Center Stage

I once went to a concert. A free concert by a band I didn't know much of. I'd heard a couple of their songs, but I only went because my friends were going.

The lead singer spoke. He told us about a mobile app for love. He said he didn't think love was supposed to be that way. And he asked if that's what love is in this century. And then he sang. His voice was so powerful that I swayed along, the bass so heavy that my skin vibrated with ever beat, the roar of the crowd consuming.

Two days later, I heard another man speak. He had a different kind of voice, quieter, more distant, but just as powerful. A different call to action, so unlike the first. But I didn't want to act.

Now I'm drowning in the words. I can't dance but the music is everywhere and I don't know what to think. I could dance with everyone else, but I stay out of the limelight because I've never been good at being the center of attention. It's too overwhelming. So instead I watch as everyone else stays afloat, and I'm still drowning. 

Perfect World

My mom tells me I almost died once because I was accidentally left in a hot car for too long. Don't worry, though, I've almost died plenty of times since then, but I'm still here.

We were horrible students in junior high. We once convinced the teacher to let us outside during class and we sat in a line braiding each other's hair. The girls did, that is. I don't know what the boys did, I didn't pay attention to them back then. 

I went with my friend to her martial arts class once. I realized it's a good thing she was on my side because I'd she wasn't, shed take me out in two seconds flat. 

Once my brother and I played the Sound of Music soundtrack to fall asleep. We kept getting up to repeat the CD all night. That was an off-night, because usually I fell asleep listening to CDs intended to help me learn Latin and Spanish. 

In fifth grade I only had one friend, so I based my self-worth off what I could do better than others. Once I beat Jesse Holmes in the pacer. Didn't make me any more friends. The next year I won an award for poetry recitation, and another running race. Still didn't help. 

An old couple around the corner used to always make homemade ice cream for the kids who came around. Usually we took a shortcut through the neighbor's backyard, but once I rode my scooter there, crashed into the curb, and went flying. I didn't get ice cream that day, but my chin was purple and bruised for a month. 

But the point isn't that all these things only happened once, although that is the case. The point is that they happened. At least I learned something from all those wasted years. Even if it wasn't much. 

Share The Moon

On a bench swing at sunset.
By the bank of a small river.
On the back porch early in the morning.
At the park in the middle of the night.
On a hill in the dark.
In an empty bedroom at 11:37 pm.

Someone once told me I laugh too much, so I did my best to stop laughing.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
I wish I had taken more pictures.
The ones on my wall both hurt and heal.

I miss the feeling of thinking I was in love.
I want someone to hold me.

It was harder than I imagined because I remembered.
Reading what he wrote was like being wrapped in a hug.

If you make friends with yourself, then even when you're alone you won't be lonely.

But I still can't help feeling alone.

Ghost

Dear Girl,

It's okay to cry. It will make you feel better if you do. Trust me, I understand the pain of being without a shoulder to cry on. So just let it out.

Love,
Your Heart

Something Real

Life didn't turn out the way I expected it to.

I expected not to be worrying about money as much as I am
I didn't expect to be seeing a therapist and I didn't expect the therapy to be free.
I expected to have more friends, and I didn't expect to be all right with having so few.
I didn't expect to be dreading home.

I expected to feel pain, but not over boys who are men now.
I didn't expect my laptop to stop working three weeks into the semester.
I expected to get more letters in the mail.
I expected to have good friends, not a best friend.
I didn't expect to get along with my roommates.
I expected to cry more.

I didn't expect waking up at seven to be so hard.
I expected to eat, but I didn't realize how much it would cost.
I didn't expect to be writing letters to so many people.

I expected to be lonely. I didn't expect to be okay with it.

I expected to have more scholarships.
I expected to travel more.
I didn't expect to be planning spontaneous road trips with my best friend.

I didn't expect to find myself.
I expected to grow less spiritual, not to find myself closer to God.

I expected to hurt, but not this much.

Become You

I don't know who I am. I never have. I don't even know who I want to be.

But I know I don't want this. I don't want the endless days of routine and wondering if this emotional pain will recede. Hoping it will, terrified it won't.

I want to follow my heart. I want to be a person who is at peace with who she is and can make mistakes and have successes and face consequences all on her own.

The last time I followed my heart, my parents found out, and they were not happy. But it was worth it. Every minute.

It's Alright

This is for the boy who didn't make the team. 

This is for the young women stuck somewhere between adolescence and adulthood. 

For the 32-year-old man who never married.  

This is for the old women who don't think they're going to be around very much longer. For the older women who are probably right.

This is for the father who sends his daughter a letter because he might be too scared to call her up.

For the girls who lost their little brother before they were old enough to understand what dying is. 

This is for the boy who lives in New York. 

For the best friends who don't see each other often enough. 

For the kids who used to do everything together and now rarely talk. 

This is for the cousins who live three states away. 

This is for the brothers and sisters who don't get along with each other. 

This is for the college students who are trying too hard. 

For the boy she hasn't seen in months. 

This is for the girls who bought crazy pants together before they were forced apart. 

For the man who can no longer hear and is scared but doesn't want to admit it.

This is for the friends who never see each other anymore. 

For the adopted children. For the parents who lost their children and the children who lost their parents. 

For the friendly families and the family friends. 

This is for the teenagers who never made friends with their grandparents. 

For the mother finally reunited with her son. 

This is for the widow and the widower who are getting married. 

This is for the girl trying to find peace. 

For the first one to die and the last one to cry. 

This is for you. And this is for me.