I am still kissing the same boy I kissed at 12 years old. I don't wear my ring any more and he's strung out on heroine and I've got this nasty habit of drowning the bad things in whiskey and drinking until my insides bleed and it's funny how messy things can get.

I always made fun of you for getting your words tangled behind your toungue,

for keeping your car cluttered, and being a little too "good" when we were young.

But you calmed my tears with your bubble laugh

and you dared to cross the planks of wood with me,

over the rivers in every storm,

in the town where we got tired, got tired of growing up. 

And you set off my curiosity like the match you used to light your cigarette. 

We’ll always have that,

bubbles and bridges and childish wishes, now

won’t we? 

I scrape through my thoughts. I always forget to reach into them. There are things I never intended on forgetting but I know I have and that haunts me. They choke me up some times when there’s nothing left to clear my head. I don’t want to forget anything anymore. I’m having these constant uprooting urges to dig my nails into things like this. I’ve always needed tangible, I think. I’ve been needing this.

I remember the night you lost your grandfather. You were sitting in a venue in in Long Island, New York when you heard the news. You hated everything about that damn city. I think I will for now on, too. You were halfway through your winter 2013 tour and you had been pushing for weeks. A different city every night with a few shitty hours of sleep in the back of a van under your belt each day, if you were lucky. I thought I was worried about you before you left for tour. This winter wasn’t kind to you.

I remember you telling me how badly you wished you were home. I think I’ll always remember that night because I couldn’t stop choking on my words. I had never wanted so badly to put someone’s face in my hands and tell them how wonderful they were to me as I did that night. But when I get to thinking, I think maybe I have felt that way since I met you.

I don’t think I could forget your home coming if I tried. I remember sitting in that drive way cursing my fingers and thinking that if there was ever a time to call a quaking in my stomach ‘butterflies’ that I guess this would be it. That sounds so much more delicate than it was. I thought I was going to puke. A lot. I remember saying again and again, “be cool, be cool” and maybe I was. Yeah, maybe I was but any composure I had didn’t stand a god damn chance when you stepped out from behind that van. When I  saw you I thought every nerve ending in my body could have been a fucking live wire. You picked me up and swung me around and all I could manage were six shakey words in your ear. I wonder if you heard the crack in my voice. I know I’ll never have the courage to ask you.

“I have missed you so much.”

But when I get to thinking, I think maybe I have felt that way since I met you.

I don’t want to forget.

It took me lying on my back to start looking up

Things have been so chaotic these past few months. 2013 brought a lot at once, and I was knocked down more times than it's worth keeping track. January and February were about breaking it down. Stripping myself of all that encompasses 'forever' mentality and ideals. And gritting and grinding my teeth until the heartache was gone. I've learned that sometimes, in order to let go of things embedded far enough into your soul, you have to be the one to tear yourself apart. Open yourself up and do some re-arranging. You can dig your nails into your palms, sweet heart. I know it doesn't get much harder than this. These months have been about staring over.

Something messy I wrote in a waiting room. I have always been waiting.

It is February 12th

I now know for certain that no combination of 26 letters, no slew of words, no arrangement of sound can touch the feeling that I got

upon watching you smoke that cigarette in the woods. 

Hands in your pockets. 

I always knew you would turn out like this.

And I always hoped I would be here, to witness it.

You've looked deep in thought since you were eleven years old. 

I wonder if you think about me, 

too.

I haven't been doing much lately. Filling most the moments with writing poems, getting caught up on school work, and just being young with my friends.

I had an experience yesterday afternoon that was very unexpected and so very uprooting. It's sunny here for now. It's about 60 out and after winters touch you are thankful for anything over 40 where I'm from. I was jumping on a trampoline with some friends. On my highest jump I opened my eyes and I could see the sun setting behind all the trees surrounding us. All I could hear was laughter and the only scent around was the smell of my second mother's home made chicken tortilla soup coming from the kitchen. I landed on my back and just let that moment sink in. Just let it sink in.

I haven't felt this alive for a long long time. I am so happy and this recent rebirth of mine has changed my outlook on all kinds of things. Life is so good.


-H

It's Sunday morning. It is 28 degrees outside, and I have a warm cup of my favorite coffee in my hand. I'm content.

     This is a more personal post. You've been warned! I often times feel like I'm not doing all this 'life' business right. I've struggled with manic depression through my adolescent and teen years. There are few times that I can recall of not having to deal with it. But I'm not playing a victim here, let's get that straight right now. In a lot of ways I am thankful. Not for this flaw in my neurotransmitters, but for the lessons it has taught me. I always think that if I am not absolutely ecstatic with my life then I could be making improvements. Which I know, there IS always room for improvements, but I get this constant feeling like I'm doing it all wrong. Maybe the feeling of being completely content and at peace with your current place and your relationships with people in this world is better than that of a happiness that is unattainable for long periods of time. Maybe I'll figure it out one day. Something to think on. Have a productive, inspiring, wonderful week, guys! I'll be checking in soon.