Construction Paper

Tonight, my mind comes up blank. I have no words. Only a picture. And in this picture, it's a crystal clear night, with stars glittering in the sky like someone took dark blue construction paper and sprinkled glitter everywhere. The moon was pasted on the paper, a glowing hole in the sky in which I can see the other side.

On the other side, I see only possibilities. The could-be's stick out the most. You know, those ones with "What if?" tacked on in the front.

What if the stars were pink?
What if I was just a shadow, a presence you could only feel?
What if time stopped?
What if the sun really did move around the Earth?

But what good are possibilities, when there are no opportunities? There can be no "What if?" but only the "What is,"

The shadow of a paper tree with leafless branches rests on a dark green paper grass. A soft breeze is colored into the scene, and the whisper of the paper can be heard every where.

What if my whole life was just a dream, a distant painting on a once blank canvas, buried under paper soil?

My life is simply what it is...

Got Up Early

Today was just the beginning. From here on out, things will never be the same...

Key Words

I think I've had a change of heart. I think I've had a change of mind. I warned you that this is what happens when those three little words are whispered at last...

I'm beginning to lose all interest.

But I can't bring myself to hurt you... Because I know that everything you say to me is true...

I wish you'd never said any of it...

I'm not sure if it's a fear of commitment, or a fear of love... I couldn't care less though... Because either way, it doesn't matter what you call it... The fact is I've changed my heart's mind.

I feel trapped, strapped down. A tiny cage has been thrown over my head, securing me to this very spot with no room for much more than breathing.

I can't be tied down if I want to fly. Now that the opportunities have passed, I'm trying desperately to get free without hurting anyone. I know it's impossible though.

The lock on my cage is the shape of words. Words are the key. Words got me in here. Words can get me out... but they have to be the right words, the words that fit the lock. Saying them could hurt me, but it could potentially kill you.

So, when I gather the courage, I'll say to you something like, "You can take your three little words back. I don't want them, or how they make me feel..."

Pocket Watch

The clock ticks, ever ticking off the time passing. My ears ringing, I wonder how much longer of this Hell I must endure. Steam rises from my ears as I listen to her chatter on about something I couldn't possibly give a damn about. I don't hear distinct words, only an overly animated voice.

I don't understand why she does this to me (my mother, I mean). She knows I can't stand the brown haired, blue eyed girl at my side. Sure. I used to believe she was my best friend. But I've been double crossed, stabbed in the back, and put down by her too many times now. Yet she continues to force us together, saying I can't burn this bridge.
Well, mom. This is my decision. I can burn any bridge I want to. I choose my friends, not you! I'm sick of you trying to control me. Sure, you can ground me. You can take my stuff away. You can make me get the mail, do the dishes, or something along those lines. But you can't control what I like and dislike. And you can't control the way I feel.

You need to stop trying to get me to believe and feel the way you do. Just because you drag me to church, that doesn't mean I worship your God. Just because you're comfortable there, it doesn't mean I am. My skin crawls and I wanna vomit.

When you force me into something, I will go out of my way to make things difficult.

It makes me sick that you can't seem to accept me as the way I am. Instead, you're wasting your time and trying to make me feel some feeling that we both know I'm uncapable of feeling.

Good night, mom.
I love you too...