tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39382133247166590572024-03-12T18:30:42.593-07:00A Vanity PhenomenonDeannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.comBlogger171125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-91732231395741767862012-01-03T16:47:00.001-08:002012-01-03T16:47:28.564-08:00The World Spins Madly On<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Why am I expected to care about your feelings when you all so openly disregard mine? I put so much into an unbalanced relationship, but the second I stop forgiving their unspoken apologies, shit hits the fan. I’m the one who was left behind. I’m the one who spent New Year’s crying while you all got wasted. But I’m the one who needs to apologize? I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what I did to deserve any of this. I feel like this is karma for mistakes unrelated, but the least fate could do is give me a superficial reason for all the sudden contempt. I have my heart telling me to just go back to them, find some random reason to apologize and hope it’s the one they’re looking for. My mind is telling me that I could do better, that I deserve better. And from the outside looking in, it would be obvious I should move on. But I’ve invested so much of my time into the friendships, where would I go from here? With only a semester left of high school, it seems I might as well deal with it. I don’t want to spend the rest of my senior year alone. But I don’t know how much longer I can take being trampled on. I don’t know how much longer I can take constantly supporting my friends and never having the conversation about me. I’ve always been depressed to some extent, but these last few months have been the worst. You would think my friends would notice if I’m this unhappy. It’s been brought to attention once, and the subject was quickly changed to their problems. I have to admit that I’m not the easiest one to turn the direction of the conversation toward, but aren’t friends there to make you talk? Maybe it’s because I am such a giving friend that I expect the same from others. I’m not saying this to brag, we all have our faults, but being a friend is not one of mine. So I think for once I’m going to ride it out, wait for an apology. If they come back, they come back, but I refuse to crawl back to them again.</span></span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-38733294348750247262011-12-06T23:07:00.000-08:002011-12-06T23:07:29.861-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For once I have people in my life that I can count on. I know this is for the long term and I can feel it helping me. I confess to them everything. Every thought, every wish, and there has yet to be a judgement. Their support never falters. It's something I need in my life right now, stability. With the constant havoc inside my home and my head, it's nice to get away for a while. No need to impress anyone -- no sugar-coating or secrets. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And while they might not know exactly what's going on, they sure as hell try to understand. They relate with issues of their own, but not competitively. It's out of love. Wanting me to know I'm not alone, not a contest on who has had it worse. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I trust them. That's not an easy sentence for me to write, it's not common for people to enter my life and stay, but I find myself opening up to them. Things I've never even admitted to myself I find telling them. In a way I think it's just another of my fucked up tests: how long will they stay now? But I realize this is real. This is true friendship.</span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-45782878334079231152011-11-12T20:26:00.000-08:002011-11-12T20:39:29.848-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember when writing was my world. I made promises to write on my blog daily, which obviously, were broken. I dreamt of published novels, articles in Cosmo or Nat Geo or the San Francisco Chronicle. It's weird the way I grew; I started high school knowing who I was better than I do now. I knew I was going to write. I knew how I wrote and what I wrote about. I knew who I was. Then came the constant worry of being accepted, both at home and at school. So I drifted, forgot about the blog, and for a while there, about writing all together. I started dreaming of how my life could play out. I dappled in the ideas of owning my own businesses or becoming a Criminal Profiler, but those only cover one aspect of my life. Writing can consume everything. Sure, I could get degrees in as many things as possible, as a fall back, but writing is my passion. Writing will be my world.</span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-87408686480342048742011-11-11T20:02:00.000-08:002011-11-11T20:29:27.233-08:00200th post.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can't tell you how unhappy I am. It's sad when you start to realize how little your family cares. Friends? they've always been just been thinly covered lies. There when you need them, but only because they're desperate for gossip, turning your personal tragedies into their bragging rights. But family is there forever. A mother to run to about silly fights and daily dramas, a father to be eternally proud of you -- the love is unconditional. For me, though, family means a step-mom who's repulsed by your existence one second then wishes you were closer the next and a father who can't speak more than three words without yelling and insults then leaves you crying of laughter seconds later. Even with this fucked up web of love and hate, I'll still defend them to the last day. "My mom has insomnia, so she was just really tired when she said all of that." "My dad's just been really stressed out since my sister was born, it's hard having a two year old." And just that easy, I lie to the whole world.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then you have your friends, those ones that you call with a bad day, seeming to go through it all with you. Asking if you're alright but secretly praying you don't ruin the night with all your depressing drama. They'll never truly understand what you're going through. Sure, they might be sad themselves, maybe even prescribed help, but everyone is different. I've grown up without a mom, so to me having a full family, gorgeous body, and everyone loving you, yet still being insecure doesn't really appear on my radar. Of course I care my friends are hurting, I'm probably the one that cares the most. Bad day? I'm over there in a heartbeat with ice cream and a hand to hold. But where is that for me? Why when I put such effort into us, does my side go unacknowledged?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I guess that all just goes back to the fact that they'll never be able to see what I'm going through. They're the friends I call with a bad day in class or a fight with a friend, but if the topic gets too personal or vulnerable, the phone remains untouched. Just sleep off the negativity, and somehow I always wake up with a smile. No matter that I am actually completely alone, I somehow find the ability every time, to tuck it all away beneath a smile. Because who wants to hear that your mom and you ended the night cussing each other out? That's ghetto. And who wants to hear that your dad got mad and pushed you to the ground? That's borderline abuse. Anything that puts them in an awkward situation, makes them uncomfortable, or the worst -- pity you, those are the things you keep to yourself.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe it's best I'm so good at hiding it all. Sure, there's the vague emotional status online, or a night where you breakdown with your friends. The times where for a moment you feel good you got it off your chest. Content despite the fact that the problems remain unfixed, just relieved you don't feel like the weight lies completely on you anymore; someone is there propping you up. Then you remember that these are temporary pains, all the fixables. You remember that the real issues tearing you apart inside, continue doing just that. The longer they are left alone with their roots planting deeper, the more likely the branches will destroy you.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which leads me to think it's best to let it out and if the friends go running, so be it. But how pathetic would I sound with my petty arguments? Nobody is going to understand the runnings of my family. They're not going to understand that while the fight may have been about something as stupid as an inside-out cardigan, it picked away at what little relations we had left. That each fight brings me closer and closer to a mistake I won't be here to regret. Or there's the chance that it truly is nothing, and that by just saying it aloud, I'm speaking it into existence.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With all these what-if's, I have decided my opinion -- at least momentarily. I may have come to terms with this now, but I know there will always be that internal debate. But at the moment, and in a majority of my past moments, I believe it's best to leave it be. It's better it be left to rot your soul rather than risk affirmation of your deepest fears and have rejection prove that you really are alone in this world.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<br />
