small comforts

She checks Postsecret every Sunday
Record player breaks every other day
and never stands still unless she's balanced in posse
Moccasins too old, jeans too frayed
and slightly faded, she's comfortably jaded
Makes lists in her head for comfort
like an oversized sweatshirt,
it's there if you ever need it
She's been taking a different route home
to avoid the relentlessly bumpy road that led to his-
Some things hit too close to home
She never drives without a co-pilot
but takes the curves too fast
She likes the color violet
because it makes everything seem more vast
One glance at the red string on her wrist and you can tell what she believes
These days she wears a heart on a necklace instead of on her sleeve

How to be in a good place

I've said your name until it became just a word
I've looked at your face until it became just a blur
I can sing, dance, smile my way through
as I continue getting farther away from you,
to a place which is sure to be a good place
And I've mastered just the right pace.
Lounging in bed, planning to wed-
Doesn't mean much when the feeling is dead
So I'm bounding off into what's next
Thanks for this overdue, positive effect.

Being in a good place isn't always the most comfortable,
but it's better than being comfortable in a bad one.

Circulatory Lesson #1

"Emotions can affect the human heart, but they do not control it."

As I sit in Human Bio, this statement leaps out at me. This lesson is true, the SA node allows for atrial contraction. Valves allow blood to flow into the proper chambers. Oxygenated blood is sent to vitalize the rest of the body, for all body systems are interconnected. The miracle that occurs in the heart is thus felt throughout the entire being. The gears of a tiny Music Box have the ability to create a light whimsical tune. Yes, that melody is the product, the music, the very element for which the Music Box has been named for, but at the end of the day it’s those gears that hold all responsibility. How comforting to know that blood flows, no matter where the heart figuratively goes. There’s a science to everything.

what's in a name?

Don’t take away my name
The one thing that stays the same
In this twisted game
Of ignoring, pushing forward, forgetting;
Pretend we never met, change this setting
But I’m betting you remember my name.

Get the hell out of my bed.
At least, the version that's stuck in my head
From the times we spent all day
Close, whispering, in that comfortable way
Didn’t matter what we’d say
You may remember my bed.

I’ll change my sheets, cut my hair
Pierce my ear, try not to care
That you pierced more than my heart
But you don't remember that part.
Next time I'll be more cautious to start
I'll be more than a name

an exchange

"Here's your sweatshirt back"
"Forgot you had it. Do I have anything of yours?"
"No" Just everything.

replay

You charm me but disarm me
I should learn from my mistakes
and yet I mistook your words again
and increased the stakes
til the wound was opened
But I'll pretend I misunderstood.
"Sure, it's all good."

