Hearts Like Candy

He rode in on a horse he stole from the last town he was in. He’s been here now for almost two years and the townsfolk seemed to have taken a liking to him immediately. Even I was rather fond of him at first, despite the stories I began to hear and despite the fact that his horse was undoubtedly stolen property.

He was good at his work and he helped others who worked alongside him. Pretty soon he moved up to a position where he lead the others, and everyone admired him, or so I thought.

Under his supervision and guidance, I learned many things. He was charming, funny, and above all else, a hard worker. At one point in time, I wanted to be like him, or the next best thing, his friend.

But if you investigate his wooden house surrounded by a giant fence, you will find many rooms and locked closets. You will also find that the large fence houses many horses he had stolen from previous towns. I wonder what he keeps in the closet. It shouldn’t matter, this was his past! He doesn’t steal horses now, not when he’s so well-liked by everyone above and below him! He wouldn’t have the position that he has today if he continued his thievery.

When I heard the first whisper, it most certainly wasn’t the last. I didn’t hear them enough though because they had no effect on me. I stopped peering over his fenced-in horses and I proceeded to work alongside him as often as possible.

I felt that he admired me too. He was always so helpful and kind. It was also quite refreshing to be complimented by him. I thought it meant something. It made me want to be in his presence outside of work! “What friends we could be,” I thought.

When the moment I had secretly longed for arrived, it brought chills down my body and a shakiness in my throat. He had asked me to accompany him home, so I could see his horses. The whispers then grew vines and wrapped themselves around me. He had to have seen them, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t show off stolen property, that just wouldn’t be wise! Therefore, the whispers must be false. I was going to see the real man behind these whispers, not anyone else.

After we worked, he picked me up in his elegant carriage, lead by a beautiful horse. He grabbed my hand to let me in and took notice of how I had fashioned my hair that day.

“You look really nice,” he softly spoke.

On the way to his wooden house, we conversed about our favorite things, our families, and work. He entertained me with jokes and I laughed. He twirled his finger in my hair while he talked about how lucky he is to have the job that he does.

When we arrived at his house, the neighbors all ran inside and peered behind their windows. The whispers seized me once more and I began to sweat. His horses sounded restless and I nearly screamed when he asked, “are you okay, little one?”

Silence. All at once, the neighbors blew out their candles and went to bed. The small town became smaller, and I felt alone.

He opened his door for me and I walked inside. It was decorated minimally, but the smell was quite alluring. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it made me relax. He sat me on a couch adjacent to a long, dark hallway and said, “excuse me for a moment, will you? I promise I will return shortly! I could never leave your side for too long.” And before I answered, he was swept off into the dark. I let my eyes adjust to the darker house and I looked around. I saw hung photos of himself and the people we work with. Everyone was smiling. No, wait. No one was smiling. The whispers, they were back. Only, this time, they were harsh. Almost like hisses. I couldn’t tell what they were saying! I looked frantically about until my eyes caught hold of all the doors in the dark hallway. Each one was locked save for one.

“I’ll just be another moment!” He shouted from a distance. “I apologize, I’ve got to clear a path to my backyard! So many documents and things in the way, I’d hate for a beautiful girl like you to ever get hurt!”

That gave me time to briskly walk to the unlocked door. This would be the answer to all the whispers, this would be their end. I grabbed the door knob and slowly turned. Inside was an even darker room, so I stared for a bit. When my eyes adjusted, I saw glass jars. Shelves and shelves of glass jars. In the center of the room there were a pile of saddles, hats, boots, and one empty glass jar atop it all. What were they all for? Were they all empty? I glanced again. No, they weren’t. The jars each had a picture inside and something else. I moved into the room, breathing heavily. All of the pictures were of women. They were all so beautiful. What was most strange is that I had recognized these women. I used to see them at work! I was right away reminded of whispers with their names in them. Yes, they all had gone to the next town for work! But why? And what else did these jars contain? I picked one up to examine it more closely when I heard a noise behind me. It was him.

“Do you hate me, little one? For what you’ve just seen?” He was right behind me in the doorway, holding a candle and a kinfe.

I dropped the jar and it shattered at my feet. The contents were then illuminated by the candle and I saw everything. The photo of a women and her heart.

The empty jar in the center of the room was for me. “Leave! Leave!” I heard the whispers loud and clear.

“Do you hate me? I’m so sorry you had to see this,” he said quietly and he sheathed his knife.

“No…I don’t hate you. I just don’t believe…”

“Please don’t tell anyone! I really want everyone to like me! I’d like to do great things at work! Don’t you see, this would ruin me and everything I’m working towards!” He walked towards me.

“Of course,” I swallowed my fear.

He put his hand on my cheek, “now, shall we see my horses? They’d love to meet a sweet girl like you.”

Seeing the magnificent creatures roam his backyard did not make me happy like I had imagined. He stole them. He stole them and moved to another town where he could steal more. And that’s not all. He stole girls’ hearts like they were candy and mine was on his list. Not a hint of remorse was on his face, nor was he aware of the whispers in the wind. And if he was aware, would he apologize? Would he apologize to all that he wronged? Would he give the women back their hearts and return the horses to their rightful owners? I suppose the only question on his mind, besides “who’s heart next,” was “what would become of me if people outed me”.

That jar was intended for me that night, but I left before it could be filled. I kept his secret just like everyone else though. A part of me wants to see his heart in a jar on a shelf. Another part of me wants to see justice; justice for those who endured loss and might be next. And a small part of me holds onto the notion that he might change, or that maybe, because I left unscathed, that I saw the real man.

My only strength lies in the whispers, and a lot of good they do.

All The Love's About

Awhile back, a student was attacked in a Cal Sate Long Beach bathroom.

About a month ago, two girls were brutally beaten near the campus of Cal State Fullerton.

In the last 5 weeks, there have been a reported 8 suicides due to gender and homosexual bullying.

I have personally met the person who was attacked at Cal State Long Beach, who was attacked merely for being an intersex individual. He was on break from his class when a man in a hoodie shoved him into a stall and carved “IT” into his chest. The student did not know this man, nor did he do anything to deserve this hate crime. That is a dehuminizing act that will literally leave a scar.

The two girls who were beat up near Cal State Fullerton were beat up because they were “lesbian”. To make it more interesting, they weren’t lesbian. Because of these false assumptions and judgment, two innocent girls were beaten to a pulp.

