I wish I was Victoria

I wish I was Victoria. 

She's confident and open. She doesn't care what she posts no matter how dark or who she swears in front of in fear of her mother finding out. She will comment on blogs and participates in class.

I've tried to be more like Victoria. 

Writing in my spare time. And getting lost in the blogs. I swore in front of my mother this past week when I burnt my hand on the stove and got in a lot of trouble. I'll type out comments but delete them thinking they're too stupid and I raised my hand once but I guess Nelson didn't see.

Sorry mom.

However I am not Victoria.

I know this because I only got up for journal jam twice this semester. And both times my heart was pounding and my palms were sweating and I stumbled over all my words. I second guess my writing. Erasing instead of crossing out. I know Nelson says that creativity is the messy, raw stuff. But I just can't write in the margins.

You all know the Victoria side of me. 

It's time for the other side of me. 

I'm embarrassed when people read what I write in fear of the criticism. I can count the number of close friends, friends I can open up to, I have on one hand. It's 4. Crowds give me anxiety, yet I look forward to Comic Con every year. A lot of people don't believe me when I say I'm naturally blonde, because I've dyed my hair since 9th grade. I hate starting conversations and often come off as standoffish but I really do love talking with people. 

My name is Hannah Nufer. 

My creative writing journey is coming close to an end. I want to thank all of you for all the good times I've had so far and look forward to the rest of our time together as well. I've enjoyed reading your blogs and getting to know you that way. Maybe I'll work up the courage to say 'hi' in the hallways.

Christmas

I never cared for Christmas music. Until I met you. Too annoying because it would always get stuck in my head. Yes I am that kind of person that rolls her eyes when I hear Christmas music before Thanksgiving. I don't come to the door when Carolers come around. You won't find a Christmas station on my Pandora. Not even Christmas day do I listen to Christmas music. 

In June we drove around in your car and I found a Christmas album. 

"Isn't it a little early for Christmas music?" I asked turning the CD over to see what it had. All the classics you hear on the radio 2-3 times a day in December. 

"It's never too early for Christmas music!"

Unconvinced I put the CD down and we continued on our drive.

Now I'm sitting here and you're 911.1 miles away and I won't see you again for 104 days 17 hours 23 minutes, not that I'm counting, and I'm missing you. I've turned on some Christmas music hoping to feel closer to you. 

Paris Broke My Heart

Let's get one thing straight.

I've never liked you

You've never inspired me or made me a better person. 

All semester long we've been trying to find you. I've searched and searched but still no sign of you.

After this... well Paris quite frankly I don't want to look anymore. When I visited you, you really let me down. You were dirtier than expected. The people were rude. I never found a croissant and Notre Dame was a lot smaller than I thought. It might be unfair to blame you for those things. 

But I blame you anyway

I can live with those however. It was just a let down and nothing too serious. Well... the banana on my crepe wasn't ripe enough, that one's pretty serious. 

What you did to break my heart wasn't your fault in all honesty. It's not your fault you were invaded and attacked. When I heard the news of all the lives lost, that's when my heart broke. I could have sworn it stopped beating for a minute. I just went numb. 

Let me tell you something Paris. I know someone who was supposed to be at that concert. Luckily his plane was delayed and he ended up never leaving Germany. But you got me thinking. Thinking about how different things would be without him. First off I will admit it probably wouldn't have affected me so much. Yes I do know him but only a little. He's my sisters boyfriend. I met him twice but he seems like a nice guy. That dear Paris would have torn my sister to pieces. I love her and I want what's best for her. I can't imagine how bad it would've hurt to lose him like that. 

But I can't blame you this time

It's not your fault this happened. It's not your fault you were attacked. It's not your fault my mind thinks of situations that didn't even happen. You broke my heart because after all this time I've spent resenting you and never giving you an honest chance to inspire me, I feel awful. I wish there was something I can do for you, more than just changing my Facebook profile picture.

