Song Write 1

Guideline: Listen to music and limit self to only writing in a way that relates to the song. So, to get full effect you have to know the songs. It is also timed. Must finish current sentence/topic when song ends.

Wake me up – Avicii
In terms of anxiety

In a pit within your ideas that clouds every movement and judgment
You can almost see the light, but here in this darkness you cannot escape your awful reality
The reality of your fear: the loss, the disappointed glares, every word they could say will never hurt as much as the ones you’ve already engraved upon your soul
You’ll never know that you are lost until the storm subsides
Those faces begin to clear and you can finally see
How it was only just the beginning

Hey Brother – Avicii
In terms of depression

I stopped believing a long time ago, though there are some things that I believe in other than myself
I’ve never had a home, but my bed will endlessly encompass me
The escape of escapes; if only the sky would fall and smother me here too
But it never does
And I could easily give it all for you
But I would never give anything for myself
When everyone outweighs you, self-sacrifice becomes the obvious choice

Levels – Avicii
In terms of desire

We danced in the fountains and throughout every depressive episode my past never went before my eyes, but there, in that stream, my future passed in front of me when you blocked the sun for an instant. I was hoping for so much more and now that I am here, with more than I ever bargained for, I can’t help but start to fear that everything I wanted might just be to near for me to be able to keep you

Thornside – Matt Brouwer
In terms of escape

I kept telling myself that I needed to learn something from all this. I would learn to heal her. I would fix this. I would be the magic glue that they needed, because I can do what He can’t. But this isn’t that story. There isn’t a break in the clouds as long as I’m here on this page, but I’ll tell you when I see that new day in a different chapter. This thorn will never set me free as long as I continue to let it dig under my bones, sucking my marrow dry.

Whatcha Say – Jason Derulo
In terms of betrayal

The roof will never cave in unless we find ourselves in an earthquake, but I swear I prayed for it to when I saw you leave for her. The tragedy I was looking for is always right in front of me, thankfully, it is predominantly the fault of those around me. Unfortunately, I don’t have a say in these things.
You only meant well, and I knew this from the start, but I always wished there was more than good intent. Later on you would see that I deserved so much more than intentions, but I’m still standing on a ledge with an unchecked parachute. It’s brand new and hasn’t been tested even once. I’m feeling rather dumb for trusting it.

Runaway – Ed Sheeran
In terms of home

Home has never been a place I could find, but as I walked out that door there was no surprise. I was no adult nor could I sign any leases, but I needed to run. I never needed to say a thing. He’d know how every word would have fallen and how it would only leave him with more disdain for her sour words and sore heart. Every intention left aches and pains, but they all knew I wouldn’t be back for long. A temporary stay before packing and taking to the road: another trip around the world in a literal sense this time instead of all that metaphorical bullshit.
I love him from the skin to my bones. But I’m looking for something away from him this time.

Drunk – Ed Sheeran

I can believe that the truth will never make you stronger. It is predominantly pain not worth mentioning. I miss your warmth in the cold summer nights when I forget to keep my warmer blankets by my side.
When I drank the entire night away I almost hoped you would appear in my waking dreams, but instead I scratched my wrists until I saw red and wished I could empirically measure the love you held for her against what I feel reaching across the land from the west coast.
Cans collected along the floor of my bedroom, with the music playing in my head causing my body’s submission to a rhythm instead of a knife… and left alone my legs were made to feel like lead for the rest of the week… I’ll never let go of the rhythm if it means seeing you before God’s return.

Dashboard – Modest Mouse

Nowhere is the place that I am always searching for, but it really couldn’t be any worse than this. The radio is only a little distracting when placed within a burning car. I would ignore the burns and the splintering windshield, drumming and swaying and moving to each and every note that I felt within my very soul. I could never let go of the drums, but when anyone appeared I found that I forgot every piece and when they stared I began to break, break, break… Couldn’t keep the drums or the beat or the scene and as each and every piece of me disappeared into the background I recalled how I had placed all my hopes in this one last thing… one last thing that maybe I could do I could feel I could accomplish with everything in my soul because everything in my soul could only ever be shown with how these songs made me feel….. .. how I saw them play out in my mind.