These acts don’t just happen in places like the south or Midwest United States (where people are stereotyped to be small-minded), or in other countries where homosexuality is a crime. It happens here in Southern California. It’s everywhere.

1 in 4 homosexual or intersex individuals commit suicide due to harassment. There is an increase in alcohol and drug abuse amongst homosexual communities.

These numbers can decrease if people put on a “gendered lens”. The choices other people make are not for us to judge or discriminate against.

Last but not least, I’d like to encourage people to stop using “gay” with negative connotation behind it. There are plenty of other words I can supply you with if you’d like.

Live and Let Love.

I'm in over my head.

How do I know it's right? Will I be happy? Is this the right size? There's no going back now, nor is there any way of doing this without hurting someone.

Forgive my Words...

But God dammit! OVER A MONTH AGO, I asked for 4 days off because I’m going to South Carolina for Drew’s graduation. The status of my request was to check back on the 19th.

What’s today? The 19th. I check the status and what does it say?

DENY.

WHAT THE FUCK? YOU’RE THE BIGGEST FUCKING COMPANY IN THE WORLD, FIND SOMEONE ELSE! I’M GOING TO SWITCH ANYWAY! AND IF I CAN’T SWITCH? I’M CALLING OFF SICK, BITCHES.

Give me the points, I don’t give a fuck. My plane tickets were purchased OVER A MONTH AGO.

Thanks a lot.

Whew. Sorry about all that!

I'm Irrational; Punch me in the Throat!

Right now I should either be sleepily driving home from work or I should be at work, yelling at the graduates of 2010.

Instead I'm at home, finding it difficult to sleep. Is this where I'm at now? Do I have to be exhausted from work in order to sleep? Does it have to be a ridiculous hour? I mean, it's 4 in the morning now. Is that not early enough?

I suppose not. I suppose every night I try to fall asleep, my mind will wander. My eyes will stare at the black. My arms and legs will flail to keep away my stupid cat. And then, there's this lump in my throat. And a hole in my chest.

I never knew what it meant to give away my heart until now. My heart is with a boy 3,000 miles away...I'm not whole. And that's the hole in my chest.

I wish my body would try and compensate! If I have a hole in my chest, can't I use that lump in my throat to temporarily plug it up? No?

He says things are going to get easier; I hope he's right. But if these past 3 months were tough, what will 9 months mean? A year?

In the midst of my not sleeping, I texted Drew's mom. I needed someone to talk to; someone that would understand (mind you, this was 3 AM). I was relieved to hear back from her right away, but I feel a little bad considering the time. She reminded me that we're going to see him soon and that he misses me too.

"Chin up," Drew and I say to each other. And that's all I can do. Keeping myself busy and working crazy hours won't cut it forever.

Classy, Red-headed, British Lady GaGa.

http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid24273272001?bclid=42820502001&bctid=84662933001

I want to be you, Florence W.

Forgive me while I wallow.

Off in the distance, my cat is licking her unmentionables. My mom is most likely feeding her fish on one of those Facebook applications. I'm sick, I'm bitter, and I'm missing someone dearly.

Good thing I have a new book. Books can't let you down.

ARGH!

Why won't my iTunes open!?

My bank account is in the negatives and I'm taking my mother out for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory tonight.

AND missing someone is exhausting.

I feel hollow.

Happy Mum's Day.

Plan B

Until recently, I've been "Plan B" girl. At least, that's what I feel. In case your relationship doesn't work out or you're tired of being single, I'll be right there, right? I'm the backup plan. Plan B.

Now I'm Plan A and it feels wonderful.

When I'm Lost,

I look at my picture of you.

When I'm lost in your eyes, I see the way for me.

Pastor Mike said this:

We either hang on to what we have until God gives us something new, or we have to let go of what we have and follow His calling.

