

I'm selfish & I'm sorry.

I was hoping that the sun in Kansas would be different... That maybe I could burn away this "missing you" feeling. Or that I could swallow enough chlorine and you'd attend my funeral. But last night, Utah welcomed me  with open arms and today the sun looks the same. And I wish that didn't hurt so much. I wish you'd stop leaving, because I feel like our time is running out.

I wish I didn't feel like our time was running out.  

I wish my dad was as happy as he was in Kansas. I wish more people believed in mermaids. I wish more people liked cats. I wish Barnes and Nobles would let me take books for free. I wish 11:11 wishes came true. I wish poetry was easy. I wish growing up wasn't a real thing. I wish the mountains could talk, because I feel like they'd tell me beautiful things.  I wish the sun in Kansas was different. 

And I wish I didn't feel like our time was running out. 

But you've got a clock attached to your forehead, and your eyes keep reflecting September 22nd, and I can't look at you without crying. And when the water hits my mouth it tastes like memories... They're running down my arms and pooling at my feet.  

The bed starts to float,

and my pillows are drenched. 

The bathtub is full,

and the electricity is failing.

...I'm failing...

...I'm falling...

Part of me wishes I could make you stay...

And part of me wishes you'd leave tomorrow...

Because watching you move on is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, and forcing myself to do the same is almost harder.

We'll walk our paths alone and let fate decide if they meet again, and I'll write you and fate every day in hopes that my letters make a difference.

Paris Vs. Kansas

 

This is not a love poem.

                               This is not an angry poem.

                                                           This is not an I'm alone poem,

                                      Or a leave me alone poem.

                                                                                                    This isn't even a poem.

This is not a poem because I've spent this last semester feeling uninspired.

This is not a poem because I swore I'd make my journal cooler, and I didn't.

This is not a poem because I've procrastinated way too many blog posts to count.

 

This is not a poem because I'm too scared to write.

I'm too scared to write the words that could quite possibly break my heart.

They could quite possibly kill me, and if I'm being completely honest...        I'm not ready to go yet.

 

 

For a while, Paris started to feel old. So many sights already seen, so many people smiling at the girl who is so desperately trying to fit in.     It took on that musty smell. The one you find in your grandmas basement.

"Oh hey! Look grams! You left Paris down here in this box."

And I know you could never forget about Paris, but everyday I catch my mind taking a flight back  to Kansas...where the Koi fish swim in synchronized circles through my bones and I'm finally breathing my sighs of relief when I reach the top of my favorite oak tree and find the very spot where I crashed my grandparents golf cart.

 

I'm finally writing again,

with my feet in the sand pit and the cicadas singing in my ears.

I'm tempted to dip my toes in the fountain of youth...but only for a moment.

It isn't until the stars subside that I realize I'm already swimming in pond scum.

I've let the wind spin me in circles for far too long because I've always believed that this life had the best intentions for me.

That the tornadoes would always take me where I was supposed to go.

They picked me up, taught me how to do backflips, and then dropped me on my ass

in the middle of nowhere.

"Sorry Dorothy, but you're not in Kansas anymore."

 

 

You're in the adult-hood,

 and jobs, and taxes, and buying your own toilet paper

are punching you in the face.

And you're just now figuring out that tornadoes are bad

and backflips are for kids.

And the wicked witch of the west might actually be your friend,

because she's always been your mom.

and you're starting to feel bad for throwing so many houses on her,

and stealing her ruby red shoes because maybe that's how she felt "young again".

 

And I'll always love Paris and the time that I spent there, the words that I read, the people I met.

 

But I'll forever regret never visiting the Eiffel Tower...because that's something only

 

a tourist would do.

 

xoxo,

Kenzie

The Realest Talk I Could Manage.

Tonight I ate half a tub of icecream because I told myself I'd go off of sugar tomorrow...but let's face it, I probably won't. 

I'm reading a book about writing poetry and it told me that writers block was complete bullshit...so I stopped reading it because I don't want to believe that. 

I told myself I wouldn't censor what I say now that people know who I am. I mean, who I really am. But I'm already finding myself holding back. 

S/O to my haterz!!!!!!....because I'm trying really really hard to be friends with you, and you still don't like me. 

I promised myself I wouldn't be desperate, but I followed your group around at the dance last night like I was hooked to leash and I wagged my tail as hard as I could in hopes that you would see me...that you would realize that this is madness and that no boy could ever ruin our friendship. 

