rachelbegins: (Default)
So.  I have a tattoo now =].

I decided to get it on my wrist because I want to always be able to look at it and remind myself of what I'm working for.  It's gorgeous, and I love it.  Of course, now I'm sort of addicted and I can't wait to go get some more.

Unrelatedly, Gunner has decided that he might still have feelings for me.  My brain is dizzy.

And I wrote this:

this sky is littered with cotton-ball clouds,
warm like an oil-painting. beautiful and blurred.
softened edges, laden with flaws as though
God had a shaky hand, was short on a
deadline, rushed. and you imagine yourself
with all the colors of perfection splattered
along your fingertips. a brush constructed
from angels' wings and you feel like infinity
to me; so unreachable, so unreadable. I
watch with sunken eyes as that brush of
yours skims along the canvas in front of you,
thick, bold strokes of primary colors that
blend to accurately describe this mess that
we have become. you see me with an
honesty that I could never understand, paint
my face in shades of yellow while I write to
you in clipped verses and uneven lines. this
is a sign that we are both missing, a way of
life that we have stopped believing in but this
time, I want nothing more than for it to be
enough that we are both the last of our kind.


ily, Shan.

rachelbegins: (brendon singing)
I think it would be pretty awesome if the world would just, please, start making some sense.  Kthnx? More on that later....

Anyway.  I'm pretty sure everyone knows what Dollywood is, but in case you don't, it's this big deal theme park-type thing in Gatlinburg, TN that pretty much everyone in Tn flocks to every weekend.  Seriously.  It's like our Six Flags, only it's owned by Dolly Parton [hence the name].  It's a really neat place, full of awesome rides and shows and such and I love it there, but I never get to go.  So when my friend/future room-mate offered me a free ticket to go with my high school on last Friday, I glady accepted.  Long story short, I had a freakin' blast.

It was so nice to just get out of the house and hang out with some friends that I don't really get to see very often, let alone spend time with.  I got a slight sunburn and my calf muscles hurt like hell, but it was worth it.

Saturday was calm, content.  Peaceful in a starry-eyed sort of way.  I pretty much just wrote and ate pudding all day.  Good times.  Nic called, and he was supposed to come over and bake a cookie-cake with me, but then he had stuff to do for his mom and couldn't.

Nic worries me a lot lately.  I feel like he's letting too many outside influences keep him from really being happy.  Yes, he's bi, but he doesn't really like to talk about it [it's okay that you know, Shan, just don't ever bring it up with him].  He was raised in a family that was neither here nor there religiously, and because of that, he feels like he can't be bisexual, like he isn't allowed to because of the religion he's chosen to follow.

Now, I love and support him no matter what, but I can't stand seeing him repress feelings just to keep everyone else happy.  I'm afraid that he's going to miss out on so much if he chooses to not act on any feelings he may have for guys from this point on, he might miss out on that One Person just because it might be a guy. 

There's nothing wrong with how he feels towards other guys, and I've told him this but it's hard for him to accept.  It's like... I read this book once, and it had this theory:  'As far as gay and straight is concerned, on a scale of 0 to 10, everyone on earth falls between 1 and 9.'  That makes perfect sense and I believe it wholeheartedly.  Sometimes it's hard to make other people understand that.

I want him to feel accepted by a church, to have them know about his sexuality and embrace it instead of turning him out and I know he wants that too.  Except.. I'm afraid that he's so scared of not finding it that he's not even going to bother looking, as if that would make it hurt less.  Maybe it will, but probably not.

I wish I could turn this blog to a lighter note, but I'm afraid all I have are minor chords.

College is still scary, high school is still stupid, and I am still afraid of the future but still hoping for the best.  This always happens.  I've been reading a lot of weird poetry lately, and in an attempt to fix this mess of words I've tossed together, I'd like to bring your attention to the new poem for this month.

