jonathan

depression is a lonely place
like a dilapidated shack in the middle of the woods
no neighbors to speak of
not a soul to be seen
just you
and the trees
their branches looking more and more like monsters each day

you try to run
try to scream

but you can't escape the house inside your mind

i wish you would've peered through the curtains
unlatched the window
and seen the sun shining in the sky
there's a house next door with smoke coming out the chimney
and one around the bend containing the smiling faces of your family

if you'd just look a little farther
you'd see

but i understand
it's hard to look very far while you're shackled to a chair
in the house inside your mind

doctors are for healing yet they couldn't heal you
diagnose
prescribe
repeat
but no matter what they did
you remained trapped
bound to your disease
with no end in sight

so you found the only escape route you could think of
free from your chains at last
but i wish you could've seen the sun shining in the sky
and seen the love radiating from your family's every pore
however
i know it's not that easy
shackles can't be broken with bare hands

still

i wish i could see you smile one more time.

but now you'll never feel the darkness again
say hi to grandma for me
and my sister
in the meantime
we'll live for you

i'll see you again someday

i know you'll be smiling

12.10.15

Progress

Her friend asks, "How do you know when you're over him?"

"I think," she says, "it's when you stop remembering the little things he'd do to make you smile, or how you'd fall asleep with the phone at your ear, talking about nothing and everything at once. It's when your stomach stops dropping at the sound of his favorite song on the radio, or when you can watch his favorite movie without imagining him there beside you."

"It's when you feel indifferent at the thought of him, when the only thought you have when your mother mentions him is to hope he's doing well. It's when the sweatshirt he left on the chair in your room stops suffocating you in your sleep, and when you stop wishing he was there whenever it's 11:11."

"Instead," she breathes, a small smiling gracing her lips, "it's when you start to wish for your own happiness, for unsolicited smiles that have nothing to do with the thought of him."

"So, have you gotten over him?"

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip as she considers this.

"Well," she replies, "not really. But I'm getting there."

"I'll be there soon, I think."

the new drug

she watched you take him away

slowly 

slowly 

so slowly she didn't notice until it was too late

the signs were just whispers

when they should have been screams

late nights staring at the computer screen

the bright light glazing his eyes

like a sheet of ice on a winter morning

she thought the frost would thaw eventually

but you managed to chill him to the bone

with the click of an ad

"sexy girls here"

you dragged him down into abyss

his eyes were open and he was seeing

not her

never her

but you

in all your glory

fantasizing over an image that she could never attain

taking in the curves of a girl so young she could be his daughter

watching as you gave him everything that she never could

and it was easy for him to get lost in your illusion

because like a drug 

you pulled him in

and like a drug

you shackled him

and she watched as he stopped seeing her

she cried as he stopped holding her

because when he looked at her

he thought of you

and all the ways she didn't measure up

because who needs love and all of its pesky little flaws

who needs short tempers and bad hair days and dirty kitchens

when there's you

always waiting

perfectly photoshopped

always having a good time

and unlike her,

when he's tired of you,

he can simply click another link

because who needs love

when you can have a lie

he's off chasing something that isn't even real

leaving her in the dust

dissatisfied

disenchanted

because her reality didn't fit his fantasy

the fantasy that you fed him

the fantasy that changed him

because like a drug

you pulled him in

and like a drug 

you shackled him

and like a fool

he believed you.

the girl i want to be

sweet like honey and just as smooth
with a smile painted on porcelain cheeks
don't swear, don't argue, don't be so crude
after all, that's not what a lady would do.

beautiful in an effortless way
with hair that falls in curtains of silk
lips like roses and eyes like the stars
you tell her she's the prettiest thing you've ever seen
no need for make-up, she's the epitome of perfection
she smiles underneath the foundation she wears like a shield
wary, alert
she knows how this could end
because you'll run at the slightest chink in the armor

meek like a lamb with a domestic little heart
a welcome sight after a long day at the office
with glitter in her mind and vacant lips
you know she'll always be there waiting for you
demure and harmless and sugary sweet
she's not a threat
you still rule sovereign
you've nothing to fear

but we are done being sweet and beautiful and meek
done being a doll to store on the shelf
not a damsel in distress
nor a flimsy paper boat
but stronger, much stronger
we're so much more

i want to be ferocious and wild and free
call me clever before complimenting my eyes
don't drink in my figure but the fire in my gaze
because trust me
there's so much more than what you see
and if i want to be pretty, it's not for you
my beauty will be powerful, not frilly and weak
because i alone am the master of my self

And i'll choose the kind of girl i want to be.

