part II: stories untold

he asked me what was wrong,

he said he was my friend.

but i sat there wondering,

what kind of friend

would do this to a friend?

// Lies People Tell //


saying goodbye is hard for me

because I watched the ones I loved,

leave,

without saying a word.

// wordless //


we’re talking

and fighting

and screaming

and crying

; pretending that we’re listening to each other’s hearts,

when we’re only really interested in our own

// we aren’t listening //


everyones laughing drunkenly outside the window at the memories they won’t be able to remember tomorrow

I wonder what is so appealing about the idea of forgettable nights and engaging with strangers who won’t exist by tomorrow morning

then I remember,

that forgetting those moments

allows us to re-live them over and over again

sometimes not remembering tells us

those moments were worth forgetting

because if we did remember what happened,

we may just decide to not live,

or at least live the way we did,

that night,

and on all the other nights we chose to forget

// Is this living? // 


you looked at my bones like gold,

and pushed my skin down

to imagine a finer distinction

pointier,

rougher,

and thinner

than my own

silently,

you showed me what you wanted

and what I was at that moment,

was not enough.

// Bones like Gold // 


80… 90….100 

miles per hour we go

you sped down the road

hands smashing onto the dashboard

with my screams turning into tears

as I gripped the side of my seat

accepting the fact that this car ride may never end,

and this seatbelt may never come off

unless I jump out the door

// Safety First // 


“pretty, pretty please Nan,

can I come back really, really soon?”

she said to me.

with tears in my eyes,

I couldn’t find the words to respond.

it had been a decade since I wished to stay somewhere

so strongly that I begged

I realized at that moment,

that I would never experience that longing again

childhood was the only time that a feeling like that existed

// Longing //


I look at her and wonder where the world went wrong

if everyone were to have the soul of a 3-year-old girl,

things may go differently

as I ponder,

she turns to me out of the blue and asks,

“Are you okay?”

I want to scream no and tell her that she’ll only be able to wonder how others feel for so long until she learns the truth,

that no one’s okay.

everyone’s pretending.

and that someday she’ll stop asking

because she’ll know the answer is a lie,

or at least not the full truth

the people who embrace her kindness and shield her youth today

are bound to be overpowered tomorrow

by the corruption

and anger

and guilt

and pain

that could overflow oceans

and hearts

and minds

during this,

all I want to do is look at her and say

“are you okay?”

because I know there will only be so many more times that

she will say yes

and really mean it without hesitation

but instead I tell her that I’m okay

because I need her to believe this half-truth

she has yet to unmask

and secretly I hope that someday

she may grow older

and still believe it

without hesitation

as I used to

before.

I think that if we all chose

to protect the hearts of 3-year-old girls,

and allowed them to bask in oblivion for just a bit longer

without exposing them to what our modern-day truth looks like

that maybe someday,

somewhere,

a little girl will create her own

and although she may have never known our version,

we gave her the chance

we hadn’t been given:

to form her own truth

without it being decided for her.

// you decide // 


the journey continued

Dear blog, I have failed you.

I have failed to see your importance in my life and the endless outlet you provided for me,  my problems and my joys.  Some days I just felt out of words, and others I felt that I couldn’t provide you what you deserved. I realize now that the reason I stopped writing was because of nothing other than myself and my own fears.  I let peoples’ words stop me from saying my own and I can’t explain the regret I feel for pausing this journey.

To those of you reading who feel trapped by the obligations of life and fear of others’ expectations: stop. The things you love are important. In fact, they’re essential. I love writing, I stopped writing. I forgot that my feelings are raw, honest and important. I realize now that it’s necessary to expose my own thoughts knowing that some don’t have the courage to themselves. I know because I was that girl.

To the girl who emailed me a year ago saying that my words kept her afloat in times of need, I looked back at your email today. It reminded me of how ignorant I have been towards MY purpose.