Little Bird – Ed Sheeran

With a broken leg you can still fly as a bird. Well, aren’t you a fool?
Would you stay? And I can’t. I thought it would be simple. I’d always feel that way, but I now know that something in me is broken… I’ve always known this. Broken against my heart… the morning dew will never feel my feet willingly, as the sunrise holds my attention as much as a dream.
It’s late love. Go back to sleep.
Regret. Diving in too soon.
I’ll owe it all to you.
I was so certain within your presence… but maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up… because with each passing week I’m falling into something of a normal pattern of obsession with this or that while the memories of you fall to the wayside…

Wake me up – Ed Sheeran

Maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up. If we got tattoos instead of wedding rings, would I feel as though this is more permanent? Would the commitment suddenly become realistic? I’ll never know… I’ll never know what you see in this basket case that is me, but with every word I write I hope that I’ll see some new books someday… I never really asked for a fairytale ending, but there you were, a knight carrying me to the hospital, staying up with me all night, blowing off finals and scholarships and the world’s definition of success…. Why couldn’t it be that I just breathe to feel you against me… but you still have a train to catch and a week states away……

Maybe I fell in love when you woke me up.

The Fallacy of Honesty II

People claim to want honesty in relationships, but all they actually want is flattery and sugar cookies.

We shared what we deemed applicable and people entered with questions and observations. A moment we held and released and it dispersed into nothing, never to be seen or mentioned again.

I love… more than anything the friendships I share… if only we all shared equal parts.

At the end of the day there are only dead light bulbs and low batteries. Maybe someday we’ll stop using so much power, but, for right now, I will occupy my time and heart and mind with the words I type on back-lit touchscreens.

Conversations With The Naive

Madeline
Madeline — Click to see more by Little Blue Bird Photography

In my creative writing class, we had this assignment due a week and one day ago:

Create an opening scene for a movie (no more than 12 pages). What is the conflict for your intended movie? What is at risk? What has happened in moments prior to the action that begins your story? There should be at least two primary characters but no more than three. In the scene, what do each of these characters desire?

Or

Create a short script (no more than 12 pages) that surrounds a single event, in which at least two primary characters (but no more than three) should have significant interaction. Consider the relationship between the two characters. Incorporate the techniques learned about dialogue and character, particularly subtext.

This was my first attempt at a script and I really enjoyed it. I took various pieces of reality from my life, dramatized them, and added some extra imagined flare to create a short script that I guess surrounds a single event. It doesn’t work as an opening scene as it closes nicely, so I suppose I followed the second prompt. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

You can download the script in the nice “official” layout here: Conversations With The Naive

Or read it in the incorrect format below:

CONVERSATIONS WITH THE NAIVE

Written By:

Katherine M. Zellmer

FADE IN:

INT. HOUSE – LIVING ROOM. MORNING.

Sound of a child crying echoes through the hall. KONSTANTINE, a girl, in twenties, with long, blonde hair sits up on the couch and looks towards the sound.

Konstantine walks to the sound and opens the door.

INT. MADELINE’S ROOM.

MADELINE, a few months before her third birthday, is sitting in her bed, pink toys strewn about, crying.

KONSTANTINE (with concern): You okay, Madeline?

MADELINE (looking up from her hands): KAY, me wants to play wit da baby mouse.

KONSTANTINE: He’s asleep right now. Did you have a scary dream?

MADELINE: (climbing off of bed) Oh. (confused) No, me has no dreams.

KONSTANTINE (kneeling to Madeline’s level): Wanna go in the living room and wait for MIMI to get up?

Madeline nods.

INT. LIVING ROOM

Konstantine relaxes back on the couch where she was. Madeline stands beside the couch.

MADELINE: Why is da baby mouse sleeping?

KONSTANTINE: He’s nocturnal. (observes Madeline’s confused look) … Umm… He sleeps during the day and is up at night.

MADELINE (after consideration): Baby mouse likes da moon, me likes da sun.

KONSTANTINE (smiling ecstatically): That’s right, Madeline! You are so smart.

Madeline smiles. The two play for a little bit, Konstantine tickling Madeline and playfully throwing her onto the couch.