snow puggies

Here's My Hand

If I were to see The Last Song a few months ago, I would have been insanely and bitterly critical of it, just like I was with other love stories written by Nicholas Sparks. I would laugh at the cheesy, unrealistic romance, and wonder about Nick’s sanity. However, in light of recent events, I find that I am now questioning my own sanity. Because of recent events, I find myself jumping up and down on Oprah’s couch, shouting at the top of my lungs. A few months ago, I’d probably vomit if I heard the things I’ve been saying lately. If someone told me that in a short time, I would fall completely in love with someone, I’d laugh at them. If someone said I’d find the abstract puzzle piece that fits with my complex heart, I’d tell them to lay of the drugs.
As I reflect on the recent occurrences that abruptly changed my stubborn frame of mind, I felt the need to write a story; my story. I want everyone to feel what I’m feeling. I want to try my hand at writing a romance novel like Nicholas Sparks. So I’ll start from the beginning and make this as detailed as I can because that vomit-feeling doesn’t last forever. It soon becomes this flying feeling.
To adequately describe the odd timing of it all, I have to delve into my past for a bit, bare with me. There are two past relationships that really stand out among the rest. I have the longest-one-to-date relationship, and the one that broke me. My longest relationship, a year of my life, took place when I was sixteen. It was the first time a boy I really liked, liked me back. My next relationship ended messy. After that break up, and after waiting for him turned out to be a waste of time, I vowed to myself that I was not suited for a relationship. I became perfectly content with being alone. I answered to no one but myself. I went on a few awkward dates and had a crush or two, but I pursued nothing. I didn’t want to! I reverted to my “shave-my-head-and-join-the-Peace-Corps” mentality, and I was perfectly fine with that. I took the time to focus on work and school and not stupid, impulsive boys.
Months prior, a Drew Craw added me on Facebook. He’s an attractive fellow hailing from Redlands, California and I had no idea who he was. We had several mutual friends and the majority of them attended my church, so I figured that I knew him. Thinking nothing of it, I confirmed him as a friend and went on with my dramatic, loveless life. I feel like at this time I was still trying to convince my ex we were right for each other. Or I was starting my anti-relationship phase. Either way, I was in no mood for other boys.
Months later, while I was enjoying my independence, I saw that the mysterious Drew had quoted Lord of the Rings on his Facebook status. Being the fanatic I am, I had to “like” it, or finish the quote, or talk about how much I loved Lord of the Rings. I did. Quite sometime later, maybe a few weeks later, he wrote on my wall: Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee, have you been eavesdropping?!
To which I responded: No sir, I ain’t been dropping no eaves sir, honest!
Please make note that he called me Samwise Gamgee (my most beloved literary character ever). After that, we both gushed about Lord of the Rings on each others’ walls and I was excited to have someone appreciate it as much as I do. After numerous wall posts, our communication front changed to messages. And our conversation topic changed from Lord of the Rings to personal information; school, major, work, etc. I found out that had had joined the army and he found out that I work at Disneyland. He seemed excited that I worked there, so I nicely said, “Let me know if you ever want to go and I’ll let you in,” since it had been years since he’d last gone. He responded with, “Are you inviting me to go to Disneyland with you?” Now, on the inside, I was saying, “No, that would be awkward, we’ve never officially met. Don’t hang out with him, Katie. You don’t need this,” and the like. To be polite, I said something like, “Yeah, or you know, if you want to go with your friends, I can just let you in…” He sweetly replied with, “Why wouldn’t I want to go to Disneyland with you?” That might have been the first hook.
At this point, he and I were texting back and forth constantly and he eventually asked, “Hey, so when are we going to Disneyland?!” I, thinking he was kidding, shot “Friday, April 2nd” out of my ass to be funny as well. Turns out, he wasn’t kidding and final plans were made. Drew and I were going to have our first official meeting at Disneyland. He called me for the first time to thank me and I legitimately freaked out (that’s another story). The week of our official meeting, I was getting excited! I felt the need to plan every little thing: my hair, my outfit, my makeup, funny jokes, and conversation topics. Why did I care so much? Why was I really looking forward to hanging out with him? I felt a little more mentally sound when he told me that he was excited as well. He was counting down the days, and repeatedly told me how stoked he was to get to go to Disneyland and finally meet me.
Friday, April 2nd came and I remember it all so well. He pulled up to my dorm in a silver Ford and I climbed in. This tall, tan boy with bright green eyes grabbed my hand and introduced himself.
“Hi, I’m Drew.”
He was wearing a sweet leather jacket, a Beatles shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. He looked so cool. Unnecessary side note: My friend Nick refers to Drew as “Mr. Urban Outfitters”.
From the moment I got into his dad’s truck to our goodbye, we talked. We talked about everything; we shared many likes and hobbies, and made fun of the things we don’t like. Bonus fact: Drew likes Miley Cyrus.
Several times throughout the day, our hands would accidentally hit; that’s how close we stood next to each other.
While watching the fireworks, I went to point at something, but my ring flew off and landed in the pond of Pixie Hollow. I was hoping he didn’t notice because that was super embarrassing, but he saw. He reached his arm through the gate to retrieve it, but he couldn’t reach. He offered to go over the fence and get it, but I refused to have him hop into the “Fairy Connection” pond as he mistakenly called it. Not listening to a word I said, he hopped over, grabbed my ring, and then nonchalantly climbed back over. “That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I thought.
Then it was time to leave the magical land of Disney, and we caught the Toy Story bus back to the parking lots. When our stop at Buzz came around, Drew and I forgot to get off and the old bus driver started taking us back to the park. Before we could even say anything, the man began singing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis quite loudly. He didn’t realize Drew and I were in there until we laughed at our ridiculous circumstance.
Once we finally disembarked the Toy Story bus and left the old man to his one-act Broadway musical, we made the journey to his truck. And when we arrived, Drew gave me a blanket to warm me up and held my hand. After our amazing day at Disneyland, we went to get breakfast at IHOP. When we finished our meals (I got eggs, bacon, and hash browns; Drew ordered the New York cheesecake pancakes), he grabbed my hand and said, “When am I going to see you again?” My heart leapt.
He saw me again on Saturday at his Deployment party. I met his family and friends, and even reconnected with some mutual friends we have. At the end of the night (early morning actually), everyone left and Drew and I went to IHOP yet again. And yet again, he asked, “When am I going to see you next?” This time I had no idea, since my work and school schedule was so insanely compacted. But I promised him I would make time since he would be leaving next weekend for basic. Before I left, he gave me his jacket to keep.
The next day, I had plans to visit with a friend (and ex). Since it was near home, I also made plans to see Drew afterward. This casual meeting with my ex turned into a big to-do when he said he was still in love with me (again) and I told him I was starting to have feelings for Drew. I ended up in tears and convinced that I was supposed to be single. I left my ex in Riverside and made my way to downtown Redlands where I was supposed to meet Drew. As soon as he greeted me, he took my hand and we began walking. I told him about my day and very quickly it all disappeared. It was just Drew and I, walking around downtown Redlands in the rain. We sat on a bench and he wrapped us in “our” blanket previously located in his truck. That night, he told me that he liked me, but he really didn’t have to. Our connection was so natural that nothing was awkward or forced. We laughed about the odd timing of it all and how we’d both met someone for us, but he had to leave soon. I also had to laugh that he completely changed my mind about, boys, relationships, and ultimately love.
We saw each other a week later for a big beach trip his friends had planned. It was too cold to go swimming, but we all played outlandish games and enjoyed a bonfire. Later that night (or early that morning), I had to be at the twenty-four hour Relay for Life on my campus. Drew said he’d do it with me, so when our beach day had come to a conclusion, we made our way to Fullerton. We agreed to sleep a little before running since we were both exhausted. That didn’t happen. We talked. We talked, and then shared our first kiss. That too felt natural and wasn’t awkward at all. “I feel like I just flew to Jupiter and back,” he said.
“That’s weird. I went to Pluto. So...”
Ultimately, we missed the opportunity to go to the relay, so we just got ready and went to his church.
He visited me in Fullerton spontaneously the next evening (Monday).
Wednesday night. I’m on duty and I was in a murder mystery. At the murder mystery, a tarot card reader came. For funsies, I sat at her table and listened to her words. She asked, “Are you in a relationship?”
“I’m in a…something.”
“Okay, well you need to hang on to that. It’s very positive, and I see a lot of love and support.”
That secretly added more “pep to my step” as Jenna Lowery says. The pep, however, was soon harpooned when I received a phone call. It was from a mutual friend of mine and Drew’s, who happens to be an ex-fling-thingy of his. She was with Drew’s most recent ex and they called to warn me about him. They called to tell me he’s a player, a cheater, and that he has a sly way with words. Even though I refused to believe this before I talked to Drew, I cried. I mean, if what they were saying was true, then I was falling for the wrong guy. “That’d be just my luck,” I thought. At that very moment, he texted me: What are you up to?
I responded with a simple, “Drew…”
“Yes?”
“Are you an honest panda?”
“Yes. Why???”
“I’ll take your word for it.” And I meant it.
“Katie, what’s going on???”
“We’re seeing each other tomorrow; we can talk about it then? Or I can call?”
He called immediately after I texted that. I vaguely explained to him that I heard some things about him that I didn’t want lingering in the back of my mind. He began panicking and told me he’d be coming down to Fullerton so we could talk. He drove all the way (again) from Redlands to Fullerton. I explained what had happened in a little more detail and he told me his side of the story. Like I said to him before, I took his word for it. He was astonished by my trust and acceptance. He cried and told me that he was afraid he was going to lose me that night; he wasn’t sure if I’d believe him. That night our bond grew deeper. He asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes.
Wait, what? I said yes to be someone’s girlfriend? I didn’t want to be anyone’s anything not four weeks ago. This change came hard and fast, but it felt right. Our every interaction was kind of creepy in a sense. It’s like he could recite my intangible “what I need/want in a significant other” list or read my mind. This still floors me.
We saw each other again Thursday night. That night we were lying down and talking when the girl above me turned on “Wonderwall” by Oasis.
“Katie, I need to tell you something…” He leaned into my ear for what felt like a minute, took a deep breath, and said, “…I love you.” He then explained that on his way to Fullerton, he was rather upset. He had more encounters that day with people talking behind his back regarding his relationships. While driving with a heavy heart, “Wonderwall” came on. He said he thought of me when they sang, “Maybe you’re gonna be the one to save me” and nothing else seemed to matter. So when “Wonderwall” played loudly right above us, he took that as a sign; just another insane connection between the two of us. I said it back.
Saturday, the day before he had to leave for basic in South Carolina, I came to his house to help him pack. He could pack few things, but he did take his bible, and on the inside, he taped my picture. Side note: he took another picture of me and will be putting that in his helmet. Aw.
I also took him home to meet my mam (yes, mam; not mom). Unfortunately I had work so I had to leave, but we made plans to eat at IHOP afterward (1:15AM, mind you).
Sunday morning, he returned home early to finish packing and I met him later for a final lunch with him, his family, and his friends. Drew couldn’t stay for long since he still had to finish packing, so we left for his house to do so. Then when it was time for him to leave, we said our first of many goodbyes. Similar to the many endings in the Return of the King movie, we had several goodbyes. He texted and called a few times since then for as long as he could. He even contacted me when he couldn’t anymore. I hope he doesn’t get in trouble.
Now he’s at boot camp in South Carolina and will be there for nine weeks. He’s flying me out for his graduation, so that is when I’ll get to see him again. After that he has advanced individual training in Alabama, and that’s going to be about nine months long. Luckily, he gets to come home for Christmas though. In this time, he won’t have his cell phone or a laptop, so we have to resort to writing letters. I made it a goal of mine to become an excellent scrapbook creator by the end of it all.
I understand that this all sounds so crazy and that it doesn’t make any sense, but there it is. It’s nuts how one month can change everything. It’s nuts how fast and hard I fell for him. It’s nuts that he feels the same way. It’s nuts that he’s going to be gone for so long when we had so little time together. It’s absolutely mental how many connections we were able to make. It’s insane how natural and right it feels to be with him. I’ve never felt this way before. That has to mean something. I’m confident in this thing that doesn’t make sense.
You can call me stupid or wrong, but I know how I feel. The “unrealistic” love stories of Nicholas Sparks aren’t unrealistic to me anymore. I’m in love.

