paris where are you?

i can respect older, famous writers without a hint of jealousy. But the moment i hear writers in high school or below i feel the rise and fall of defeated breath burning my lungs. How could a sniveling child with hands too chubby to grip the pen and eyes wide enough to swallow the earth, write the multitude of innocent feelings coursing through inexperienced veins? but this child is happy, because contrary to the world who is so worried about the almost, the too late, the days to come, and the days they wish had never happened. My eyes see fall leaves and  unforgettable things, and clouds that change with my heart, consistently. my eyes see hope and wait for the son because i know it will come out. Why is that a bad thing? must i be depressed in order to be creative? i feel joy! i have a wonderful family! i have magic in my fingers i don't yet understand! why does that make me any less deep, or honest, or inspiring? I don't want to share this post because i know that it is raw and confusing and so many things that i don't want you to know. i want to say that i have found my paris, but i haven't. but that doesn't mean i will never find it. This post is not for you. It is for me, and if you happen to find some obscure piece of it to relate to and treasure, all the better, because i just want to let myself be raw, and unedited, and honest.

Paddle

When I was littler, and my legs were shorter, and my cheeks were chubby with youth, I learned how to swim. I tested the water with the tips of my toes and when the water got to my waist an excited and terrified feeling caught in my chest and stuck to my heart.
I ventured further without supervision.
But my heart didn't know how to swim, it only knew how to fly. So my hands and arms stretched out, fingers spread and ready for take off, I leaped out of the water with arms trying so hard to be wings, but when i hit the water, i ended up doggy paddling  instead.

How to be a cat lady...

First, you must buy a kitten, buying them at a young age increases the probability of obsession.
Second, you must put a lot of thought into the name given them, perhaps name them after ex's or long dead ancestors.
Third, ponder on the style of clothes your cat may wear, also considering what color would most compliment their fur and eye hues.
Fourth, toys are encouraged.
Fifth, your cat will claim a spot in every room of your house so you must provide a bed or other things for them to have in that spot.
Sixth, be aware that cats often shed. You must collect this fur and put it in a safe place, in a plastic bag for example.
Seventh, the reason for step six is so that you may put it in your "kitty scrap book" this will be a bonding tool for when your kitten reaches it's teens.
Eighth, come up with multiple nick-names for your cat such as, my precious, goddess divine, my pearl, fluffy face, baby, sweet girl, big boy, little boy cat, etc.
Ninth, make all of the rooms in your house cat themed and buy whatever cheep cat decorative things that can be found on amazon.
Tenth, talk only of cats.
Eleventh, give your cats a face book page and post every day.
Twelfth, get a job as a cat sitter.
Thirteenth, buy your cats a stroller so that you can take walks in the park.
Fourteenth, remember to buy one more cat after completing each of the previous steps.
And finally, Paws for dramatic effect, in your will you must leave all your worldly possessions to your cats.  

i am afraid.

i really hate to admit it, but i'm afraid.


i am afraid of never reaching my full potential.
I am afraid of disappointing my Father.
i am afraid of hard things.
i am afraid of easy things.
i am afraid of my own weaknesses.
i am so terrified that i will get kidnapped. (hence the reason why i insist on locking all the doors myself before bed.)
i am afraid of not being good enough.
i am afraid of learning that i cannot learn.
i am afraid of losing anyone i care about.
i am afraid of hurting those i love.
i am afraid of being selfish.
i am afraid of getting cancer.
i am afraid of never becoming an author.
i am afraid of endings.
i am afraid of caring too much.
i am afraid of caring too little.
i am afraid of pain.
i am afraid

i am afraid of fear.

i am afraid of fear,
it is debilitating, it controls me with long fingers whose grip is frozen to my puppet strings.
It laughs in quiet delight as i dance across the stage of hardwood floors that blister my feet.
My lungs heave, yearning for uninfluenced air.
My stomach clenches in an uncomfortable cage that chick flicks and warm blankets and hugs can't stop my heart from remembering.
It's shriveled form crouches in corners and stares unblinkingly into wide eyes and behind shut eyelids.
fear does not find you, you find it.
For fear is a combination of paranoid thoughts, thoughts that may or may not be well founded, and slowly rise in strength as you so choose to build it.

life

so long as life doesn't live me, i will always love life. 

Bricks

Once upon a time a little girl built a house, because she wanted a home for all the things that no one wants within themselves. She skipped about making sure that everything was just right. She made a beautiful bed for sorrow to sleep in, a rocking chair for hurt to sit in, a table for stress to eat at, pillows for anger to scream in, a window for broken heart to look through, a mirror for pride to hold, stuffed animals for fear to hug, and a crown for insecurity to wear. She felt sure that this would make everything better.

Like ducklings behind their mother, they followed her to the house. But when they got there she realized something she had previously overlooked, there was no door.