aquaphobia

I'm not going to write out all of my fears because trust me, that would take way too long to read.

But wanna know one thing I am afraid of?

the future

I'm afraid of the stacks of college applications on my dresser waiting to be filled out. I'm afraid of the ACT score I'm supposed to receive in 3-5 weeks  and I'm afraid because I didn't even finish the math section. (I just filled in C, C, C for the last ten questions. Oops.)

I don't know how I'm supposed to afford college tuition and hell, I don't even know if I'm going to be accepted by any colleges I actually want to go to. And you know what? That's scary.

I'm afraid of failure and mediocrity and heartbreak and the suburbs.

I'm afraid that my future holds all four.

I don't know if I have enough ink to fill the blank pages of my future and I'm not sure if my hands are deft enough to sketch my dreams. And I'm afraid to find out.

I'm frightened by fear itself. I'm afraid of his icy choke hold-and what it's preventing me from achieving.

I'm afraid of the could haves and would haves and should haves and the regret that comes along with them.

I'm afraid of paying taxes.

I'm afraid of my potential and I'm afraid of your potential because Hitler was once just a teenager with potential and look how he turned out.

I 'm afraid of looking in the mirror and seeing a wrinkled face staring back at me, a shriveled body unable to travel or explore or stay up until two in the morning or dance until the sun goes down.

I'm afraid to die because this world is all that I know, and while silence seems like a worthy companion, I love the sound of my own voice too damn much.

You know when you were a little kid at the beach with your family, how you'd run into the water splashing and squealing and shrieking for joy? Remember the moment you realized that you could no longer feel the velvety grains of sand caressing your little toes, and how you panicked, panicked as you found yourself suspended in the ocean's unforgiving grasp, the water closing in on you with every second?

That's the future.

Yeah, it's kind of a bitch.

And I've always had a fear of drowning.

press play to smile

I hope you feel like this all week. You deserve to be happy.

stop stressing and just dance

flightless bird, monster trees

I've got a serious case of homesickness 

that is, I'm sick of home

and sick of you

these mountains don't feel like a playground anymore

they feel like a prison 

the neighbors are faceless and the cars are just specks

blurred together

like one of those "abstract" paintings that's really just a bunch of smudges.

this town is a fish tank

too small for the dreams held within my mind

and I'm the little girl waiting in the doctor's office,

sucking on a lolly,

the stars painting constellations in my head

and the moon is made of cheese.

 

on those 5am jogs

the dusky pink sunrise my only companion

the sweat gathers on my skin like angry lava

burning and burning and burning

but when I look down, the edges of my clothes aren't seared

my skin isn't charred

and when I look up, I see the same sun.

fake is in the water here,

and I'm afraid it's permeated my bloodstream

now my smile is made of silicon

and my heart is made of plastic

(at least it can't be broken now)

give me taxis and grime and shoe-box apartments

give me chaos and confusion and opportunity

give me the world in a city

and I'll take it for my keeping

and in return,

you can have the small town gossip

you can have the judgmental glares on Sunday mornings

you can have the guy at age 19.

trust me, I won't lose any sleep over it.

the trees have never looked so much like monsters 

but the sky has never been so blue

and I'm a flightless bird

chained to the ground

a hiker passes

"why don't you fly?" he asks, 

gesturing towards heaven

and while the forest floor may be beautiful

it's never felt more like hell

a sparrow takes flight

"wait for me," I murmur.

these mountains are a prison but my sentence isn't forever

this isn't home

but it's out there waiting for me

page blank, waiting to be written

my pencils are sharpened and ready to go

and my heart is too.

so, I'll see you soon.

maybe I'll send a postcard.

adult-induced amnesia

my mom told me that there's no such thing as teenage love.


I call bullshit.