The Countdown Part II

I'm trying to hold on to time and it isn't working. He leaves soon.

The Countdown

April 2nd, the day we first met.
April 3rd, your deployment party.
April 4th, you comfort me and keep me warm on an emotional and rainy night.
April 11th, beach day and Guppy House
April 12th, Guppy House, my place, church
April 13th, you spontaneously visit me

These are the six days that changed everything. These are the six days that brought me back to faith. These are six very enjoyable days I wish I could relive over and over. In these six days, I fell hard, and continue to fall.

And I have five days left with you in this state. We will hang out twice in these five days.

Wait for the 19th.

I'll be posting on here again.

For now, you can find me at http://thelessmysterious.tumblr.com/

April Fools!

Man, my roommates really got me. Leaving dishes with rotting food in the sink and filling up the trash can with the smelliest shit possible without a trash bag? Genius.

So, now that I've realized that it was an April Fools prank, and a great one at that, you can come clean it now.

No? Oh, you mean you live like this at home?

Can I just quit school and work at Disneyland for the rest of my life? Please?

Mark Twain.

"Don't ever let school get in the way of your education."

That's all it's about anymore. They're shoving information in our mouths so that we can vomit it all up on tests and hope for a passing grade. The more tests we pass, the better our grades, the sooner we can graduate. Once we graduate with our degrees, we become more marketable in terms of jobs. It's all about making those six figures and accumulating a 401K. It's not about learning something new or becoming a respectable, knowledgeable citizen.

Pressure has been placed upon me to suck in and shit out everything. I want to take in this life for what it really is and not have to take your stupid tests that will be irrelevant a few years from now.

I don't want to be trained to hold a boring, repetitive, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, meaningless job just so I can buy a dream home. I don't even have said 'dream home'! All I really need is somewhere to sleep, something to eat, and people to love.

I haven't really decided what I want to do when I get older, but I do know it's going to be different. And it won't require taking tests to prove myself. I'm going to prove myself to you through my character.

It shouldn't be this stressful, should it? Learning is fun, not taxing. So why then, am I drowning? Can someone explain this to me?

Please also explain why I can never make delicious and decent-looking pancakes.

Curiouser and Curiouser.

I don't really know where to begin because I don't know where it all began. This need for freedom, rebellion, and out-of-the-ordinary isn't new to my character, but it seems to be new to everyone else. You all may find it so intriguing, but I find that to be silly. I don't know how to tell you this, but I don't like routine. I fear the known, not the unknown. Make me uncomfortable. Let me shake things. Understand that I want to tie the loose ends and start another winter scarf. Realize that I can't stand to settle. Know that I have priorities and dreams that are constantly changing. You can relax though; I'm slow. Actually, forget it...it should be illegal how fickle I am. I can't sit still too long. I'm naive.

The roles have always been reversed. The cliche tale of the needy woman who wants a guy that can't be tied down is not familiar to me. I like this state of deviation. I want to find my own path without the crutch. That's what relationships are to me right now. They're crutches and I walk fine on my own. Not to mention dating is scary. There, I said it. It is! It's scary! And now I sound like a walking contradiction. "I fear the known, but dating is scary!" I'm afraid of where it could go. I don't want to fall. I don't want to hurt you when I change my mind, or the elusive one comes knockin', ya know?

