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.