burning

she burned and burned until there was nothing left

just scattered ashes

in the shameful breeze

and you watched as the flames licked the night sky

not speaking

not moving

not listening

just watching

because her destruction

warmed your ice-cold soul

i choose to rise

things aren't how i thought they'd be

i was always the girl with a plan
the one who knew what she wanted from life
and exactly how she was going to get there

always carrying an extra pen
always ready for that pop quiz
always a proud mother's facebook post
and a loving father's water-cooler brag,
and always good for a witty remark or two

step 1:
step 2: save the world
step 3:
never took much time for the prologue
or the epilogue

but now i'm thinking maybe i should have

because life isn't like a game of the sims on the computer
there's no second chances
or do-overs
no game over just to start right back where you started

there's no master controller
no matter how hard i try
because life is just one big unknown
a river running in one direction
and you either swim
or drown

i've spent enough time lamenting what might have been
and cursing whoever's pulling the strings up there
today i choose to take what i'm given
and run with the wind at my back

because everyday the sun rises without fail

and so will i

denouement

what high school taught me
was that you can never start a sentence with "and" or "but"
i also learned that it's better to be known as a bitch
than to be known as a girl that you can walk all over

what high school taught me
was that you must memorize the quadratic equation at all costs
it also taught me that sometimes it's your friends that can say the most hurtful things
and while it may be easy to forgive
it's a hell of a lot harder to forget

what high school taught me
was that andrew jackson was the fifteenth president
i also learned that college tuition is the number one murderer of dreams around the country
and that it's okay to fail sometimes

what high school taught me
was that water is a polar molecule
it also taught me that one day
an old song will come on the radio
and it will remind you that even though you weren't okay then
you're okay now
and it was all worth it.

i never dissected a frog
or truly memorized the unit circle
or learned how to be as social and peppy as my friends
i never mastered ceramics
or wrote the best poetry
and i didn't end up going to the college i wanted to

but i did learn that sometimes the strangest people are the best people
and to be okay with myself
even when others may not be.
i learned to stop wasting my time with friends that didn't act like friends
to spend time with my family
because sometimes they were all i had
i learned how to stop being so hard on myself
to accept defeat
to stand up
when all i wanted to do was sit down

and as for paris?
paris taught me
that i want to write for the rest of my life.
it taught me bravery
it taught me courage
and most of all
it taught me that we all have something in common
that no matter what social circle we come from
whether you're a athlete or cheerleader or rapper or singer or musician
we are all the same.
and for that,
i am forever grateful.

this is the the denouement.
but believe me,
 i'll remember what i've learned here for the rest of my life.

i love you guys.

thanks for living in paris with me.

i am having a quarter life crisis so i wrote this depressing post

18 and in limbo
too young to drink
but old enough to die for our country

it's midnight and my mind won't shut off
tick tock tick tock life is a clock
tick tock tick tock I just want time to stop

time to trade crayons for ballpoint pens
fruit loops for raisin bran
disney for cnn
innocence for the world on your shoulders

graduation is a funeral
we put on our sunday best
and watch our childhood die
those plastered on grins aren't fooling anyone
because after the diploma comes the degree
and after the degree comes the american dream
marriage
divorce
a mid-life crisis
and then you work 'til you die (if you're lucky)

but for now I still have the stars in my eyes
and time can't rob me of the galaxy that I still contain
not yet, anyways

so I'll memorize the sound of my mother's voice
take pictures in my mind of my dad's chesire cat grin
I'll never forget how it feels when my sister wraps her little arms around me
or how my brother can always make me laugh

remember sleepovers in too small beds
remember concerts with your best friends
remember high school dances and cheap romances
and don't you dare forget how good it feels to live

because someday becomes today
and today becomes the past
the faces you know fade like a favorite pair of blue jeans
and everyone
everyone
leaves 

but the stars are always the same.

so for tonight I'll take the constellations as company

but

all stars burn out eventually

drawn curtains

she shouts her opinions from the rooftops
entrapping the sky as her captive audience
this is her world
and she will have it

she smashes her fist into cruelty,
unaffected
stomping out pain
with her steel toed boots

her voice is loud
she will never not be heard
but in her own mind
the silence is suffocating

life's a stage and she's a star performer
act like nothing's wrong
paint on a smile they'll see from the nosebleeds
don't let them see you sweat

they say eyes are the windows to the soul
but she has her curtains drawn
her mind is an abandoned playground
her cheeks hollow in the moonlight
but as long as her make-up covers the bags beneath her eyes
she'll keep going
going

but if you take a moment to look inside
you'll see how their words stop her in tracks
and how at night everything
               
                       comes
                            crashing
                                     down

she is alone.