'How to Tell a Story' by Shira Erlichman.  It's gorgeous and ridiculous and makes me smile with all my teeth, bright and real.  Look it up.  I hope it makes you think.
rachelbegins: (Default)
I never said it was a good poem.  It's rough, it's uneven, it's ugly but it's honest.  And for that reason alone, I want to remember it.  This is for Nic, for Shan, for the few.  They know who they are.

catch my letters in a butterfly net,
try to pin them down but they flutter
into place on their own, wistful and
begging for you to just let them go,
to just trust them to lead you in the
right direction, despite the mist that
has covered your eyes.

and they fly, they still, they fall
into words and phrases that you
can't bear to look at, that you cover
with your hand, force your eyes to
the  sky.  but the words, they burn,
they are persistent and with that
same dull doubt you put your hands
to your sides, cast down your eyes
and read:

'forever is a notion that we will never
understand, something we will never
live to see.  but for now, it's enough
just to know that I've got you and
you've got me'
rachelbegins: (brendon singing)
I think this icon accurately expresses how I'm feeling right now.  Here, have some quickly and poorly written poetry.

only the curious

these nights feel like forever, every second drags
on for miles and I am so far from home. I can't
see the light in your eyes from here, come back
to me?  come into the light so I can see that
smile and those eyes and we both know where
this is heading.  it's no secret that my heart, it
beats so slowly but in perfect time with yours. 
this rush of days and nothing will erase the mark
you've made upon my heart: a permanent reminder
that I will follow wherever you will lead me, out of
the woods and into a world where nothing makes
sense, not even you and it's true, I would give up
forever to touch you and I know that you feel me
somehow, you have to, I can hear it in your voice,
every I love you is left unsaid to die in whispers
between us, this empty static that plays on a
lonely radio, the one that's left behind. love, we
were perfection, the kind of forever that they are
jealous of.  and you, you gave it all  up for nothing. 
she may have a better kiss  but it will never last,
and all that I can give  you is everything I have:
a heart that's bruised but waiting for your arms,
two eyes that see the beauty that rests inside
of you, and a love that will wash over us and
calm this sea of uncertainty.  oh, and love, I
miss your voice, that quiet drawl in the early
hours to set me at ease, and those uneven
notes to lull me to sleep.  nothing will ever erase
the safety I found in your arms, the comfort I
depended on, the love that kept me above water. 
and all of it, I will remember.  youandme and
everything in between, every second another
reminder that I lost the other half of my heart. 
so I, I will stay here in the cobwebs of your past,
with every good thing you  left behind, waiting. 
time is nothing to me,I have more than enough,
every word we say is one step closer to where we
will end up, alone, together, at the end of the world

rachelbegins: (Default)
I've been listening to Bright Eyes a lot more than usual lately.  And you know, I listen to them a lot, but they're pretty much all that's on my Zune quick list these days.  And I'm even sad or lonely like I usually am whenever I listen to them.  Crazy stuff.

So, I saw the music prompt on Wednesday for we are cities and I started writing this crazy standalone... type weird thing.  It's more like a bunch of little scenes that sort of go together.  And I can't decide if I want to connect them all together or leave them all very loosely related like they are now.  Surprisingly, I really like them, I think that with a bit of work, they could be really good.

Also, I think I've some new friends to aid me in my fic writing =D.  I'm so excited, I love people giving me constructive criticism when I write, it's pretty much my favorite thing ever.  Besides, there's nothing like talking to another writer.  They put things in perspective, they understand where I'm coming from.

My poetry has kind of been suffering lately.  I don't know why, but I'm just not writing as much of it as I used to.  It's kind of hard to explain.  It's not like I write a lot of poetry anyway, but when I do it's intense and long and I love it.  Something about poetry just makes me feel comfortable.  I guess it's easier for people to criticize stories, poetry can mean whatever I want it to and no one says a word.  That sounds horrible, doesn't it?  Oh well.

Graduation is in a few months and I still have so many schools left to apply for.  My grades have never been really low, but they've also never really been as high as I would like.  I'm hoping that my high ACT score will help me get into my top-choice school, but I don't know.  I've always cared about my grades, but they've never really reflected that, I guess. 

Have any of you noticed that when I'm writing blogs, my writing doesn't flow at all.  I just jump around and switch to whatever pops into my head without any regard for how ridiculous I sound.  Hope that doesn't bother anyone. 

