Do you ever find yourself wishing?
It could be about anything: a wish for a homemade breakfast made from loving hands, a wish to be teleported in an instant to a place that feels more like home, a wish for a simple kiss that only means something to you.
A wish for your legs to move autonomously, to be carried into the outdoors and to seamlessly glide along the concrete sidewalk so that you can take a little break from the hardships of carrying a body around with you. They are after all, just spacesuits for our souls.
I find myself wishing for the sun. To lay its golden rays across my bare back, to lightly toast the skin that generously holds all the cells I try to hug tightly and as close as possible whilst they try to burst through the perimeter. I wish for sun-kissed cheeks and tan arms to cradle me, as if the sun came down from its powerful throne and decided to spend a little time with just one speck on the earth of all things.
Oh hey sunshine, how you doing? Spending a little time apart today, or do you have another date with the clouds? I hear things are getting pretty heated between you two. But when you were away the other day, the clouds they were crying. Was it for you? Or was it that their sadness of things past had just filled to its capacity? When you release one tear, the rest come pouring afterwards, like a faucet that just wont shut off no matter how hard you try to pull. I felt sorry for him. I hope things work out between you two, but if they don’t, you’ll always have the moon. The moon has a secret love for you but he is too shy to proclaim it. Sometimes I catch him staring at you during the day, trying to inch his way closer to you, and the stars become jealous. Everyone is jealous of you, sun, you’re just too bright to not notice.
Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: “My name is Kelsey and I’m nineteen..”
but what I’d really like to say is:
“My name means island of the ships but once
I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck-
not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire
after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.”
I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about me’s.
They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special.
The doctors, they want facts not details.
“I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-“
The right or the left?
The teachers, they want interests, hobbies.
You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do?
The adults are a spew of questions.
What school do you go to? What classes are you taking?
What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend?
People my own age are the worst.
“I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.”
Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know,
I’m pulled apart, my interests travelling highway 2
my goals at a stop light at traffic hour,
my medical history on a billboard for the world to see.
But what about me?
Where’s the chance to say,
“I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets,
and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down
so I can swim with the stars.
I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with it.
It’s the blackholes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome.
I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years,
each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.”
No wonder none of us know who we are anymore."
Well, I guess I don’t live in Montreal anymore
I AM DONE WITH SCHOOL FOREVER. and I’m going to have an awesome next few months, I am very happy today.
MY SISTER TAUGHT MY PARENTS HOW TO IDENTIFY THE MEMBERS OF ONE DIRECTIONmy dad: She quizzes us. She shows us videos and makes us name them all.me: So you know all their names?... ...
i have a lot of cool people feels
i’m incredibly fortunate to have met the people in my life that i have met. i know that many people don’t have the...
“We’ve been kissing for months. Three times a week our toothbrushes share a chipped porcelain mug in my bathroom. As my lips reach for the juice...”
“I tell my piano the things I used to tell you.”— Frédéric Chopin