He lives.

My heart leaps.
I can't help but sing.
Tears fill my eyes. I know He lives.
My soul inflates. He is coming for His people. He is coming for me.
I see the day when I can touch His hands and kiss His feet. He will hug me and tell me He is proud of me. I see that most glorious day.

I am so afraid. Alas, He has sounded the call. I may be crying all the way to the airport but I will serve Him.
I will serve Him because He saw me in the garden. He bled for me. He wept with me. He knows me. He walks with me. He laughs with me. He loves me.
I will serve Him because I see Him on the face of my father. He is patient with me. He never gives up on me. He payed the debt for me. I feel Him everyday, every hour, every sunset. I feel Him in the stars, I feel Him when I'm walking down the street, I feel Him in the highest of highs, and in the lowest of lows. I feel Him in the grocery store, I feel Him in the clouds, most of all I feel Him in music.
I will serve Him because He serves me. He forgives me. He is the perfect example of what we should be. He pleads for me. He gives me guidance. He gives me hope. Most of all He gives me love.

I will serve Him because I love Him. I love His people.
My whole being is filled with gratitude. For the Savior of all mankind cares for me. He cares for you. He cares when you have a bad day. He cares if you don't get asked to prom. He's happy when you get that puppy you've always wanted. He cares if you don't make the football team. He cares when you get made fun of. He cares if you get asked on a date by the guy you've been crushing on. He cares when your duck dies. He's happy for you when you eat Chick-Fil-A. He cares for you when you've been pushing Him away for the last 4 months. He cares when you're making the wrong choices. He cares when you're making the right ones. He cares for you all the time. No restrictions. No conditions. No limits.

My ears are ringing. He is calling. He is calling. He is calling. I will answer His call. Then, when I have done all I can do, I will rejoice and stand before Him. He smile at me and He will say "come, there is a mansion prepared for you in my Fathers kingdom."

/ˈinfənət/

the moon kisses my cheek when i visit him at 1:53. And if you listen close enough he sings at 2:05.

the grass whispers sweet nothing into my ear as i lay back and let the stars dissolve into my eyes filling my brain with wondrous thoughts of heaven and hell.

sometimes when i think of love i think of heaven. mostly i think of hell.

the earth seems to move much slower past 12 o'clock pm. maybe she's tired from a long day of running. maybe she's happy to let the reminiscers try to grasp her beauty. my spirit connects to the stirring she feels in the ground. that’s how she knows she’s eternal.

the wind seems so much thicker past 12:05. he runs his fingers through my hair when i stick my head out the window. he loves to get lost in my hair when i ride bike. especially a scooter.

my soul screams to be alive. it’s currently 1:05.

i’ve been told i have an old soul. she tells me she’s not ready to start forever. 

she’s deep like the ocean but fills with fire when notes start pouring into her ears. this poem sounds better when Matty Healy is kissing the deepest intents of my heart.

sometimes i wish i could live at 1:37 from now until forever.

i see your soul at 1:37. i see your soul trickle out when your eyes light up with laughter. i see your soul light up when you come home with messy hair and lips that have been sucked on. my soul leaps for joy when i let my hair make love with the wind. my soul feels with dread and delight when i sing curse words at the top of lungs.

i wish i could live in this moment for forever. my favorite song is playing and i don’t remember why im ever sad. there are too many things too be happy about. then i remember my grandmas face when she sobbed over my uncles casket. then i see the pain in my mothers eyes when she remembers how miserable my sister is. she can’t give up the bottle. someone told me life is too short to be sad. my soul reminds me she is forever.

she is forever.

we are forever.

i am forever because when i see the clouds i know they are means of transportation to a land so much more glorious then our smog filled reality.

that’s why my soul visits the moon. it reminds her of where she came from. it reminds her she’s all powerful. that’s why my soul loves 3:08. the stars do their best shinning while no one is critiquing them. they shine the brightest at 3:08. sometimes they shine a little bit brighter for me. they twinkle for my soul to tell her they miss her. to remind her she is loved at home. to remind her be good. so we can all shine, dance, sing and laugh at home. in a palace of all white. with grand marble floors that sparkle. i heard they sparkle the brightest at 3:08 am….

/slip/

Do you know that feeling of sand slipping through your fingertips? It starts out slow, then all at once you have sand in your shoes. You're left with a few grains here and there to remind you of what you used to have. You want to keep the sand but it's too beautiful to be constrained to just one hand. It wants to sail through the wind, as it should.