I'm really sorry Paris

I Wrote Your Name in Concrete

I wrote your name in concrete

In concrete it remains

I wrote it on the corner of State Street

And 81st

I wrote your name in concrete

Because I knew it'd always stay

You'd whisper to me sweet nothings

About you and me forever 

I wrote your name in concrete

Thinking somehow, someway

That would make your love not fade

But love doesn't work that way

I wrote your name in concrete

I guess you just wrote mine in pencil 

On the back of an old receipt

How to comfort me in 10 steps

1. Don't tell me it will be okay or that what I'm feeling won't last forever

Tell me you'll help me be okay 

2. Wrap me in your favorite blanket

or 2 or 3

3. If you say "I'll never leave you" keep your promise

Don't give me hope that you might actually care

4. Disney movies

Mulan never fails to make me smile. Or Aladdin, Pocahontas, Little Mermaid...

5. Don't tell me it's all in my head

They don't call it a "mental illness" for nothing

6. Find Wolfy and give her to me

Yes I do still have a stuffed animal thank you very much

7. Don't tell me you care

Show me

8. Hugs

20+ second hugs releases oxytocin

9. Offer to take me for a drive up the canyon

It's my favorite place. Especially in Fall

10. Listen

Sometimes I don't need someone to tell me "I'm here for you" or "It will be alright" sometimes I just need someone to sit and listen. I might come off as shy and quiet at first but in reality, have a lot to say

101 Things I Fear

1. Praying mantises
2. Thunderstorms
3. The dark
4. Being alone
5. Failure
6. Being the center of attention
7. Never being noticed
8. Loss
9. Never being enough
10. The ACT
11. Going to College
12. Not being accepted to College
13. The future
14. My past
15. Myself
16. Scary movies
17. Haunted houses
18. Religion
19. Texting first
20. Coming off as fake
21. Being annoying
22. That secretly no one actually likes me but they pretend they do and talk to me for the sake of we go to the same school but once graduation comes they'll never speak to me again
23. Graduating
24. Never amounting to anything in life
25. Divorce
26. The number 7
27. That people will judge me for still listening to The Jonas Brothers
28. People I know finding my Tumblr
29. Clowns
30. That one clown from season 4 of American Horror Story *shudders*
31. Being cut in half
32. A slow, painful death
33. Big spiders
34. Touching snakes
35. Crowds 
36. Never marrying
37. Never becoming a mother
38. Getting cancer
39. Public speaking
40. The ocean
41. Squids
42. Octopuses
43. Sea turtles
44. All ocean animals really
45. What others think of me
46. Needles
47. Being abandoned
48. The unknown
49. Driving
50. Metathesiophobi (fear of change)
51. Bees/wasps/yellow jackets etc.
52. Dragonflies
53. Being forgotten
54. That I don't mean as much to other people as they mean to me
55. Talking on the phone
56. When someone says "we need to talk"
57. Choking to death
58. Being buried alive
59. Rejection
60. People touching me
61. Snapping one's neck when they pop it
62. Being ridiculed
63. Freezing to death
64. Blood
65. Natural disasters
66. Holding babies-Dropping them accidentally
67. Embarrassing myself
68. When rings get stuck on my finger 
69. Becoming insane
70. Arguing 
71. Ebola
72. Swine Flu
73. Having to get an amputation for any reason
74. Mascot (people in those mascot costumes... Sorry Cosmo, stay away from me at games)
75. War
76. Heart failure
77. Dying young
78. Financial insecurity when I grow up
79. Growing up
80. Going skydiving and my parachute not opening
81. Being impaled
82. Ouija boards
83. Expressing my opinion
84. Being put under anesthesia and never coming out again
85. Being laughed at
86. Bullying
87. Quiet people
88. Old people
89. Big reptiles
90. Being alone in a forest
91. Fainting... again.
92. People grabbing my wrists
93. Being outside at night
94. Lakes at night
95. Dolls at night
96. Being stared at
97. Being eaten
98. Being replaced
99. Hippos
100. When my dad shoved sunflower seeds up my nose
101. That no one reads my blog

Alive

Songs that make me feel I'm alive.

Songs that remind me I am alive.

