Dear You

I realize you are probably very far away right now.

And I realize that you are probably very different from me, too.

You probably are generally content or discontent with your life, unlike me. You probably don't lie awake at night thinking about whether you're real or not. Because if you do, well, that could be a problem.

You probably don't want to be a magazine girl one moment, and very much yourself the other. You probably don't think about God outside that vague sense of happiness. You've probably shoved him in a logical box, while he's slowly evaporating.

You probably don't paint your nails "Raven Red" when you worry, or stay up 'til 2 on a school night just because you know time doesn't exist. You probably don't have pages and pages of lists of things you really need but you'll never get.

You probably aren't terribly complex, although I wish you were. You probably would scare me at first. Why, you ask? Why, because you'd be the first one. Your eyes in mine. It's a sign of the times.

It means, in a way, I'd be ready to die.

I'd be willing to give you all my secrets.

It means I'd be very much alone.

And I realize that it's narcissistic of me to hope you understand me, when I am sometimes, strangely, less interested in you. Do you think it's wrong to use someone else to find yourself? I do. I very much do. But we do it everyday, through that guitar, that bent page. And that crazy social network.

But what I mean to say is this: Maybe your eyes are plain, and not sparkling green, blue, orange pools of exotic exhibition. Maybe your hair isn't handsome or fine, but a little knotted, and lazily coarse. Perhaps your hands aren't refined and elegant. Maybe they're broad, but perfect for handywork. Your smile might be quirkier than I could ever imagine. Your voice might not be very low, but your laugh might be just right. I just have to write this to remind myself that not everything I want is human, but I need something that is.

And I know this is getting long, so I'll try to write more often with less junk. You're probably one of those people that likes words to "get on with it", and I understand.

I was like that once.

Today is Tomorrow

So I need to really start getting myself in gear for college crap. There's a scholarship essay due next Monday that I just started on today, but I really need it done by tomorrow, at least by Wednesday. I hate the feeling of a deadline like this. College, and everything. My parents don't want me to go anywhere but John Brown, and I know they have a really good inkling of what's best for me, But something tells me I won't be the happiest there. I feel weird just applying to the college they want me at, but I'm not applying to Wheaton while the app is right beside me. I don't get it. It's not even laziness.. I guess it's just some kind of fear.

Either way, I pray it works out for the best.. and not just the best for me--the best for all of us. I know God has the right plan for me--he always has, and I've never doubted that. But it gets scary along the way, when today starts becoming tomorrow, and sooner or later, everything's different.


And I was thinking today. You know what? I don't care that I'm an idealist. Because what is real, dies. Only the ideal lives forever. And I don't plan on dying for death.




Power of One
Darling, dare
do not look down
because there is nothing
so beautiful as the up
carved in toothy cherub smiles
secreted in feathered
upward eyes. The
power of one living will not die, because
this is the Magician's favorite
apparition:
Boots struggling soulless towards the night,
Saying, "Boots were not made
for walking that light."

Infinite

I feel like a complete and total hypocrite right now, sitting here, writing, because I've been inspired. Inspired by a book I once acted superior towards. Don't you love that? Being proven wrong? It has such a great twisting feeling to it. The book was "Perks of Being a Wallflower", and I always laughed at it because I thought it was just another teen novel that everyone seemed to "relate" to and "love". And the funny truth is, I feel the same way. I put the closed book a foot to my left, and looked up the song I posted because the end of the book made me feel like that song, for some reason. And coincidentally, the music video reminds me of a scene described in the book. "So it goes."

So I realized--maybe I should start documenting more, because it's never too late to remember. And I know I'll need the memories for later.