MADELINE: Kay, are you staying wit me all today?

KONSTANTINE (tiredly): Yes, I am staying here again. (considering) Do you want to watch TV?

MADELINE: Yes! Akyudees!

KONSTANTINE (confused): What? I couldn’t understand you.

MADELINE: Da black monster and red monster and blue monster.

KONSTANTINE (as she turns on the TV): Monsters? What monsters?

MADELINE: Black and red and blue.

KONSTANTINE: Where are the monsters? Are they in your room?

MADELINE (flustered): No monsters in mine room. DADDY keeps monsters away wit gun.

KONSTANTINE (covering her face as she laughs): That’s right. DADDY protects you, MIMI, and Baby JUDE. (pause) Madeline, what do the monsters do?

MADELINE: Blue one makes everything blue. Black one big.

KONSTANTINE: Can he turn you blue? Can he turn the house blue?

MADELINE: No. Red monster turns blue. Mines green house stays green.

KONSTANTINE (sifting through children’s shows and movies on Netflix): I’m really not sure what you are talking about.

MADELINE (turns away from Konstantine to view TV): Dere!! AKYUDEES!

Konstantine follows Madeline’s excited eyes and finds that “Hercules” has just appeared on the screen.

KONSTANTINE: Oh! HER-KYU-LEES.

Konstantine starts the movie.

Konstantine looks up to see her sister, KIERSTEN, enter the room. Kiersten’s hair is disheveled and she dons a warm-looking argyle bathrobe.

MADELINE: MIMI! Me is watching Akyudees!

KIERSTEN (falling into the recliner and smiling, exhausted): I see that.

KONSTANTINE: How many times did Jude wake up last night?

KIERSTEN: I have no idea.

KONSTANTINE: I guess mother nature was kicking in cause I think I woke up whenever he cried.

KIERSTEN: Sorry, dude.

KONSTANTINE: No worries.

KIERSTEN (concerned): How are you doing today?

Konstantine lifts her left arm to display scabbed, but still tender, cuts along her wrists.

KONSTANTINE (apathetic): I guess it was a bad night…

Konstantine replaces her wrist onto the couch.

KONSTANTINE (smiles slightly): Not feeling suicidal though!

KIERSTEN (concerned, to slightly irritated, back to concerned): You should’ve come and woken me up… I’m here to talk to! … Love you, sis. Chill here however long you need to.

A baby’s cry can be heard down the hall.

KIERSTEN: … though I don’t know how relaxing this is.

Kiersten walks down the hall and disappears into another room. Konstantine notices as Pain and Panic appear on the TV.

MADELINE: Look, Kay! Da blue monster and da red monster.

KONSTANTINE: Oh! I see.

Kiersten returns with baby Jude in one hand and a spoon and baby food in the other. She places him in Madeline’s old pink baby exerciser.

KONSTANTINE: Madeline said some of the cutest things before you came in here! She is so smart!

Konstantine recounts the recent events to Kiersten.

KIERSTEN: We only watched Hercules for the first time yesterday. I am impressed that she remembered that about the titans! Cause the ice one turns everything to ice, but it is blue.

KONSTANTINE: Oh, yeah! I forgot about that. I haven’t seen this movie in forever. (considering) Reminds me of being a kid… before responsibilities and before shit mattered.

At the swear word, Kiersten looks to Madeline’s back that is absorbed into another world and back at Konstantine with slight irritation.

KONSTANTINE: Anyway… I’m really thankful for you letting me stay here.

KIERSTEN: No problem, dude.

KONSTANTINE: Like, seriously, Madeline has helped me a ton. Just seeing how bright she is and how when things are explained to her just right, she just lights up… (gesturing aimlessly) This all… gives me hope.

Konstantine closes her eyes for a moment.

INT. SMALL ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT – KITCHEN. NIGHT.

A drained Konstantine frantically cleans the kitchen counters. The timer on the oven sounds and she rushes to grab the food.

KONSTANTINE (hitting the top of her hand on inside of the oven): Shit!

She repositions her ovenmit and pulls out delicious looking lasagna, enough for at least four people. After placing the lasagna atop the stove, she continues cleaning.