I've got this theory that the moment you turn 18, a veil is dropped over your mind and suddenly you forget what it's like to be young

forget every feeling

every emotion

everything

adults tell us that we need to grow up, but they're amnesiacs with a superiority complex so excuse me if I ignore their advice

because they've forgotten.

they've forgotten what it's like to fail that test you studied all night for in the hopes that maybe, just maybe it would bring that stubborn A- up to that ever elusive A.

they've forgotten what it's like to write essays for hours in the hopes that you'll get into that prestigious school you've always dreamt of, and they've forgotten what it feels like when you get rejected and watch your dreams crumble to dusty pieces.

they've forgotten what a curse it is and what a blessing it is to feel deeply enough to skim the ocean floor.

they've forgotten how it feels when he writes his name in permanent marker on your heart

they've forgotten how it feels when you realize that he only let you write yours in pencil.

they've forgotten what how it feels to be told that you don't know what you want and you'll understand when you're older because as a teenager, there's no possible way that anything you are feeling is actually valid.

they've forgotten what it's like to be too young to fall in love but too old to order off of the kid's menu.

they've forgotten what it feels like to be late for curfew and they've forgotten what it feels like to sneak out after curfew.

they've forgotten how high school hallways feel like a little bit like hell and smell like a locker room.

they've forgotten about that couple that always makes out in front of your locker and while you act disgusted, deep down (and I mean deep, deep down) you're actually jealous.

they've forgotten the words to their favorite songs and they'll never understand why those concerts you go to make you feel so alive.

they've forgotten what it's like to plaster on a smile and paint your lips with lies just to make it through another day.

they've forgotten why you write that angsty poetry and why you dress in black and why you listen to those depressing songs on rainy days.

they've forgotten what it's like to rearrange the stars for someone whose telescope lens is pointed at some other constellation.

they've forgotten how to throw care to the wind and maybe common sense too, and how to love too deeply and dance too wildly and care too often and live too fully.

and as 17 creeps closer and closer to 18, I can't help but dread the moment that clock strikes twelve

because I don't want to forget.
 

how to not die of some terrible disease web md diagnosed you with (aka how to be okay.)

Every day when you look in the mirror, you see those frown lines that are becoming more permanent and the storm in your eyes that gets more cloudy by the day.

"You'll be okay," everyone tells you, "just give it some time."

But it's been three weeks and the wounds haven't healed yet and Web MD told you that you're gonna die from some horrific disease you've never heard of.

So instead of slowly bleeding out, let me give you a step by step guide of

how to be okay.

1. Delete his number from your phone, and every text message he ever sent you. It doesn't matter how sweet or sentimental a particular message is to you-for every kind word, there's ten that made you cry. Toxic people come in the prettiest packages. So take that box and throw it out the window. You're better off without him.

2. Sleep more. Stop wasting your nights thinking about him or thinking about her or thinking about what she said about you during third period when your back was turned. Curl up in your bed by 9:30 and drift away by 10. Take a nap after school while you should be doing your homework. You'll thank me for it eventually, I promise.

3. Wear what you want to wear. Put on those high waist pants that your brother said made you look like a mom from the 80's. What does he know anyways? Wear red lipstick because it makes you feel dangerous and make the wings of your eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man. Dress up for no good reason other than you want to, because despite what you've been conditioned to believe, what you want matters.

4. Smile so big that you think your cheeks will split and laugh way too often and much too loudly because statistics show that people who laugh more live longer, and statistics never lie. (some statistic taught me that.)

5. Allow yourself to be alone sometimes. Not feeling up to going to the football game? No problem. Does that party that everyone is going to be at sound more like a prison sentence than a good time? Stay home and read that book you've been meaning to. Alone time is a rare treasure, so cherish it. Download new music or start a new Netflix series or write a novel or go to your favorite coffee shop and people watch or ponder the meaning of life or find a cure for cancer-the world is your oyster when you're by yourself. It's not a bad thing.

6. Stop blaming yourself. He was a grenade and it was only a matter of time before everything exploded-and it's not like you were a member of the bomb squad. So walk away from the detonation site and don't for one second look back at the gaping crater he left. You handled with care, and it just wasn't enough. Nothing could ever be enough for him.