</div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-67187842025699226112011-11-09T18:19:00.000-08:002011-11-09T18:19:34.946-08:00Unfinished<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I talk too much</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I laugh too loud</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I cry too easily</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I hurt too often</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I obsess too quickly</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I love too unconditionally</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I trust too many</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I judge too unfairly</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I worry too frequently</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">I care too endless</span></span><br />
<br />
</div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-29579996536323268792011-10-13T16:04:00.003-07:002011-10-13T16:04:48.541-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I grew up and lost myself along the way. I sacrificed my opinion of myself for the opinion of others.</div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-45897636332174543602011-10-13T15:55:00.000-07:002011-10-13T15:55:43.682-07:00I miss me.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I miss the girl who knew who she was.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who was comfortable with wearing goodwill flannels and throwing her hair up.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I miss reading every day while listening to records.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The girl who hardly ever judged and likewise never considered what others thought of her.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I knew where I was going. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">I knew why I wanted to be there.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've always been addicted to change, but I never thought I would drift this far away.</span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-80460620036486566662011-10-04T18:00:00.000-07:002011-10-04T18:00:26.441-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I feel like my brain is being scrambled by a whisk.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everything slowly starts to shut down.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eyes stop crying.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mouth stops moving.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Neck stiff and back straight, I go numb to face the pain.</span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-32405258821828588222011-10-03T18:39:00.000-07:002011-10-03T18:42:39.262-07:00Mindless Babble<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't cut because I don't want to add any more flaws to my appearance.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't starve myself because food is the only constant in my life.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't purge because I don't want anyone to know anything is wrong.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't write any more and it's slowly causing me to try these.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't stand to be around myself anymore, but at the same time I'm falling more and more in love with my taste. But movies, music, and fashion is not saving me from my attitude, my weight, my life. For the first time in my life I have a group. A set place where I belong. I'm going to lose them like everyone else. I'm surprised they've put up with me this long. Each day I grow bitchier and bitchier, testing them -- pushing them away to test my limits.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know I'm depressed. It's a battle I've been fighting to admit for years. The weekdays just blur by, but the weekends. The weekends are when I live, if not only for the Facebook pictures, I party for the smoke and drink. The feeling of being completely out of control. An excuse for being annoying. I think that's the biggest pro for me, is a blame for my constant running mouth, my bitchy comments.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't believe I'm writing again. I cried my way through this but it gives life a little more meaning.</span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-90249747240492062592010-11-11T21:14:00.001-08:002010-11-11T21:22:30.950-08:00<h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="color: #333333; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="UIStory_Message">It's always scary when you're happy. You know that what goes up, must come back down.</span></h3></span></span></span></h3>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-42630111818459037732010-11-06T22:58:00.000-07:002010-11-06T22:58:05.080-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I believe that everyone's biggest fear is being alone.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I face that fear everyday.</span></span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-90651376911332768052010-10-13T20:26:00.000-07:002010-10-13T20:26:10.672-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These phases are normal.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Every action has a reaction: every smile, a tear.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nobody truly deserves happiness if they can't make it work for them.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We all have a long way to go.</span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-73025210368115464272010-10-13T20:21:00.000-07:002010-10-13T20:21:38.062-07:00Honest Reservations<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Doubts flash over and over.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By not trusting myself, I don't let anyone else.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've learned to expect the worst from people.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Back to that ever haunting wall.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even writing this right now, I'm putting a wall up.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I haven't written in months.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I block out the positive, focus on all of my regrets.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Every mistake, every possible consequence.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I've let secrets grow in my mind. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I'm used to letting out the poison.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Always the first to apologize,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">but I guess that's out of fear of abandonment.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Things are just too different.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I thought I wanted change but I'm not sure I can handle it.