KONSTANTINE: Dammit, if I would have just woken up from my nap when my alarm went off I wouldn’t have been so rushed and stressed! Doesn’t help anything!

She finishes cleaning and sits on a bar stool in the corner of the kitchen. The deadbolt of the apartment door turns.

KONSTANTINE (strained smile): Hey, honey! Welcome home! How was work?

DILAN: (carelessly throws keys on counter as he enters kitchen): Sucked. It was a long, exhausting day. Whadya make? What’s all this lasagna?

KONSTANTINE: Oh, it’s for us and JOHN and MARK.

DILAN (turning towards Konstantine): They are coming over next Friday, not today. God, you’re fucking stupid. I’ve told you every damn day this week, and you still mess it up and now we are going to waste all this fucking food and it’s all your damn fault. Stupid bitch.

KONSTANTINE (standing and backing away): I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I must have just forgotten.

Dilan approaches Konstantine as the scene fades.

INT. QUAINT HOUSE – LIVING ROOM. DAY.

MADELINE: Kay, kay, did you have a dream?

Konstantine stirs and opens her eyes to see Madeline in front of her, Hercules still playing in the back.

KONSTANTINE: Yeah, somethin’ like that.

MADELINE: Was it a scary dream?

Konstantine looks into Madeline’s beautiful blue eyes and considers her messy light brown hair that curls cutely at the ends.

Konstantine sees Jude excitedly pound his hands on the edge of the exerciser as he impatiently waits for Kiersten to feed him another spoonful.

KONSTANTINE (genuinely smiling at Madeline): No, it wasn’t anything that can scare me anymore.

                   FADE OUT.

THE END

One Missing Rung: A Narrative

I take a deep breath, tasting the sleeping morning glories climbing my porch and the city pollution. Turning the deadbolt to the backdoor, I enter my apartment in silence. As I walk across the living room, I hear my boyfriend’s voice and guitar seeping inside from the front porch. Opening the front door, I sit on the bean bag to the right of where he is relaxing. He turns to me and smiles; I warily half smile in return, and he looks at my seemingly depressed response with concern.
“How was work?”
“Boring. Didn’t sell anything.” Pause. The trepidation I feel is inevitably within his mind as well. I take another deep breath, looking up to the sky while considering where my next words will take me. I will not regret what I say nor do I regret every step that has led me to this point, for that would be to regret the person I am today.
“I need to talk to you,” I say monotonously as I look through his glasses.
“About what?” Max replies, with a concerned look as he tilts his head slightly to his left.
“I’m breaking up with you.” His concerned look turns to surprise then settles on mostly understanding.
“I know that we planned on waiting to see how it would pan out once I moved to Michigan, but after last night—this obviously is not going to work out.” We had spent the previous night drinking screwdrivers, Malibu Coconut Rum and Mike’s Hard Lemonade with our best friend, roommate, and Max’s ex-girlfriend: Dawn. Max and I started our relationship while she was studying abroad. Upon her return, it was evident that he still held onto his infatuation for her, and, upon being intoxicated, his obsession was even more evident as he followed her around like a little lost puppy while I strained to stay calm and maintain my relationship with both my best friend and boyfriend. Though I wish that this love would work, the stress it places on my heart and other relationships is not healthy nor is it conducive to personal growth. With another rung down as I climb this ladder called life, I can only continue upward and onward.
“I have something I need to talk to you about too.” Max pauses; I can tell that he is searching for the words to say. “I woke up this morning and felt like I had dreamed about kissing Dawn… Then she asked me if I remembered us making out… So, since we both vaguely recall the same event, I reckon that we made-out last night.” You have to be kidding me. I trusted him; I trusted her. Now, I am standing on the porch, looking down on Max, and calmly reiterating to him the pain of the betrayal that he knows he has committed. As neutral as my temperament is, I cannot help but want to punch him. With bitterness in my voice, I tell him to stand. He refuses, stating that any actions out of anger will not make me feel any better, but I convince him that it will calm me down and that he deserves it, so he begins to get up. In this moment, I recall the end of my relationship with Doug: how his hands would push me against the wall at my shoulders; how I would prolong every visit to the bathroom—my escape—where I hid with my arms holding my knees; how he convinced me that I deserved every ache in my stomach from the sting of his words and palms of his hands; and how, most importantly, he showed me what it meant to love.
Love is Work. It is a constant effort to attempt to understand from their perspective and a constant push and pull to work to balance the love given with the love received. It is to be selfless, but strong. It is to recognize your own flaws and receive criticism, but also objectively give criticism where it is due. With Doug, I only loved. His refusal to love, along with his endless insecurities, led to the unbalance that doomed our relationship: with him, my ladder of life was falling, but with each step I took towards the sun I found my footing to be more stable.
There had been a perfect balance with Max, for a time, but I had felt this instability before: the slipping as I try to hold on as he lets go. Now that I am standing face to face with Max, I only observe remorse and honesty as a piece of the porch light shimmers off of his moistened eyes. As I approach him, he stands firm, readying himself for what he believes he deserves.
I hug him.
“I love you. I’ll need a better reason than that to punch you.” I back away and we smile at each other, recognizing that our friendship of three years will remain intact after our short attempt in the game of love.
“We had a great relationship,” he says, with strain on the “had.”
“We still do!” I say with a smile on my lips.
“Yeah, that’s true. In fact, our friendship is even stronger.” The tension between us has diminished. Within minutes, we find ourselves eating dinner in front of the television once more: me sitting in the big brown recliner in the corner of the living room and him lounging across the futon. We choose a movie and are brought into another world. By the credits, we are on new paths, each pursuing our own goals and planning new places to go. The time we have spent together is irreplaceable, but it is coming to an end as our ladders’ paths begin to diverge.
Every moment makes up one rung in this long ladder of life, so if we took out any of the rungs of our past, we would never be able to continue our journey upward. The extent to which I feel and love and work to understand those around me would be a few rungs lower if not for those three years I spent being dehumanized with Doug. Without my relationship with him, I would not be able to recognize warranted anger and healthily release it through understanding the value of the people in my life. To regret or to wish that a word or an action could be changed would be to regret who we have become. Not only are there too many paradoxical issues to work around with changing the past, but there is also the simple issue that nothing can be learned in life without a lesson. To take away any lesson would only gain ignorance, and, no, that is not bliss. That is naivety. There is a large, insatiable difference.

