churn.

all of it was beautiful

until the storm hit

then every piece of "unwanted" floated to the

surface

hitting our feet

lingering between our toes

but the boy once had a touch of destiny about him

part of me cares less

my young self could live in a mobile home

if it had windows and a grand piano

he laughed at art

but i will give him the chance

his thought has not crawled

under my skin

and that worries me

for him

for her

for me--the afterthought

but the trash has floated up from the surface

leaving takes time

to kill a mockingbird.

for the sake of experience i will watch my life (once together and somewhat whole) fall.

to push my boundaries for the sake of feeling my world expand, i suppose. the world is

challenging me, but i will shrug it off and wait for

"experience" to knock on my door.

i suppose am playing hard to get with experience.

life is merely many strings woven together, some more memorable than others.

as if through a camera lens, or perhaps a picture frame,

i watch myself fall slowly

beautiful disaster

like my daddy told me

like my mother didn't scold me

and my gut forced me

to take the leap onto hard desire--but not different than

expected. expectations.

and i hear them murmuring downstairs, even though i think im doing pretty well.

asking me to leave, then holding me back with their big hearts and fragility,

while i am the one breaking.

smart or carefree?

living or existing?

i will watch the pieces slowly fall as i scramble to pick them up so i can throw them down.

letting go while my heart holds on

a coming of age novel

ah... relax, dammit.

dealing with said worried feelings with a home-pedicure from a janky kit my mother probably received as a compensation gift from the mother of an ADD student. this kit had the intention of relieving my mother's stress from said child's obnoxious behavior. alas, unused.

my feet are currently delved ankle deep into an old bucket from my basement since we don't have any "foot baths" (since we are frisian and don't believe in relaxation) and since no one in my house takes baths because we are too tall (because we are frisian). this bucket from the basement was worth it though. and not just because i had to walk in on my brother and his new girl friend making out (IIIIII am the one who is older... shouldn't i be making out with someone???), but also because my feet are going to smell delicious and dammit i will relax if its the last thing i do.

subconsciously, i believe that this will make me more attractive. as if any one gives a damn what my feet look like if i have boobs.

its official, by the way. i am leading on 2 separate boys and am not interested in either. mostly i am putting these situations off, but i still worry about them. its summer... i dont want to worry. some would say its my fault. but how can i help it if they mistake enthusiasm for interest? honestly.

feet are pretty pruney. i feel like bridget jones <3. all i need is some wine... the dream. take it back. a male italian masseuse who will also feed my chocolate. that is all i need.

welp. relaxation is more difficult than you would think. my feet are losing feeling because they are too big and frisian for this janky little bucket.

complete. ish. i will now continue to cover my nails in a delicate pink. my favorite color. ?

when worry came to visit.

greetings, worry. like nerves, kind of... but no promise of relief after you've drank enough water and finished your song. just a feeling that does not go away with reasonable thinking, unlike nerves.

why am i worried? money. yeah, i know tuition discount, blah blah blah. this doesnt mean that i havent worked my ass off every summer since 15 in preparation for the next few years when i will be living paycheck to paycheck to cover rent, insurance, and food.

the future. girls at the campus store love to talk about weddings, of all things. the dresses, flowers, rings... not only does my honeymoon sound so much more appealing, and i would be less nervous to sing in front of 50,000 people than stand in front of everyone i know done up like a barbie in order to commit my life to one person, but i dont even know what kind of person i mesh with. i've dated a few, wished for others... and it hasn't felt remotely "right" yet. "but you've had lots of boyfriends!" yes. i have. this doesnt mean i trusted them with my heart or believed they could really love me.

my career? laugh at me, sure. but you have to settle down sometime. what is my future riding on? auditions: seeing if i fail or not. lovely. thats a great feeling. if that doesn't happen, go to grad school or find some job that will take psych majors. or lose 20 pounds, get my ass in a tanning booth, dye my hair blonde, and become a trophy wife. a viable option.

i know, i am blessed. but i hate not having control. i NEVER worry about the future. it seems futile. but today, i feel like i am losing it.

when i join a motercycle gang or become a punk ass kid.

i don't want a tattoo, but if i were to get one, it would say

blessed

in white ink.

cartoon sky.

breaking news

a giant bubble has decided to inhabit my

chest

where i keep my laughter and guilt

not my cynicism and common sense

im praying for it to pop

but the weather forecast did not predict

settling

not until later, anyways

to bide my time,

coy and carefree will be my two best friends

as i face the fight against fate alone

the weather forecast did not predict much

but ambiguous skies may have been mentioned

keep your eyes peeled.

clouds do not have definite lines,

and certainly not silver ones

just a few.

the strongest emotions i have ever felt:

elation after making capella

anger at my friend when she told me my shirt was too low cut in 8th grade

hopelessness when i pulled over in a parking lot to cry about my dad

guilt when i confessed to never eating my sandwiches in elementary school

love when at my family's table

hate upon looking at my reflection sophomore year

freedom while running around campus in the rain

panic on my last birthday after talking about faith and then my professor hating my guts

lights on the ceiling.

and i will throw these ropes off this cliff

just to get away from what haunts me

dare.

now, i flick the dark with my fingers

my hair

daring the walls to fall down

laughing at a reason

any reason at all

breaking machines has become a habit of mine

making guesses about experience

who knew?

lighting flash

thunder louder

dare me now?

we're not getting younger