Slowly sinking her head into the fluffy pillow, she had a sudden rush of giggling. It was incredibly warm and toasty, no cold air trapped in between her blankets. Just her and the warmth. Her nerves finally calmed down and started to fall asleep, until she tossed and turned on the opposite side of the bed. There’s a distinct tiny spot where her lover once stayed. He would come on the nights she wanted him there, he would stroke her hair and kiss her face until she fell asleep in his arms, he would tickle her to the point where she got mad and he made it up to her when he got her ice cream; all these memories fled her mind too quickly. She started to cry and missed him. Her heart was torn and ripped with deep crevices, nothing can make her feel better, no one can stitch the painful memories together…

I’m bothered by all the Valentine sings plastered on boards, candles, and teddy bears. They haunt me everywhere I go and I tell myself to relax and breathe. Distracted by pink, white, and red, I busy myself opening a pack of cigarettes. Ooh satisfaction. The heavy smoke enters my mouth and I can feel the tar sticking to my damaged lungs. “Well, there goes another five years off of my life”, I say as I exhale the thick condensed cloud. Valentine’s Day is dreadful, it’s nothing special and yet the world has the need to put so much focus on one day. Hearts, chocolate, and money deluge this planet with high hope on what we call ‘love’. Can we just have a national fucking smoke day, where anyone over the age of eighteen can get high legally? Fuck.  

It’s the effect you give me. I inhale your organic greens and exhale pleasure. “Ah, finally I have discovered relief after a long day.” No, you do not make me dizzy, you do not make me sad, nor do you do make me aggravated. But because of Mother Nature’s most glorious creation, I have you to heal me. I’m lightheaded, in the sense of being carefree, I’m more confident- yet relaxed, I take everything to heart; and the most drugging affect that hits, is life: it is valued for what it is worth. I may feel out-of-control, but I am in control. At this point, my body and mind are two different species. You may taste sweet or sour, but most of all you taste of delight. I know what I’m getting myself into, and I can’t wait to pack a bowl tonight… 

The cold raindrops hit the ground throughout the still and steady night. The soft drops echoes its way through the vast open space. It’s not so cold outside, but it is crisp and fresh. The atmosphere is heavy with a thick blanket of grey clouds, while the raindrops kiss every part of Mother Nature’s creations. One drop on my cheek and my left eye winks. I’m walking through this peaceful park with only my umbrella. Some may think the rain is terrible, but I think it’s a beautiful disaster. I look above and past my umbrella; I see the thick clouds hovering over town, creating an eerie and uncomfortable thunderstorm. I inhale the ever-so-clean oxygen and exhale the small puff of breath. I laugh, “I can see my breath…” I feel like I’m five again. Looking at my watch it’s already 5:32PM; I better hurry up and go home to feed the dogs. In that moment, I felt a huge weight of bricks being carried off my bare shoulders. “I need to appreciate the rain more often…”

I scurry through the endless aisles of books. “Hemingway, Hemingway. Where are you? G, F, H, I found it!” Quickly, but with a steady motion I gracefully select the book I want to purchase. No matter what, always treat a book as if it were something so meaningful to you, you wouldn’t dare hurt it. Books behold different worlds and stories that one can escape to. Longing and hoping for a relaxed state of mind. Stories hold adventures, life, and laughter. It’s something one may not be able to carry out throughout life. But with a pen, one can create their own world. 

He looked down at his book, hoping to find a better ending to the story. He longed for a cured ending, filled with love and happiness. Something about the book allowed him to feel human again. A pounding beating heart ripped through his chest, he can feel life within him. He pushes his glasses from the bottom of his nose to the upper bridge of his nose, slowly sets the book down and looks up. “Wow”, he murmurs. “That was beautiful”, he said under his breath as he soon realized he would find hope in people once again. The story brought comfort in his life. He smiles the entire time and decides, “I’m going to get another cup of coffee and read another book.” 

You know that feeling you get when you wake up? You’re groggy and pissed… until you drink your cup of coffee and smoke. Best feeling ever- weed or tobacco, regardless of what I choose it’s so soothing. Onto my third cup of coffee now. 

When you think, not feel, think your life is weighing you down, that is when you need to change. Stop blaming others for what is going on and realize what you are doing wrong in life and change that. Once you become the bigger and better person, people will realize this and give you so much more respect. It starts with, not gossiping about others, stop complaining, and start taking responsibilities. We consistently complain about how our lives are dreadful and how terrible this economy is, when in reality this recession is the best thing that can ever happen for us. Although most seek death as an opportunity, it allows one to gain more knowledge and to become independent. When a huge obstacle comes your way to make you fall, always have backup plans. Know that there are two sides to a problem, more options, and that if anything does happen; you ultimately know how to get back up on your feet. No one is impeccable, but the right thing to do is striving for more. This world isn’t bad at all, especially if you live in America, it’s the greatest country there is because how much more freedom can you receive in a country? Take this as an advantage and do what is right. Don’t take things personal when someone disagrees with you or does not like your ideas, simply look at them and say, “Okay. What about this?” Always know that there are different alternatives, be the one person everyone admires. Smile because today is a new day and you never know, your smile can change someone’s day :) 