But just like that picture on Facebook, you've cropped me right out of your life, and I'm trying to tell myself that I don't care, but the tears that hit my hands as I hung my head are telling me otherwise. And the food that sat untouched on my plate at dinner last night gave away the fact that I actually do care what people think about me. 

I Just Can't Forget

I remember the sunshine on my back.

I remember the stars breathing on my lips. 

I remember the roses I layed at her feet and the tears that drowned her mothers shoulder. 

I remember when mama taught me how to pray. 

I remember teaching mama how to love. 

I remember my childhood. It becomes harder and harder to forget when it's constantly whispering in my ears...asking me to come back...just for a little while.

I remember my sisters first heart break. 

I remember her sobs reminding me of the boy who stole my first heart and broke my first kiss. 

I remember feeling helpless. 

I remember my first poem. 

I remember Barbie doll.

I remember people caring...

I remember English sophomore year and I'll never forget Nelson teaching me what it really meant to write. 

I'll always remember wishing I had said thank you sooner.

I remember the boy who told me he loved me, and for the first time in my life I remember not being afraid. 

I remember always being afraid, and now I'm remembering feeling alive. 

I remember the lights, and the words formed on my lips, but you kissed me too soon and I swallowed them with the blue Gatorade I stole out of your fridge.

I remember your mom yelling your curfew at us as we drove towards the mountains and I remember loving you like it was yesterday. 

I remember loving you today, and I think I could remember loving you for a long time after this. 

Kenzie

(Daveni)

How To Land A Guy You've Liked Since 8th Grade

1. Let him hardcore friend zone you, because it might be the first and only time in your life you'll get friend zoned by a boy you like. 

2. Watch him fall for the other girl...(for the second time). 

3. Come to terms with the fact that, that girl will probably be one of your bestfriends because that's usually the way these things work out. 

4. Call your girlfriends. Go to chic fil a. Eat your weight in waffle fries. (Be okay with eating your weight in waffle fries. #noshame)

5. Repeat step 4 several times. 

6. Fill entire notebooks with words about him.

7. Leave for Christmas break, and forget about your problems because Santa is coming. Attempt to get over him. (Please take note that your attempts will fail, but it's good to try.)

8. Learn very quickly that every smile, laugh, word, movement, thought, that this boy ever makes will be over analyzed in your brain a thousand times over. Just let it happen.

9. Go to New York. 

10. Freeze to death on the ferry to the Statue of Liberty and drink hot chocolate together.

11. Rub the bull's balls on Wallstreet with him. Send the pictures to your dad.

12. Slow dance in historic buildings. 

13. Model walk down the streets. Make complete fools of yourselfs. 

14. Never stop making fun of his sparkly gloves because they are completely ridiculous. 

15.Sit next to him on the bus, fall asleep on his shoulder. 

16. Go to Madison Square Garden together. He'll tell you he likes a different girl. Maintain some dignity. Cry in the bathroom. 

17. Let him sit next to you on the plane ride home because he may be the reason for your broken heart...but he's also the reason for all of your smiles. 

18. He's going to tell you that he lied about liking the other girl. He's going to tell you he likes you. And you're going to make things VERY awkward. And that's okay.

19. Awkwardly hold hands. It will be adorable. Pinky promise. 

20. Understand that there will always be people who don't want you to be happy. Fight for what makes you happy. Don't give it up. Let him hold your hand and tell you you're beautiful because you deserve all those things and more. 

21. Tell yourself that you deserve those things.

22. The last thing you need to learn is that every time you look at him, you'll feel astounded that you could ever deserve somebody so amazing. 

23. Forever thank your lucky stars for 8th grade. 

Clumsy Mouths

Second Chances

(I read this at open mic, but it means a lot to me so I thought I'd post it up on my blog for anybody that didn't get to hear it.) 

It's 1 minute past 8 o'clock and I'm still speechless. The words I wish I could say to the man that helped raise me are stuck in my throat like bricks. My insides are liquid. My lips bleed from the stuttered words that are forever caught in them. They cut like razor blades, and when unheard, stab like knifes. I've tried to shed this invisibility suit too many times to count, but it's stapled to my thighs and sutured to my fingertips. I'd peel every cell from

 these bones if it meant you'd see me dad. 