While some may not see or agree with what I do, I know deep down that this is me. I refuse to censor myself any longer. I have felt the power in my hands since the day my mom gave me my first journal. Making a difference is hard, but words have the power to in such small or HUGE ways. They can make you laugh, cry, and smile. They can make you feel the weight of the world when you feel absolutely empty. It’s a privilege to find your passion as some search for it their entire lives.

Now, I’m the girl who needs words to keep her afloat. I am in need, once again,  for this outlet and journey to continue. I want to share this with others because I know how easy it is to give up on the things you love in fear that you are incapable of keeping them. I am tired of feeling like I have to please everyone other than myself. It’s time to find me again. The best way of doing that for myself is to continue documenting my journey. This blog started my sophomore year summer, now I’m a freshman in college. I have overcome the worst and I hope everyone sees that they have the power to, too.

Now I’m going to end this sob story and go to class. I am still trying to find my sanity every day and I hope you try to, too. Thanks for listening.

xxx,

Emilee

 

city streets & quiet bedrooms

 

Hearts fluttering in the winds of city streets and quiet bedrooms

Eyes glowing seeing the beauty in another’s eyes

Glasses cheering on the ends of nearby bar tables

Couples exiting, leaving doors clanging behind them

laughing while turning down icy street corners

voices shaking when reaching their destination

Faces blushing in the cold of her front door

One body leans as the other freezes

Moving closer, eyes meet once more

lips locking slowly, but surely

coming together as one.

Seeing that love does…

Really,

Exist.

 

One year later,

The two meet at the bar,

Not far from the icy corner of Barrows Street.

Sitting at the same stool,

Clanking a different glass.

Reminiscing the same day,

One year ago,

where they first met.

Laughing at life,

And the stories they began with,

before creating one of their own.

Leaving the door clanging,

they walk out the door.

Walking the same streets,

they did once before.

Seeing that love does…

Really,

Exist.

waking up

I think when you’re little you wake up and think all of these things about the world. You think it’s kind, endearing, and welcomes you with open arms. You think your parents will stay happy forever, you think your friends are the best, there’s nothing you would change. Life is good. Life is carefree, you can’t imagine it ever not being that way.

Then one day, things get harder. You become a little more observant. You realize that there’s more to life than the playground. Being hurt isn’t just falling off the swing set anymore, it’s when you don’t get invited to one of your best friends’ birthday parities. Or the boy in your class who didn’t pick you as his friend for the free lunch with your teacher. You remember the time you curled your hair for the first time and wore a dress. You remember your teacher asking you why you looked so dolled up today. You remember being embarrassed for the first time about your crush on that boy who didn’t feel the same way. It’s when you learned life wasn’t always fair. It’s when comparison started to begin and you really realized what inequality meant.

But life went on. You observed more things. Instead of elementary school drama, it turned into middle school. You feel like you’re a step behind everyone. The girls become pretty, but you still have your braces and acne. You start to lose confidence. The boys on the bus call you names; they make up rumors. You didn’t even know what those words meant, but you’re starting to learn. The clicks start to form; you find yourself lost in people. You realize what awkward small talk is. You realize that not everyone is a true friend. You drift from the people who used to be your best friends, and attempt to make new ones.

Classes feel harder, you start to learn what stress is. Life isn’t so easy anymore, it isn’t just a playground. The teachers get grouchy; they start making premade assumptions before they even meet you. You look at other girls and wonder why you don’t look that way too. Clothes become important. That bright yellow Juicy Couture tracksuit doesn’t cut it anymore; you need a new pair of Abercrombie jeans. Don’t mind the price, it’s style. You don’t want to look different, do you? You walk around the halls, talking about the same things. “That new girl is so mean.” “Yeah I know, I think so too,” no you don’t, you don’t even know her. What #1 says, is what #2 believes. Your opinion is irrelevant; you must follow everyone else’s.

Middle school ends, you join a new and bigger world called high school. This is the place you’ve dreamed of. You think your opinion will be heard, you’re mostly right. You think the boys will grow up and you’ll meet someone nice, maybe that’s true. You think that you’ll start fresh here. It’ll be easy. Dear God, it’s not.