sleepingtigers:She becomes an entirely different girl on that porch. No longer even the sleepy girl that brings the night with her wherever she goes, no longer young and naively sick over romance novels and newspaper clippings glued behind the bookshelves. She’s a women. Some of her still comes through, but in tiny bursts so quick and subtle you’d think you imagined them. That if you took your eye off of her, any part of her, you’d miss it. As lithe and quiet as a single rain drop, as if it were the only one hitting the ground at that precise time, before just as softly it’s hidden to blend in with the rest. It’s not in the way she dresses, white cotton socks tugged up below and above her knees, his pale blue button up with buttons confused, exposing a deep sliver of her tanned chest, the sleeves only tight on her wrists, slipping off of her sharp shoulders before, as if an old habit, she would reach up and slide it back up to cover the skin. She sat in her grandfathers rocking chair, one knee pulled resting against the wooden arm rest, the other with toes pointed on the porch boards pushing off just enough to keep herself moving. Fists clenched with fingers. Other than that, she wouldn’t move much. No longer the fluid, fleeting girl with too much to say, too much to listen to, too much to take in. Though you had better believe she still felt. Still the girl with too much to feel, too much to listen to, too much to take in. The rain had grown so furiously that it turned the entire property just across the railing to a clouded haze, but her eyes remained on the dirt road where they had walked before. Rain drop signals. Her brow would furrow, creating a troubled indent above it, and just then, that one fragile little movement would set everything off. Then, you would see it. A bold strike of color dripping from within her fist, the thick blood of the flower crumpled in her hold trailing down the edge of her hand, sneaking beneath the washed blue of her shirt, falling to the porch. Plum stains. The damp discoloration of her socks, their soles muddy with rainwater and pebbles, small blades of grass. The girl who buried her nights in her grandfather’s garden to introduce herself to the dawn, to mingle with the morning, so sad that she had kept it a stranger for so long. They knew nothing about one another. Never once had they talked, never once had she watched it, greeted it, walked with it. An entire life she had left behind, all inches of the world illuminated, drowsy eyes sensitive to the light. She knew the night so well, but it was the day she had always slept with. It was the day who nourished her, gave her a break from the tireless fantasies, the troubles that weren’t hers, the things she’d wanted to do so desperately and those others that she didn’t, desperately. Flooded her body and drained the vodka to just her lips, leaving it there but hiding the rest, because it knew she loved the taste. It was the morning that held her, that took care of her, that let her sleep. The night was just an introduction, a deep violet tease in her ear to wander, but the morning finished her. 

Every weekend at her grandfather’s she slept in that rocking chair. No one knew just when she had gotten herself up, if she had even fallen asleep, if she had even found the bed. You’d find her before noon with plum stains, muddied feet, and the morning on her cheeks. Taking her, again, away from everything that the night stirred up within her. Slept with her. Flooded her body. Held her. Took care of her, and let her sleep.

She says all she needs is her hot chocolate and her books, her front steps and her sweaters. For the pages smell like the chill in the leaves and the mug tastes like all her lover’s past, the concrete leaves marks like sleep and the knits leave room to remind her that there are things bigger than herself, while she collapses in the warmth. This, if any a time, is when your love for her will go most nourished. This is when she will pay attention. When her breath smells like late night cafe’s, and her skin like pumpkin spice. The fall sits in her hair, her bottom perched on the steps with the night on her bare legs, kissing her knees. 

rockpapercherries:

I’m trying to find peace and stillness in my heart and I have tried to rid my soul of the negative energy by focusing and appreciating the wonderful things. But I’m starting to fall apart.

I think I’m going to get a tattoo. I’m exhausted.

It sucks when you’re madly in love with someone, who’s in love with somebody else. You watch that person ache and cry because the one they love is gone and out of their lives as your heart is aching and yearning for the one you love to heal. That feeling that you know you won’t have a chance with that one person makes you want to cry all the time. Hearing the words, “she’s absolutely gorgeous and so beautiful. I can’t have her anymore and I let her get away. She’s not mine anymore. She’s gone… “ made me think, “wow if any girl heard that she was called beautiful or any of this they would smile.” But what am I to you? A friend and only a friend. And at this point I finally figured out what I can do. No matter how much it hurts to see the one you love go for someone else, deep down inside you’re happy that you can see their love. They will always cherish you for the times you were there caring, listening, and helping them out. I have told myself so many times, “I’m in love with you, I really am, but there’s nothing I can do about it because it won’t change anything.” What sucks even more is that you still have that small hope that something will happen, and hey, it won’t hurt to dream and wish for ridiculous things. No matter what, be the bigger person and prove to the one you love that you are an independent person; one who shows confidence, has a big warm heart, and shows their love for everyone.

Oh why hello there, it has been such a long time since I’ve last written a decent piece of my journal. You see, it’s called “writers block” and damn it hit me pretty badly. 

Day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second, I can’t help but to think, I’m getting closer to graduation… what do I do? It’s already hard as it is, having two jobs, being a full time student, and dealing with the rudest people every single day. I find myself lost in nothing. Trapped between my dreams and reality. I want to believe that something is out there for me, becoming a photojournalist, a photographer, or even a mother. I want to do things right. My journey has just begun with all this struggle, but that’s not going to bring me down. As a human being, I’m going to push my way into life, excelling in anything and everything just to keep me busy and happy.