The past has shaped who I am today, and thank god it's given me wings.  Made up of smiles, and memories, and lessons learned. They're beautiful if only you'd take the time to look. But all you see is the teenage angst and late nights I walked through the door an hour or two past curfew, or the meetings I had with my bishop about heartbreak...because that's all it was dad. God called it  sin. Mom called it human nature. You called it disappointment. And I called it heartbreak, and my broken heart called it a cry for help, and in the early hours of the morning I helplessly cried for you. I needed you like the grass needs the sun, but the light I so desperately craved was aimed towards a computer screen and giving nutrients to a worry free life you thought was needed. 

I wanted so badly for you to be proud of me, but you've only ever been proud of the thought of me...that people thought your daughter was beautiful and well spoken and smart...except I've never felt those things because not once have I heard them leave your mouth so they could enter my ears, and I needed that. I needed you to tell me I was all those things and more so that I could finally believe them...but you couldn't. You couldn't tell me that I was smart. You couldn't tell me that I was beautiful. And you couldn't tell me I was well-spoken. You couldn't wrap your arms around me when I cried. You couldn't threaten to kill the redhead that stole my soul. You couldn't be on time to anything that's ever mattered to me. You couldn't understand why I lost myself when I lost my bestfriend to cancer. And I don't think you'll ever understand why an hour of words won't fix 7 years of silence...but I'll forever try to force you to understand that as long as I'm still forcing air in and out of these lungs, I'll forever give you second chances because I'm hoping that one day you'll see past these worn out wings and take one. 

These Lights Remind Me of You.

 

Daveni.

(Dave-en-ni)

Scaredy Cat

I wish I still knew what the word beautiful meant.

I wish the world still knew what the word beautiful meant. 

I wish I was a mirror because I'd reflect only the good, and I'd extinguish the bad...thoughts because all of you is beautiful. 

I wish car trips weren't so long, and the weather was always warm so I could be tan and forever feel free. 

I wish growing up wasn't a real thing, and I'd always be accepted wearing my overalls and carrying my spongebob lunchbox. 

Because I've never felt anything less than beautiful in my overalls. 

I wish I could take credit for the way the sky was painted...but I could never mix the right colors together, and my hands are red from the ruler slaps. 

I wish cats could talk, and my mom would stop because I just can't make her understand how badly I don't want to leave her. 

I'd crush  crayons into my soup if it meant my mom would still make it for me. I'd rub glitter in my eyes for more time with grandpa. I'd forever sit next to the kid who poops his pants if it meant I could forever peel Elmer's glue off my hands and feel good about it. I'll always ask the daisy's if he loves me if they'll always tell me that he does. I'll go back to wearing my Barbie backpack because...god that thing was magic. 

And when I found it

in the cold storage,

I took my graduation announcements

and hid them in it, 

I locked it away 

in my password protected journal

and I started to cry. 

Then I wrote a letter, 

Dear Mom, (written in crayon)

Let me start off by admitting something, I carved maddies name into your desk all those years ago. I'm sorry I blamed it on the neighbor girl, but she was always a bitch anyways. I'm sorry I flipped off the old lady next door, and I'm REALLY sorry she got out of the car and yelled at me. I'm sorry I always cried when you left, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner when that babysitter touched us...I'm sorry that it wouldn't have made a difference. I read you everything I write and I'm sorry that you'll never see this because I watched you cry today at the thought of me leaving and you can't know how scared I am...but mommy...I am so damn scared. 

I'm tired of everyone telling me I should feel beautiful because my boyfriend thinks so. 

I don't feel beautiful. 

I feel old. 

And my tear stained overalls will never fit me again.

Daveni.

Stardust

You've got planets for eyes and they're so easy to get lost in. I wish I could sort through my feelings for you because you don't deserve the question marks. But they surround my every waking thought and I can't seem to push past them when my mind wanders on to the subject of you.

Gravity' got me in a chokehold this time and my fingers are extended to anything that might ground me. Please...please. I'm begging you to ground me because I'm getting space-sick. I've been going in circles for eternity on Saturns rings and I'm forever caught in Jupiters orbit because he's got such a beautiful smile...

I can't decide if I want you, but I don't want anyone else to ever kiss you the way I have and I still haven't decided what that means yet. And the thought of you blasting off in your space ship to bigger and better things makes me cringe, and the missing-you feeling I get is sometimes too much to handle...

This gum I'm chewing has lost all of it's flavor and maybe that's a metaphor...but I'm probably thinking too much into this because I just want to feel inspired again. But every time those stars fill my stomach, I remember I've got a project to finish and piano to practice and suddenly none of it seems important anymore. 