1. Iris-Goo Good Dolls
2. Broken-Lifehouse
3. Angels On The Moon-Thriving Ivory
4. Sheep Go To Heaven-Cake
5. Holocene-Bon Iver (explicit)
6. Fight Song-Rachel Platten
7. Year 3000-Jonas Brothers
8. Bye Bye Bye-'N Sync
9. Beautiful-POD
10. Work Song-Hozier
11. Tiny Glowing Screens pt 2-George Watsky (explicit)
12. Hey @$$hole-Watsky (explicit)
13. Such Small Hands/Nobody, Not Even The Rain-La Dispute
14. Take Me To Church-Hozier
15. A Thousand Miles-Vanessa Carlton
16. Sk8r Boii-Avril Lavigne
17. Check Yes Juliet-We The Kings
18. September-Daughtry
19. Skyscraper-Demi Lovato
20. F***ing Perfect-P!nk (explicit)

Egg's

So I finished making a poem out of those 20 lines from 20 different books. Hope you enjoy. All the bolded lines are the ones from the books I didn't actually use all 20 as that would have made this poem even harder to make sense.

Dear friend, 

I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand

Listen and understand 

Listen and understand

And didn't try to sleep with that person at the party even though you could have. And for that they call you King. 

But when I called out to you 

"Psst King!"

No one responded. I wish you would have. Which brings me back to why I'm writing. You're supposed to listen and understand 

Listen and understand 

Listen and understand

But maybe you don't really listen to what you're being told. So I pray to God you listen to what you're written. 

I wanted to tell you about the boy I met who once told me eggs is spelled EGG'S and its not even possessive. He asked me 

"Can you teach someone to write?"

I guess I didn't answer him soon enough because he added under his breath, 

"she'd be a writer of plays."  

It was then I realized he needed to be THAT someone for me. After all, he was my idea of beautiful. Talking about writing with a deep respect. Thinking about plays. We had so much in common.

"I love you."

I'd whisper after each kiss. 

"I love you too." 

He would hold me with his arm around my waist and the smile I fell in love with. 

Before long, he stopped holding my waist. No longer told me he loved me too. Wouldn't even smile. Instead he'd talk about her. How beautiful she was and she would write plays that would make Shakespeare jealous. 

"She is just incredible." 

He'd longingly sigh with a grin I hadn't seen in months. 

Can you tell me why? Why he broke my heart for a girl who hated writing? She didn't actually even like plays. 

I guess that's just what I get for falling in love with someone who slept with me at a party simply because he could.

There you have it King. Thank you for listening and understanding. 

Love Always,

Vicky Winters

P.S I'm going to start spelling it EGGS again. No apostrophe. 

Sticks and Stones

Go ahead. Throw your sticks.

Cast your Goddamn stones.

I don't care anymore!

Nothing will hurt more than the night you looked me in my eyes and told me I wasn't good enough for you.

All my life I've been told

sticks and stones may break my bones

but words will never harm me

sticks and stones may break my bones

but words will never harm me

BULLCRAP!

They teach you to simply not listen to what others say. What the call you. All those hurtful words they use towards you. 

What they don't teach you is what to do when you do listen. You hear what they call you. You believe those hurtful words.

I let you in. Showed you all the things I hide from the world. I believed you when you said forever. You tore down my dirt foundation, drywall walls to see the sides of me no one else has. Felt a bond with you. Like, yeah. I did the right thing by letting you in. I felt safe. I felt loved.

And what do you do? 

Hurt me worse than any broken bone could ever even start comparing to the pain your words inflicted on me. 

Well I'll have you know I'm rebuilding my walls with a concrete foundation and bricks for the walls. Maybe it is best I don't show people certain sides of me. And if you have seen those sides, I'm sorry. 

At this point there's really only one thing I have to say to you but I don't want to offend anyone with my language. 

By the way, you were wrong. You were never good enough for me. I deserve better.

A SECOND love post

Thanks Slender Auditore for helping me with my second post this week. 

Because it took me long enough to think of my first love post, this one will be a love letter to you.

So here we go.

Dear Slender Auditore,

First off I have to say, my boyfriend wasn't too keen on the idea of me writing a love letter to someone other than him. I told him I'd let him proof read it before I posted it but he's busy with dinner and I have motivation to write for once.

Sorry honey.

Secondly I've been listening to the song Someone New by Hozier on repeat for the past hour an a half. My favorite line is

" 'Cause God knows I fall in love just 

a little ol' little bit 

everyday with someone new"

I wouldn't call this a love song. I don't think you can really truly love more than one person. I mean you can love your friends and you can love your family. Parents, siblings, cousins etc. But you can't LOVE more than one. At least at the same time. 

