things that keep me up at night

Last week I found out the Junior (sophomore at the time) I was in love with last year is friends with the Junior I am in love with this year. It's funny how a trip to the gas station can give you an open mind on things like polygamy.... I just love a lot of boys and I am a huge mess and I don't know how anyone can pick just one. But I also don't know how anyone can pick one if that makes sense..
What if they are all cool and nice but then once your married they make you scrub the floors all day while they watch TV and wait for you to make them dinner and what if they treat you like your their slave and all people have flaws and I understand and you need to chill but what if you've been married for 20 years and you realize you spend all day at home cleaning and cooking and then your spouse comes home with Wendy's even though you cooked them chicken and you have to throw it away because "left overs don't taste the same" and then they want to spend time with you so you sit next to them while they eat their stupid Wendy's and wait until they fall asleep while watching the Hunting Channel and listening to you talk then you turn the TV off and help them to bed then you lay there next to them and wait until you are exhausted enough that even the sound of their snoring won't keep you awake and it's 3 A.M. and you are going to wake up at 5 A.M. because you have to wake them up to go to work and you are 40 and this is your life. And what are you going to do? You've been married for 20 years you can't just leave them. You have kids to take care of and you are the only successful marriage to come out of all your siblings and besides how would you even explain why you got a divorce, they don't hit you but they certainly don't love you. People get a divorce because they hate each other, or because someone was unfaithful or because they get hurt. People don't get a divorce because they changed their mind. Your 40 and you have kids and you feel indifferent about your marriage and you are making excuses for people who don't deserve them. And sometimes that's what love is for people, an endless amount of second chances, being accepting and sometimes spineless, but always trying to make them happy anyways. Sometimes love is Ugly.



//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////sasha fierce/////////

throwback thursday

All I can really remember is Nelson saying "I'm sick of reading sad shit"
and I'm sick of writing sad sh-stuff..
And I think that we should remember the good things, like catching fire flies and playing on merry go rounds and that one boy who drew me a picture of a dinosaur in preschool
or did I draw one for him?
I don't remember.
I remember when my parents bought our first living room living room couch at a garage sale
I remember my first house with stairs
I remember asking for an Aaron Carter poster for my birthday 
and Christmas
I remember passing notes
I remember those Chose Your Own Adventure books
I remember dying every time..
I remember watching The Land Before Time (I was obsessed with dinosaurs ok)
I remember the second day of seminary because it was the first day I saw you
I remember you every time I see that building
I remember The Killers every time I see you
I remember playing ghost in the graveyard every night during the summer
I remember having a sandbox 
I remember the first goal I scored, and the second, and the last
I remember when I was 6 and I finally figured out how to blow a bubble with my gum
I remember crying

But I also think we should remember the bad stuff. And that we remember why we are the way we are, and why we aren't the way we aren't.
I think we should also remember that I hate that one girl because when I moved here in third grade none of the neighbors would be my friend because she told them all I wasn't Mormon because I wore tank-tops 
I remember the funerals
I remember the first time I ate lunch by myself
I remember when I got in trouble for cheating in 6th grade
I remember what my door looked like without a hole in it.
I remember learning about coping with anger in health class. How you are supposed to count to ten and breathe and leave the room and hold your breath and think happy thoughts and breathe.
But you can do a lot of praying and a lot of counting and a lot of screaming in pillows
but they never taught you how to get all that anger out of you
these are the things no one talks about
I remember moving every two years
I remember Utah being the first place without fire flies
I remember Utah being the first place with bees
I remember when my parents sold our first living room couch at a garage sale
I remember crying


I remember a lot of crying

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))sasha fierce((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

something that I found

He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a
good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others—the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room.
He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.

