/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.