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~

hard things... like bricks??

the brokenness of broken people

"One of the most sad and obvious truths in this world is that some people are broken. They’re the strangers you see on the subway with their heads in their hands, trying to press out the world. They’re the stick-thin girls with only celery for lunch, the businessmen who want nothing more than to have another drink. They’re your mother, your father, your sister, your grandfather, your brother. They’re the aunt who was sexually abused as a child, the uncle with brain cancer who only has months to live. They’re the homeless men and women without a sturdy pair of shoes, who sleep in beat-up Volvos and boxcars because it’s the closest thing they have to a house. You’re going to meet some of these people someday; in all likelihood you already have.

Your parents teach you that you will go to school, fall in love, go to college, then get married and have children, though not necessarily in that exact order. But the part they leave out is that in between all those things you’re going to meet some broken people, fall for them, even. And you won’t know how to fix them; you may try, desperately, but you won’t be able to.

And that’s because broken people can never truly be fixed. You have to stop thinking about it that way: human beings are not appliances. They’re not a leaking faucet or a stove that won’t heat up. They’re not burnt-out lightbulbs or doors swinging off their hinges. You can’t take a hammer and nails to them and make them good as new.

But here’s what you can do-you can help them. Go up to the stick-thin girl and tell her that she may not feel beautiful now, but there are a whole  lot of other people who believe that she is. Grab that businessman by the sleeve and tell him his pain will not last forever. Tell him that he can never truly drown his sorrows in a drink, then offer to buy him some coffee instead. Give the homeless man a pair of shoes, the homeless woman a new winter coat. Hold your uncle’s hand in the hospital bed when he breathes his final breath. Tell your aunt it wasn’t her fault; tell her that the worst things happen to the best people. If she cries on your shoulder pat her back and stay with her until the tears subside. Remember to say I love you to your mother and father and brother and sister.

And let me tell you something: sorrow and brokenness are two hard things to beat. But there’s joy in putting on a pair of boxing gloves and stepping into the ring just to punch the feelings away. Catharsis. You will never feel better than at the exact moment you release all this. Letting go of your feelings has the same kind of grace as the opening of a door, or the way a phoenix can rise again out of the ashes. I’m not telling you that grace is an easy thing to accomplish. It takes small steps.

But every step is worth it. Those broken people you see every day? Their brokenness is a ladder and they have to start climbing it. Rung by rung, hand over hand, until the very top. But don’t haul them up with a pulley; let them do it by themselves. And when they reach the top, hand them a nice cold glass of water and slap them on the back, say, Glad you could make it."

CREDIT: Meggie

idk

I don't know 

I don't know what you people want me to write

I don't know what I want to write

I don't know why I chose Sasha Fierce as a pen name

I don't know how to cook

I don't know why no one asked me to homecoming

I don't know if my brother is going to graduate

I don't know why my parents love each other

I don't know why I feel the need to exersise

I don't know why my cousin ran away from home

I don't know who does drugs

I don't know why cancer is a thing

I don't know why everything I write sounds so repetitive.

I don't know why people never invite me to things

I don't know how my best friend is going to turn out

I don't know why his dad left him.

I don't know why this week's prompt was a struggle

I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS STUPID FLY IN MY ROOM WONT LEAVE ME ALONE

I don't know why everyone hates September

I don't know why I quit

I don't know where I want to go to college

I don't know why a raven is like a writing desk

I don't know who even cares about this list

I don't know why anyone likes Chris Brown

I don't know why people just suck sometimes

I don't know how I have the best and worst friends

I don't know why my neighbor cuts herself

I don't know how to help

I don't know if I can

I don't know if this matters

I don't know if I should even care

I don't know why I do.

is it real

Cry in front of me so I know it's real. Be vulnerable with me and be real with me. I'll be real with you. Let your heart be naked. Be human, get mad, cry when you see an old man by himself in the restaurant. I'll cry with you, I'll cry for you. Be un-apologetically yourself and if it works out and we haven't killed each other yet then it must be love.

Tell me my writing sucks so I know it's real. Be honest with me. Don't shout but don't sugar coat it either. If I have spinach in my teeth, and you don't tell me, I will dump you faster than that sports car you drive. I don't have time for someone who is going to put on a mask. And I don't have time for anybody who expects me to either.