-Jonathan Safran Foer-

bleh, whatever

feeling bland is never fun horrible. Nothing is really going on in my life that is sad or happy and all the recent movies I have seen have been sub-par and I haven't had time to read anything meaningful and I am kind of just like whatever. My emotion is whatever. HOW DO YOU WRITE ABOUT WHATEVER. My feelings to this post are whatever. My feelings towards this class are more than whatever and it might be the only class I get an A in because I feel so whatever about all my other classes. Maybe whatever is a synonym for senioritis. Feeling whatever isn't really healthy because you need to care about things and stay motivated and yadda yadda yadda so you can keep improving and becoming a better person. But at the same time who are you becoming a better person for and who decides what makes a person better and why do you care what that person thinks and this is why I am feeling like whatever. I get too many questions in my head and I have too much homework and I get so stressed that I am just like whatever if I stop caring then I will stop being so stressed out about all this stuff. And then the next thing you know you have 6 NCs and two college applications to fill out and a term worth of homework for every class because you were to lazy to do it in the first place so you just look at it and take a good long look at your future and you're just like whatever.

sasha fierce~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

couch potato

I decided to do a self portrait:

>sasha feirce<

a rambling train of thought???

And now they are making me write instructions on how to take an amazing shower and how to live a happy life and how to fall in love and how survive high school and come to think of it I'm not really sure if anyone does. Not their hearts anyways. I have ditched class more times this term than I have in junior and sophomore year combined. I have also cried a lot less and I wonder if that is a coincidence. I am thankful we only have two days of school this week because I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. They say you can't think your way out of depression but who are they to tell me what I can and can't do? Who are they do think I have depression in the first place. Who am I to think I have depression. I don't hurt myself like my neighbor does. But she goes to concerts all the time and skateboards down mountains. Maybe she isn't depressed, maybe she is just crazy. Maybe she is just crazy and I am just depressed. Or maybe we are both crazy. Sometimes I pretend I have plans just so I can leave the house and take a drive up to the mountains. In church they made us write down goals we wanted to accomplish during the school year and I wrote down stop procrastinating and raise your hand in class more and the kid next to me said clean my room more. CLEAN MY ROOM MORE. I wonder what he thinks about sometimes. And I wonder if life is ever really that easy. where all you have to worry about is the cleanliness of your room. I am pretty sure I have notebooks and candy wrappers from 8th grade still stashed in my room. are you guys still reading this because I am pretty sure it is garbage but that is all part of the creative process apparently so write on bros. I will probably delete this and write something better, this is just in case I pass out in the shower again. My mom turned on the AC and its thirty degrees outside and I am asking for a space heater for Christmas in hopes she will get the hint. She wont. None of this stuff makes sense and I really wanted to write a post about love but I think I'm all loved out. This happens every winter and I can't figure out if its because this is the season I crave love the most and it just makes me cold and bitter. All I know is there is a boy out there who hates talking in class and hates his parents and hates the car he drives and I love him.

something bitter

HOW TO NEVER HAVE A DATE TO PROM:

Step 1: be yourself

(sorry)

I am the one you should be afraid of.
Because all the people I love are the people I barely know
and the people I hate, I've known for years
and the worst part is that I used to love all of them.
Disappointment is a butt-head and so am I.
I think when it comes to knowing people sometimes ignorance is bliss
and I know I am horrible for saying that and for disliking people after getting to know them better
and you can hate me for it because I am that judgmental person you are afraid of.
the one who expects too much from people and cuts them out after the first strike of disappointment because
once I'm done,
I am done.
And you can hate me for that I don't care.
Because I am too busy hating myself for it too.

Life is hard. And I'm sorry 

{sasha fierce}

so uncool it's cool.

High school is this place where you get to meet all these new people. But high school is also this place where it stops you from meeting all these people because maybe they don't wear the right clothes or speak up in class or in general or aren't ranked as high as you are on the social food chain. Maybe this is only making sense to me but there are so many people I have gotten to know this year that I had never even seen before and it is incredible how many underrated people there are at this school. Its incredible how many overrated people there are too. But I think underrated people are my favorite people, because they are so cool and they are so oblivious to it that they don't get a big head and you don't wake up one day and suddenly they are "too cool" for you. You can trust underrated people. And they are almost like your secret cool people and suddenly high school is okay, because you don't compare yourself to all these cool people with their cool friends anymore. Because you've got all your secret cool friends and you feel sorry for all the cool kids because the don't even know what they are missing out on.
And then you graduate.
And then you have to leave your best friend from sixth grade.
And then you go from seeing her almost every single day to maybe once or twice a month on Skype.
And then you promise to write.
And then you don't.
And then  it's seven in the morning and you're 30 years old, making yourself a smoothie before you go to work at the office and your suddenly remember that one time you ditched school and went to Wendy's and they gave you a free burger, or that one time you went to a party in the woods, or that other time when you tried being a vegetarian and didn't even last a full day.
And then you call in sick for work and spend the rest of the day laying on your couch wondering why you were so worried about grades and why you didn't cause more trouble and why you didn't talk to that cute boy sitting across from you.
And then you remember your 30 and this is your life now, and adults don't go to parties in the woods or worry about grades.
And then you wish you had done more in high school. Wish you had talked to more in class and tried more things and worried less and smiled more.
But mostly you wish you had stayed in touch with all those people who used to make you feel so alive.