</span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-85315430943983284972010-07-27T21:54:00.000-07:002010-07-27T21:54:17.888-07:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">The terminals all carry a burden, each gate a sad goodbye.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">The saltwater of the tears slick the floors of the airport.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">The terminals all carry a gift, each gate filled with hope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Those tears are mopped up by the smiles of the happy.</span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-14042535266527617022010-07-27T21:52:00.000-07:002010-07-27T21:52:39.383-07:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Read it how you please. See what you want to see. A sign is yours to interpret. Look to the skies and you'll never fall. The clouds will lead you, the stars will guide you.</span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-78320218963222100542010-07-27T21:51:00.002-07:002010-07-27T21:54:54.037-07:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">She talks to herself because there's no one else.</span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-41611193622138683942010-07-27T21:51:00.000-07:002010-07-27T21:51:05.699-07:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Tears at the beginning of my long journey home, I cry myself out and reach a state of total numbness. A layover brings me back to the real world, I'm reaching normalcy. A simple call awakens me and I'm excited. Ready to start my new life. Ready to prepare for those days that I come bhack and start a new life with her, better late than never.</span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-66008990488520849952010-07-27T21:48:00.000-07:002010-07-27T21:48:42.081-07:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Nails digging into my skin, I embrace the pain. Better there be blood than tears. She's telling me the story of my childhood. A straight face, she means no harm. So palms pressed into my thighs, I count my breaths. My lips clamp onto my straw to keep from quivering. The pain that's not just mine, but my sister's. The slap across her innocent face makes my cheek burn, the hunger in her stomach makes my full one ache. Stories that make me realize how protected I was. A father fighting the one he once loved to keep me from knowing such a cold world existed, if only for a few years. Memories rush back of a small hand grasping my even smaller one, pulling me from danger. All of these emotions in the blink of an eye and I'm back to listening to the saddest story I know.</span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-15308158438737607222010-07-12T01:27:00.000-07:002010-07-12T01:42:32.450-07:00Maybe, but I'll never know.<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">I write the me that only I know. It's not others' faults for not knowing, after all, it's all just one big lie. Smoke and mirrors shroud the truth. A mask for the soul hides the parts I want shown. Flaws sneak through and I dream of the maybes. The never-knows. Maybe there are lies for a reason. The untapped beauty of a soul is to remain to oneself. Maybe by writing all these thoughts, speaking them aloud, I'm messing with powers higher than me. Bringing ugly into this perfect world. Loneliness is in fact a gift. Yet another theory that life throws upon us, or that I find myself digging into the mystery of. </span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-19623043494335813002010-07-12T01:22:00.000-07:002010-07-12T01:42:04.698-07:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">The glitter of the ocean blinds the dreamers,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">makes them realize how large the world is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Their footprints in the sand slipping away with the tides,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">the salt of their tears collects.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">A child steps into the sea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">Splashes the water and drifts with the current.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">He tastes the pain with every rush of water.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">The sorrow </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">crashes against him </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">harder than any wave could.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">A tsunami of emotions spanning the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">Each drop of the ocean another story,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">swallowing you, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">overcome with empathy, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">you drown.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;">There is no place for dreaming in reality.</span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-29922741880040419842010-07-12T01:20:00.000-07:002010-07-12T01:20:38.203-07:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Sun fading and we're weaving through the Alabama trees. The road trip playlist and the soft reassurance of humming along from the backseat, you watch the windows. The clouds disappear through the leaves and you wait. Eyes locked waiting for them to come back, knowing they will but in the back of your mind wishing they won't. Begging time to stand still, forever in that perfect moment.</span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-64996468152219199632010-06-16T13:14:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:20:53.296-07:00Trust<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's a word said casually.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thrown around with no thought of the consequences.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A poem is written and a secret is told.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's read between the lines, assumptions are made.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So you tell your thoughts,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">what was running through your mind when the pen was in your hand.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lessons never learned.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's written in a shroud on purpose.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Keep your mouth closed and </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">quiet the voices in your head screaming of loneliness.</span></span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-44947182039533453472010-06-16T13:05:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:05:17.014-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Overreact and exaggerate.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's all in my head, but I don't let it out.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Smile, laugh, tell stories.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Running over every problem in my head.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Those days that I forget it all, </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">vacations from my mind.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hello, summer.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Goodbye, fakes.</span></span></div>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-49706476036140080802010-06-14T21:08:00.002-07:002010-06-14T21:08:40.484-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Never say forever.</i></span></span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3938213324716659057.post-84418459684206921792010-06-14T21:08:00.000-07:002010-06-14T21:08:19.338-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They tell you that secrets only bring you closer, </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">but in the end they're what tear you apart.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ammo for the revenge shot.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bullets used to kill only friendship.</span></span>Deannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830041374452227783noreply@blogger.com0