Your freshman year of high school, everything is exciting. The classes are new; you’ve developed a new sense of freedom here. There’s more expected out of you, but you think you can do it. You notice girls changing. Abercrombie jeans are ridiculous now, are you 14? No, I’m 15. Well, now it’s True Religion, can you ever keep up?

Things like Homecoming Court become prevalent. Those who get elected are supposedly the most admired in the school, at least that’s what you thought. You shortly realize it’s all just a popularity contest. You thought high school was more than that, you thought personality would start to be valued. Nope, still just looks. The guys get excited at football games while watching the dancers; you always watch in the stands behind. Jealousy creeps up. Why can’t I be that girl? Cause you’re not.

You find a group of friends; you think they’re pretty solid. Little do you know, a year from now everything will change. You experiment now, you meet the older guys. You walk around the school in hopes of someone older admiring you. Little do you understand, it’s never for the right reasons. They invite you to parties, but you’re still to scared to try anything new. You admire the older girls; they seem like they have their shit together. Oh my God, no they don’t. You meet a boy, you date. He was nice, but too boring. You get confused. You find someone else. Too bad you didn’t break up with him yet.

You start your sophomore year. You’re that girl that gets elected on to court; you think life is pretty good right now. Except the fact that you’re confused as hell, have no idea what you’re doing, and there’s a kid playing tricks on your mind every day. He tells you he loves you, he asks you for a picture. You ponder the thought because you think this is how high school works. So you do it. Nothing bad happens, but you feel like an idiot. Always will too. How could you do that to yourself?

That guy who said he loved you introduced you to new things, he said you should take a shot. You did it. You find yourself in a deeper hole than ever. There’s no way out now. The shots become a frequent weekend activity, your friends have open houses. The girls who haven’t done these things think you’re going insane. They spread rumors, or really were they? You walk around with your head down. You plug your headphones in. “I just have to get through the day,” becomes a common mentality. Your boyfriend gets worried, you’re worried too. You don’t tell him though; you want to sort things out. Or do you?

Your boyfriend breaks up with you. You think life hates you. Everyone’s out to get you, this is the worst time in your life. Trust me, you’ll be proved once again that that isn’t true. You turn rebellious; just because you want to hide how really sad you actually are. You start to think you aren’t good enough; the first thing you look at is your body. You’re so fat, Jesus, 120 pounds. What are you?

You stop eating for awhile. You’re breaking out on a daily basis and hiding in your room. The good news is, you’re down to 111. You feel healthy again, at least for awhile. Boys start to look at you. Single and skinny; two things you think guys really like. Too bad the only one you wanted didn’t like you too. You start to eat again.

You’re quite sad how things have ended up, you really don’t want to be anywhere. You’re not wanted. You show up still, have to maintain an image. God, if they only knew what was hiding behind those eyes of yours. If they only knew…Junior year begins, you started to take birth control because of your anxiety and acne. You gained like 10 pounds. You basically wanna shove your head in a pillow for the rest of your life. No one thinks you gained weight, but you can feel it. Soon, you get off that pill and lose it within two weeks. Things are better, right?

You’re snapchatting that boy you met at the end of summer; you think he’s perfect. Nothing like any of the guys you’ve met before, he’s nice. You put yourself in his brain. You make him get to know you, but he didn’t really want to at first. You were just a friend, maybe with some benefits. He loved someone else; you were just a distraction.

You give him an ultimatum; you start to realize your worth. You’re more of a person than you ever were before. He doesn’t love her anymore, he wants you. You get to know him, never know if it’s what you want, but you decide to really give it a chance. You cut that guy off from freshman year, it’s time to grow up. You go on dates, real ones; you even ask him to plan them. It’s all about the impressions. If I can be this cool, sane, and pretty girl, will he learn to like me? You avoid the touchy subjects at all costs, he can’t know the real you.