My parents raised me telling me that there is no such thing as one true love. You are capable of loving more than one person. It wasn't until recently I realized they didn't mean you can be in love with multiple people at the same time. But if your significant other passes on, you are capable of falling in love again with someone else. 

Which brings me back to the song. 

What the heckies Hozier? You can't fall in love everyday with someone new???????? 

Or can you?

Slender Auditore, I loved you from the moment we first talked. You were funny and genuine and seemingly fearless of what anyone thought of you. Pretty much everything I wish I could be. I wish I could make people laugh. I wish I felt I could open up to everyone and not have to hide things of my past. I wish I didn't care what people thought of me. What they called me. What they said to me. 

But the truth is, I don't make people laugh. I can't open up to just anyone. I do care what think of me. What they say. What they call me. 

I love you for being someone I look up to

You took me on a date. I wasn't feeling too great the day of the date and you said "that's okay, it can be a messy date!" I think that was probably my first and last date I'd ever go on in sweats, a t-shirt, messy hair and no makeup. But I had a great time. 

I love you for making me feel comfortable enough to do something so outside of my comfortzone

You always make it a point to talk to me. And when I'm feeling down or even 'pretty ok' you ask me how to make me feel better. Even when I say there's nothing you can do and that it really is fine. You still try to make me smile.

I love you for not giving up on me even though I'm depressed 

and sometimes I'm really just not happy

I gave you something one day in September. It wasn't extravagant or excellent or special or amazing or awesome. It was something that honestly, had I not thought of giving it to you I would've just thrown away. You took that gift and said thank you several times and mentioned how much you loved it. Even the next day you told me how much you still loved it.

I love you for treating something so small and seemingly stupid

as something beautiful and praiseworthy

My dear Slender Auditore I love you. 

But I am not IN LOVE with you

This is not actually a Love Letter. This is a thank you letter. Thank you for making my life brighter. Thank you for noticing me. Thank you for being such a great friend. 

Your Friend,

Vicky Winters

What is LOVE

Love are your favorite color of blue eyes that weren't as blue as you expected them to be when you first saw them
-but still having them be your favorite shade of blue anyway

Love is thinking of that them when you hear any love song and smiling ear to ear
-even though you think love songs are cheesy and overplayed

Love is constantly checking your phone for a message from them
-even though they told you they're going to be busy today and can't talk

Love is whispered Skype calls
-because if either of your parents caught you, you'd be busted

Love is knowing each others flaws inside and out
-but still knowing they're perfect

Love is when the kid in the back of the class keeps complaining about fellow peers 'being in love' because 'they're too young to love', smiling to yourself
-because you know you're in love

Love is covering your hand when Nelson read his love poem about high school students and mentions it's stupid we get promise rings for each other at this age
-because on your finger is the ring he gave you as a promise to you

Love is not double checking your Snapchat to them before sending it because it might be too ugly
-because you know they'll still find you adorable

Love is shaking your head and blushing while saying 'oh no, I'm definitely not' when they tell you you're beautiful
-because as much as you want to fight it you know they mean it and they always will

Love is sending them a million pictures of love quotes
-because each of them explains you perfectly

Baby in case you didn't get it by now

love

is

us

Dear Nelson,

Can you please just give me more prompts to write about?

I'm not a creative human being. I can't just sit down and type. Words don't just come to me like that. I wish they did, but the fact is they do not.

This whole giving us one prompt and then saying "Oh hey you need to come up with an other one as well is hard for me."

I guess... I don't know. I mean it is cool that you give us the opportunity to pick what we write about. I'm really thankful you aren't like some English teachers where they tell you exactly what to write about with exactly X amount of words on exactly X amount of pages in Times New Roman 12pt. font in MLA format to cite your sources. That writing is usually never fun. The truth is, I've never really learned how to write a thesis. I've never really learned what MLA format is. In fact I had to have someone tell me that you use MLA to cite sources instead of being the format of your paper itself. I had to Google what MLA was to make sure they didn't lie to me about it.

Maybe just give me more ideas? I don't know. I think showing peoples journal entries in class helps give me and maybe even others ideas for blog posts.

And Nelson, I really don't mean to be ripping on you or anything. I was just sitting here for a good 10 minutes thinking about what on Earth to write about and I thought 'why not a letter to Nelson about not knowing what to write about?'