And it sucks.

Maybe I'd feel more inspired if I stopped fighting with my mom. And maybe I need to extend my bed time because beautiful words usually come easier after dark. Maybe I need to stop staring at Jupiters smile because I know he's stringing Pluto along too, and everybody knows she's not even a planet anymore. 

But 

        Neither 

                      Am 

                                 I...

I never was. 

Daveni.

Rantings..

Maybe we're all more lost then we'd care to admit. Maybe we're all stuck, and maybe we're all scared and maybe this isn't real life and none of us are as cool as we think we are. Maybe God isn't real, and maybe he is. And maybe he laughs at us when we fail. And maybe I'm just pessimistic. Maybe life is going to keep moving regardless of if we fall and scrape our knees as we sprint to keep up with it. And maybe it will slow down and help us up. Maybe I'll cut my hair short and stop writing. Maybe I'll start going to bed early and stop staring at the stars. And maybe that will never happen, but maybe these were thoughts that crossed my mind. Maybe I don't even know why I'm writing this and maybe you'll never understand it. And maybe that's not even important. Maybe none of this is important and I'm really sorry about that.

Real Lies

My bones are telling me to scream. 

They're screaming at me to stop. 

They're telling me to sit down, 

They're forcing me to accept help...

And I don't need any help.

My brain is telling me I'm healthy...

and my bones are weeping. 

They're crying because I'm supposed to be helping them. 

But I'm walking around on knees that buckle with every step. 

My bones told me to kiss him,

and my knees were weak for so many different reasons, 

and he held me. 

My bones told me to miss my childhood.

And I did. 

My bones told me to be careful.

And I wasn't. 

My ears told me to stop listening to these old twisted bones,

And I listened to my ears because they're pretty good at that sort of thing. 

My feet told me it was okay to walk

and I trusted them 

Because they never complained when I refused to put shoes on. 

And my toes always forgave me 

when I ran into the counter.

I told my eyes to stop watering,

but they do what they want. 

My eyes told me to get some sleep,

but the stars were telling me to stay awake.

My bones are begging and pleading,

and my heart's trying to help them

because she's always cared 

more than I have... 

I want to listen to them...

I really do. 

But pride keeps telling my bones

to shut up. 

Daveni.

I'm sorry this doesn't make any sense.

I'm surrounded by people that call me "friend"...but are we really? You slink into the shadows whenever I'm near and let the words that break my heart slip from the same mouths that show teeth when you see me. I guess you're growling instead of smiling.
Now I feel stupid.
I'm broken you know?

Dear brown eyed boy,
I'm broken.
Can you hear me? I'm broken.
There's a reason why I surround myself with lies and fake smiles.
There's a reason I keep my fingernails painted, and my thoughts to myself.
There's a reason why I have scabs on my face.
There's a reason why I've started sleeping with socks on.
There's a reason to why I laugh at inappropriate times and have recently awarded myself the most awkward human being medallion.
There's a reason I wear this ring on my middle finger and cry for no reason, but there's always a reason.
There's a reason why I hardly ever make sense.
There's a reason why I bite my fingernails and I always find myself staring at people for too long.
Staring at you for too long.
There's a reason I'm broken,
and it's because I'm incapable of loving and I'm so scared of you.
I stay detached because it's easier then forever being heartbroken.
Mr. Brown eyes...please don't break my heart because my family likes you more then I do and I know my mom can't watch me cry anymore.
I'll be your forever best friend if you promise to still like me when I wake up with bed head and  breath that could take down a small herd of elephants.
I'll always keep you smiling if you promise to always open my car door because as silly as it sounds, it drives me crazy. (In the good way)
I'll make you feel important if you promise to leave me alone when I'm angry, but still hold me when I'm crying.
I'll support you in anything and everything you do if you promise to always look at me like you're seeing something that nobody else sees.
I'll stop saying the f-word if you promise to start, because I think it's so sexy when you swear. I'm pathetic.
I'll always write beautiful words about you if you promise to sing for me whenever I ask you to.
I'll let go of this heartache and these fake friends if you promise to hold my hand through it because I'm scared of you, but I'm scared of this to, and I need you more then I'll ever admit.
Please hold me in place when I start to run, because I promise...I'll run.
Don't let me go.
Thanks.