We smiled, sang, laughed, teased, kissed, and I scooped you up. I had you in the palm of my hands. Happy to finally be there and telling me you would never slip away.

Sadly, every day I feel you slip a little more. Every time I cry I feel some sand hit the floor. 

Every time I say "what's wrong" I'm left with less then before. 

I don't catch you staring, you're laughing less and less, I can't tell if you're faking or hurting and slowly my fingers regress. Don't get me wrong it's not all gone. Darling, I'm hanging on with all I am. The more I squeeze the more falls out the ends of my hands.... 

The other girls rejoice! They can't wait to scoop up the beautiful sand. When I turn around I see that they already are...

I wish I could say I saw this coming, but I didn't. I'm a hopeless romantic who thinks the world loves me endlessly. I thought the world would let her keep the sand forever.

But what the world gives, she always takes away. 

So I'm standing here hiding my tears clutching to what sand I have left. Waiting for him to start a new chapter. Waiting for me to grow up. Sand was never meant to be kept. At least not for this long. So all in all I was lucky. To have such beauty cling to my hands as long as it did. Too feel such fire in my heart. Eventually luck runs out and reality hits. And the real world is cruel. I don't wanna grow up. I don't wanna grow up. I don't wanna grow up. I don't wanna pay bills. I don't wanna pay for class because then I have to go. I don't want to go on dates with boys who already have rings in their pockets. I don't want to talk my friends once a week through a screen. I don't want to cry anymore. I don't want to cry anymore. I don't want to cry anymore. 

All I want is my charming little sand in my hands. Whispering in my ear how beautiful I am. Making me feel like a warm summer rain storm. Holding each other for hours, and playing with his hair until he doses off. But he never was little. He's much too big for this town. And for my boney frail fingers. 

smoke

Young love isn't forever.
But we never were young.
At 16 he has the ocean in his veins and the universe wrapped around his fingers.
At 18 she is fire. The kind of beautiful that will give you 3rd degree burns. The minute they collided they made history. Because no one has ever seen fire and water do a waltz on the moon.
From that waltz on he had flames wrapped around his finger.

Now it's a tsunami every time she looks at him. That sends shivers down her spine in the best and worst of ways. Still, she's never looked back. Because a boy with magic in his eyes, beauty in his moles, and laughter in his smile lives 9 minutes down the road. She was born to knock on that door.

Fire doesn't just mix with water: young people aren't supposed to fall in love.

BUT OUR HEARTS NEVER WERE YOUNG.

You can't tell me fire and water aren't perfect partners for a waltz. If you read your textbook you would know H20 is a product of fire, just like her soul is a product of his.

Now she giggles at her fate. Since barbie dolls she'd always wondered why she felt so at peace in the ocean. Then he showed her his veins. And they thought about forever.

Class of 2015

I never thought I would hear the fat lady sing. 

I remember 6th grade graduation and now here I am. 

She truly has a beautiful voice. 

McCall Andrus. An 18 year old girl who spends too much time alone wondering why she doesn't feel lonely. 

I love my friends. High school has been great. But this chapter is over. My favorite part of the book is just beginning. 

The part where mom and dad become friends not parents. The part where boys get less annoying. (Hopefully) This is the part when I make dumb decisions but laugh instead of cry. The part where 1 am is really 9 pm. The part when every night is Friday night. The part where spontaneous trips can and will happen. 

I'm also afraid. Afraid of marriage hungry RMs. Afraid I will hate where I live. Afraid I will gain the freshman 15. Afraid I won't miss him. Or you. Or her. Afraid I will get sick of people. Afraid I won't make friends. Afraid I'll hate all the die hard Cougars. And honestly I will. 

But I am not afraid of high school ending. Although this was an amazing chapter, I can't wait to turn the page. 

So if you need some courage for this next year take my advice. 

Life is what you make it. So make better and better everyday. 

Good bye Paris, you truly were breathtaking in the moon light. 

With all my love, McCall. 

tomorrow

im slowly slipping into the unknown. but i know how i feel about tomorrow. tomorrow has always been filled with daisies and roses. and i dont know what to say when i meet today. and i don't know how to smile when it all becomes yesterday. because yesterday is all about crying and milk that you spilled. what do i do if You become my yesterday? because  Youre my one way ticket to ive never been happier. and I don't even like milk. so lets not talk about yesterday. still we are too young and too foolish to be talking about forever. so lets keep talking about tomorrow. because tomorrow sounds pretty from everyones mouth. everyone can be happy with tomorrow. and yesterday sounds dull. and i hear yesterday crying in the bathroom during lunch because she thinks she's never enough. at least that's what we all tell her. and today is too busy being on instagram wasting valuable time. because shes trying to make herself become tomorrow. (but i don't want it to be tomorrow.)

because im being abandoned in the unknown. and tomorrow cant tell me if You will still love me. and i like the way You push back your hair when your stressed. and I like the way today sounds rolling down Your lips. so we will just have to hold hands for today and keep dreaming about tomorrow. 