You get closer. He actually is pretty neat. He’s got some baggage, but you were always a fixer upper. You like the challenge. He distracts you. He convinces you that life is great, only if you’re with him though. The separation anxiety will start to kick in. For the most part, junior year is great. You quit that God awful therapy for your panic attacks, and saw a psychiatrist. She couldn’t believe you made it without meds. Your anxiety is shortly (somewhat) relieved. You have a boyfriend you love. You distance yourself from the drama of your friends, and pop in whenever you want to.

Then you go to prom for the first time. The best night of your life, right? You look perfect. You’ve never been more excited. You have a blast at pictures, then you get on the bus. Your anxiousness and social anxiety kicks in. He wonders why you won’t dance. You host the after party. It’s a catastrophe. It reminds you why you stopped hanging out with your friends in the first place. They always act like intoxicated idiots.

You pull through junior year. You take the ACT, you still suck, but you’re okay. You say, “I love you,” for the first time and actually mean it. You’ve never felt this way before. You’re so scared for him to leave for college; your happy place will disappear. You’re lucky though, you’ll have the summer to prepare. Just kidding, that’s bullshit.

The summer is spent with him, him, and more him. You loved most of it, besides the topic of college. You didn’t do anything too risky, but you felt pretty good. You were in a good spot with most of your friends. Everything was okay. The last weeks before school approach, you’re gone almost all of them. You spend time with your family, and his. You hear some good, and some bad news. You sit through one of the most difficult talks of your life and don’t understand why your faith has never been more challenged.

He leaves for college. You make dinner for the first time night before, you say your goodbyes. “It’s only 20 minutes away,” they said. I never knew how far that would feel until it actually happened. There are moments of clarity, and some with none at all. You visit often, but he wants to be alone. He’s a college kid, that’s what college kids do.

You try to get used to the partying, the confusion, the unknown. It’s so much harder than you ever thought, you feel like you’re breaking. A two way street isn’t two when the other isn’t compromising. School sucks. You hate your classes; senior year was supposed to be fun. You never see any of your friends, and you hate football games. There’s nothing to do in this city. Just when you think the fighting, sadness, and security issues could any worse. You find out she got sicker.

Your boyfriend’s mom; who you quickly learned to love after months of trying to impress. She had cancer, a shitty case of it too. Your heart starts to hurt. The helplessness kicks in. She’s had it for four years, but now she’s on hospice. Things have taken a turn for the worse.

You’re there for him, and his whole family. You can’t even imagine the toll on their hearts. This whole situation is just a testament of faith. Can they do it? Can you do it? What can you do? You stick around. Your first two weekends of senior year are spent with him and his family, struggling to find ways to support.

You give hugs, write cards, give food, but nothing seems to ease the pain. You’re struggling too, God, why this family? The first weekend’s spent filled with goodbyes. You try to hug the pain out of them, but you can still see it in their eyes. You’re trying to hold it together, but it’s so hard. You remember the few, but always meaningful comments she made to you. You’ll always love the color light pink on you, it’ll remind you of her. She thought you looked beautiful in it.

He’s mad all the time. At you, at himself, at the world. Can you do anything right? You feel like the bad guy, but all you’re trying to do is be there. You have to say goodbye; all you can mutter is “you’re an amazing woman.” “I was,” she said, if she only knew what we were all thinking. She’d become the inspiration of your life in a matter of months. So strong, so courageous, 6 kids? How can you manage all of this with 6 kids? She is an amazing woman, always was. Never stopped.

She passes the next day. Could life honestly throw me one hurdle, come at me please. You want to make everything better; you can’t. Just be there when you can. Next weekend, the arrangements begin. The wake, the funeral. Don’t even want to get into specifics. She was a beautiful woman, that’s all I can say. She also raised hell of a family, you can’t even imagine. Her passing will continuously break my heart in the days to come.

You see the impact she made on everyone; especially her children. How will they carry on? You feel this need to be there, but you know you won’t be forever. This, by far, will be the biggest challenge you’ve faced.

