I Am Not Afraid;

I was born for this.

These days, the sky wears a dark shade of purple and blues.
It swallows the shadows and sets the mood. As if saying,
what you're thinking of doing is OK because no one can see you.
The darkness these days makes it acceptable.

New Chapters.

Books,
chronicles,
days, mes and yous.
It all purges a new page. A new beginning. A blank sheet to spare. And to no worry, I am here to start this new journey. This new me. This old you. This old me; this new you.
I don't even know how to lie, he says.
She knows he does, but wont. At least not now.
And she is thankful for the unexpectedness, for the open car doors.
He kisses her freckles. One by one, down her back.
Something of wonder. And she wonders, where did this come from?
Not looking; not searching. Not needing to grow up. Not needing.
She spills. He listens. With intent, and sincerity. She's found it.
The sincerity she's been looking for. What she has been needing.

She's been needing these new chapters.

So It Goes.

I can't sleep. It's just left me. The thought of closed eyelids, it hardly seems to fit these days. And to those who know this pain, I'm with you. I need to sleep.

Sing to me.

The Artistic Void.

Living comes to this point where you feel like it's mush. Just one huge bowl of mashed potatoes. One giant pool of jello. All stuck together, unable to sort through. It's the worst. Not the fact that you don't know where to begin, but the fact that it's all jumbled and you can't even enjoy it. So, I'll slow down and be ok with my rims grinding on the snow burdened roads.

A step back in the right direction gets me to you. The you that I know is capable, and willing. Sharp left, and now I see what I'm really dealing with. Loneliness. It's my fear. The only real fear. I find myself making every possible mistake. Making every wrong u-turn. One headlight out and I realize I couldn't see myself in the dark, couldn't see myself for what I was really doing. Letting myself doubt you. Doubt the us that we know is there. It's this, the reality of things.

I sit on my floor, paint markers in hand and I wonder how to depict your life on a simple Christmas stocking. How could I care this much about the public strew of colors on fabric. On how our lives have finally come into place. Like missing links. Was it that I had read the map wrong? Or never needing a map at all. This is my adventure, I assume. I can make any move, and control the system. Wrong. Life in hand, not mine, but his. His, the one who I have gotten to know for what seems like too many 4 a.m. let downs. I love him, but not in love. I can't seem to find what I had had. The IT factor. I'll find it on the way. The way to letting things fall as they may.

Unless You Know Another You.

Your throat. Or is it your heart, where your words form? Maybe your bones, even. Mostly not the liver though. Are we making excuses for our insecurities? Are we being trapped into the realm of society and it's expectations? Maybe so, but you can't let it control your life.

Love is a deep emotion, deeper than wrinkles, deeper than valleys, deeper than the bottom of the ocean. If it weren't for real love, life would not be possible. And in life, we find those few people, who even at times may not seem the best, are the ones to keep around. 

New friends. They're like, well, they're like drugs. Ya, maybe not the best wordage. So in honor of new Friends, Conner this is for you.

I've known you for a while. I remember the days I would convince my boyfriend to bring James up to see you. I remember the trip to the mall, and the movies we went to but didn't watch. Conner, I was impressed with you. With the life you lead and how much spirit and ambition you held. I know you still have all of that too. I love that when you write, it's for you. I can tell. You're so artistic, creative, unruly, the opposite of careful. I need more of that in my life. I admire the way you dress. Not a specific thing everyday. You dress you reflect your thoughts and emotions. I wish I could be that involved with myself to surprise myself everyday. You're just simply gorgeous. In an "I don't give a fuu" way. Conner. You hold the world, and you don't even know. You try, even when it's not needed. And at times where you know you won't win. But you try, and that's passion girl. It has been said at times that people have hearts that are too big for their chests. This is you. Not always. You have another trait that I hold high. You bare your emotions. You let it out. You let them known. I have always had a hard time telling people what I really mean to say. I want to be stronger in that some day. I miss the days that were easy, I know we all do.
Even though you push, you need someone around. And to that, I'll be here. I know that you're a good friend, just by the way you are to the people you love.
There will come a time Conner, that life will never go your way. In this, keep your head high. And don't give in or give up. You will make the most out of life, you will. To boot, you're a great sister, and just by the way you are with your moms, a great daughter. You're intelligent, funny, charismatic. You've got everything anyone should be jealous of. Love the life you've been handed, walk tall, smile always.

 But always be you.

Tearing, Section by Section.

To Die, To Crash

Makes sense, the rushing,

The air stops you.

Pulls and Pushes you.