High school is this place where you get to meet all these new people.
High school is this place where by the time you get to know all of them, you have to leave.

{{sasha fierce}}

liar

Mother says "the dog knocked her over"

But her neighbor ran over to find

a little girl's eyes rolling back in her head

and no visible dog

{{sasha fierce}}

anatomy of my brain

I think I have senioritis. 

But I also think I have depression sooooo

To be honest I am hitting enter so it looks 

like I am writing more than I actually am.

Yeah I am pretty sure I have senioritis.

But I am pretty sure I don't have depression.

I get sad for no reason sometimes

But I get happy for no reason too??

I think I might be indecisive.

I think I have a 5 page paper due tomorrow.

I think I might be sick for second period.

I think if my mom says one more thing about Snow college I will run away.

I think I'm going to graduate.

I think this is how you spell senioritis???

I think it's time for bed.

I think PDA is gross

I think babies are cute

I think puppies are cute

I think you're cute.

I think I like you.

I think that's weird because we have never actually spoken.

I don't think I care.



{sasha fierce}






She says she has schizophrenia.
But they told her it's all in her head.

possibility

{{what I hope my future looks like}}

{sasha fierce}

I feel ya

I've never been one for breaking fine china. But this morning while putting the dishes away my dad started to "criticize" the fact that I never seem to wash them right, despite the fact that he has never washed a plate in his life. So to people who smash plates, I get it.

I have never gone over 90 mph while driving the car. But last week I failed yet another math test and ended up driving through the canyon after school for around two hours. So to the people in NASCAR, I get it.

Last night I fell asleep on my neighbors trampoline while looking at the stars. So to the astronauts, I get it.

I've sat here for 17 years waiting, hoping, to finally catch something worth keeping. So to the fishermen, I get it.

I have stubbed each of my toes at least twice in my lifetime. So to the people who curse, I get it.

Whenever I get angry and want to scream I lock myself in my room and slam my fists against everything and anything. So to the drummers out there, I get it.

I see so many people around me believing in one thing, but then living a completely different way. So to the kids who don't want to go to BYU, I get it.

My dad doesn't let me do outdoor chores like rake leaves and shovel snow. So to the feminists, I get it.

I constantly feel like my voice is annoying everyone. So to all the other shy people, I get it.

I am learning to let go of pieces of myself and strip away all the bad memories and bad people. So to the sculptors, I get it.

I saw him again yesterday. So to people who write love poems,

I get it.

~sasha fierce~

Me, Myself and I

Me.
I'm on my mind and I know that probably sounds horrible but I can't stop thinking about me.
Okay yeah that definitely sounds horrible. But I can't stop think of all the different pieces of myself that people see.

There was this dumb thing I did when I was little where I would pull out a strand of hair every place I went thinking that in 50 years scientist would examine the disaster zone and say "she was here" Thinking that with a strand of hair I would be able to prove to my grandchildren that I was there when the floods came and I was still there when they left or when my neighbor's house caught on fire and he couldn't save his goldfish, or that I was at an aquarium on 9/11 Maybe that is the reason I am the way I am now. A girl with thin hair and a scattered personality

Instead of strands of hair I now leave parts of myself with others. I have left my brain with this blog, my smile with my friends, my tears with God, and my heart I have kept for myself. Sometimes I wonder if funerals are like everyone putting the final pieces of that person's puzzle together. I wonder if you are only truly understood after you have gone, when everyone else hears about how you cried while watching Star Wars that one time, or when they learn about your weird obsession with listening to different people's voices and the fact that you ate Cheetos everyday for a year when you were seven. 

