I Remember

I remember that I met my first real best friend in sixth grade.
I remember in seventh grade that I witnessed her first kiss.
It was in the school hallway right in front of the elevator.
I remember her next boyfriend.
And the next and the next.
I remember when she told me she started drugs.
That was right before eighth grade.
I remember when she told me she was join to wait for marriage.
I remember when she showed me the scars.
I remember when she told me about her eating disorder.
I remember when she told me she got raped.
I remember when we fell apart.

I remember I met my second real best friend in eighth grade.
I remember he was already addicted to drugs.
I remember his girlfriends.
I remember that my first hug with a guy was him outside of our school.
I remember the day he told me he was leaving.
I remember the note he wrote me.
I remember his visits.
The texts that got way less frequent.
I remember the way things were.
And then I remember we changed.

I remember I met my third real best friend in ninth grade.
I remember her silence.
I remember her laughter.
I remember her scars.
I remember her art.
I remember how many times her heart got broken.
I remember how much she didn't talk about it.
I remember her smile.
I remember when she lost her virginity.
I remember when she started smoking.
I remember when she started drinking.
I remember when she told me she crashed.
I remember when she told me she was in love.

I remember in sixth grade when I was not ready for what was to come.
I remember when it was easy.
I remember when my elementary friend told me about scratching.
I remember when I tried it.
I remember when I escalated.
I remember my moms hand.
I remember the pills.
I remember the water.
I remember waking up.
I remember seeing my second real best friend.
I remember the second attempt.
I remember the tears.
I remember the heart I weighed on.
I remember telling my mom.
I remember her laugh.
I remember my fathers temper.
I remember the breaking glass.
I remember the names.
The fighting.
I remember.

I remember when I thought it was better.

And now I'm living in tomorrow.

I Need White Roses

I wish it were black and white,
But we're painting the roses red.

I keep on telling my self I'm happy.

I'm happy in your arms. 

But I can't deal with the sadness.

I don't like the fact that every time I'm happy I just wait to get to sleep so I can start over.

I just want to start over. 

Off with it's head. If only I could find it.

We're painting the roses red and I can't tell whose blood we're using.

I think it's my own, but then I black out.

Regenerate. Work. Regenerate. Work.

And every now and then I get to be disappointed in the fact that my parents can still tell me what to do.

I miss my old friend.

I don't want to se any of the ones that are actually around.

There's something out there calling my name.

But I'm too fucking busy painting the roses red.

What does that even mean.

I love him.

Is he holding me back?

I should be living. 

I don't think people try to discover just happiness in life.

Their finding what makes them feel alive.

Otherwise we're just decks of cards.

Duplicates all over the world.

Walking.

Breathing.

But our hearts aren't beating.

I fell in a hole a long time ago.

Turned into a soldier like all the rest.

I'm always late.

And I just want to be Alice.

How many people get to be Alice in the world?

Put Me On Pause

I have the moon by the neck.
I see the ocean of lights we call a city.
I wish I could touch the water.
I wish I could surf the tallest of waves.
I didn't feel infinite.
I felt like god pressed pause.
Just for a moment.
For a moment to happen.
I would like to say I felt relaxed.
That I had a breath of fresh air.
But there is always a number of thoughts in my head,
As there is stars in the sky.
I thought about being on a ship.
Sinking.
Having my last glimpse of life be the stars,
And the distorted light of the underwater ship.
I've felt a lot lately that I'm sinking into beauty.
And this moment captured it all.
But soon enough I fly.
I'll take my childhood as a blanket and sore.
Breathe.
See.
Believe.
And know.
...would you drown in the beauty with me as we play with the strings of our hearts...?

New York

You said sometimes you pretend you want to forget me.
You said it makes it easier.

But what impact did I have on you?
How many times did I make your heart race?
How many times did I break down a wall?
Was I different for you?

I wanted the sad.
The mad.
The happy.

Right now my heart is in sexy nights and Sunday dinners,
But today I had an epiphany.
You just might be my Tyler Joseph.
My Orion.
You.
You are so you.
And today when I smelled you on my shirt.
I realized I love you.

Fuck.

i love you

ET IN ARCADIA EGO

"Arcadia was a rural region of Ancient Greece, whose inhabitants - chiefly shepherds and farmers - were seen as living quiet, idyllic life away from the hustle and bustle of nearby Athens."

This describes what I want my life to be like. I want to be submerged in culture, but not enough to be clouded from the world. Though no matter what I learn I want to always keep my opinion in mind. Who I am.

The phrase et in Arcadia ego means "even in Arcadia, here I am."

This is my quest to find my Arcadia. To find me.

So hello world,

Here I am.

High school graduate. Confused teenager. Not going to college next year because I want to discover happiness first. Dreamer. Girlfriend. Best friend. But really right now I should just be alone. I need to be alone. 

Am I a bitch? Am I a lover? Do I take what i'm given and give back what I take from the world? Am I a leader? Am I a wanderer?

I. Do. Not. Know.

But I intend to find out in this new era.