we are unusual and tragic and alive

I measure this life in cheek-straining grins and hands held on sunny mornings.

this one time, in high school, i was fighting with one of my friends via text. this was, of course, before the smartphone revolution.

as i was fighting with him, i was also texting his best friend about how ridiculous he was being. (high school, am i right?) somehow, i copied and pasted a long text from the friend i was fighting with into the wrong message and accidentally sent it back to him instead of to his best friend.

he immediately said: who were you trying to send that to?!

i felt the blood drain out of my face. how could i be so stupid? on the fly, i responded: you. i want you to see how ridiculous you sound.

and he bought it. i still think about that from time to time. i’m pretty sure that’s the smoothest i’ve ever been in my entire life.


One note = one vote. Like or reblog to vote for your state! Go Pennsylvania! http://thefaultinourstarsmovie.com/demandourstars 


One note = one vote. Like or reblog to vote for your state! Go Pennsylvania! http://thefaultinourstarsmovie.com/demandourstars 

on a night warm enough to open the window,
close your eyes and let the soft winds blow into 
your stuffy home. let your soul fly through the

i serve strangers their coffee when the sun is
still rising like goosebumps on his arms when
i touch him in the dark. they smile politely and i
learn their names. they never learn mine.

who am i? the girl behind the counter who smells
of espresso and good intentions. the student in
the back of the class, just trying to make it to 
graduation with an all right GPA. the wide-eyed
dreamer slowly falling to pieces while everyone
around her is convinced by shallow smiles.

what i mean to say is, i’m sorry. i haven’t been 
much to you lately, but i haven’t been much to
myself either. how can i sew up your wounds 
when mine are bleeding out? how can i trust
you to fix me again when you’ve already put me
back together so many times before?

what i mean to say is, i am a ghost of myself
haunting the shadows, drinking in the smiles of
friends and family for energy. i am all worn
out. i am the wilted flower in the garden 
surrounded by blooming blossoms.

on a night warm enough to open the window,
i let my hair blow in the wind. i remember for
a moment who i am. maybe i’m closer than i think.

last night

I had a dream that my life was a movie and they wanted to change the actor who played you. I stumbled into you in a grocery store and we both laughed and blushed and reminisced, but in the next scene, you were different- even taller, broader, longer hair. I didn’t recognize you. I couldn’t catch my breath and when you reached for me, I pulled away.

"Where," I asked, "have you gone?"

"It’s just me," the impostor said, "I’ve always been right here."

I woke up with my heart beating in my throat and reached for the calming reassurance of my phone; nostalgic, regretful tears stinging my eyes, asking me how I could have ever let so much time pass between us. I looked at pictures of you on the internet and missed you so much it hurt.

gone but not forgotten

Let me tell you about a life- how one moment it’s there and the next it’s gone, how you can be chatting with someone over wine one night and not realize it’s the last time you’ll ever see them. These are the little moments we take advantage of, the same ones we think of while we’re staring at an urn.

At the funeral, there are so many pictures that you can trace the entirety of her life in five minutes: a smiling child, a breathtaking young woman, a wedding, an older woman with her grandchild in her arms. It was a full life. It was a happy life.

Let me tell you about her life- she lived to be eighty-two and at the service, everyone had beautiful, heartfelt words to speak about her sincerity, her friendliness, her kindness. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. 

(Source: sunshinelullabies)