I don't want anything too serious. I want to take it slow. I might not want to be exclusive. I want nothing to hurt when I change my fickle mind for the umpteenth time. I want you to follow me where I want you to follow me, but I want you to stay where you need to stay. I can pay for my own food and open my own doors in a sense.

Where was all of this years ago? The attention? The compliments? The offers? Wait, I just had a revelation. If it was there before, I would've made a mistake, I just know it. That selfish time-to-myself sabbatical is what I needed in order to realize what I need. Which is more time. More selfish "me" time.

To the one who is unlike all the rest: You are a breath of fresh air even though I can't quite breathe you in. I would like to try though.

To the ones who are still hanging on to this tug-of-war rope: I can't snip you, nor do I even know if I want to. I can't ask you to keep gripping though. Good luck to you, ol' chaps.

To the casual date: Don't expect anything from me, even though I can't say no. I wish I could tell you how much of a mess I am and all of these bitterly honest words.

To the ones I am generally not interested in whatsoever: Just stop. Sometimes it's flattering, but mostly it's repetitive and I don't like routine, remember?

To the one I have yet to meet: I can't tell you anything due to the fact that I change my mind a great deal.

"It's been a long time since before I've been touched. Now I'm getting touched all the time. And it's only a matter of who, and it's only a matter of when."
-Regina Spektor

And John Mayer sings it perfectly with his song "Perfectly Lonely"

Nothing to do
Nowhere to be
A simple little a kind of free
Nothing to do
No one but me
That's is all I need

I'm perfectly lonely
'Cause I don't belong to anyone
And nobody belongs to me

And this is not to say
There never comes a day
I take my chances and start again
And when I look behind
On all my younger times
I have to thank the wrongs
That led me to a love so strong

That's the way that I want it.

You Can't Complain

that you're sleepy until you've worked over 20 hours a week with shifts ending at 3am, and then you have to get up early for your other job.

Only then can you complain.

"Happiness is a luxury."

This is a Story That Won't be Told

I have the feeling that I'm wasting my thoughts on you. It seems I'm wasting useless emotions, countless dreams, and even more daydreams on you. And I'm over-analyzing the hugs, the snubs, the comments, the...every little thing!

And all of that combined is driving me insane. I still can't tell if this is all worth it or not.

Why should it even matter? Why is this my main focus?

And if I was wrong about you, or I misjudged everything, would that even matter? Would I ever get anything in return for what I can offer up to you?

I hope you enjoy your solitude, your selfish escape into your secret world, your built-up walls, your mystery, your education, your gigantic meals, your research, your leisure reading, your paper-writing, your Disney-bashing, your debating, your quiet life.

Because I might just remove myself from this game; it seems pointless. Although, I sometimes enjoy playing...and proving people wrong!

Maybe I'm Overreacting?

To the Person who has taken my French Vanilla coffee,

First of all, congratulations! I hope you really enjoy your new bag of ground coffee, and hopefully this is your favorite flavor! Now you will not only taste quality coffee, but you will be awake and zippy right after your first cup.

You probably noticed that I purchased this coffee from Disneyland, so know that this product is going to be worth-while. Also remember that it was quite a hefty price, at least for me. You’re going to look so cute when you show your friends your new ground coffee named, “Mickey’s Coffee”. And how can you not smile when you look at the smiling face of that Disney cartoon cow, offering you a delicious cup of warm coffee?

Now, in order to make that coffee, you’re going to need to use a coffee-maker, and don’t you worry, I have one! Don’t forget to put a new liner in the top, so that you can add your spoonful of French Vanilla coffee; I also have provided some liners. All you have to do is add some water to the top, and plug her in! In seconds, you will have freshly brewed wonder. Be careful when pouring out your coffee, as it will be pretty darn hot!

I just know you’re going to be so happy with your new ground coffee! And you’re going to be so bubbly from the delectable caffeine that the people around you will catch it! I just wish I could be your friend, so you could pour me a cup of it! Thanks for all of the inspiring that you’re about to do!

Yours in morning routine trust,

Katie Egan

Before it's too late,

Make amends. Before it's too late, rethink the way you think about others. You, your brothers, your sisters, you closest friends are going to always make choices, for better or worse. And don't be afraid when someone close to you does something considered wrong by you. Maybe there's a deeper cry for help that your blind judgment prevents you from seeing.

Perhaps they do something against your or their religion/morals. Are we going to use that as grounds for disowning them and being angry with them? I don't think that's what our morals ask of us. Maybe instead of condemning them, we can question our standard of ethics. When we mess up, would we want to be excommunicated by the people we though accepted us?

I heard a story of a girl who had a friend who wasn't the coolest girl in school. Her friend ended up committing suicide, and this girl hated her because committing suicide was looked upon as wrong by her religion (She was a baptist Christian). Her quick anger against suicide made her hate someone. My religion and my morals are strongly against hate. She's a Christian, I hope she'd agree. Ten years later, she had a dream of the incident that she refused to speak of. She accepted it, understood the circumstance, and had regret.

So before we send our mistake-making friends into exile, we should remember that we too make mistakes and that no one is apt to perfect behavior. We can't fix them to our liking, but we can love them nonetheless. Before it's too late, take back your ill-regard and replace it with acceptance.

No one ever appointed us with the correct view; therefore we cannot make judgment.

C'mon, brothers and sisters, love with me.

Katie Angry.

I just watched a documentary called Terror in Mumbai. It was about a terrorist group from Pakistan who committed several attacks on the people of India. These terrorists, lead under distorted and disturbed Muslims, believe that killing people, and then being killed whilst doing your job is the way to Heaven (at least that's what they brainwashed their gunmen to believe). These gunman, coming from impoverished homes and having nothing to lose, went to training camps for a great deal of money. They were then brainwashed and trained to kill. In 2008, 10 gunmen, armed with AK47's and grenades, injured and murdered several hundred human beings, of all different races and religions. This was the biggest terrorist attack since 9/11. And do you want to know something else? The masterminds behind all of this have not yet been identified. Their last words were, "That was the trailer. The main film is yet to come."