FOR ME YO

I'm falling in love with writing again and it's too late.
I was never good with goodbyes but I gave this class a kiss on the forehead and turned off the light.
Just like my dad did every night. Because that was my favorite way anyone has ever broken my heart.

I kissed Paris for the last time because I never got comments on my blog in creative writing 1 which made me think I sucked, so halfway through creative writing 2 I started writing for the comments.

Thirsty to prove to myself  I typed and typed thinking what would Jess and everyone else like?

Which is why I stopped posting. Because even though my name is hanging on the top, all the drafts do not spell M c C a l l.

Alas, a brave poet pulled me out of my pity party. Her name is Mallary. I did her blog anaylisis and her writing tangoed with my heart and reminded me why I took the trip to Paris a second time. Because some of her best posts had no comments at all.

SO SCREW THE DAMN COMMENTS.

I'm falling in love with writing again and it's too late.

Because the coolest kid in the class told me I was great. Colby told me he loved my love posts. And that made my heart warm and my face bright. BECAUSE I ENJOY WRITING ABOUT LOVE. It's driven by emotion and makes even the grinch feel warm. So get ready for more sappy posts about how I want to wake up every morning and see you buttering my toast.

Because I fell in love with writing again with only 17 more days.

I wish I would have realized a lot sooner that the best writers in the class aren't Nelson favorites. Because ALL of us are the best writers in the class. I love everyones style of writing and I don't give a damn how many comments the post got. Because life isn't measured by likes or favorites it's measured by the hearts you've touched and how many times you've made people smile.

I wish I would have realized a lot sooner. Because I could have touched a lot more hearts or made Colby smile more. But instead I ignored the stirrings in my chest and pretended like I didn't even want to spill my heart out all over my keyboard.

So I apologize to all of you, to Nelson, but mostly to myself. Even though I love you all I write for McCall. And that's the way it should have been all semester.

#creativeonmothersday

My first poem. Everyone was writing about how much they loved their mom and how awesome they were. Tried to be different. Lol promise my mom isn't lazy or rude.

43 degrees

my fingertips are cold.  i don't know if it's the dark thoughts im suppressing or the fact that i have another 6 hour shift in hell.

my arms are numb. it might be all the ice cream i ate tonight or it might be the fact that my best friend will be 4 hours away at the most frightening time in my life.

my chest is an ice box. i think it's because i never really wanted to be a cougar anyway. rise and shout i suppose.

 my body is numb. but i'd rather be numb when i drown than feel the water laughing as it pulls me down.

pocket lint

18. 19. 97.



When do things start slipping from our mind?
I'm 18 and half of my childhood slipped long ago.
I remember her bright eyes.
I remember Mr. Okey
I remember his warm smile.
I remember 4 square.
I remember loud laughs and full belly's.
I remember the scraps and cuts that were more valuable than gold.
I remember my last day.
I remember fresh watermelon.
I remember puppy breath and soft kisses.
I remember DC's and how cool I thought I was for owning them.
I remember being afraid of getting my first bra.
I remember thinking everyone was kind.
I remember when boys were finally cured from the cooties.
I wish boys wouldn't have been.

As I try to remember things are still slowly slipping. Falling from my mind and becoming pocket lint.
As I search my jeans I find so many memories.
My 6th kiss.
The second day of high school.
My 9th time at space camp.
All our old inside jokes
How insecure I was
How beautiful my sister was
Notes about my first crush
How excited I was to get my drivers license
My second flight on an airplane
Peeta Mellark
The first time I held hands
The first day without recess
How it felt to have braces
How far 20 seemed.
My obsession with the Jonas Brothers
How far 20 seemed.

Maybe I'll never throw my jeans away again.

Him

I know I always write about love but I'm 18 with the stars in my eyes.

And he's younger but his heart seems to be synchronized to mine.

My mom always told me love made the world go 'round so maybe that's why my heart is two sizes too large.

I don't blame her for having a picture of you in her room.

