This is for all the people who think their writing sucks.

This is for the people too shy to stand up in journal jam.

This is for the kids who sit in the back of the class and for the kids who sit in the front of the class.

This is for you.

This is for the insecure girls who think no boy could ever love them.

This is for the boy in love, feeling the same damn thing.

For the kids with two fingers down their throat every time they eat.

This is for you.

You are f*cking amazing.

It feels like I’m night swimming in a sea of florescent jelly fish.

I am captivated.

I could swim to shore, back to the warm dry sand, but I swim closer.

I’m fascinated with the way you move. Flowing through the dark ocean, captivating everything in sight.

I look around and see all sorts of fish and ocean life drifting towards you.

Everything’s in a trance.

I am a prisoner to you.

And I realize that’s what you want.

Because that’s who you are. You are an effortless hunter. You’re actions entrance me but your words are electric poison.

If only I could set myself free.

When I see the city’s skyline in the pink and orange sun, I think of her.

When I hear the sound of distant thunder, I think of her.

When rain starts to fall and the smell of lavender fills the air,

The warmish cold aroma of ice cream parlors, and empty canvases.

Even the sound of my car door closing makes me think of her.

Most nights I lay awake, dreaming of those summer sunsets and golden skies.

I no longer feel heartbreak because my heart doesn’t belong to me. And that is a terrifyingly, comforting thought.

IF YOU ARE FRUSTRATED WITH THE BLOG SYSTEM READ THIS…

There’s a stigma I don’t like. And maybe this sounds selfish… (it is) but I don’t usually like doing things for other people.

I find it interesting though that the one post I wrote that got put on Nelson’s favorite posts paper was the one I didn’t write for myself.

So I guess I’m not calling people out, I guess I’m calling out the system.

– The system that encourages people to write for the reader.

– The system that encourages people to write “better.”

But who are we to judge someone else’s thoughts, and emotions. Because isn’t that what we all are writing anyways?

Idk what my goal is with saying this, because I feel like the system is right, regardless of how unfair it can feel sometimes.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care what people think about my writing, or about how many likes or comments I get, (and that number is low to none.) Yet, I still make it onto Nelson’s favorites…

Maybe instead of selecting a few posts to praise in class, everyone could choose one that impacted them, Not even necessarily one that they thought had good writing, just a post that stood out to them. Then maybe, in class we could share the posts that we enjoyed. More opportunity for people to feel less unnoticed.

Combining that with Nelson’s favorites could be a good thing.

And maybe by doing that we improve the system instead of abandoning it. Because I think the system is right and good, maybe it’s just the culture I hate. Maybe I hate the fact that I get 2 likes on a post and a comment maybe once every 5 posts… (shout-out @Oracle-Mediator and @father-jude) But maybe we don’t need to change anything, and maybe it’s just me. 😂

Now back to my regular posting of random thoughts and ideas that prolly don’t make sense to any of you but I like to post them dammit.

Rghh

AND DAMMIT IT FEELS GOOD TO BE SHOUTED OUT IN CLASS DAMMIT

Those memories are far too distant to feel this close.

White sky painted with gold.

I remember the way you smell in the rain.

WET FOOTPRINTS

I FIND IT HARDEST TO WRITE ABOUT THE SIMPLEST EMOTIONS.
Maybe that’s why I can never truly tell you how much I love you.

It feels new again.

The wind smells like gold.

The sunset sounds like bird song.

Bandaids and distant laughter.

Sitting on the mountain side. Staring at the lights in the valley.

ARE YOU AWAKE?

I think so.

The water shifts before the tide. I can feel it. I’ve felt it. I’ve felt it in the the way your eyes dull when I’ve damaged your soul. The storm diminishes replaced with defensive rage. Rage and everything red.

*SAME STORY NEW MEMORY*

Remembering the future. My eyes are full of salt. The vision is clear but it’s painful to see. And it’s coming. I can’t contain it. The still before the shock.

*RIOTS IN THE BACKGROUND RAGE IN THE FOREGROUND*

I am looking forward to the day my solitude ends. And I am home.

I remember it all.

Next time you shoot me make sure you actually k*ll me so I don’t have to live in this purgatory state of confusion for the rest of my dwindling life.

FINISH IT

A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS.

-Sincerely he who is of pink rage and everything red.

THE TALE OF TWO SOULS

---

IMAGINE RUNNING THROUGH THE STREETS

My thoughts only work when the clouds don’t cover the stars.

RUNNING AWAY FROM THE DYING LIGHT

Laying barefoot in the road listening to comets light up my mind.

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Blackout in the distance, dirt roads and swimming pools.

YOU CANNOT FLY BAREFOOT MOON CHILD

You lost me.

LIE AND LIE AGAIN

Feverous feelings. Fleeting thoughts, fleeting*** dammit I forgot. (This was real.)

THIS IS NOT WHO YOU WANTED ME TO BE

Wake up.

THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE

I already fell.

*SIRENS IN THE DISTANCE, SUN SETTING, SPLASHING AND YELLING. BURDENED HEARTS AND UNSATISFIED HUNGER.*

Food doesn’t satisfy my hunger.

Most nights I stay out too late. Screaming love songs to the stars.

Running through the streets painting visions and setting flowers on fire.

Yelling f*ck you to the moon then pleading to it moment later. A twisted mentality and dual personalities. Rage and everything red.

Pink

Purple

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

“Why not?”