The Fallacy of Honesty

People claim to want honesty in relationships, but all they actually want is flattery and sugar cookies. Seriously, a few nice words mixed with fresh baked goods and all misdeeds will be forgotten. It’s true of anyone: you begin to fumble with infatuation with another and ask, “What is important to you in relationships?”

“Honesty, communication, and that the girl stays in the kitchen.” He responds, a smile on his lips, because you both know why this discussion is happening.

Your heart skips a beat; his answer reflects your very heart AND he totally gets your sense of humor!

Flash forward, and you are asking him to go see that romantic comedy that your friends can’t make it to, but you must see! And he goes along. He laughs at all the funny parts and holds your hand the whole time, but since when has he enjoyed romantic comedies? You ask him after the movie, and he tells you how this one was just really funny.

You make plans to see another movie with him, this time his pick, on the following weekend.

Two days before your planned date you are preparing for your day at work. As you apply mascara in the bathroom, your mouth slightly open while you lean over the sink and find your nose a mere one and a half inches from the mirror, you plan out your wardrobe and imagine him bringing you flowers and you are just so excited to spend another evening with him. You feel your phone buzz from within your pocket. A text! You hope it’s from him.

“Hey baby, I have to cancel this weekend. I’m sorry I swear I’ll make it up to you! I forgot that I already told the guys I’d go out with them.”

It is petty (you aren’t starving or anything), but you are crushed. You read it again, trying to decide if you should respond with frustration or depression, and you say:

“Okay. That’s fine, we’ll do something some other time.”

We all compromise. We all quickly cover up our true feelings and put on a mask. I wonder how long these masks will last? We say we value honesty in our relationships, but when he watches a movie he doesn’t like with you, we call it love, like sacrificing two hours of time that would have been spent sitting and watching something else is more important than a few words of truth. And when something is upsetting, it is forgotten and we are fine; it is a one time thing.

