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Posts Tagged ‘writing’

Walking around Wal Mart
not planning to buy anything,
You pause at the mirrors,
a familiar face in the midst of aliens
while your friends continue to stagger forward,
drained and disoriented.
You live in the house whose dictionary
has no word for home
with frozen peace, dehydrated love,
and parents who seal care with worn tape.
You drunk minors woke,
surprised like injured bandits
as this morning’s pain wades in your pools
of Captain Morgan,
your stomach chanting stop, stop.
The mirror won’t ignore dwindling eyes
or vomit missed on the corner of your lips.
You stare at the reflection like a scrawny cat
waiting for scraps even dogs won’t eat.

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Have you noticed how contradictory the world is? They tell us to be comfortable in our own skin, that we are “perfect the way we are”…and then they slather people in makeup, do close-ups on a couple pimples or slightly shaggy skin, and make us feel like we aren’t pretty enough or skinny enough to be called beautiful. No wonder actors and singers go into drugs and get wasted. We put so much pressure on them, and it can turn a sweet person into a Jerk.

Peer pressure has insane power on us all the time that makes us do things we say we’d never do…and why? Just to get acceptance from people who shouldn’t treat us like that in the first place? Signs say “Just Say No,” but saying no when you are surrounded and outnumbered by people who expect you to say yes…a lot harder when you’re in the moment.

But if we can’t say no to the small things…what will become of us when worse things come our way? It will seem small now, but when you give in, you may think you are in control of it, but it is already in control of you. If they are your friends, you should be able to say no around them. If they keep pushing you, then why do you hang around? It won’t be a one-time thing; they will keep persuading you to do more and more until you are a different person. Find the people you can be yourself around, not the people who you feel like you have to be better. It is good to have people to push you mentally with school work and stuff like that, but when it comes to being who you are, you shouldn’t have to change just because they have problems with it.

If you are shy, like me, trying to push yourself to be out there and conversive…it makes me feel uptight. Once I found friends that actually love to talk a lot, they like being with me because I’m a listener, yet they still let me pipe in every now and then and give my life story while they ask questions and share theirs.

My first semester in college, we were split into halls where we do activities with that hall and a “brother hall” which is a guy’s hall. Most of the girls were fun and nice…the kind of people I like being around…but I didn’t feel myself at all. They ended up not even talking to me , and I felt like I wasn’t being “fun” enough. Since I wasn’t popular in high school, I wanted to try and be in it now…

But then I started making other friends from my classes, people I felt comfortable around. They weren’t the populars, but turns out I’m just not built to be one of them, and I’ve finally learned to accept that.

So be yourself, and you will find that, even if they aren’t the people you are hoping for, they are people who love you for you and won’t try to change you. You were built to be you and will never be happy trying to be someone “better.”

You have probably heard it all before, but maybe that just means we are on to something that others don’t want to listen to.

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Writers are the ultimate stalkers. I am allowed to sit and watch people with the excuse that I’m writing about them. There is not much that I don’t notice. I see the piece of blue gum squished flat into the sidewalk from a thousand shoes, and the callouses on your fingertips. I notice empty straw wrapper thrown on the ground and the freckle by the hairline on your forhead.

There is nothing in this world that doesn’t deserve my undivided attention. I can sit in a coffee shop for four hours, bringing nothing to do, and just watch people live their daily lives without feeling the need to talk or do something. I would rather listen than talk; I’d rather watch than do.

I went to Target a couple weeks ago, brought my notebook, walked to the food aisles, and sat down at the end of an aisle where the busiest street was in the store. I may have noticed the little old lady searching through betty crocker cake mixes by herself, and the mother singing songs to hush the little girl in a yellow sundress standing in the cart while she gently bounced the baby strapped to her chest, but what I noticed most, was that it was only the kids who watched me.

We’d have staring contests and they would always win, for I couldn’t help but turn away with a smile. Kids don’t see any harm in staring, whereas the rest of us become embarrased and look away if we meet eyes with the person we’ve been looking at. A couple of kids asked really loudly “Momma, what is she doing?” and would point to me. The mothers would say “I don’t know,” and hurry thier kids away, giving me apologetic looks, though I saw curiosity in their eyes as well. It made me laugh, but at the same time, it makes me wonder what they all see. God tells us to be more like children. Kids see everything and aren’t afraid to ask questions. What if we all paused in our pursuit of buying things we don’t need, and take a look around…what would we notice?

They say babies laugh 400 times a day and that if you spend the whole day with the kid, and laugh whenever they laugh, that you’ll be a happier person.  What if we were as worry-free as they are? Pay more attention to kids. We can learn a lot from them.

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Rain

People say to dance in the rain…but you never see anyone doing it.

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As I raise her bleach-blonde locks,
thin and soft as silk,
into little fountains out the sides of her head,
realization sags my shoulders;
soon she won’t need me.

I am the one who chases her around the backyard,
sprinting in slow motion
as her bell-ringing laugh echoes,
little legs tripping over un-tied shoes.

I am the hero who saves Barry,
her one-eyed, ketchup-stained teddy bear,
when Nick snatches him from her weak arms,
his jealousy engrossed in a game of “keep away.”

I am the lap on which she drifts into slumber,
as we watch The Little Mermaid
while popcorn grows stale in the bowl beside me.

But eventually we all have to grow up.

Jimmy Choos and Chanel bags
blue eye shadow and silver hoops
flower fragrant perfume and strawberry lotions.

Barbies will dust in a box behind the stairs
nail polish will replace her tea set
a cell phone glued to her hand.

I smile into her innocent blue eyes,
biting into the sweet Honey Crisp
that we decided to share.
Time will only continue.

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