It's weird to think about what your funeral would be like, but I know everyone does it so I guess it's not actually that weird. I think I would want a lot of crying at my funeral. Mostly because I have cried at so many and it's someone else's turn to cry for once. But I picture everyone bringing the little pieces of me that they kept and showing them to each other. And eventually, after everyone's done putting all my pieces together. They'll all be like "ohhhhhh I get it" as if I was some sort of math equation or something. Maybe we are only whole after we die. And maybe that's the way its supposed to be. Maybe the purpose of life isn't to be old and wise and have everything figured out.
Maybe the purpose of life is to figure somebody else out before it's too late.

~sasha fierce~

proof

REASONS WHY LOVE IS REAL:

• because the soldiers need a reason to keep fighting
• because my blog post about love is more popular than my blog post about being alive
• because my feelings towards peach ice cream cannot be put into words
• because all those songs about the girl with big eyes have to mean something
• because it's cheaper than therapy
• because of the look in my mother's eyes when we watch old family videos
• because people need a reason to get drunk
• because it's my heart that hurts when I see you with her
• because I said so
• because people don't pray that they might find somebody to hate
• because poems need to have a meaning
• because my dad cried harder when my dog died than when his grandpa did
• because I can't remember how to blink when I see you
• because I need a reason to keep fighting

~sasha fierce~

in other words

It's interesting that I always feel that I can't describe the way I am feeling because the words don't exist. Then you learn that the Hawaiian alphabet only has 14 letters and suddenly I feel ashamed and everything around me seems a little more...........sad. Well, not sad but depressing, not depressing but unfortunate, not unfortunate but heavyhearted, not heavyhearted but unhappy, in other words, sad.

Sometimes "good" doesn't qualify for how I feel but I usually settle for it because few people understand what it means when I tell them I feel like the sound of cracking thunder. There are no words for how sunlight makes me feel or for how good Italian food tastes. And there are certainly no words to express the way a person feels when someone they love dies or the way we are all going to feel when we finally finish high school. I feel like I am a detective searching for words to explain all these things in my life and over the years I have gotten better. I know the reason Cubans would travel 90 miles from their home to the Florida coast and drag themselves on the shore is for a thing called freedom. and I know meaning of subtraction and I have learned that Love means more than just kissing and that it can be a synonym for friendship and passion and weakness all at the same time. I have figured out that "us" might be the most beautiful word in the English language and its definition doesn't do it justice.
But in all my years of searching and reading the only word I have found that comes close to describing the relationship I have with you is "complicated."

~sasha fierce~

you're so vain you probably thought this poem was about you

This poem isn't going to make any sense to you
because this poem is for her
and I'm not even sure if this qualifies as a poem
but I am sure I needed to write it.

I know you.
You hate swearing because one time you tried
it and it didn't give you any relief or make you
feel less angry and you are jealous
of people who can sleep at night knowing
there is so much filth inside them.
I can see that look in your eyes and
 it reminds me of skid marks on a busy rode.
And I know sleeping sounds good and
being in a coma sounds a lot better
and I get that.
I get that you will never use calculus in your life
and I get that a boy has never loved you back
and that your forehead is freakin huge,
but there are somethings that you don't get.
You don't get that there are other people who love you and,
you don't understand that there is no such thing
as being content with your life
and that even Jesus wept sometimes.
You've never understood flowers
and how they open up every spring and
the truth is you probably never will but
that's okay because I get it.
I know you hate how you look while you drive but
you don't get that none of that matters because
you look so free when you are singing at the top of your lungs
and I know your voice isn't good
but who said it had to be?
You are "that woman"
people write poems about
that woman who thinks too much
and talks too much and cries too much
and even sometimes her mere existence is too much
and that's why you are scared.
Because you are beautiful like art,
but all the boys you know want somebody
who is beautiful like flowers.
Someone who is soft and light
and doesn't think too much and
cry too much and talk too much
but especially,
someone who doesn't exist too much


This poem isn't going to make any sense to you
because this poem is for me.


~sasha fierce~

my moon my man

to my lil brother:

THERE IS HOPE FOR YOU.

I have been with  you all fourteen years of your life but there is nobody else who makes me feel as clueless as you do. Nothing you have ever done makes sense to me. Even when we were little and I made you play dress up with me and Dad saw so he burnt up all my dresses. He bought you a pair of cowboy boots and all I remember was that you crying for days because I didn't have a pair to match.