keep me where the light is

The performers felt the energy blossom within their souls like the flowers of early spring as they waited for the curtain to open. The young buds in bloom were anticipating the sunlight’s radiance, which would nourish their dreams and allow them to thrive in the only environment conducive to their existence. In the darkness backstage, the actors were exposed to their own thoughts, their own despair, their own sorrow. And because the young actors yearned for warmth, for belonging, for sanctuary, they sought to absorb the sunlight of for their souls- the spotlight. And since they struggled separately offstage, they sought the comfort of struggling as one, together, in the act known as theatre. Thus the small parts and the leading roles and the crew members became whole, under the brilliance of the lights.
When the curtain opened the most wondrous of all magical experiences took place: the actors worked in unison to tell a story to the audience. Stories were woven from individual people; people who, for the duration of the show, forgot about all previous misfortunes. The burdens of homework, college applications, the looming future, the daily family argument; they all vanished as the curtain opened. The warmth of the spotlight washed away every sliver of disappointment. The actors became the characters and parts of a new world only they could live in. A grand transformation had occurred, right in front of the audience.
The individuals that once were Leading Male and Sound Engineer and Prop Manager and Dancer had all become Performers, working towards the same goal: expressing an idea to viewers. Try to leave an impact on just one person; fuel someone to feel emotions, someone who had forgotten that happy tears exist; touch one person’s life. There. A single tear trickles down someone’s face and the Performers have accomplished a world of good. Each allows the spotlight to fill their souls, and in return the performance heals the souls of onlookers. Thus a cycle of pure fulfillment develops.
Each night the show’s power cured broken individuals; the Performers savored every trace of the bonds formed among those who put on a show, they basked in the comfort of the spotlights, they experienced the high produced by the sheer energy from standing on stage, they discovered how to channel their talents into a kind of entertainment so exhilarating and precious that everyone in the room could sense the love that was put into each line of each scene. Live theatre is a spiritual process.
Each night the show offered an escape to the audience, who had not the slightest hint of how the production was created. The illusion produced requires perfection, creativity, and insanity. The pre-show rituals are endless and distinguished among each Performer.
Want to sing a prayer before we go on?
Sure, let’s harmonize to the one we always sing. It’s so soothing.
I know. Let’s go in the corner. And we have to whisper.
True. Don’t want anyone’s body mic to pick up the sound.
And each night, catastrophes were avoided. The shows ran smoothly despite the one leotard that somehow walked out of the dressing room, the cues that were called a millisecond too early, the props that were set on the wrong side of the stage, and the inevitable costume changes that had to be executed in under a minute. Every second is valuable.
Hey, can you unzip this? It’s a fast change.
Of course. Remember to unclip your mic before you switch shirts.
Got it. Thanks.
Conversations are hushed and brilliant solutions must be reached seconds after an obstacle arises because the show continues no matter what. The spotlights will proceed to glimmer down on the stage and those who grace it. The story must be told regardless of the mic that stopped working in the second scene or the embarrassing wardrobe malfunction caused by the pants zipper that broke during a lightning fast costume change. It’s a wonder individuals are willing to subject themselves to such uncertainties, potential humiliation, and stress.
But in some, the energy will always continue to blossom within their souls like the flowers of early spring.

girls in the mirror

we
we danced
we danced together when we were younger and didn't have a care in the world as we strummed our blow up guitars to the music in a toddler's mind standing on top of a toy box.
but now, we dance around each other instead of with.
we live in separate realms where we think separate thoughts.
we live, love, and meet
together occasionally when we dance to the same beat. But these moments are fleeting.
The same bathroom mirror reflects the same conversations we have every morning and the shared moments that sometimes only occur while getting ready on chaotic mornings, in transit to different moments with different people thinking different thoughts about the world than we did.
but we did, we always will be those girls in the mirror who were reflections of each other only captured by the reflection in the mirror.

Scenes from a Fifth Grade Wallflower

He was a new student from Arizona who entered my 4th grade class.
He spiked his bangs like the rest of the boys did to look cool.
He once blocked a goal in gym class by doing a perfect center split.
He did martial arts at the talent show on the last day of school.
He sat next to me in Ms. Conron's 5th grade class, the first time we really talked.

"Isn't it funny how we never talked until recently?" he asked, eyes shining.
"That's just because our seats are next to each other," I replied coldly.

He moved away, he moved back, and then entered the lives of others. He easily slipped out of my own, something that tends to happen after elementary school graduation.

One day this past spring, I walked to my bus alone. He was walking towards the school, and our paths crossed for a flicker of a moment. He looked up at me and waited to see if I would offer a hint of recognition, warmness, anything. I smiled and waved, he returned the greeting, and we went off in our separate directions.

"Truck fatally strikes Warren Township teen on Route 78." He hasn't been in a class of mine since Ms. Conron's fifth grade class, and now he never will. You can hardly know someone, but when that someone is gone, your mind becomes illuminated with the ghosts of conversations past.

random memory

I remember when I was in elementary school, my dad took my sister and I for a ride to the supermarket. He explained that some people were not as lucky as we were, and then proceeded to describe to us what a ‘random act of kindness’ was. The words seemed important, but I did not yet understand their meaning. We reached the supermarket, which had some people shopping who looked like they wished they could buy more. Those people must have been the not as lucky ones my dad had talked about before. My dad gave an envelope with some cash in it to a father and son who were shopping nearby, and they thanked him graciously. I don’t remember the amount of money in the envelope, but that is not what matters. What matters is that right then and there, the mysterious words clicked. I learned that anyone could perform a random act of kindness, and the result made the receiver happy, which in return made the giver happy.