Sunday, April 28, 2013


<I saved this post and tried to think of a reason why. There weren't any concrete ones, however, it was merely because it was a look into a sad time. Some place of cold, romanticized reality. A time when I began to try and recount things to understand the emotions and myself.>

"I'm all about cover up," my best friend said
in reference to the dark circles under her eyes
And mine was in reference to the way I could eat the frosting off three of her roommate's cupcakes secretly and dance it off. 
And I knew it was more than that.
I wore the black dress I bought with the cut outs that show my rib tattoos. 
I drank a lot of Bacardi. 
I let them slide their hands down my hips and all the curves accentuated by bones. 
That feeling is amazing though. Hard work inadvertently acknowledged. 
The music takes me away and I dance all over and with anyone because I can. Because I restricted for months for this. 
It wasn't for this though. 
It was for, I don't know what. 
I felt good, without the extra weight. 
There's been a new number in my phone for the past three weekends and a boyfriend yelling at me for the smallest things. Most days he feels like a good friend on frayed edges and I can't imagine even sleeping with him anymore because he's so upset all the time. I can't imagine being me in the future with him or anyone really.
All there is is me, my new dress, and the music taking me away. 
My scale is packed away in my car and I'm not truly going home until Monday and then I'll be back her to go to a concert and I'm glad. 
I want to see 129 something more than anything.
Somehow being here makes my stomach empty and my plans fuzzy. 
When I'm scared to grow up I let Avicci and David Guetta smooth the lines and then I'm back. 
Pretty on the dance floor and a mess at dinner. 
You can't take me to dinner without an hour at the gym that day. 
You can't tell me I'm pretty. 
Or beautiful, God forbid. 
I'll smile and turn around to dance on and not face you. 
You'll see my eyes and know I don't believe it.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Like Most Little Girls

I grew up learning self disdain like most little girls
     and error
             and trauma
Sticky fingers
Immature eyes
I said no.
     "I'll tell a lie they'll believe about you"

Green eyes
Skimming emerald corn fields
Tempest blue sky
What are you looking for, little girl?
The world.

I learned self disdain like most little girls
Between lines of misread sheet music
Misplaced words
And in yellowing leaves
as they flutter down from the trees
Trying to catch them

But I don't want practice the piano
Chilled twilight outside
Fingers flow over keys 
Start-then stop
Why can't it be perfect?

Because I feel the music flowing perfectly inside me...

My piano teacher thinks I'm strange
I talk too much
Eat a bigger snack than the older girl.
She thinks I'm strange too.
I'm blunt.
I'm forward.
I'm big hearted. 
I'm unconventional.

Their eyes say they don't understand
Neither do I.

I learned self disdain like most little girls
Hidden between pages of my favorite books
Of fantasy
       And pain 
Good deeds
              Strong little girls and boys

Princesses on backs of dragons

Blue speckled lunch trays
"Why do you use such big words?"
                 Where will I sit
"Why do you like that?"
                 When my best friend tries the popular crowd
"Do you always do that?"
Casting no stones
because I am
Buttoning coats of uncertainty for recess

Counting sparkles in the snow
While fingerprints melt into ice crystals on bus windows
Tears are page markers.  

I learned self disdain like most little girls
Through hollow why's 
Simple how's 
Adapting by season 
Fading in and out
Searching shamed emotional lines in my mother's face
Finding something after their arguments like saving grace

Tattered squares and pieces of spirit
    and heart
        late at night
           eased by book
                and art

I learned self disdain like most little girls


Friday, April 12, 2013

Of Vices and Virtue

They say it's true
About vices and virtue
Of hot and cold

"All along it was a fever"

They say it's true
About saving grace
That certain crave
Of time
and place

"A cold sweat hot-headed believer"

It's delicious
The lies we tell ourselves
Simple sugars
a person's virtues

"I threw my hands in the air saying show me something.
He said if you dare come a little closer."

Intoxicated lies 
Sugar high
blood stained lips and alibis  
scratched backs 
claw of deceit
Sex as a treat

"It's not much of a life you're livin'
It's not just something you take-it's given
Round and around and around and around we go." 

Grasped my throat
That open grave
Victim to villian
Obscure by trade

"Oh the reason I hold on
Ooo cause I need this hole gone." 

Skin to fire
Weakness strung on delicate wire
Roles in switch
Now I'm the liar 

"Funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one that needed saving
Cause when you never see the light it's hard to know which one of us is caving." 

I came to you with roses in my hair
And you
You answered
There's no one there

"Not really sure how to feel about it
Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can't live without you
It takes me all the way." 

But in that moment,
I was both
vice and virtue

"I want you to stay." 

song used: "Stay" by Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


My worth
measured in beads of sweat
pooling at my collar bones
sliding then catching at my dermal piercings before disappearing in my shirt.
"I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow and sweat my rust"
My worth
Measured in minutes not wasted
and calories burned.
Just one more.
Feel the air fill my lungs
Laboring up a steep incline on the treadmill.
Sinews, tendons, bones, ashes.
Look in the gym mirror
Intoxicated at the sight of bone and muscle and slow motion drips of sweat
"I'm breathing in the chemicals"
My worth
Measured by the contours of my face
turn right then left
Green eyes probe
Breath in, chin up, then down, this is how I'm supposed to be
Trace my jaw with light fingers
"This is it, the apocalypse."
You don't know that what you say burns
Thin film of expectations of indifference
Wake up
Hair beginning to grow to learn to cascade
As I climb down the ladder from my bed
You can be anything
You can be anything before breakfast
"I raise my flags, don my clothes
It's a revolution I suppose"
Tell me you love me but
I'll tell you I love you always
"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
I'm radioactive, radioactive"

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Save the Salutations

Emily Dickinson wrote that "Dying is a wild night and new road."
The death she spoke of came to mean two things, and I often times found myself lost in myself.
I began this blog with the wrong mindset, maybe.
No more than a girl piloting her 20's.
Trying to make sense of the world but I wasn't ready to view it as I should, not when I started.
There was hope
Beautiful, radiant hope.
If I held on long enough I too could be happy.
Turns out you have to leave the front door of your insecurity to find that happiness.

My story here began with an eating disorder relapse, beginning to learn to face the after math of sexual abuse, an unhealthy relationship, and the end of my undergrad.
I'm no more than the usual girl
And while I wish I had the answers,
Felt things like I think I should
Take more chances like I should
And shed these chains like I should,
I'm along for the ride like everyone else.

Dying is a wild night because sometimes you have to kill the ugliness,
The old you
With bad habits, self-serving tendencies, insecurities, and that piece of your humanity that renders you otherwise.
I removed most of the old posts because I want you to know me as this,
On this new road, dying ever day
For change.

If you're on this ride with me,
Save the salutations.
At least until you decide if you don't mind
The contents of a searching mind and heart.
We're all a little broken
But we're never hopeless.