Takes your breath away.

Makes sense, the crashing,

The metal stops you.

Cuts and bruises you.

Takes your breath away.

The Only Air I Need.

Semester is coming to a halting end. It's frosty out side. This last couple of months have been, least to say, hell. And I love them. It's about the experience, right? It's all for the rush. The rush of life, of love, of what you think may turn in to love, and the sad rush of regret. It has all hit me with no mercy. I fell for someone who will never put me on there list of priorities. I left the job which as much as I say I hated it, I loved it, because someone needed me. Everyone needed me. I've only regretted one thing; not being more involved. Involved with my life. I have been lazy, and unruly with my laundry. Terrible I know. I have given in and given up to easily. I have let me down. This day has no direction, no real way. This is how it works, I am sure of it. Just go for it. No plans, schedules. Just do the damn thing. You only have this one life to do it. To take charge, to be the all you can, to love as much, as well as laugh. To experience, to fail, to learn, to do it all. Your life is not an odd book of fatalism. You can make your own path. Be thankful for every move you make, for you may not make them tomorrow.

Where ever you go in life, remember it's the misfortune that has guided you.

Offense, All Taken.

So, I know that I don't have a ton a people that read my blog but as of about an hour ago I know at least one does. This Blog, my life is strewn across the screen. It's what I feel and think. It's my words and I don't feel that I should have to censor them. I have never, and will never mean to offend any of you. There are people in this world that will love you for all you're worth and will be by you through it all, and there will always be people who try hard to be those people. Who are you?

I've realized it's best to be unapologetic. It's best to live your life as you want. Not how others want you to. This picture to the right holds someone I know to be the most unapologetic person. Even though I'm not good friends with her, she never answered to anyone but herself. Yes, we all can admit where we're wrong. Yes, we can be sorry for hurting someone's feelings, but I will never be sorry for how I think, how I react to life. How I see things.If my eyes are sore and my ears are unable to hear, you still wouldn't have the right to tell me what I believe and and know to be true, is all wrong. You can have you're opinion, and you may not agree, that's cool.

It's the Chest Hair that gets Me.

In one hand I have, well we'll change the names, Brody. He's average, handsome, has chest hair, and can be sweet when he wants. The other hand holds Ryan. Tall. Soft eyes, strong hands. LDS. Eats more than all the people in my house. Both of them are awesome in odd separate ways. Both of them don't notice me. Sad, pathetic. I know. But I'm headstrong. I want to strike attention in the eyes of someone. So how do I so that?

I'd give anything for someone to take me to the Temple. I want an LDS life. A strong Testimony. But in this town you can't have a Man the doesn't sing, or dance, or preform. I don't do any of those. It just weirds me out. I am used to Men with trucks, dirt under there nails and pants that don't hugs there balls. I want the Chest Hair in my life. Is that so much to ask for? But then if I choose the other side of the tracks I wont receive the awesome blessings I deserve. In all reality I feel that I will meet an awesome man, and after he finds out about my AWESOME tattoo, he's gonna bail.  

To be honest, I'm not sure men who sing, dance and wear tighter clothing than I do can even produce hair. They usually drive cars too. Pink ones. Ok, now I'm lying but seriously. What happened to Manly performers?  For instance, Bruce "FRIGGEN" Willis. He, he is manly as hell. None of this male ballerina stuff. A strong man, who likes to do manly stuff. That is all I ask for, even go as far as to pray for it.  

Drop Everything, Start it all Over.

It's 6:49 a.m.


I haven't had a new form of employment in 2 1/2 years. This could be one of the scariest things I've encountered recently. I'm excited and impatient. I want to know that I'll be good at it already. But who doesn't want to know what they'll already be good at? Control is what I love. Control of my life and it's outcomes, but that's not the fun way to play this game. Well I've got work in just about an hour. Let's see how much I can't control.

These Pages, they're Screaming.

Sincerity, Why is it such a feat?


I have been assigned in my Creative Writing class to compose a non-fiction piece concerning my life. What do I write of? What can I display? In all honesty, it'll offend some. I'm not ashamed.
So I write of life, of course. I write of pain and of heart ache. And of my tattoo. It's been a bit over a year now. November is my favorite month. Watching the summer turn to November's cold. The leaves, how they turn to reds and golds. Thinking of people reading about my life makes me nervous, but what am I doing now? Portraying my life to all who would like to read of it surely. 
Yes I've made mistakes, but I still need them. They keep me alive. So I will write of my mistakes, and over due adventures. I hope you find something in them.