but you were too busy admiring the drapes

all you need is (self) love

this year
I fell in love

it was magical
unexpected
the life-altering, earth shaking type of affair

this year I fell in love
not with the boy that wears the beanie in my fourth period class
or the sweet talking barista that memorized my order at beans & brew
not with the guitar player or the study buddy or even the boy who took my breath away
and definitely not with the jock swaggering down the 100 hall

they say when you fall in love it's like you're wearing rose colored glasses
like the sun shines just a little bit brighter and the birds sing just for you
but this love of mine?
it shattered the lenses of the glasses I've worn my whole life
destroyed the frames
canceled the prescription


20/20 vision's never felt so good
because this year was the year

I fell in love with myself

and my sight has never been clearer

I am a terrible dancer
I hold grudges longer than I should
I don't have the best hair
I use sarcasm far too liberally
I procrastinate (a lot)
I beat myself up over everything

but

I am passionate
I am strong
I am capable
I am talented
I am loyal
I am enough

I love the gap between my teeth and the freckles on my nose
I love the way I always pronounce words wrong that I learned from reading the books on my shelf
I love my awkward dance moves and my opinionated mouth
I love the every imperfection and flaw and all the terrible things that come with being human

this year I fell in love
it's not the type of love that nicholas sparks would write about
there's no dashing hero that pieces together my fragmented heart
but it's the type of love that saves you
that saved me

this love is deeper than that
it's life-sustaining
this love is happiness
this love is acceptance
this love is everything

love is a big word, but I think I've found it within myself

because I am me
and that's enough

and so are you

note: i highly encourage ya'll to go check out the blog post that inspired this new year's resolution here

montana

not alone, not alone

to the preening commons crusaders and the 600 hall wallflowers
to the chess club and the math club and the rap club that has yet to hold a meeting,
to every pair of lungs that breathe and every pair of hands that shake,
you're not alone. (excuse my cliche)
i see the fragile heart hidden beneath the mesh armor of the jersey you wear
the smothered words trapped behind metal coated teeth
i see the broken smile that not even the brightest shade of drugstore lipstick can conceal
and the pain buried somewhere deep in your binder
i've felt despair in the midst of the battlefield
when the sword just seems too heavy and rust-scented blood threatens sanity
i've been alone in the hallway stampede
each errant elbow and swinging backpack a deathblow,
each giggle shared amongst friends a eulogy
i've had a staring contest with disappointment
and felt the burn
that comes with unfulfilled expectations
you're not alone
i am you
you are me
we're comrades at arms.
and outside of the commons,
beyond the "world class" sign,
away from the teachers and hallways and grading scales and assemblies,
is another battle waiting to be fought.
because they don't write history books about those who let themselves be silenced
and you deserve to be heard.
you deserve to be seen.
you deserve to live.

raise your voice
paint the sky with your dreams
grasp the world in your palms and claim it as your own
because spring's just around the corner
and i can't wait to see what you
what i
what we
will become

you're not alone

so please don't leave me

red balloon

the other day I sprained my ankle

I jumped too high and fell too hard

I should've known the monkey bars were out of my reach

miss robertson gave me a red ballon after class one day

I tied it 'round my wrist but somehow it got free

I chased after it anyway because back then I swore I could fly

the stars sure do shine bright and I thought they were shining just for me

and all I wanted was to feel the universe brush my lined palms

not to be burned by the unforgiving galaxy

people aren't spaceships and I am a tree

better to stay rooted in the soil that is home

I may become gnarled but at least my branches stay tidy

last week I saw that red balloon floating in the unknown

but I kept my feet planted firmly on the ground

the other day I sprained my ankle, after all

up there in the sky is everything I ever wanted

but people aren't spaceships

and I have a sprained ankle

maybe next week, I suppose

hi my name is

my name is sugar and you stop in the middle of the sidewalk to scan me up and down like a piece of meat for purchase and the way you lick your lips kind of reminds me of a snake stalking his prey and your words reverberate in my dreams that night like the echo of a gunshot

my name is why don't you smile and i'm fourteen years old in the city with my friends for the first time and we walk a little faster along with our heartbeats as you follow us for a full block naming one of my friends why so frigid and the other don't be such a bitch 

my name is slut and i guess i deserve this because the skin of my shoulder is showing and i know how irresistible that is but a tank top shouldn't stop you in your tracks and it shouldn't prevent you from focusing in school but you were asking for it is yet another name you tack upon me

my name is damn girl and you laugh like this is a compliment but you can't see the blood in my veins turn to ice and you don't know what it's like to be scared to walk down the street because the saying boys will be boys seems to justify just about anything these days