I think I'm going to read through more blogs and see what they're writing about to help give me an idea for my extra prompt a week from now on.

Sincerely,
Vicky Winters

How Do I Write About Robots

I'm not a robot.

I do not know any robots.

How am I supposed to come up with an entire blog post about robots?

They do not feel. They do not laugh or love or cry.

To me that is what writing is all about. You write because you feel. You write because you really FEEL. You make others feel.

How the hell do I write about something that does not feel.

I feel. I laugh. I love and I cry.

I'm sorry but I simply just cannot write about something that does not.

Trying To Find Paris

I feel like everyone has already found their Paris. Why can't I find mine? 

Maybe I haven't been looking hard enough? Maybe I've been looking too hard? Was it when I missed that one day of class? Am I really just a tourist looking to be an artist in vain? 

I guess I got the wrong idea when Nelson first introduced going to Paris as an artist rather than a tourist. When I think artist I think 

beauty

perfection

neat

clean

happy

ideal

But the truth is, Paris isn't that. It isn't beautiful, there's trash everywhere.

It isn't perfect, like all of us Paris does have it's flaw, faults and downsides.

Paris is not neat, there's graffiti and cigarette butts everywhere you look.

Paris is far from clean, refer back to it not being beautiful nor neat.

Paris isn't happy, there are lovers now lost, homeless begging for money to pay for their next meal and heartbreaking stories. They're removing the 'love locks' from Pont des Arts bridge.

But if there's one thing Paris definitely is not, would be ideal. It's expensive. I can't read the signs. There's so many people just wanting to swindle you to get your money. 

Even in Paris it rains.

I don't know.

If you know can you tell me?

ʇuǝɹǝɟɟıp#

˙uıɐƃɐ ʇɐɥʇ op oʇ ɹǝʌǝu ʍouʞ ı ʍou ˙ǝɔuɐɥɔ ɐ ʇı ǝʌɐƃ ı ʇsɐǝl ʇɐ

 ˙ɐǝpı ǝlqıɹɹoɥ ɐ llɐɹǝʌo ʇsnɾ sɐʍ uʍop ǝpısdn sıɥʇ ƃuıʇıɹʍ sdɐɥɹǝd ˙ǝɔuɐʎouuɐ ɹǝɥʇo uɐ s,ʇɐɥʇ "s,ı" ǝɥʇ sʇop uǝʌǝ ʇı ɟı llǝʇ ʇ,uɐɔ ı ˙lɐɯɹou sɐʍ ʇı ɥsıʍ uɐɥʇ ɹǝɥʇo ʇı ʇnoqɐ op ʎllɐǝɹ uɐɔ ı ƃuıɥʇou ˙ssǝnƃ ı llǝʍ ɥo

˙pǝzılɐʇıdɐɔ ǝq oʇ pǝǝu spɹoʍ ¡uɐɯ sǝıʞɔǝɥ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʍ ˙sɹǝʇʇǝl ǝzılɐʇıdɐɔ ʇ,usǝop ʇı ʇɐɥʇ sı ʇxǝʇ uʍop ǝpısdn ǝloɥʍ sıɥʇ ʇnoqɐ ǝɯ ƃuıɹǝɥʇoq ʎllɐǝɹ s,ʇɐɥʇ ǝslǝ ƃuıɥʇǝɯos

˙ɯɐ ı ʎɐʍ ǝɥʇ ʇsnɾ s,ʇı ʇnq ˙sıɥʇ ɹoɟ ʎzɐɹɔ ǝɯ llɐɔ ǝɯos ˙sǝɥɔɐpɐǝɥ ǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ ǝʌıl ʇsnɾ ı os sllıd ǝʞıl ʇ,uop ı ˙ǝuo pɐɥ ɹǝʌǝu ǝʌ,ı 'uıɹıdsɐ ɟo ƃuıʞɐǝds

 ˙ǝɯ ǝʞıl ǝɹɐ noʎ ɟı uıɹıdsɐ uɐ ǝʞɐʇ oƃ ˙ʎɐʍ ǝɯɐs ǝɥʇ ǝɹ,noʎ ɟı ʎɹɹos ɯ,ı ˙uʍop ǝpısdn pɐǝɹ oʇ ǝɥɔɐpɐǝɥ ɐ ǝɯ sǝʌıƃ ʇı sıɥʇ uo ʞɔɐq ƃuıʞool ˙˙˙ʍoʍ

