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.