Love,
Daveni Rush

A Few Days Late.

The 14th of March came and went and the words I promised myself I would write were lost in the chaos of reliving her funeral a year later. The promises I carved into my arm to make sure I'd never forget the words in my head faded with my current situations and I salute those that are forever remembering because The Lord never blessed me with that gift. And I feel that this should have been my post on fear because I was too scared to say the words that were forming on my lips because they're carying the tears I've been working so hard to hold in and I spent way to much money on these flowers to soak them again. 

I don't want your face to fade from my memory, but now you've got stars for eyes and the ocean for hair. I've got floaties around my arms like I'm 5 again because I just can't remember how to swim...but I'm learning. Everyday I learn how to stay afloat on my own. And at first I was content with drowning. I was ready for the ice in my veins to finally let me sink to the bottom...but I'm learning that maybe breathing is okay, so I gasp and gulp for big breathes of air and I'm swallowing oxygen like it's going out of style because I've realized that I need to live for her.

And dammit. Now I'm crying... But she still needs me. And I need her more then I'd care to admit...because what can a dead girl give me? What am I supposed to do when the most amazing person I've ever known is in the sky and I'm still here laying in the grass looking for her face in the clouds? And her family has left a river of tears too wide to jump across and the current keeps sweeping me and my pathetic floaties away. How do I tell her mother that each day is a struggle when I can still see the pain in her eyes? How do I even look her in the eyes when mine are filled with tears? But I want her to know that I have hope. I have so much hope it's like the sun and it's blinding everybody who looks. It's drying my tears and warming my veins. 

And I know she's doing this.

I know I'm supposed to live the life that was cut short for her, and that's inspiring.  She was inspiring. She was all the compliments that have ever been given, and so much more. She's teaching me how to swim again... And one day I'll swim across the ocean that is her, instead of drowning in it, and the gold medal they hang across my neck will lay at the foot of her grave, 

Because this is all for our families, who never want to see us sleeping with the fishes.

 

Because this is all for me.

Because this is all for God.

Because this is all for her.

Daveni.

Long Talks With Mom

Daveni.

Over-thinking Most Things.

I'm falling again. 

          I've fallen again.

                    I've hit rock bottom again.

I'm just so tired of this gut wrenching feeling. I'm tired of my heart dropping into my stomach, because I'm trying to stay healthy. The doctor always tells me the same thing... 

Doctor: "Well my dear, it's quite simple really, Just stop falling. 

Me: "see ya next month" 

I'm trying doc. 

         I've tried again doc.

                       I've failed again doc.

And I'm bleeding from head to toe in tears and now I'm running. 

I jog across blue lines, and sprint the red ones, and I find myself lost in my keyboard, trying to find the words to describe how alone I feel. How ugly, and useless, and forgotten I feel....and there just aren't any. The river of words has run dry and I'm pawing at the earth trying to scrape up just an ounce of courage to go on but it's late.... And the wind has chilled to me to the bone. It's impossible to move on when you've frozen my feet to the ground and carved our memories into my head.

I'm scared I might have jumped into the wrong group of friends and jealousy's the leader. That bitch keeps screaming in my ears and scaring away my friends. She's molding me into something I'm not and I'm sorry....I'm just so sorry.

You're known by the company you keep and I'm working so hard to claw my way free, but every time he looks at her I give up and jealousy calls me her bestfriend again and I cringe.

It's a love hate relationship. 

I'm bitter and she's beautiful. 

I know it's a leap of faith, but I'm begging for a chance to make you happy. Because even though I may not be confident in myself just yet, I'm confident in us. I'm confident that you could keep me laughing even on the darkest days and it feels worth it.

I know I'm not the most beautiful, but I've got a personality for miles. I didn't score as high as you on the ACT but I'm smart enough to know you're not as tough as you seem. I'm not as mature as she is...but neither are you so don't start with me.

These words are spilling out of my head faster then I can write them and for a moment I'm capable of scaring jealousy away and for a moment I feel bad for the girl I consider a friend because I want her to be as happy as I dream of being. 

In all honesty, I'm stuck. I don't know what to do, or what to write. 

I'm egging jealousy's house tomorrow.

#Feelings

The way you are with kids, you taking naps, your sleepy voice, waking up next to you, holding your hand, your head on my shoulder, your laugh, your eyes,

 You you you.

 It's these things that make my stomach erupt in butterflies and I hate it.

 I absolutely hate it.