short, sweet, to the point

i miss you a little bit, here and there, filling in spaces between the ripples in the water and the clouds in the sky. the grass is always greener on the other side, but i'd much rather have the cold and the falling leaves gracing my presence than this warmth that keeps me up, sweating in the night.

thoughts

the light in your eyes
sparkled with the reflection
of big-city lights.

the kind that were connected by telephone poles
and strung together by pieces of imaginary wires
and held, in awe, by your slightly-parted lips
and the shallow breaths you took, noting
every little bump in the road with a slight change in rhythm;

and we were soaring, flying, 80 miles down
a deserted road that was anything but deserted
(except for the old man, sitting discreetly
under the awning of the corner store,
one eye shut and the other open,
catching sleep while keeping guard, another
night spent in fear of being found out)
because the footsteps of those aimless wanderers
resonate from the pavement to the bricks that form
a perfect alleyway.

your signals were as mixed as the radio's -
never making up it's mind as you never made up yours,
where we should go, who we should be, what we should see...
engaged in argument with the air around you about
whether abraham lincoln really was a vegetarian or maybe
it was that he was a smoker or maybe it was that he
religiously drank coffee because it got rid of warts -
whatever path it was, i would pipe in every now and then,
and you would lead me astray, lips barely parted,
singing melodies like the sirens, pulling sailors away,

and maybe you didn't know the dangers of your song, because
when we collided head-on with the sand bar
(they call them "medians" where i'm from), you
removed your eyes from the lights, dumbfounded,
staring me down with the reflections, and i blamed it on
a turtle or maybe a dog or maybe i just said it was you,
the appearance of you, transformed into little particles
pulled and sewn together, and maybe you smiled and gently replied,
"thank you for not hitting me, i value my life"
but all i could think was, "it's not your life i'm saving, darling."

the sky keeps sending huge droplets of water on my head and all i can do is smile, because it's a wonder i can feel the water in the first place. these are things we forget. the little, beautiful things that make up our life...

and my summer list of things to do, slash priority list, slash if i don't finish these things before i come back to martin i might shoot myself in the face:

- finish my articles for advanced comp before the beginning of school;
- do really, really, REALLY well on my internship;
- book a flight to san francisco and find someone to adequately illustrate my ideas for my back piece;
- make enough money to cover at least three months of rent when i get back (hahaha...sad, right);
- spend as much time with my grandfather as possible;
- enjoy every second, because life's too short to worry about silly things.

here's to holding up to my lists.

in a dream
you call me up and ask me, quietly,
if i would like to meet you for a drink
and when i got there you just looked at me
as you spoke to yourself
"if you take me home tonight
i know that we will kiss
one of us will fall in love
and it will be a mess
but if you want to take that chance
then please just let me know"
i slammed my glass down on the bar
said "grab your coat let's go"

=)

i'll miss it.

i'll miss it. three months, but it feels like forever...

a freak like me just needs infinity.

we looked like giants. the melody was pouring from the holes in my speakers, so close to the floor that i could feel the bass line reverberating under me as i laud cuddled up in my bed. i remembered all those days when i'd fake sick from school and you'd bring me lunch and we'd lay nose-to-nose in bed, watching the day go by and counting the heartbeats in between. (i'd wonder later how it was possible to have such an incredible and terrible year all at the same time. you got your appendix removed, cheated on me three times, and left for college all in that year and yet we had some of the most beautiful moments - funny how things worked out. funny how we worked out...) but you - you're not the subject anymore. at best, you're a passing memory, something fleeting that pops up in my mind when i hear certain songs or go certain places. i'm not the girl you remember. i've grown, i've loved (funny 'cause you once told me i'd never be loved by anyone but you...), but most importantly, i've found myself (or at least the part i understand). at one point you controlled me - never again. i burned that when you were burning everything i had ever given you.

and we were passing all the signs to better places. 65, 31, 45 - nashville, huntsville, birmingham. coffee and cigarettes and blinking lights. we found a spot where the lights of pulaski were so visible that it looked like i was going home - i meant to take a picture to show you, but maybe instead you'll see it for yourself or i'll paint it out with colored words. you would have loved it. on this same road, we were startled by what we thought was a cat in the middle of the dark, slick road - we were wrong. it was an owl, yellow eyes glittering in the clouded-over moonlight. maybe if i were superstitious, i'd be scared of it. it's a good thing i'm not. the cows were watching as we passed, chewing on blades of grass while miniscule droplets of water dropped on the tips of their noses. i was happy to be alive. happy i had such a great friend who was sharing the view, the music (we're so close to something better left unknown... who'd you rather be, the beatles or the rolling stones? oh, seriously, you're gonna make mistakes, you're young. come on baby, play me something...like here comes the sun)

we knew we were some of the only ones left. everyone has parted ways. some we said see you later to - others we said goodbye to. you don't ever realize how much impact a person has until you know they won't be back. but it's life, right? constantly changing. constantly moving. people leave your life as soon as they enter. you make promises to keep in touch - but will you really? never replacing the people who are there, only adjusting to the different people. forever changed by their presence in your life. if we don't take in twenty years, i will remember this. the drives we took, the things consumed, the mix cds made, the tests we did(n't) study for. the love we grew in our hearts. makes me scared to grow old (if i do), but also puts me at an inner peace. i'm holding on to this moment forever.

and it's like the beauty of a photo album. all these memories stream through our minds - of friends, family, love found and lost. my closest friends walking across that stage, tears in their eyes, happy, sad, confused - a collection of emotions they refused to explain (and couldn't if they tried). i will be twenty-one this year. in a year and a half, i will be walking across that stage, moving from back-roads and happy hour at sonic and the creek to a more stable life. but thank whatever for college. for the people. for the change that teaches us to be thankful and flexible and sentimental. fearing change is not an option - it will happen no matter what - but we would never be the same without it. know that i love you all, regardless of our current standing, and that our goodbyes and never forever. YOU. ARE. ALWAYS. IN. MY. HEART.


"and now?" gregor asked himself, looking around in the darkness. he soon made the discovery that he could no longer move at all. it did not surprise him; rather, it seemed unnatural that until now he had actually been able to propel himself on these thin little legs. otherwise he felt relatively comfortable. he had pains, of course, throughout his whole body, but it seemed to him that they were gradually getting fainter and fainter and would finally go away altogether. the rotten apple in his back and the inflamed area around it, which were completely covered with fluffy dust, already hardly bothered him. he thought back on his family with deep emotion and love. his conviction that he would have to disappear was, if possible, even firmer than his sister's. he remained in this state of empty and peaceful reflection until the tower clock struck three in the morning. he still saw that outside the window everything was beginning to grow light. then, without his consent, his head sank down to the floor; and from his nostrils, streamed his last weak breath. - franz kafka, the metamorphosis


e quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.