my name is sexy thing my name is look at me my name is stop frowning and you think you're too good for me? and these are all compliments and according to merriam-webster a compliment is "a polite expression of praise or admiration" so i think you're a bit confused

my name is nice words turned into daggers, flowers turned into weapons, and i've never met a man who met his wife cat-calling on the street. my name is women like you need to go back to the kitchen and every single "compliment" you dole out like tokens at an arcade pollutes the air just a little bit more, my name is princess and if anyone ever spoke to your mother like that, you would strangle him with your bare hands

my name is look at that body and i'm twelve years old again and i'm pedaling my bicycle as fast as i can, away from you, your jeers sneaking into the basket between my handlebars and underneath the soles of my sneakers and at this moment i've never felt so small

so if compliments are supposed to make someone feel good i sure as hell don't know what you're thinking about but as long as your bros are impressed and as long as you're able to shove my name into your back pocket to brag about at the bar that night and as long as you don't see the way we run all the way home and sleep with the lights on and padlock the door because your words chipped away who we are

as long as you have the upper hand

my name is whatever you want it to be

identity crisis

she staggers around in her six-inch heels
leaving lipstick stains on her shot glass
slurring about how she feels like she's soaring but she can't feel her face
yet somehow she makes it home every night,
but she never lets anyone know how broken she feels
because she knows that there's no one left to pick up the pieces.

her morning ritual is advil and coffee and pain
but like a moth to a flame
the bright lights draw her back every weekend
because life never feels as lonely in the midst of a crowd

he's a creatine
gym machine
all hard lines and clenched muscles
a boy with a punch
the boy we can always count on for a fight
he's a 2nd string linebacker and a first string slacker
always late to school
always too cool
and the only time when he feels whole is when he's got a book in front of him.

his days pass in a smoke-filled blur
and his nights are black lights and bad dancing
and he would rather be writing than gyrating with the masses
but someone once told him that men can't be vulnerable
they aren't allowed to be soft or emotional or, heaven forbid, poetic
better not to let your guard down
and I heard that chicks like bad boys

they're charming,
rambunctious
always good for a laugh or two
the center of attention in every class they're in
they're shaking hands under desks as they deliver yet another punchline
and the only time that the bricks on their chests are ever lifted
is when they're too high to even care

their nights are dark thoughts and panic attacks
keeping attention on their teeth where everything sounds good
but behind the tongue there's something rotting in their brain
the words that they've held captive for so long,
but they have been told that the only way to fit in
is the hide behind the laughter that keeps them coming back for more.

these are the bridges between yourself and destruction,
and each brick is the place where the artist was told to consider a more sensible career,
where the 4.0 students was told that their A- was synonymous with failure
where the dreamer was told to stop reaching for things they'll never achieve
and one day it all comes falling down
because when the outsides and the insides don't fit
when that essential part of you goes missing,

that is when

you

 lose 

yourself

THIS IS THE REAL WORLD

I remember at four years old,

sitting on my mother’s lap

watching the towers fall with her tears

“don’t be sad,” I said

“it’s just a movie.”

but she just shook her head

“this isn’t a movie.

this is the real world.”

the snowcapped mountains act as guardians

and white picket fences protect our fragile hearts

we’ve got the one-way ticket to heaven here

as long as you keep your nose clean and your eyes closed

kids lose themselves in a smoke-filled haze

while others get lost in the smoke of the bombs

and white boys in snapbacks who’ve never bothered to pay attention in history class

throw the n-word around like kisses on the pedestal

sorry, rosa, they say

sorry, mr. king,

but how can you be sorry when you dance on their graves?
this isn’t hate

but we’re still asleep

and our history stays chained beneath our beds

there are graves underneath our pillows

voices rooted deep within our blackened lungs

whispering in the silence

this is the real world

so please

wake up

this is the real world

this is the sunburn that blisters after a day at the pool

the heartache that follows the whirlwind romance

this is a father’s last strangled breath on the concrete ground

the blood of those whose only crime was to write

this is the bullet holes and the rioting and the mother who hangs one less stocking on christmas day

this is the real world

and you can’t sleep through it like you slept through this class

blankets can’t protect you now

this is the real world

not the history resting tidily on a textbook page

this is the present

expertly wrapped and tied with rusty chains

while the only chains I’ve ever known are those of the playground swing set

that allowed me to skim heaven with my sneakered toes

there’s no anne sullivan to lead us out of the dark

and the blood moon only shines so bright at night

and the bliss that comes with ignorance also comes with the price of a child’s tear-stained cheeks

a child that can’t understand why this is her reality

while I’m still living with the stars in my eyes

this is the real world

don’t sleep in another day.