We don’t actually want honesty. We just want someone who will be selfless while we are selfish. So is human nature. It is a constant fight with our natural and selfish selves to keep convincing the world and those that we want to love that we are one of the few who are different. One of the few who will actually love till death, don’t parade ourselves, and are actually always honest. Let’s be real, we’re just trying to convince ourselves of the impossible, but, if we bake some cookies and unveil them with a lie, the lie will be forgotten and they’ll believe every word again, right?

Book Review: The Fault in Our Stars

A review (heavily laden with my emotions) regarding the fantastic John Green book, The Fault in Our Stars. If you have not read the book and do not want spoilers, do not read ahead. If you have not read it and expect me to summarize it and explain things to you so you understand my references, read the book and then return here. If you have not read it and do not care if you do not understand my references, then continue on. Finally, if you have read it, I believe it is safe to continue.

I am starting to regret reading The Fault in Our Stars. It is another reminder of the love I have never shared with anyone. All romances do these days is depress me. I already feel lonely enough and this book shoves it in my face that people are falling in love and living in love and dying in love and I’m just like, I can’t even get anyone to look at me who I find in the least bit attractive and here’s this fictional terminally ill girl with a hot boy crushing on her and then loving her.

Till the bitter and sorrowful end. As is typical of relationships, someone gets devastated. He devastated her, but not in the abusive or walk out on you or lead you on or cheat on you way. No, in the “oh my God there has never been a relationship so wonderful and he loved her so much all the way till death because he never had the time to find any weakness in her or really argue with her about like money or kids or where to live or how to pay for food.” Yes, I understand, they had cancer. It is a big deal. It is also a very legitimate excuse for arguments and sadness and general moodiness. If they didn’t have cancer, I wonder how these two fictional characters would have faired together?

It reminded me of thoughts I have had about depression as I have dealt with it. (Yes, I am still young enough to turn all conversations back to me. This is my blog. I am selfish.) Following discovering that my ex cheated on me and then breaking up with him, there was concern regarding my emotional state as I had been trying to keep negative stimuli out of my life since I planned out my bloody suicide. But here’s the thing: I now had a “legitimate” reason to be upset. Instead of waking up in the morning wondering why the hell someone with such a great life like mine could hardly move and wanted to end it and just Could Not Stand This Life (Yes, I stole the capitalization of words for emphasis from John Green. Shh.), I woke up and thought, “Man, I feel like Shit. Screw relationships.” And crawled out of bed while I constantly shifted between planning how to get my revenge to planning how to win his heart to planning how to never see him again to planning how to stay with him forever.

Then, instead of being like, “I’m so depressed for no reason,” I’m like, “I’m such a girl and hopeless romantic. I’m being so emotional about this. I wonder if I’m about to start my period.” And so… I’m brought back to this book and think, if these fictional characters did not have cancer, would they have even talked? Let’s give them the opportunity to meet. A perfectly healthy girl and a perfectly healthy boy would maybe glance at each other, but, upon first meeting, would an American boy who had not faced death have the nerve to ask a girl he liked over? No. He thinks there will be other opportunities. He doesn’t want to jump in too fast.

Now, let’s say that Augustus’ charisma goes far beyond his cancer and an always-been-healthy him would ask a always-been-healthy Hazel out. What would have happened? They would have dated for a time. They would have kept each other entertained with their stories and metaphors and books, as I’m sure they would still enjoy those things without the cancer. But. At some point, they would start fighting. They would start seeing those flaws. Or maybe they would just see someone they liked more. Whatever the case, this would have turned into one of Kaitlyn’s high school love affairs.

This is one of the reasons this book is so beautiful to me. It is that glimpse of love that we do not normally have as normal people. It is heart wrenching, and you know what is going to happen, but you cannot stop reading. You just have to see and feel it for yourself. And, by the end, you are hoping for a love that doesn’t exist. Without the pain, without that impending doom, without those legitimate excuses, we become so selfish and hope for that Amsterdam to last forever. We see Our Last Good Days and recognize how “I love you” becomes seldom said and “okay’s” are strained at best. The flower petals grow bothersome. You can no longer taste stars in the Champagne. You begin to wish he smiled straighter.