So, senior year. Things should be great, but they’re really just not. You sit and wonder why God does the things he does. You question why you of all people are the one in this situation, and how to do a better job in it without losing your mind. You don’t know how to save him in fear of losing yourself. The wait for college acceptances begins, and the anxiousness and fear hovers over you. Every. Single. Day.

How will it end? I don’t know.

Lessons Learned 2.0

The night before my first day of senior year, and last day of my high school career has arrived. My mind is crowded with anticipation, fear, and happiness all at the same time.

I’ve learned a lot about myself this year, probably more than I ever have before. Junior year brought the best and the worst out of me, and I can’t distinguish which one there was more of. My year was mostly spent happy, but also very stressed at the same time. I didn’t and still don’t know where I’m going. I’m still stuck at school for another long year. Lastly, I’m still as cynical as I was at the end of my freshman year hating every day here just as before.

There are lots of things that made it better though I must say. My family and friends were pretty great and always there when I needed them. I got a boyfriend who made my life 1,000 times better as it seemed. I have a roof over my head and a life to look forward to. The life that I’ve always spent looking forward to; a life in college. Although I’m not done taking my tries at the ACT, I have solid options and hopefully will end up happy wherever I go.

But right now what I can really say is, I take things for granted a lot. I take for granted how good life is to me just based off of singular events and people in my life. I know people who are, and have been, struggling for years. I know people who don’t know if they’ll make it another day. I also know people who have to worry for the safety of others, ALL the time. I’m pretty freaking lucky as much as I hate to admit it.

I go to a school where teachers provide and promote a well rounded education every day. I live in a house where my family provides almost everything for me without a thank you. I have friends that would jump hoops for me whenever I ask them to.

I’m failing to get to the point here, so let me state this more clearly. Life sucks sometimes, to be honest, mine right now kinda even sucks. But honestly, it has to get better. Be optimistic. If you spend years dreading what’s to come and being unappreciative to those who matter, you’re obviously going to hate life. I’m not saying I take my own word by any means, but going into my senior year I’m starting to realize life is a little bigger than just me.

There are so many things to do and people to meet, always be openminded. Life will never stay boring unless you make it that way. I sometimes feel like where I live is the worst place in the world, but then I realize how much freaking worse it could actually be. If you’re bored, switch things up.

Do what makes you happy and keep whoever makes you happier. If neither of those things happen, you’re bound to a life filled with disappointment.

As cynical and afraid I am of the year and whats to come, I know how much I’ll end up missing this time in my life. Life is easy, easier than it probably ever will be. I’ve had the same friends since seventh grade and I don’t know what life will look like without them. I live with my beyond supportive family and my mom who does my laundry every single day.

Focus less on your doubts and more on your joys. Take life as it comes to you and always work to be more. Life isn’t easy, but usually we’re the ones that are making it harder.

Life is good, God has a plan, and things will and can be better. Always do your best.

 

 

 

Sad Eyes

She walks around with sad eyes

Every where she goes.

People think she’s happy,

But no one really knows.

 

She walks around with sad eyes

Every where she goes.

She wants someone to ask her,

But no one ever goes.

 

Her eyes sometimes get brighter,

But the sunshine goes away.

At 10:pm in her bedroom,

Memories start to fade.

 

She tries her best to recall them,

But always tries too much.

Her head starts to hurt,

Her face starts to flush.

 

Her smile starts to fade,

Her eyes begin to flutter.

 

The tears that are falling drown her underwater.

 

The next time you see a girl with sad eyes,

Go and ask her why.

Let her tell you how she’s feeling,

Sit and let her cry.

Don’t tell her to feel better,

It doesn’t work that way.

Hug her till she smiles,

Help it go away.

 

The next time you see a girl with sad eyes,

Don’t you let her down.

Put her on a pedestal,

Give her a crown.

Make her feel pretty,

Make her feel smart.

Tell her she’s worth it,

Don’t let her fall apart.