it's that "blush, bite the lip" kind of thing

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Did you know you make me blush?
That's kinda a big deal for me. I don't really blush.
You're really cute.
And you're really sweet.
You're funny.
And you always manage to make my day.
I love when you kiss my nose or my forehead.
Or that one time when you called me bub, that made it hard for me not to bite my lip and smile.
I like that you like my dimples and my brown eyes.
Even though I'd rather not have dimples, or brown eyes.
I love your glasses. I think they're adorable.
You usually walk with your hands in your pockets.
I like that.
I don't know why.
But I do.
When you wrote me that note I was seriously screaming inside.
And when I read it I just wanted to kiss your face and squeeze the crap outta you.
Cause you're the cutest thing ever.
I feel really comfortable around you.
You make me feel like I'm worth something to someone.
Cause throughout these past few weeks I've been in quite the slump.
I haven't felt very pretty.
Or wanted.
Or needed.
By anybody.
And I've felt like such a nerd.
Cause sometimes I snort after I laugh.
Sometimes I say really funky words.
Sometimes I begin every sentence or story with the word sometimes.
But you're okay with all of that.
I wish I could talk to you all night long.
I know I could do it.
I'd never get bored.
But unfortunately my body shuts down at night time and I'm a real snot if I don't get my sleep.
One of these nights, though, I'll talk to you nonstop.
Cause there's no boy I'd rather stay up all night for. Even if it means being a little miss cranky pants in the morning.
I think it's cute that you tell your little brother that you love him, even when I'm around.
You're really good to him.
It's cute.
I love that we have a bucket list.
We're gonna cross everything off that thing, don't you doubt it.
The best part about you?
You own up to liking me.
The fact that you even like me?
But the fact that you tell people and are proud of it.
Double dang.
You deserve a blog post.
Cause I'd be proud to tell the whole world that I'm into you.
And I totally would.

the angel from my nightmare.

Monday, February 13, 2012

44 days later and I'm still left at a standstill.
I'm lost in my tracks.
I'm finding it impossible to move forward.
Nothing is the same.
Something is always a reminder of you.
Of us.
People skateboarding.
A Day To Remember songs that you would jam to.
The bracelet your mom gave me at your funeral. She told me that every time I looked at that bracelet, I had to remember you. And she made me promise her that every time I saw that bracelet, I would remind myself NOT to fall in to what you so sadly stumbled in to.
I tied it onto my lamp so that every time I left my bedroom, in a sense, you'd be with me.
I miss you.
These dreams I've had.
They're killing me.
I don't know if you're trying to tell me that it's going to be okay, or if it's just a painful coincidence.
But I've dreamt of you for the past 4 nights in a row.
You hug me in these dreams. A lot. Sometimes you kiss me.
They're long hugs. Long kisses. They make me feel like you're never going to leave me.
It feels so real; so vivid.
They're like nightmares.
But you're an angel.
The angel from my nightmare.
I love it.
I hate it.
I love you.
I miss you.
The day you slipped away was not a good one.
I will never forget running to my room and throwing my pillow at the radio.
It fell down with a big bang.
Then everything went silent, besides the Secondhand Serenade drowning out my sobbing.
It felt like slow motion.
Life was going so fast, but at the same time, every second was a lifetime.
That's when I considered the fact that life might never be quite the same.
I was right.
It hasn't been.
I just wish I could see you again. Every single day.
If I had just one wish.
I would wish you back.
Or wish you never smoked pot behind the school; never got into that damn prescription cough syrup; never relapsed and downed that bottle of DXM and took shots of tequila after 3 months of successful rehab.
You were doing so well, honey.
I wish you could bear hug me again.
I miss those hugs.
But if there is one thing I'm certain of at this point...
It's that it wasn't you.
You didn't know what you were doing.
You didn't know you were going to take your own life at the crack of dawn on January 1, 2012.
That time I moved away and you hugged me so tight.
The thought that it'd be the last was so far from my mind.
You never got to teach me that trick on your skateboard.
We never went up to Park City to go down the zip line.
You never taught me how to snowboard.
I wish I could've stopped you.
Everyone tried so hard.
But fate has its ways, and I guess fate needed you more than I did.
I hope you can hear me talk to you late at night.
I hope you can read this.
But these dreams, these dreams will be the death of me.
Because each morning I wake up thinking those dreams are real and you're really here again.
But you're not.
January 1st was a harsh reality.
Brandon, you're the angel from my nightmare.
The only rainbow I get from this storm of confusion is seeing you in my dreams.
Seeing US in my dreams.
Even though it hurts like hell.

in god i trust

Sunday, February 5, 2012

This floor is cold and hard.
My knees hurt.
I don't know when this happened, or when God decided to let my life come to a point such as this.
But here I am, kneeling on this cold hard tile floor.
I remember why I'm here and suddenly I can't hold myself anymore, I feel a burden literally thrown onto my shoulders.
I collapse.
It hurts my lungs. I gasp for breath.
I realize that it's a tight fit in here.
I turn the faucet on, and for a moment, it distracts me from reality. It's peaceful in a sense. The cold soothes my nerves, but the rock solid foundation pushes my ribs into my lungs, forcing me to gasp for every breath I attempt to take in.
None of this feels real.
I feel like I won't even remember this tomorrow.
But that's just wishful thinking.
Who'd have known that throughout this desperate endeavor of mine, this is where I would end up.
On a bathroom floor, in the middle of winter, wishing I was somewhere else.
anywhere other than this world.
Oh Lord, I trust you.
I trust you more than I could ever trust myself, or anyone else for that matter.
Because as far as I know, you see all.
You see the whole picture.
Maybe you saved me, or someone, from a lifetime of grief.
I'm sure you have a reason for putting everyone through such battles.
I'd love to know what the reason for all this was.
But you don't need to tell me. No need to send me a sign.
Sure, that'd be great. But I trust you.
Please don't let me down, God...
You're all I have.
Which is why I kneel here on this bathroom floor.
Waiting to hear your voice.
Waiting to know whether you're even there or not.
Waiting for peace.
Maybe it'll come one day.
But for now, I will HOPE that you're here with me in this bathroom, drying my tears.
I stand up. I shake it off. Because I know that if you're real, you'll never take anything from me without giving me something even greater.