Why doesn't the world know about this? I don't recall any footage or any reports on this matter. This convinces me that there is so much more we don't know. If it's not on our soil, we tend to turn the other way. We tend to turn our backs on OUR OWN kind. But then again, what can we do? How can we educate the poor, lower-class individuals who might fall into such violent jobs? How can we teach them that God does not want killing and suicide?

And how can we teach the incorrect, judgmental "Christians" who carry their "God hates Haiti" signs and shout at people outside abortion clinics? What makes them Christian if they are not even Christ-like? What makes them Christian if they greatly mistake God's character. For in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus plainly says to love. Love your God. Love your neighbor as yourself. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Love. Jesus also tells us not to judge, for we will be judged in the same way we judge others, and with the exact degree in which we judge them.

If thinking of the world just brings me to my knees in distraught, how does it make God, the Father, feel? I just don't understand what He's waiting for, and won't until my dying day.

And until my dying day, I will commit myself to loving everyone, everywhere, even if it means my death. I cannot sit here and watch (or be unaware of) the atrocities that happen daily. Though I have lost faith in the world, I will not stop loving it. As Samwise Gamgee says, "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for."

"What are you, fuckin' new?"

The atmosphere pushes film music to the ends of my brain. I want to people watch. I want to nod my head to the music. I want to think about the rain outside, which makes me think about the most irrational scenarios involving the man of my dreams.

I came here with people, but they've set themselves to studying together...on the opposite side of the room. But that's okay, I'm left alone to my thoughts, which weave in and out to make an extensive unrealistic, but enjoyable nonetheless, daydream.

My cafe mocha flies down my throat, warming my insides that flutter like butterflies, and churns like uneasy prey.

And is there any reason as to why this one guy is taking up a whole fucking couch?

"Um, this is a chips and cheese conversation, nach-os!"

The rain is coming down cats and dogs-or lions and wolves-in a small French town. A girl, just out of college, is waiting for her ride. Her bag is getting soaked due to the lack of shelter in the area. "Great, that's all I need; a soggy laptop and an unreliable roommate," she thought to herself. If she were to come by shelter anywhere near where she was supposed to be picked up, it'd be considered trespassing. The small house behind her did look unoccupied at the moment though. Trespassing it is! The girl ran to the porch of this little, yellow chateau. She sat upon a bench, which was once probably completely white, but the paint had been chipping. Either the bench was meant to rock back and forth, or it was broken. Most likely the latter, but it was still fun. It creaked loudly as she swung. It kind of played the tune of a classic song she loved to sing. The girl looked left, right, then left again to make sure no one would hear her. She began to sing the song, backup brought to you by an old, creaky bench. The song was nothing but a whisper for a few seconds, but her courage-or stupidity-made her sing louder. After a few moments, she was belting at the top of her lungs, until...

My grandfather just turned eighty-six! I miss him. He lives in Montana.

...the door of the silent house opened slowly, but it creaked just as much as the bench. A white face peered through the doorway. "Can I help you?" The man asked.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry...I didn't think anyone was here...it's raining so hard...my laptop..."

"It's fine. You could have tried knocking first though." She looked down and blushed. To interrupt the silent embarrassment, he asked her, "are you waiting for someone?"

"Yeah, my roommate. She was supposed to pick me up an hour ago. Probably held up at work. She should be here any moment, I'm really sorry."

"It's fine. Do you...want to come in?"

Sometimes, new situations arise that give you a feeling. This feeling-your intuition-might tell you, "Avoid at all costs! Get away!" But this wasn't the case and thank God. Her flats were too soaked, the roads were slippery, and she's not fast to begin with. Not to mention her heavy bag weighing down her shoulder. She'd have no choice but to drop it, and the asshole would get a brand new laptop. Good thing he seems trust-worthy....

I don't feel like finishing this daydream, I just got a phone call. Since it is my daydream, rest assured that it ends happy.

Life isn't like a box of chocolates.

A box of chocolates comes with a sheet of wax paper, and on it, the labels of each chocolate morsel you could slip into your mouth. Life comes with no such paper, and we beings have no idea what could possibly be handed to us. We can go on, believing something to be true, and then life shakes us, and we're forced to change. And if it's not a shake, it's a slap of realization that either stings, or gets you running like a racehorse.

With every moment of pain felt by each individual comes this notion of change. With every acceptance felt by a very, patient human comes this immediate contentment. It is said that humans only change when they feel pain, but my change is different. I'll never do things by the book, and this case isn't any different.

I once felt pain, but I didn't change. I hung on with this silly optimism. I hung on so long, the pain turned into a cold numbness. I thought, "what will be, will be," and I waited. What I should have done was accepted the pain, and let go.

And that was it. It was so simple...for me, at least. I'm sorry that you have this life lesson of "not taking those you love for granted" to handle. You'll always be my friend and I love you, but I know now that you're not the one. But, shit, life's told me I've been wrong before. I'm not going to hang on though. Everything is fleeting and ever-changing, so I can't hold on. We have no choice but to let go.

Life can make you believe that you're at the start of where your meant to be, that you are absolutely right. Then it pulls the ground out from underneath your feet. You fall, and my God, it's so confusing. The acceptance of this confusion is the moment the chains disappear.

Life told me I was wrong. Life told me to let go. It keeps telling me about these things called patience and acceptance. And I didn't come to this planet with a piece of paper attached to me saying this. We're all just blind idiots, being guided by feelings we believe to be true. I have to remember that feelings aren't truth. So the feelings inside of me will fester and drive me insane...until I let go.

Goodbye ropes, chains, handcuffs, and everything that ties me to something that might have been "true" yesterday (John Denver literally just sang that as I was typing. Perfect, right?). The song is called "Sweet Surrender". Another song that comes to mind is "It'll All Work Out" by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. It's about this guy that was promised to a girl, but he has to let her go because someone else can love her more (Perfect, right?)

Right. It'll all work out. Let go.

My mom's making me go get her Baker's again...

Once in Awhile, True Beauty Comes Along: A Sequel Dedication to Real Friends

And this true beauty is in the form of a friend. A best friend. There is nothing sweeter than knowing I have someone there walking along this path called Life.

There is also nothing more bitter-tasting than finding a "friend" has let me down.

And, we're human! Humans cannot be perfect and it is no one's job to keep me happy but my own. Over the years, I should learn not to depend on others so much, and I've done really well with that concept! Rarely do I ever let myself call someone a best friend, because in my experience, I cannot rely on anyone.

