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.