On that note, sort of, I'm considering making my journal friends only. I don't have a lot of friends, but I really want to keep my journal private while still knowing people are listening.  Thus, friends only.  Making a banner is gonna be the hard part, since my photoshop skills are pretty much non-existent. woot.

And I wish that I could spiff up my journal a bit more, but whatever.

Sorry for all the rambling.


rachelbegins: (Default)
the warm spaces between your fingers
feel like infinity to me and I'm drowning
in the depths of your dreams. the tear of
water in my lungs, the tug of razorblades
scraping skin. it's the illusion of shadows
when things go bump in the night and the
guidance of stars that are just satellites,
leading us all in a circle around infinity
that just loops back to being lost in the
eyes of needles, unseeing and not caring
about whether you make it through or not.

pinpricks bleed drops of tears and you
cry acid, they leave trenches in their
wake, scars you'll never be able to forget
and the past is never far enough for you to
let it go.  chew on your nails until they bleed
and taste the salt with broken eyes. let it
leak into old wounds because you still feel
like hurting yourself for things you never had
control over.  tear yourself apart until you
don't know how to put yourself back together.

it's the feeling that your heart is smudged
around the edges and you don't know how
to make it into something beautiful. the
disappointment you feel eating an orange
and then biting into a seed, and well, I'm
content with being the paper plate you spit
the seeds onto.  I'm waiting here until you
finally decide that you need me again.

but there's an edge to your voice that
cuts through my control like the skip
of a record, throwing me off and making
me feel nostalgic for those days when
it was easier to breathe and I didn't
constantly feel like there was a knife
lodged between my shoulder blades.

it's the reassurance of speakers pulsing
against your fingertips in beat to the
only thing that can save you, it's you
and me and keeping the windows down
all year, feeling snowflakes against our
cheeks at 30 miles per hour, it's taking
the perfect picture right before the batteries
die and it's the soft weight of you on my
mind that can always keep me grounded.

or maybe this is all an illusion that I'm
afraid to let go of, maybe it's losing the
lyric book to your favorite CD, even though
you already know all the words, afraid of
forgetting what you swore you never would.
the strobe lights of ambulances at 2 in
the morning and feeling detached from any
kind of sympathy,  falling with your eyes
closed because even when you know they're
waiting, you can't look to see the rocks.

you are such a natural at being loved that
maybe you don't take the time to learn how
to love other people.  that could be your
biggest downfall or the last boost you need
to make it out of this alive.  whether it's good
or bad or we never know the difference, I'm
still waiting in infinity with my fingers keeping
yours company until you make up your mind

rachelbegins: (Default)
It's quiet, following just behind your
shadow, sneaking just outside your
field of vision.  a small laugh that you
barley catch, just a turn of your head
and you still can't hear me, see me,
can you feel me? feel my love, soft,
just out of your reach.  just what you
thought you would never need, and
now you're finding it hard to breathe
without my smile to calm your nerves.
I will not be the drug that soothes your
troubled thoughts and I refuse to be
your last resort.  I can't help but want
to be your safety net, the one place you
can fall and softly land, a safe place that
only we can find.  we will follow the road
where it turns to gravel, take off our shoes
as it is reduced to dust, part the tall grass
by the water and squish our toes through
the mud.  I would tell you that I love you,
but you would only run.  and I would only
let you, dip my feet in the cool river, tread
water until I cannot see, cannot feel,
cannot hear your broken voice as it rings
in my ears:  'nothing we love will ever stay
the way we want it to, beauty fades and
love was created to be taken away', oh but
I never got the chance to tell you that love
is never created or destroyed, it just is, and
it is a gift, one that never leaves, but changes
forms.   water fills my ears and your heavy
footsteps have long faded, and my love
for you is waiting in every piece of this
mess I mistake for a heart, pulsing through
every beat and it has filled my body with
a fire that only you can put out, and you
have doused it yet again. 

I don't know what to say for myself.  Sometimes I just write, with no regard for the mess I make.

June 2009

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