Is authenticity slipping through the cracks just like the act of taking responsibility? It's fucking contradictory to want so much for someone to like us that we let others down. It's the reason for shit talk, which is the reason for terminated friendships.

Oh, and hey! Let's all be unreliable! No one likes a loyal friend, right? Please make plans with me and then bail! I love it when we do that. I love it when we can't be fucking honest and say, "No." I actually prefer a "maybe" so that I can have hope, only to be shit on by an inability to be courageous. See? There's that "wanting someone to like you but letting someone else down in the process" act. Or it's just being selfish. Take your pick, friend.

This is so trivial, but after a number of times, it wears me like a wave to a mountain. It's possible that I hold friendship to high in regard. Is it not important to you? Are you okay with being swallowed by the sea when you're a fucking mountain?

Once in awhile, true beauty comes along in the from of a friend. Then, it shits on you. A true friend, a best friend is honest about their shit.

Thank you, Jenna for being a mountain with me. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for your reliability in my time of need. Thanks for celebrating my second decade of life! Thanks for the simple tasks you perform like texting me back. Thank you for the more difficult tasks you preform like helping a hurting friend. Thanks for understanding. Thanks for the sense of humor! Thanks for the real inspiration I can get no where else. Thanks for the education on life, false sugar, and music. Thanks for the best tea ever and being similar sizes, so we can share clothes! You're the simple definition of a friend, and more than that, a best friend. People can really learn from you...

Last but not least, here's to the other true friends. You know who you are because you're not the above listed "friend". I enjoy making the effort to being the best friend I can be for you.

And now my mom's making me buy her Bakers.

Words Stuck in Mud...

I'm not sure why I can't ever tell you how I feel. What is it inside of me that speeds up my irrational thoughts, and slows my mouth from speaking? Perhaps it's the distance between us... but MAYBE we're closer than I think. Perhaps my worse-case scenarios aren't far off. Perhaps it's that large wall that barricades all of your thoughts, emotions, and ultimately words. Perhaps, I'm way too fond of the chase. Lord knows I always battle that.

And why can't you tell me? We can start off by discussing what's changed over the divine broccoli cheddar soup from Panera, and then eventually, where we stand. Sound good? Oh, you have to read? That's okay, I need to muster the necessary courage. Maybe another time then.

Here it is, in my blog, where you won't come across it: I want to hang out with you. I want to text you. I want to call you. I want you to take me to Lucille's. I want to take you [against your will] to Disneyland. I want to sing to you!? I want you to teach me guitar. I want to hold your hand. I want to kiss your cheek. I want to rest my head on your chest. I want you to tell me about sexual relations in the 1960's, and the gender issues that really make your head spin. I want you to know that there is absolutely no one like you.

What changed? Was it something I did or said? Is it a change within you? Am I not the girl you thought I was? Do you not like me anymore? Am I way too much 99% of the time? Is it your anti-love theories? Are you scared? Because I understand that!

All I know is that someone has to say something.

"Dirty Mind, Lonely Heart"

Yes, I'll admit he was raunchy and blunt. Yes, I'll admit he's egocentric. And yes, I'll admit that he's a manwhore. But the John Mayer "Rolling Stone" article is artistic. John himself is a master of artistic. His inventive music, catchy rhythms, clever words, soulful guitar solos, and unique voice make up the talented artist he has been since the age of fourteen.

Mayer is bringing back shredding by being a "reincarnation burrito," as Jason Mraz puts it, of musicians like SRV and Hendrix. John's love of guitar is obvious when you watch him perform or when you learn a little bit of his history. When he first picked up the guitar, he'd shut himself away and concentrate on nothing more than being like Buddy Guy. According to the article, he wasn't popular, he didn't have many friends, and he had terrible luck with girls. He was the awkward acne kid in high school.

When you take a glance at John Mayer now, you wouldn't guess that he was that guy. His skin seems flawless, his lips are beautiful, and his hair stands perfectly. His style is simple, but complimentary to his lovely body. He has a cool sleeve of tattoos and a "77" on his gorgeous chest. Can you completely blame him for his ego-centrism now? For his promiscuity? Not that these are admirable traits, but it's easy to see why he is the way he is now. And let's be honest, many celebrities dig their own work as well; and other celebrities might be just as sexually experienced as he is, but they aren't honest like him. That makes him different.

I admire Mayer for his verbal explosions and intelligent, obscure humor. None of his stories about masturbation, porn, and "Dimples the Vegas girl" make me appreciate his work any less. I can't deny his talent.

Not only was he honest about his dirty little habits in "Rolling Stone," but he was honest about his personal life as well. He's claims he's lonely and waiting for the right girl. We all know that search can be heart-breaking and exhausting. He's screwing girls left and right, seeking something they aren't giving. According to him, they're turning around and saying, "Wait 'til I tell my friends I turned down John Mayer!" There's no excuse for his male impulses, but he deserves someone great; a someone like his ex, Jennifer Aniston. He says he has "never really gotten over it."

As for the threesome plus incident, I choose to believe that he's joking. And if he's not pulling our leg? Well, whatever. At least he's honest...and into girls. RIGHT, LADIES??? Right?

There it is. My response to the "Rolling Stone" article that was supposed to make me find Mayer to be repulsive and selfish. Where I can easily assume these points of view, I like to lean towards the comments he made, or that were made about him, that perfectly described a lonely, searching man who's mind is obsessed with the relationship of cause and effect. That's his bread and butter. That, and making brilliant albums.

That's my child you're talking about!

PREFACE:
All names have been removed and replaced either with an "Idiot" followed by a number, or a "Me". Also, please note that there is harsh language used on either side of the arguments made, and I apologize beforehand for that; however, I did not see fit to change it. I did not change the vulgar language due to the fact that I did not want to change my opponents words and that, changing my original sentiments, would decrease the severity of my anger. The only editing I did do was the fixing of any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes.

Standing firm in my beliefs,
Katie Egan



Idiot # 1: Attention LOTR Two Towers jerks. IMDb has rated the Fellowship higher than Two Towers. Fuck off.

Idiot # 2: If I wanted to see nothing but mind-numbing prairies I would have lived in Kansas, not paid money to watch a LOTR movie.

Me: Does anyone recall there being prairies on the way to Mordor? Nope.

Idiot # 1: Two Towers character development is shit. Fellowship sets of all the characters quite nicely. Everyone just sits around and bitches in the Two Towers. And when they're not doing that they're just sitting doing nothing. The last third is fighting. Essentially 2/3 of the movie is shit.