They never reached that point, so the story lives on beautifully and honestly. No fake happily ever after, no drama of cheating and break-ups and nonsense over nothing. All their pain was genuine, as well as their love. Together, they were just living, loving, and dying.

I don’t think I should read any more romance or cancer books.

P.S. I regret to admit that I read 50 Shades of Grey. To give you an idea of my current pessimism involving relationships, I was very happy with the ending of the first book and will never read beyond it. She should not be with Christian. She needs to get over him. Good girls never actually save/help/whatever bad boys. This was a very fitting end to a terribly written tale. So, though I do still believe in love, I think our culture is very misguided on what that actually means. It means a shit ton of work. Not butterflies. Not infatuation. Not hot sex. Not romantic evenings drinking Champagne and eating food from God Himself.

No, love is Work. And patience. And trust. And respect. And communication. And it is this current culture of “I want happiness now and that is all and I deserve to be happy and have an easy wonderful life and be loved for no reason other than the fact that I am me” that really pisses me off when it comes to people being terribly misguided in this world. This is my opinion. I’m tired. I may consider writing more about this in the future. This P.S. is past its prime. Goodnight.

Three Day Old Love Note

I love you with the perfect timing of rain

Yesterday, we moved the last of our items away from our old home. When we closed and locked the doors for the last time and the rain began to gently fall, I could not help but smile. I was sitting in the passenger seat of your car, legs getting damp as they rested on the curb beside your parking place. I swear the rain started just as you turned the key on the deadbolt for the final time. As you walked across the porch and down the stairs, I knew this love would not fade with time.

Now, on the floor of a friend’s home and within the hours of 3 and 4 am, I awake to roll off the couch to your resting place. I cuddle with you on the first of many nights we spend making new homes. I whisper into your ear.
“I am going to miss you.”
Your rhythmic breathing continues in your sleep.
I love you with the perfect timing of rain and smiles that are for goodbyes and sadness: beautiful, bittersweet, and eternally within my heart’s memory.

Home ~ Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

This week he is gone. He disappeared across the country while I moved two states to the east. His only message was the half serious, half joking text insisting we relocate to Colorado. It is a beautiful state, but I was even farther away. I have spent my whole life looking for home and now that I have found it I am going to leave it. I will return to the place I am supposed to be. I heard His voice on the wind and began following it northward, as though the remnants of my past were calling me to a completely new place within familiar territory.

Home is wherever I’m with you.
I sing these words and know that you are out of sight. I miss you dearly, with your phone’s signal lost and as I go on a week and two days without a word. This is so insignificant, but for me it is still a lesson to learn. Normally, he is always here. He is on the front porch playing guitar. He relaxing with a cigarette in the rain. He is blowing kisses my way.

Home, let me come home.
I plan a move and wonder when you’ll return. I am finding it difficult to consider where my path will take us, but I am hopeful that we will remain together. Otherwise, I will be left to search for a new home. If it takes another 21 years for me to find that new home, what a sorry state my heart will be in by the time I reach that summit.

And in the streets you run afree like it’s only you and me.
The roads I have followed. Crossing some was proven a simple task. There are other streets that I cannot even see across. I stop and look down at the solid yellow lines. You are to my right, lacing your roller blades. I fall over and over, my lack of balance winning this game. You always pick me up. And no matter the road, it truly is like it is only you and me.

The Night of that First Kiss

He introduces himself and the song he is covering: “Lover’s Wreck” by Gaelic Storm. (All credits to Gaelic storm for italics. I don’t own lyrics in italics. Non italics are mine. Something something something…)

A hundred days at sea, A wretch away from misery
He begins singing with a voice apart from the others. Comfortable with singing, he smiles while his hands catch every chord with precision.
Rummies and rats and tarry jacks my only family
The island of salvation is still a scream a way
As the lungs of the night blow out the light my heart kneels down to pray

He pauses to uncover the parts of his heart that he never shows.