 ˙noʎ ɹoɟ sıɥʇ ƃuıʇıɹʍ ɥɔnoɔ ǝɥʇ uo ʇǝʞuɐlq ɐ uı dn pǝddɐɹʍ ɯ,ı ʎɐʍ ɹǝɥʇıǝ ˙sʍouʞ oɥʍ ˙uoıʇɐlnɔɹıɔ ɹood ǝʌɐɥ ı ǝqʎɐɯ ˙pǝpoolq ploɔ ʇsnɾ ɯ,ı ǝqʎɐɯ ˙ƃuol ʎɐp llɐ ploɔ uǝǝq ǝʌ,ı ʇnq ǝɯ ʇsnɾ s,ʇı ɟı ʍouʞ ʇ,uop ı

 ˙ǝɔɹoɟ ɹıɐ ǝɥʇ uı sı ǝɥ ˙ʎuɐɯɹǝƃ uı pǝuoıʇɐʇs sı oɥʍ puǝıɹɟʎoq ɹǝɥ ɥʇıʍ ƃuıdʎʞs ʎlǝʞıl ʇsoɯ sı ɹǝɥʇo ǝɥʇ puɐ sʇɟıɥs ʇɥƃıu ǝɥʇ sʞɹoʍ ǝɥs ǝsnɐɔǝq dǝǝlsɐ ʎlqɐqoɹd sı ǝuo

˙˙˙ƃuıop ǝɹɐ sɹǝʇsıs oʍʇ ɹǝɥʇo ʎɯ ʇɐɥʍ sʍouʞ uǝʌɐǝɥ ˙ƃuıddɐu sɹıɐʇsdn sı ɯoɯ ʎɯ puɐ ƃuıʇǝǝɯ ɐ ɹoɟ ʇno ƃuıpɐǝɥ sı pɐp ʎɯ ˙pnol ooʇ ʎɐʍ ǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʇ suooʇɹɐɔ ƃuıɥɔʇɐʍ sı ɹǝɥʇoq ʎɯ ˙ʇı ʇnoqɐ s,ʇɐɥʇ puɐ

ʎɐpoʇ ǝuop ǝʌ,ı ʇɐɥʍ ʇnoqɐ ʇsıl ɐ ƃuıʞɐɯ pǝʇɹɐʇs*
sǝıɹoʇs pɹoʍ 6 ʇnoqɐ ƃolq ʎɯ uo pǝʇsod*
ǝɯoɥ ǝɯɐɔ*
ɥɔɹnɥɔ oʇ ʇuǝʍ*
dn ǝɯ ǝʞɐʍ pɐp ʎɯ ǝʌɐɥ*
dǝǝls oʇ ʞɔɐq ʇuǝʍ "ǝdou" pıɐs*
dn ǝʞoʍ*
'sı ɹɐɟ os ǝuop ǝʌ,ı ʇɐɥʍ puɐ ʎɐpuns sı ʎɐpoʇ ˙sʎɐpuns ʇnoqɐ ʞlɐʇ s,ʇǝl

 ˙uʍop ǝpısdn ǝq ll,ʇı ˙˙˙ʇnoqɐ ǝʇıɹʍ oʇ ʇɐɥʍ ǝɹns ʎllɐǝɹ ʇou ɯ,ı ɥƃnoɥʇ uǝʌǝ ˙uʍop ǝpısdn ǝdʎʇ oʇ pǝpıɔǝp ǝʌ,ı

¡ƃolq ʎɯ ɹoɟ ʇuǝɹǝɟɟıp ƃuıɥʇǝɯos ƃuıʎɹʇ ɯɐ ı ʎɐpoʇ

Scattered Six Word Stories

Here are some of my own six word stories mixed along with stories from others that have stood out to me.

My heart only beats for you

My autobiography is written in scars.

Never apologize for who you are

She merely smiled. His world stopped.

Sleeping with her, dreaming of you.

Brought roses home, keys didn't fit.

I saw galaxies in your eyes.

Went abroad. Finally feel like home.

I went traveling, found my home.

I'm tired of tear stained pillows.

Won the world. Lost the girl.