7. Dance in the streets with music blasting from your car and sing all of the words to your old favorite songs and eat all the crappy food you want while your metabolism is still working like an olympic sprinter and take advantage of every moment because you'll never be this young again.

8. Tell yourself over and over again-"I'm okay."

And eventually okay turns into good and good turns into great and suddenly you can't remember why you were ever just okay in the first place.

The gashes have been stitched and cleaned and all that's left is a thin white line reminding you of before.

And that's okay.

You're okay.

No, you're not.

You're better than okay.

So keep dancing.

regrets of an unwilling assassin

Let me start this off by saying:

I'm not licensed to kill

But cold metal felt so good in my warm hands

so natural

so right

But now you're all dead and I see your faces in the mirror

so I'd just like to say

sorry

(and please stop haunting me)

To you:

I'm sorry for shooting you straight through the heart. I didn't know you would be so easy to kill.

Who knew that those three little words could be so fatal?

You were a werewolf and they were my silver bullets,

And now you're just a vacant corpse

Unseeing

Uncaring

The fire kindled between our fingers is nothing but smoldering ashes now

And I never thought I'd miss the feeling of being burned until now,

So if you can hear me,

I'd like to feel the flames again.

To you:

I wasn't thinking when I sent that bullet straight through that pretty head of yours,

And now your lovely (fake) blonde hair is stained scarlet

And my hands are painted with blood.

Your knives were dull and your aim was poor,

But I've never been a particularly brave soul and you've never been a particularly good person,

so when you came at me, what was I supposed to do?

Good thing you that you line your eyes with misery and even better that you dress in shades of death,

It's perfect for you funeral (and for your stupid soft grunge Tumblr page)

But now he's standing at your coffin and I'm standing alone in the the cold

So you win. (like always)

To you:

My fingers trembled when I pulled the trigger.

I just want you to know that.

I didn't want to shatter you into a million pieces, believe me

but when I tried to collect the jagged shards of you in my hands,

you made me bleed

and then I remembered why I killed you in the first place.

I couldn't see it while you were here,

But in death you're transparent 

So forgive me for leaving you on the cement and forgive me for stepping on your remnants

Again

and again

But now you're just pulverized, pathetic, sparkling dust and now I'm finally free

You'll never pierce my skin again

"These violent delights have violent ends"

Oh, how you delighted me.

And oh, how violent was your end.

sorry

Songs 4 U

songs for rainy days:

samson-regina spektor

untitled no. 3-sayde price

fake plastic trees-radiohead

asleep-the smiths

landslide-fleetwood mac

montana-youth lagoon

we don't eat-james vincent mcmorrow

another love-tom odell

wolf-first aid kit

dead hearts-stars

songs for falling in love:

turning page-sleeping at last

blood bank-bon iver

robbers-the 1975

one-ed sheeran

your song-elton john

funny little frog-belle & sebastian

us-regina spektor

lover-devendra barnhart

stuck on you-meiko 

strawberry swing-frank ocean 

songs to feel like a bada$$:

in bloom-nirvana

do i wanna know-arctic monkeys

black skinhead-kanye west

paris (ooh la la)-grace potter & the nocturnals

the car song-the cat empire

break the rules-charli xcx

my song 5-haim

happy ending-the strokes

fitzpleasure-alt j

body electric-lana del rey

songs for dancing:

long hair-drowners

punching in a dream-the naked and famous

one way trigger-the strokes

recover-chvrches

i sold my bed but not my stereo-capital cities

ways to go-grouplove

diana-one direction 

girls-the 1975

on our way-the royal concept

how to be a heartbreaker-marina and the diamonds

songs for gurl power:

***flawless-beyonce

fu-miley cyrus

mamma knows best-jessie j

potential breakup song-aly & aj

wings-little mix

independent woman-destiny's child

no scrubs-tlc

pretty girl rock-keri hilson

wannabe-spice girls

bo$$-fifth harmony