Because you kiss me like I'm your entire universe.

You speak of me like the Ocean speaks of the shore.

My fingers get tangled in your hair and your words.

You're..... most...... beautiful..... seen..... thing....... the...... I've..........ever...... beautiful...... beau........

I know I always write about love but I'm 18 with the stars in my eyes.

He looks really good in the color gray and smiles with his entire face.

He sings but only at night time

My eyes study him for hours. I still have 4 F's.

His hands are the Milky Way holding me in his universe for days.

And I think I'm falling in love with him. 

My mind tries to explain the song my heart is softly singing.

You're.....and......incredible.....stars.....my......in.......the......and.....I.........eyes.......love.........you.

raps pt. 2

I'm sitting here all alone 

Wondering, how I got so old

I turn 18 in 6 days 

The club will truly be going up on a Tuesday

High school has gone so fast

But let's be real it still sucks assssk

Me how often I go to class 

I only go to class where we spit sick raps

Remember the days when Math made sense

And the world ended at your picket fence

I miss the snacks the naps the picture books

I'm not sure how I'll survive in a world full of crooks

Don't be fooled I'm as bad as an Nicki

I'm smooth on the mic just like Biggie

Nelson thanks for a safe place to write and spit 

I hope to see you all after May 30th

rip

You always had a stellar laugh.

It's 10:51 and my room is an ice box. All of my toes have frost bite and I'm 99 percent sure my heart does to. 

They were so young.

I can't help but cry. Cry for them. Cry for their families. Cry for their short life. Cry for me. 

It's 10:53 and I don't give a damn about AP psychology. Because the chairs in my classrooms are slowly starting to empty. 

It's now 10:55 and my pillow is soaking. 

I will always remember playing at recess with you. You were so full of life. Weren't we all? 

My boots are heavy from the floods that have been destroying us and I don't know how to swim. 

Neither did you. 

I wanted to throw you a line but you never liked having help. At least I think so, my brain is a little fuzzy from my heavy boots. 

It's 11:01. I can't sleep. I don't want to. Because I will have to wake up and see puffy eyes and quivering  lips. 

We all want change but it keeps happening. 

When will the change come?

We all want change but this keeps happening.

When will the change come? 

WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING? 

It's 11:06 and all I can say is rest in peace Terik. Lone peak won't be the same with out your smile and your wonderful laugh. 

PSA.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT.

You're freaking awesome. 

I'm tired of people with hearts of pure gold crying because they think they are ugly, fat, too short, stocky, plain, twiggy or anything less than amazing.

We are all different. Different shapes, and sizes. We all enjoy different things. We all cry for different reasons. We all like different toppings on our pizza. So why put people in categories? 

Why does someone get to decide what's beautiful and what isn't? I say SCREW PEOPLE WHO THINK THEY CAN TELL YOU WHAT YOU ARE.
You may say brown eyes are boring but brown eyes make my heart skip a beat. I like hair that looks like I just crawled out of bed, I like boys with kind eyes, and a big smile. I don't care if their teeth are crooked or they have zits. But no matter how many times you've been told "beauty isn't what is on the outside it's comes from with in" we all never believe it. WAKE UP PEOPLE, MOMS ARE ALWAYS RIGHT.

Beauty isn't looking like a barbie doll. Beauty is seeing someones eyes light up when they talk about something that they love. Beauty is the moles that you've always hated but she loves. Beauty is the crooked smile that breaks across your face. Beauty is your blistered hands. Beauty is the curly hair that you can't control. Beauty is your laugh that could break a wine glass.

There is beauty in everything and everyone.

You know what, if you look in the mirror and think you're ugly you don't need to get a nose job, you need to get a new frame of mind.

So dry your eyes and smile. No one can tell you what you are and what you aren't. Just kidding, I can. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. Please believe me this time. Because I love the way the freckles look on your nose, and your smile is my most favorite thing I've ever seen. 

hags?

When we took a dip, the ocean breathed for the 1st time. We were the most beautiful thing he'd ever felt. Love asks us to do the craziest things. Being so pure we jump to do her every will.

The moon cried on Nov.16.2014. Through his whimpering he whispered in my ear. He's never seen anything so bold but so quietly beautiful.

He says I love you with his whole being. Which is frightening. I'm scared but I'm in love with screaming.

The stars danced for the 1st time your lips jumped onto mine. I know because on my trip to my moon,  I passed the stars doing a graceful waltz. The stars giggled and told me "love is a breathtaking and fleeting." I cried on my commute back into the atmosphere.