And that's what doesn't make sense. 

I would ask you about it but I don't think you would know what the heck I am talking about. I want to know why. I want to know why you cried. I want to know if it was because you looked up to me and wanted to be like me. Because that would make sense to why you don't make sense to me because I don't make sense to myself so if you are trying to be me then you don't make sense either!!! (did that make sense??) Or was it because we are siblings and you cared that dad torched my dresses then got you a present. And you cried because it wasn't fair and that made you confused at thats why you cried. I hope you cried because you care. Because then there is hope for you. Also you are a great person just like I suspected. If you cared then there is a slight chance that you will be one of those kids who doesn't end up like their parents. I want you to know that mom calls you soft when you aren't listening.. and I laugh about it. Mostly because I have never considered a person who gives there sister wet willies to be "soft". But I guess I see it. You are kind of like a dog, because you are just nice to people (and you drool lol) and just want to have fun and that's all you really ever seem to care about but I guess that is a good thing to care about so it's okay.

I know you want to work for the FBI and that is great, but that also makes no sense to me because what would you even do in the FBI?? Bring people coffee and donuts and the occasionally machine gun?? I know you played with tanks and army men almost everyday growing up, and even now you play call of duty and halo or whatever but remember what I said earlier? Mom thinks you are soft. I know you are supposed to tell kids to follow their dreams and all that other stuff but I also know that life is not like the James Bond video game and real people die all the real friggin time. And a couple days ago we I went to a funeral for one of Mom's friends and you weren't there and I cried about it. Nobody in their right mind, tourist or not would read this far into a letter addressed to some mystery person's little brother so this can be our little secret. I cried at the funeral of a man who I have never met and I felt ashamed because everything seems to steal my tears lately. But I want you to know something, I have met you, and if the next funeral I have to go to without you happens to be your's I don't know what I'll do. I don't even know if I'll go. Statistics say women live up to eight years longer than men and I already have five on you and but I swear if I live longer than you UGH. I have been sitting at this computer screen for 20 mins and I can't even put into words how mad I will be at you. JUST LET ME DIE FIRST OKAY!?!?!

I want you to know you are a good kid. And I am sorry none of this does you justice

(also you owe me like 10 bucks)

luv

~sasha fierce~ 

my heart is filled with other hearts

My heart is full of people.

Call me vain but I love seeing parts of myself in other people

I love the way my sister has the same face as me

and I love the way neither of us can ride a bike with no hands.

I'm in love with naturalness and the way people are supposed to be

I am in love with not necessarily the pureness of things but the rawness of things. The honestly in people and their natural face and reaction and emotions and opinions and thoughts 

My heart is full of other hearts because I love the way other people love things.

When someone gets choked up talking about something they love and when a mother beams when her daughter hits a home run.

I am in love with possibility.

The way some girl sat by me during lunch in 5th grade is beautiful

and the way we are still friends is beautiful.

~sasha fierce~

To Sasha:

do something  

Do something good. Anyone can do something. Other people's bones are going to tell you to do something, to make an impact on the earth so you can live on in memory. But Adolf Hitler made an impact, so did Martin Luther King Jr. and so did Steve Jobs, but so Osama Bin Laden. The way I see it you can either change the world or you can help it. Changing the world can sometimes be positive, but helping it will never be negative. You don't need to cure cancer or liberate people or invent the next pocket computer. You don't need to live on in the memories of others. You need to live. You need to dedicate yourself something. You need to feel everything and learn from it and you need to have passion and you need to be kind. There are plenty of people who need help, and there are plenty of ways to do it. You don't need to build someone a house or solve all their financial problems you just need to help them feel better. People have bad days and bad weeks and bad months and bad lives and you know that, you've been there. You were in that dark place yourself and you know what it's like. So don't let other people stay in that place alone. 