"I want you." "You have me."

Nightstand pen missing-story idea evaporates.

I will always stand by you.

I've built my walls too high.

She was the definition of beauty.

I'm sorry for f****** up again.

I'll write my own happy ending.

And slowly, I fell in love.

Be your own hero for once.

3am, my mind is on you.

Your words shape a beautiful soul.

Crayons, Crayola To Be Exact

Whether you say 'crans' or 'cray-ons' we all loved them the same.

Drawing pictures of cartoon house...

Or an absolute master piece.

We all started our artistic lives with crayons. 

At some point in time we drifted away from the use of crayons. Or most of us at least. On to more intricate art supplies.

I remember distinctly the day I stopped using crayons. I was in second grade in the back of the classroom by the crayon drawers reaching in to find the perfect brown to color a horse with. The first one I pulled out was sienna.

Pulling it out I read it, "Sienna..." next I scoffed "what kind of name is that?" To which I saw something that to this day breaks my heart. I turned around and this girl said to me with tears welling up in her eyes

"But... My name is Sienna..." 

Completely embarrassed I stuttered around to fix what I had just said. 

"Well yeah and it's a very beautiful name! It's just weird for a crayon silly!" 

She didn't look convinced and walked away back to her seat. 

From that day on I've always been ashamed when I see crayons. Especially Crayola. Especially sienna. 

I've given up on drawing horses. I'll stick to houses. 

STOP BEING SORRY

Don’t be sorry for:

• Sleeping in

• Not getting the joke

• Forgetting to respond to a text when you were sad

• Being sad

• Bringing up a sensitive topic you didn’t know was a sensitive topic

• Being sick

• Not being able to see someone

• Talking too much

• Not talking enough

• Liking someone

• Not liking someone

• Not liking yourself

• Or for thinking you like yourself too much

• Needing more time/affection/attention than most

• Not knowing how to give as much attention/affection as most

Aspects of your life and personality are not things to apologize for. If you are not doing something purposefully harmful to yourself or another there is no need to apologize. 

You are your own person and you can never live up to every single person’s expectations because everyone is different with their own opinions and personalities and they can never properly evaluate you. If you are doing the best you can at that time it is more than enough, please stop being sorry for being different, because 

you’re doing just fine.

What's The Big Deal With Hats???

I have never understood hats.

They're used for warmth, shade, protection, fashion, and many other uses I'm not creative enough to think up.

If you're like me you could count the number of times you've worn a hat on one hand.

the truth is....

I HATE HATS!

They're itchy, scratchy, tight, uncomfortable and down right weird... I guess I just like the shape of my head and rather keep it uncovered. That or I have a very oddly shaped head and hats really emphasize that fact making me more self conscious than I already am. If that is even possible. I feel so stupid when I wear hats. Look stupid. Probably even sound stupid. 

Maybe I'm just overthinking this. I tend to do that a lot. I don't know. Hats just aren't my best friend I guess. We aren't even awkward relatives who pinch your cheek saying "My, my how big you've grown! I remember when you were born!" as you smile uncomfortably as they scoop you into an other hug. 

I think hats and I are better if we just give each other our space. 

Call me a tourist, but you'll never catch me wearing a hat unless it is Hat day. 

Because if there's one thing I hate more than hats, it's standing out. 

Cheers To You*

This one's for the seniors who are NOT ready to graduate. I'm right there with you.

This one's for the sophomores who think they are. Just remember, high school is what you make it to be. If you spend it wishing you were somewhere else, it's going to blow.

Here's to the downtrodden, repressed and the stressed. Never give up on yourself. There will be so many people in life who will give up on you. Don't be one of them.

Here's to the kids who have brown eyes. They're never romanticized in fairy-tales nor movies alike, but I'm here to tell you, you're beautiful.

This one is for my wishers on shooting stars. Don't ever change.

This one is for my 12 year old's acting like they're 25. Give it a few years. You'll miss being 12 more than anything.

Here's to the quiet kid in the back of the class. Don't let people walk all over you.

Here's to the proud. Don't forget the importance of an 'I'm sorry'.

This is for everyone who have ever had their heart broken. I know it hurts but don't let it ruin love for you.

This is for the lonely. Never think no one loves you because I do.

*And finally you, this one is for you. You know exactly who you are.