first semester.

biting my lips

saying it doesn't hurt

hating admitting it to myself

living like today will never end

losing faith that it will

hoping for a great tomorrow

first semester, you are done. almost. so close.

please end

now

to be a decimal.

in this negativity i will stay

it is easier to block out potential

anything

isn't it true that we do not love the ones around us

until they are gone?

close my doors

close my eyes

look to the ceiling

hoping that the tiles will peel away and a

hand

will pick me up and carry me as if flying

just like in my dreams

i have not flown in a while

its not about the notes

or the highlighters

but the realization of me

of mirrors

of glass windows--

see through

just a girl in jeans

one of thousands

and that's a decimal

this again.

looking for an answer on tv

in dreams

in strangers

in comfort

in laughter

in absolute trust and expectation for those who get too close

i am sorry for who i am

that i am weak

that i care too much

i have begun to clench my jaw again, and the endlessly nervous feeling wrenching my heart around

if you don't leave me alone, i will act

and it will be so bad

and so so so so so so so good

and my words are those of 1st grader because my vocabulary has been expended on review sheets and comprehension

its easy as 1 2 3

a b c

give me my report card, and tell me what to see

el paso.

a mismatch of people, like a ragged warm quilt. surrounding me, supporting me, influencing my

steps.

to stand, i discern and balance all that i hear to protect my malleable mind, taking care not to lose myself in red hair, yoga mats, and articles.

for it is not the goal, but the journey: that journey of independence, silence, and solitude in the morning.

my face forms a calm, pleased person whom i know as myself, resting in the depths of possibility and the fragility of tomorrow.

and on this tight-wire i will stand, clinging on to the air in front of me, hoping for the new day and assurance of forever.

door. open. pockets.

chilly wind carves out our jawlines and sharpens our cheekbones, as the wind fills in the empty spaces inside our jackets. rushing inside as snowflakes melt off our eyelashes, likes tears. and we cry over the big things to miss the little flakes left on our shoulders, clinging to us for distance.

pity for the foolish man.

to those who do not have time:

your oblivious, ignorant attitude while cause your eyes to lose sight, and your hearts to harden. pity for the foolish man. instead, nod your heads to the powerful speaker and laugh. for i will smile and sing when i feel you can see me, pitying the fool while praying for ignorance.

"you embarrass me. you embarrass yourself"

december two.

for now, the snow is clean and light