Help people with me so I know it's real. Care about things. Not me, but things. Be passionate. Care about other people, make them smile. Don't give it a second thought, be humble, mow the neighbors lawn, and I'll weed their garden. Don't expect me to weed ours though. I hate it so much it wouldn't do either of us any good. There are more important things to care about than our tiny garden anyway. Help me. Help me carry the load of other peoples' sorrows so they don't have to. People are heavy, and I can't lift them on my own.

Talk with me about politics so I know it's real. I want to know your thoughts on Obama and Healthcare and the Middle Class. Make me watch Fox news, teach me, explain to me your opinions on Gun Control and how we would protect our children. Tell me how you would fix the world and where you would start. 

Cuddle with me so i know it's real. Hold me. Not because you want to get some, but because you want to be as close to me as possible. You want our souls to touch, our heartbeats to sync, and our toes always warm. Hold me because you need to, make a home out of my body, a place where you are always safe and welcome.

Tell me so I know it's real. Don't keep it inside. Tell me why, is it my freckles? Is it my mind, or my laugh, or the way my ankles crack every time I take a step up the stairs? Do you love me more than there are leaves? Do you love me deeper than space? Will you love me longer than the Great Wall of China? Is our love going to be the 8th wonder of the world? Show me.

~sasha fierce~

why is love like math class

Because I never know what's going on.
I don't do my homework and maybe that's why I don't get the grade I want
Maybe that's why I don't get the love I want.

Maybe that's why at the age of six I was already married,
Because I had passed all my tests and had learned
that 1 and 1 equals 2

But then I got older 
and I learned all about long division
and that no matter how many ways we tried
2 divided by 1 was always going to equal 1 
and sometimes 1 gets lonely and tries adding itself to other numbers
and I learned that a -1 plus a -1 equals a -2
and I learned that it's possible to be lower than zero

At the beginning of high school I learned a lot about graphing
and I collected all of our lov- DATA and charted it out
and it formed a cute lopsided heart on my graph paper
I later learned that lines aren't allowed to loop and cross 
over each other in math class and
I learned that our love wasn't functional

I had to repeat a year of math class because I wasn't learning
"at the same pace" as everyone else
and I had to relearn that not everybody is a 1
Sometimes a 1 is actually a 1x and
you can't add a 1 and a 1x because it just "isn't the same"

There are a lot of things about math that I don't understand
I don't understand how 1 plus 1 can equal 2
but then if a prettier 1 comes along, 2 will divide itself in half
faster than you can say "who is she?"

I think love is like math class, because I've always hated division.

"Math may not teach me how to add love or subtract hate, but it gives me every reason to hope that every problem has a solution." -idk

As Beyonce says; I don't know much about Algerbra, but I know, that one plus one equals two.

~sasha fierce~

for all the adults asking:

I'd tell you what I want to be when I grow up, but I don't think the greatest career in the world exists yet.
Except maybe being the person who names ice cream flavors, that'd be sick.

Show me the job that makes a persons life better. Not even their life actually, just their heart. 
If I could choose anything in the world as a career I would choose to profess in making people happy, in making them laugh, making them forget about their bad days and look forward to the good ones. Fix those who are broken. Help people forget about the world for awhile. I want to make people feel the way that the song Yellow by Coldplay makes me feel. Like they are smiling so much inside that it comes out all over their face. I want to make people feel the same way I feel when I think about that boy. Like it's impossible to stop smiling no matter how much your face hurts.

I want to write books, I want to be Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada, I want to be Ellen Degeneres and Judy Bloom and Shel Silverstein. I want to be the next great architect or designer. I want to travel the world taking pictures for National Geographic. I want to direct movies, I want to be in movies.

But I'd trade it all if somebody could tell me how to make everybody feel happy.

"I don't want to earn my living, I want to live" -Oscar Wilde

~sasha fierce~

coming from a person who skipped kindergarten:

My sister is turning twelve soon, but all she really wants is to be eighteen. I just want to shake her and tell her it's not all its cracked up to be. That the perks of driving don't outweigh the shame of never getting asked to a dance. That you'll get fat and you'll question yourself. You won't look up to Mom and Dad anymore, in fact you'll hold grudges against them and feel like you're trapped in your own home sometimes. You aren't going to always feel like a winner. Sometimes your best won't be good enough. Sometimes you won't be good enough. Your crush probably won't like you back, and if he do it's only for a matter of time. And for some reason every adult thinks the only thing you want to talk about is college when in reality if you get asked what you're majoring in one more time you might just drop out of high school.