Lord why did you take her She meant so much to me
But in this moment, he is a performer. Every word is a complete truth. Every word is from his heart. His lungs utilize every piece of oxygen and release a bellow I did not expect from his jolly and humble form.
Now I’m a wretched soul on a privateer drowning out at sea
I’m killing and I’m drinking my blue heart to black
But I swear, oh Lord, I’ll never sin again if you bring her back

His voice tells me his words are true. His passion tells me this song was for her.

Gypsy was a siren, Dripping with desire
Her moonless hair and skin so fair as warm as frozen fire

A sadness instead of a love begins to show. His eyes focusing on no one, he gazes across the seated patrons and rushing waiters, seeing her upon the sea.
She had the loyalty of a cat, behind those pale green eyes
And through her cherry lips the devil slipped, a thousand lies
A clan of rogues and vagabonds occupied her head
That thieving band took her pale white hand and stole her from my bed
And like a ghost ship in the night she drifted out once more
To land upon the sand of another lover’s shore

He has accepted her distance. Her spontaneity and capriciousness left his head spinning in a world where he would like nothing more than to relax by the rain, paintbrush or guitar in hand.

Lord why did you take her she meant so much to me
Returning again, his passion takes hold of my heart and I feel a fire. His emphasis and tone perfectly show the emotion behind these words. He is in love with her again–if only for a moment.
Now I’m a wretched soul on a privateer drowning out at sea
I’m killing and I’m drinking my blue heart to black
But I swear, oh Lord, I’ll never sin again If you bring her back

In my sleeping mind she sings a sad and lonely lullaby
When I wake there’s just the ache that’ll haunt me till I die
He looks towards me and smiles as much as his moving voice allows. I grin as widely as I can, recalling him taking care of me over the past few weeks of my emotional distress, supporting me as I miss classes and wish to end my life, making me smile when everything in me begs for my disappearance.
When those winds of vanity no longer blow her west
I pray they’ll guide her home (across the foam) and put my heart to rest
Press gang filled this Man-o-War To make the black mouthed cannon roar
Now all my trade is ball and blade, and blood forever more
And the sting of salt and spray, the ocean’s howl and squall
A stumbling wreck, I roam the deck, at the devil’s beck and call.. at the devil’s beck and call

He looks my way. I am not sure where his mind’s eye now carries him, but he seems genuinely happy.
He is my best friend. We always get along. We don’t fight. We agree on so many levels. We talk in the same monotonous way that sounds condescending to everyone except us.

Oh, Lord, why did you take her She meant so much to me
Now I’m a wretched soul on a privateer Drowning out at sea

Here he is. Singing again but still glancing my way. Maybe checking on my sanity. Maybe happy to see me smiling. Maybe thinking about how well we get along.
I’m killing and I’m drinking my blue heart to black
But I swear, oh Lord, I’ll never sin again if you bring her back

Applause. Something I could never earn. Especially not through music. He comes off the side of the stage and is all smiles: his entirely normal self. After a few compliments, he is standing in front of me, guitar in hand, and I tell him how he sung those words perfectly. He says, smile still holding on, “I can only sing that song as a final song. My throat is ridiculously dry.” His voice no longer carries as far as it did before stepping onto that stage.

We meander around for a while and leave as the bar becomes sober. Across eastern facing roads we find our way home. He falls asleep to Pokemon while I remain glued to the screen and watch through to the end. I drift away in his arms and feel a rare sense of peace that I cherish. I awake around 3am, my insomnia alerting me to nothing. I ask myself why I have yet to tell him that I love him. Why have I waited so long when this emotion has become so obvious? His happiness is all I have been considering. What does he want? Not me.

But when do I consider what I want? Not very often.

And so I kiss him.

And I wake him up to explain to him the kiss I gave in his sleep: it was not a dream. I like him. He explains to me how he thought it was a Pokemon battle. I apologize for this not being nearly as interesting as his dreams. We laugh and smile.

And so this began. Nothing but peace. Nothing but understanding. Nothing but relaxing. Nothing but friendship and love. Five months of peace with my best friend. We may grow apart and end this, becoming only friends again, or we may continue on together, our lives continuously entwined. Either way, these moments are some of my favorite and without him in my life I do not know if I would still be here.

Relationships are truly beautiful. They make up the entirety of this world and if you don’t choose to have wonderful relationships, your life cannot be complete.