Help them. Give them support and some to cry on. Pick them up off the ground and dust them off and go for a walk. Help them forget, have a nice conversation make them laugh with your embarrassing stories and help take their mind off things for awhile. But be there with them when they do finally remember why they are sad. Cry with them. Cry for them. Take on other peoples sorrows and share the heavy things with them. Tell them you believe in the natural balance of things and while there may be no goddess floating around making people pay for their sins and wrongdoings you do believe people will get what they deserve in the end. So yeah there is a heaven because to many good people die and you have to believe there is something more for them when they are gone, that they didn't deserve to die unless they have something good going for them afterwards. Tell them eventually everything will be better and when they ask you why you aren't sad. Tell them the truth. Tell them you get sad too, but not the same kind of sad as other people, tell them you cry when you see other people cry and that there are too many sad people in the world and too many beautiful things and tell them you are sick of writing things that make people cry and tell them you try not to cry because there is too much of that too and there are too many days wasted being sad and you don't want to cry because there are enough reasons for other people to cry and you don't want to be added to the list of tears you want to be added to the list of smiles and the list of laughs and the list of people who give the best hugs. Tell them that first dates can turn into weddings and that some of the wisest words are written on bathroom stalls

 and tell them you want to do something good and they will tell you that you are.

~sasha's bones~

is this cheating??

Pass On - Michael Lee

I am confident this is the best thing about death you will ever hear.

~sasha fierce~

the worst day of my life:

Ignore them.

When I die don't believe it. You had heard that things were going downhill for me at the hospital. You saw some people in your math class crying and whispering to each other. You know. Ignore them. Don't ask. You have to make up a test during lunch and you can't afford to have your world turned upside down just yet. In your heart you know I'm gone. Ignore it anyways.

Hurry.

When I die, run out of class as soon as the bell rings. You still have to get through lunch and one more class period. You don't have time to cry you don't have time to feel. You need to pass this test. Your heart is beating in your ears. You know. But you can't process it yet. Hold them off, fight the demons and fight the tears, you need to pass this test. You need to finish the school day, you need to believe just a little bit longer.

Hold back.

When I die, finish your test. Find her, the only person who you can cry about this with. Find her. She doesn't know yet. Do not tell her. She has a Chemistry test she needs to pass, and she already sucks at Chemistry and my death isn't going to help her. Don't tell her. Act as normal as you can, help her study, keep yourself occupied, play on your phone, distract yourself from me for just a little bit longer. Push out the pain. But stay with her, protect her, make sure no one else tells her, make sure she passes her test. Don't leave, you will cry as soon as you walk out of that library. Keep it together, maybe this is all in your head, keep it together. No point in telling her if you don't know for sure.

You know.

When I die go to your AP class. You see it on other people's faces, you know I'm gone.You know. Don't cry.The girl in your class is going to say this is the worst day of her life and you going to want to beg to differ. Don't. Listen to the lecture. Try. Your not going to hear much because your heart beat is in your ears. You are going to see your friends outside the classroom crying. Don't go to them, don't cry with them. If you cry its all over and this is real. Don't cry.

Find her.

When I die get out of that class room as fast as you can. Don't talk to anyone. Run to the Chemistry classroom and find her. You can hold me off until you find her, the only person who can remotely understand what you are going through. The only one who can understand, and she doesn't even know yet. She isn't in the classroom, she already left. Run. Sprint through the halls to the parking lot. Don't care if you look ridiculous, there are more important things right now. You see her just leaving the building. Try and call out her name. You can't. because as soon as you open your mouth you are going to wail and fall to the ground. Grab her. 

Cry.

When I die she will know as soon as she sees your face. She is going to ask anyway. You're allowed to cry now. Just nod your head and hold each other. You can't stop shaking and you don't know what to say. So don't say anything. Just stand there and cry. Cry. You've let a couple tears slip out through out the day. You been to 8 funerals in your life but you have never cried like this. You can't stop shaking and you can't feel anything except the pain in your lungs because you can't breathe. Keep crying.

Stay.

When I die don't leave anybody alone. She forgot her keys in Chemistry. Go back with her to get them. The majority of students are still in school making their way to the parking lot. And you can't stop crying. People are staring. They probably think you just got dumped, and you can only wish that was the case. Keep walking. You are going to see everyone you know and they are going to come up to you. They are going to hug you and ask what the matter.Tell them. Don't run. I know you don't like crying in front of people. But its a little late for that. Tell them I am dead. Tell them it's too late. Don't run, I am with you no matter where you go. So stay.

Leave.