My sister is turning twelve soon, but all she really wants to be is eighteen. And I want to shake her and tell her that it is all its cracked up to be. But that so is every other year of your life. I want to tell her that people spend too much of their lives waiting to live it and that you can start living now and you don't need a car or a boyfriend or your parents permission to do that. I want to tell her not to let the picturesque image of the future distract her from the present. I want to tell her to play with crayons if she wants to, or do her math homework* or read, or run around the yard naked or, do anything. As long as she is living it doesn't matter what age you are. I want to tell her to try and make everyday worth remembering.

Coming from a person who skipped kindergarten, I don't "want my crayons back" I would just like a chance to finally use them. I don't really care that I "missed out" on that time of my life because it's never too late to start being creative. I never got to experience nap time at school either, which is something I am actually okay with because it turns out we spend 1/3 of our lives sleeping anyways.

All of our lives waiting and a third of it sleeping, what a waste.

"I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find you are not. I hope you have the strength to start all over again" - F. Scott Fitzgerald

I have decided to start my life over, with crayons this time.

 ~sasha fierce~ 

*jk I wouldn't tell her to do that because 6th grade math homework is stupid**
**all math homework is stupid.

streaking is living.

I think as a writer I (we??) struggle with what bits to take out of a piece and what parts to leave in, you have to decide how much of yourself you want to share and what you want to hide. Being human happens to be something I have become somewhat a professional at, and its hard to decide what I could tell you.

I could tell you that by age 17 I've lived almost every life there is to live. I've been the new girl, the popular girl, the shy girl, the rebellious girl, and the weird girl. I've been the girl who cries herself to sleep at night, and the one who never had to worry about who to sit by at lunch, the one who got a C in keyboarding and then got a 4.0 for the rest of the year. I've been the indie girl, the sporty girl, the I-am-going-to-wear-sweatpants-everyday-for-the-rest-of-my-life girl, the preppy girl. Heck, at one point I was even the girl who was good at math. I could tell you that being the weird girl is the best life to live. To be the one who is too busy being herself to realize other people might not like her. Having to much fun to realize "oh, this is not what normal people do". I could tell you all to be weird, to experience life differently than others, to worry less about what other people think of you and to worry more about whether or not you are having enough fun.

I could tell you the most cliche and contradictory thing about life. That it is, in fact too short. It may be the longest thing we do, but there is never going to be enough time to experience all the happy things in life. There isn't enough time to meet all the people, taste all the food, pet all the dogs, smell all the smells or read all the books. This also means life is too short to care about most things. Life is too short to have your room clean all the time, too short to obey the dumb rules, too short to wait around for your dad to buy you an IPhone, too short to exercise or watch your weight, too short to care about what other people think of you, but mostly LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO BE SHY. We are just sitting around worrying about what other people might think of us, or what we think of ourselves that it is stopping us from experiencing things. It's okay to be shy occasionally but don't let it rule your life. I've found that people think of you less than you give them credit for, they are too worried about themselves to be worried about you too.

I could tell you that the best way fight the shyness and quite frankly the best way to live is to get out of your comfort zone. It helps you meet so many new people and learn and experience new things and in a completely ironic and incredible way it makes you feel more comfortable with yourself. After putting yourself out there you feel more accomplished and sure of yourself. I've spent the better part of this year finding new ways to push myself and get out of my comfort zone. And the best thing that I would recommend to everyone of you is to go streaking. Yup.
Or maybe if you don't want to talk about that we could just talk about being naked, although its sounds cooler to say I went streaking across the park rather than I was naked in my room yesterday. But there is something about being naked, whether it's emotionally or physically that makes you feel more comfortable in your own skin. Maybe it's the fact that you are completely exposed for the world to see and the weight of yourself is lifted off your shoulders. Maybe it just makes you feel cool because technically you broke the law. Or maybe its just not having to worry about anyone finding out about your weird birthmark or that you like so-and-so because you're naked now, and it's all out there for the world to see.

You are completely and unapologetically yourself and I could tell you there is no more beautiful way to be human.

"spend a little more time trying to make something of yourself and a little less time trying to impress people.." -The Breakfast Club
 ~sasha fierce~