Me: It is not shit! I definitely prefer the other two, as far as watching goes, and it is just a way to get to the third chapter. But the Two Towers story is anything but shit and there happens to be loads of character development. Aragorn learns that he is Middle Earth's hope as a leader, Sam's loyalty is being tested by Frodo's slow decay, and the two other hobbits learn they must step up, and that they too play a vital role in the saving of Middle Earth. Not to mention we meet key characters in the Two Towers like Theoden, Eowyn, Wormtongue, and Gandalf the White. Fuck you for calling any piece of the Lord of the Rings story shit, Idiot # 1!

Idiot # 1: Two Towers was not a good movie. I'm sure the book is fantastic. The character development in Two Tower is basically portrayed as the characters bitching. And Idiot # 3. Just admit FotR is way better than Two Towers.

Me: Because times are grim, and they're just starting to realize the extent of their dangerous situation! I'd bitch too, and as an audience member and reader, I'd start to lose hope. What I love about the movie is that, where it ended, it starts to regain the momentum it had before. The book ends with a cliffhanger!

"We're in Love!

But we're FRIENDS."

Just talk to Him.

when i thought i'd finally become proactive in my faith, and that it would patch up the holes, the story shut on me. the story of jeremiah the prophet is one that i'd promised to read instead of following the heels of now earthly entertainers. i decided to first skim the pages; reading titles and the LORD'S spoken word, but as i went through the forty or fifty-something chapters, i easily picked up on GOD'S anger with the place of judah. HE compared judah to a prostitute and a donkey in heat.

for someone who is slipping away in her faith, this wasn't the easiest to read. for about a year now, i've been so lost, and in this confusion i have fallen away from love, from GOD, and from prayer. i'm not saying that in this time i have become an atheist, but i am saying that i have never had more questions than now.

when a pastor told me that a relationship with GOD was similar to a roller coaster ride, he was not kidding. sometimes GOD'S presence is eminent and obvious, and other times, i find myself asking about HIS whereabouts. a year of being in the latter stage is discouraging and eventually lead to my search for the lost gift of love.

earthly relationships never last forever. people leave, people change their mind, people fight, people move, and people die. this fact manifests deep within each human no matter what. when a very important romantic relationship* fell to shreds, i began questioning the "love" this boy spoke of. i truly thought it meant something that i continued to have feelings for him, even to this day, but i suppose now that isn't the case. if his "love" was not the same as my love for him, then this must not have been love at all. i began to apply this thought to other relationships in my life. being let down by friends, my father passing away, and knowing that soon the rest of my family will follow was enough to convince me that there's no point in relying on anyone.

i am told that GOD is the only rock, so for the hard times, i would cling to HIM while i was being barraged by rough waters. trying to hold on now is the hardest thing i've ever done. i have too many doubts and so much confusion that i keep getting swept away by the current. ultimately growing tired of this and refusing to pray (i will talk more about that further in this blog), i sought to make myself numb. this self-reliance has made me arrogant, i'm sure, in the eyes of GOD. my meekness and humility sank whenever it was that i decided to take control of my life.

giving over my life to GOD would require i simple prayer, and an open heart and mind. i feel like many times i have prayed for GOD'S complete and total control, so that i may live by HIS perfect will. but i suppose many times is never enough. as long as i am human, i will try my hand and making a path without the consent of GOD, which is why i need to constantly give it over to HIM. every now and again, this thought discourages me. the thought that my relationship with GOD is an unceasing up and down discourages me. ultimately, these ideas lead to my confusion and questioning, it was in this time that i gave up on prayer. GOD already knows my heart, why speak my sorrows, doubts, or even praise to HIM? now, in response to that, i can imagine someone saying, "pray to HIM because it glorifies HIM and HE is ever-deserving." HE is ever-deserving because of HIS love, HIS majesty, HIS creativity, and HIS bringing of life. as soon as i feel HIS love, majesty, and creativity i will thank HIM. i want it to be authentic gratitude and not out of habit.

so the questions are: how can i get back to the top where i am knowingly GOD'S daughter and i am with HIM? how can i humble myself to ask for help? how can i turn away from the sins that continually keep me in the fog? how can i feel HIS love and share that with others? how can i decipher HIS calling for me? will i be able to climb back up if i fall again?

i need to ask the LORD these questions, even if i don't quite understand the concept of prayer. and i need to, once again, hand my life over to HIM because HE'S not the confused one. i am.



*said romantic relationship is not the sole reason for my questioning and current state of disarray.

I Love Canned E!

Friday night: Starbucks with me is "exactly what he needed". Bloody Zebra!!! Sherlock Holmes? Check. Kiss me? Okay. "Let's go to Fullerton." Check.

Saturday: Wake up, get crepes, visit the arboretum, tell me you like me, watch movies, and order pizza. Oh yeah, I had duty.

Sunday: Return duty bag, Coco's, Botanical Gardens, kiss goodbye.

If this weekend made you even more confused, then I am sorry. But to be perfectly honest, I had a wonderful time. It's a bit odd not having you by my side now.

And I'm not sure what it is about me that screams, "Only kiss me. I'm a friends-with-benefits girl". My mother says it's because boys are afraid of my confidence and free spirit. Mom's are supposed to say things like that. I wish I really knew.

But I don't know if it's worth changing for you.

I realized that I use contractions quite frequently.

A W(O)hiRL(D) of Change.

This is my mind, and it over-analyzes way too often. It thinks of you. It remembers the words that you used to hurt me. It recalls the times I THOUGHT were perfect. It tells my body to slow down and to speed up. It tells me I want you, and sometimes that I'm better off without you. It knows that you don't want me like that, but it continuously makes me fall.

These are my eyes, and hopefully they don't give away what my mind is thinking (see above). But it's probably obvious when I look at you. It could be the occasional "what the hell am I doing with you?" look, but not likely.

This is my nose, and quite frankly, your nose and mine meet too frequently, which brings me to...

My mouth.

This is my heart. The one you make skip in my chest. The one you also broke, and then repaired. Then you broke it again, and again, and again. And finally, my mind convinces it to go numb.

These are my hands. They're trying their hardest to stay at my sides, but for some reason they find your cheek or your arm. My hands and my mind are constantly at war. Same with my mind and my mouth. And my mind and heart.

This is my body and once it can work together, I'll be healed. No one's leading anyone on.