When I die pull over. Get her the stupid car keys then go home as fast as you can. Get in your car and start it. Sit. Be still for a while. Your alone now, you can scream. You still can't stop crying. Try to breathe. Stop shaking. Stop. Let the tears flow. You are in control of your body again. Put the car in drive. Head home. Turn the radio on. Mistake. When I die don't listen to that Death Cab for Cutie song. You know what one I am talking about. You will be lucky to make it home alive. You are going to run a red light because you can't see through the tears. You are going to sit on the side of the road and try to pull yourself together for a few more moments. When I die, don't drive.

Later,

When I die try not to shut everyone out. Don't leave in the middle of church. Don't spend all day locked in your room. Don't cry yourself to sleep. Don't tell your parents you're fine. 

When I die don't go buy an overpriced yearbook in hopes to see another picture of my face.

When I die don't write about me. Hoping that it will give you some sort of closure or at least help you stop crying at night

trust me,

it wont.

TO THAT ONE BOY I WILL ALWAYS LOVE:

I can't explain it.

I could have died.

I felt my heartbeat in my ears.

then all at once I couldn't feel anything at all.

It had been over 6 months, but nothing about you had changed. On the outside anyways. I don't know about your insides, but I hope they are still the same. I hope you still listen to the Killers and watch The Twilight Zone, I hope you still want to be a pilot. Exploring the world, and carrying people along the way. I hope you're still doing whatever it was you liked to do for recreation. I was too busy looking at your lips to remember what you said. You had the softest lips. I hope you still believe in God. And I hope you're still happy.

I hope you remembered me when you saw me. I hope you were proud. I was finally out of the house, participating in society, at a high school dance of all places. I hope you never thought I was weird back then. I hope you did. I hope you know my insides have changed. That I'm not as worried about things anymore, that I care a lot less and I feel a lot lighter. I hope you know that if I could do it over, I would have talked to you on the first day of class. And I probably would have kissed you too. I hope you know I had a crush on you. And that I never really stopped. Sure I may have forgotten, but tonight surely proved, time doesn't heal all wounds. You didn't mean to hurt me, after all, it's hard to know your supposed to catch someone when they wont tell you they are falling. I hope you know I don't blame you. This one is on me. But I really hope that if you had known, you would have liked me back.

I hope you had fun with her.

~sasha fierce~

I'm a little worried

I don't want you to care about this post.

I don't want it to be a burden in your life.

The last time I talked about stuff like this I felt a lot better

I don't want you to think of me and see only sadness

I don't want to be afraid anymore.

I just want to feel better.

but.

I am afraid.

I'm scared.

I'm worried.

I'm frightened

I'm nervous and

I'm petrified.

I am afraid of people who play the violin, because I've never been one for commitment. I'm afraid I've considered running away more times than I've thought about the people who can't run. I'm afraid that none of us can really escape ourselves. And I'm sorry I don't understand, that I didn't understand why. Why you would ever think I didn't care, why you would think nobody cared. I'm afraid of the person you could have been if I had noticed. I'm afraid of not noticing and I'm afraid another person will be lost because of me. I'm afraid of someone reaching out and I'm not strong enough to catch them, I'm afraid of being weak, I'm afraid I wasn't strong enough for you.

My stomach drops at the first sight of blood and every time you look at me. I'm afraid of knives. I shudder every time I hold one. I'm afraid of the potential knives have actually. Human beings can make each other cry for an infinite amount of reasons. They can be crying because you just wrote them a beautiful love poem, or because you shot their child at school today. And that's whats scary. That potentially, anything can happen and everything will happen. And it's the most beautifully terrifying thing in the world.

I'm afraid of people seeing. Seeing me, and everything I'm not. I'm afraid of what you think of me and I'm afraid that you don't. And I'm afraid you're wrong and nobody understands me and nobody ever will. And I'm afraid that you do, and you are just as disgusted with me as I am. And that's why sometimes I'm afraid of God.

I'm afraid this will sound like the most cliche thing in the world, but I'm afraid of being alone. I'm afraid of having nobody to hold me at night and I'm afraid that nobody wants to. I'm afraid that sometimes I like being alone. I'm afraid of being myself around other people and I'm afraid it's permanent. I'm afraid nobody will come to my funeral because nobody cared that I died. I'm afraid nobody will bother to look.

I'm afraid none of this makes sense.

And I'm afraid that it does.

~sasha fierce~