Your lips taste like 2:14. My heart is buried beneath the play ground. I dream of you like I dream of 2:15. We could laugh until my 83rd birthday.

I'm afraid of turning 84.

I don't really don't know how to end this.

But I remember the way your voice sounds like when you say the 3 letter phrase.

I remember the way your thumb hovers over my hands.

I don't really know how to end this.

But I do know I like the way your eyes light up when they meet mine.

I know your eyes are my favorite shade of tomorrow.

I know your lips are a rocket that travels at light speed.

I know that high school love is cheap.

I don't really know how to end this.

I'll see you soon?
I'll see you next summer?
I'll see you....
When I see you.

Tell Me Your Story

"The Eyes are the window to your soul”  -William Shakespeare

I've always believed you can read a persons story by looking into their eyes. I guess Shakespeare believed the same thing. #stolen

He was the all American boy. Brown hair, big laugh, bright blue eyes. The oceans churned every time he looked at me. His soul was calm and warm like a summer breeze. Sadly, I've found I like way the sand feels between my toes more than the salt water in my nose.

She never liked the color green. Still, the forest grows in her eyes. Boys take caution, it's easy to get lost amongst the beauty of the trees.

He thinks brown eyes are boring. His soul smells of cinnamon. I try to tell him "everyone likes the taste of milk chocolate." I've always liked aura of sweet dark amber. He doesn't know I've had cinnamon candles in my room for as long as I can remember. 

Remember when our eyes were full of eagerness and hope? Last time I walked the halls they were full of tears, drowsiness, and pupils the size of the moon. You didn't have an appointment with an eye doctor.

The teachers see us, but sadly few of us see ourselves.

I see you. I see a glimpse of your soul. I see beauty, courage, disappointment, love, fear, kindness, hate, boredom, and fascination. 

No matter the color of your eyes you're brilliant and beautiful and unique.

So wipe the tears that have been falling for months.

Look at yourself in the mirror and smile.

Your soul is beautiful. So read me your story. I've been dying to hear it.

i guess I'm having fun

If my life goes as fast these past 3 years have gone then I will be 84 by next week.
Every time I blink I am one year older and not much wiser.
4 periods seems like an eternity, but some where between 1st lunch and 2nd lunch I wound up in my senior year. Being honest I wouldn't know how grueling eternity can be because I haven't been to all 4 periods this entire year.

My bags are all packed, but I'm not ready to say my good byes.

2 years is too long.
Maybe if we measured time in songs instead of days it wouldn't seem so daunting.
A lot can happen in an album. Mostly because he looks so beautiful when he sings.
During "gossamer" I've gained 10 pounds, gained a pessimistic attitude, and finally understand why people always say "time flies when you're having fun."
I must be having the time of my life. 

You know if I could rename senior year I would name it "bitter-sweet".
Freshman
Sophomore
Junior
Bitter-Sweet
There are so many bitter things about high school. The traffic in the morning. (yes I am one of those ass wholes who cuts every one off. Sorry. Actually I'm only kind of sorry) The gross couples who think it's okay to be in love at school. It's not. The smell. The bathrooms. The awkward eye contact in the hall ways.

Thankfully,  there are these moments that are sweet. Those, those are moments we will remember when we are wrinkly by next Sunday. I will remember how hard I laughed at homecoming. I will remember my first kiss. I will remember seeing Britt after he got back from Hawaii. I will remember being a wild cat for a day. I will remember the baby powder at the football game. I will remember car surfing. I will remember falling in love with writing in Mr. Nelsons class. I will remember going insane with the one and only, Natalie Pliler. I will remember nights in the rain that took my breathe away. I will remember my first ceramics class. I will remember the night we won state. I will remember our first date. I will remember New Years Eve 2012. I will remember the nights that were so sweet I was high from the sugar rush.

Luckily, I've always had a sweet tooth. I've always craved those moments. Let me share some wisdom with you. Get in really close so you can hear it. Some times, sweet moments just fall right in your lap. But most of the time, you have to make your own. Find your own sugar in the vegetable isle. High school (and life) will be much more enjoyable.

I hope to see you all at our 25th class reunion. We will all laugh about the sweet moments because the bitter ones have drifted out of our ears. We can all laugh and reminisce the time we all forced people to kiss on top of cars and podiums. We can talk about the time we set goats amongst the school. We can talk about the time we took a trip to Paris. The city was so beautiful. The dessert was so sweet. Leaving was so bitter.