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RILL TALK

I'VE BEEN LYING TO YOU FOR SIX MONTHS

--Things You Should Know But Probably Don't--

You should probably know already that I love Nutella.

I respect you enough to remind  you that I give in to wonder and am easily impressed and I'm always jealous of something that I don't have authority to be jealous of. I lose all reason in the face of beauty and marvel at anything that proves there is a God. I would hike the tallest mountain just to see the view and become an astronaut just to see the world.

You should touch my fingers and hair because I need connections and reassurance and contact. I need a
physical representation to satisfy my busy mind. You should know that one brush against me can do more than any words ever did.

You should learn how to play the violin  because you should know that the violin gets me. The violin reaches across my throat and holds me, pinned to the ground with nowhere to go. It hypnotizes me and erases me completely. 

I don't even play it.

You should smile because you would know that I hate doing what everyone else is doing but I refuse to go to a party alone.

You should be scared because you probably know (or will find out) how emotional I am.

I'm a girl.

That isn't why I'm emotional. I take everything very seriously and cry over spilled milk. I love you, but I don't know if you love me so I might hate you. I get lost in movies and still can't watch Jurassic Park because I get nightmares for weeks. I'm impulsive and should have never been allowed to text in the first place.

You should also most likely bring me Nutella when things like this happen.

You should know that I'm 13th in the Lone Peak Class of 2013, and that's pretty cool, cause 13 and '13.

You should know the name of my other blog and read it when I'm not watching.

You should stare at me because you would know that I only pretend that it makes me feel uncomfortable, your eyes on me. You should know how much I love faces. Faces speak when speechless and in their eyes I see a different color fire in each pupil. The rings under the all-seeing globes hang limp and unnoticed but I see them. You should know that I love to watch the corners of your mouth twitch with every new thought and perception.

Never forget how much I love writing words. How much I hate writing things like this and that when I write about myself it just isn't going to be good writing, okay? 

You should absolutely know that there is no way I would ever read this as a slam poem and that I am terrified to do that. You should also know that I hardly ever get nervous and I've only blushed once.

You should know that I eat turkey pepperoni and craisins and you should know about my dog. You should know that I hate mexican food and that I hate group projects. You should always remember when my birthday is, which by the way is July 6th, and you should get me presents even when I don't get you one. You should take me camping and bring the bug spray because I always forget it, and you should bring your guitar so that we could sing songs around the campfire. You definitely should not force me to go to institute. You should clap when I do a flip on the trampoline because you should know it took me eight years to figure it out. You deserve to know that you should keep your ringer volume loud on your cell phone at night so you can be awake when I call you in the middle of an anxiety attack. You should catch the spiders in my room and never tease me about it. You should write valentines with me. Or to me. You should know that I hate sitting in the back but for some reason I'm sitting there because I sit where the teacher puts me. You should know that I really didn't want to be a bucket list item. (I became your bucket list item)

You should know that I hate the name Alicia but love the name Alice and I wish I could be Alice. Alice the brave, Alice the wonderful, Alice the wanderer. I'm attached to Alice just like I've been attached to every boy who said I was beautiful and every dog that ever licked my hand. Can I be Alice in my dreams? Maybe then I can walk the wet, shining streets of Paris and throw my hands out and call this place her home, where she'll never leave and always welcome the girl who once used her name to impress people.

Remember me, 

Forget me,

Tear me to pieces.
I'm sorry for lying.

Tempt me.

Kalli Paige

Unfinished Sentences

Really, I don't think that you are going to

It is just so fantastic that you decided

The cherries on the veranda are really

Coffee cake and coffee in the

I'm afraid you don't have long until

Can't we do anything for his

I think I'm in love with

Your nose is touching my ear and I'm

Can you get a book called

You always reminded me of

He would be so perfect if

Honestly I don't remember the

I seriously can't finish the

I regret that I

Only two more

You are

I love

I will

Feel

I Remember

I'm sure it was intermingled with a dream, the sensation of a touch. I have an active imagination and I'm sure
I remember more than what actually happened. I remember knots in the string I was pulling on and frayed ends of a rope. The sand under my toes was full of shells that seemed to disappear when I searched for them and footprints in the sand came from seals marooned on the shore. I breathed in sea salt that poisoned my reality and I remember the boy who never glanced at me. My joints throbbed with the burden of waves hitting limp limbs and I collapsed, becoming a meal for the always starving jaws of the waves.


The tears run down my face but I don't remember the dream.


I told everyone that night but I don't remember the kiss.


Of course the phone rang again and again. I didn't want to answer it. My second grade self cowered at the phone that lit up every five minutes. Orange light, orange light. I turned the ringer off but it just kept ringing and I couldn't do anything but watch the caller ID on the screen. I don't even remember if it ever stopped.


I remember staring at letters on the billboard and wrinkling my forehead to make out the scribbles that seemed to form letters. The incompetency I felt. The permanent wrinkles remind me, the scar on my eyelid reminds me. I look at my face and I remember.


I remember your fingers interlaced with mine as we innocently swung them down the street. Whenever I crush a soda can I remember the embellishment on your heel that you wore down the road. You asked me if I took choir and I remember you considering it. Maybe it was because of me. I remember the yearbook and potential marriage offers made in childish games. I remember the fear and I remember the absolute resolution in which you spoke. I can't remember what I was afraid of, and I don't remember your face.


I stared at you through the screen and pushed you away faster than you had crept up on me.

Symbiotic Relationship

I'm always impossibly attached to the things I can't hold on to.

A turquoise pair of earrings I got from an Indian shop.

Pearls that found their way down the drain.

A dollar coin that the vending machine spit out.

A part of me is distributed within the 

gutters of New York and 

in the inches of hair snipped off

and hiding in the corners of hotel rooms.

I 'm sure he'll keep his part.

I'm sure it will be some sort of treasure.

But that's how the attachment always starts,

always with trust. 

I loved that dog. 

They took that dog away from me,

and she was the only one I could relate to.

Oh, she was wonderful.

There's somebody else who took a  piece,

and ate it. 

Right in front of me.

He boiled it and ate its tender parts.

Too many of my attachments are leaving.

Leaving as treasures and with my own treasures.

The parts of me I've sent

are filling a void in somebody else

and digging a deeper one in my heart.

Telling A Lie

So you want to play devils advocate.
I can't blame you.

Start simple, with your mouth. Curl your mouth around the snarling words like you found them in an encyclopedia. Form each syllable with precision and an unwavering tongue. Echo confidence and part aggression. The words are the truth and the words are your mind. The words are what you know and only what you know and their grand entrance must be grander than their sister's.

Slowly unclench your stiff knuckles and relax your hands. Never wipe palm-sweat onto your pants--cleanly wave them to portray emotion. Don't overuse them though. Don't touch your face. Don't cross your arms. Don't cross your fingers, in front or behind. Don't fix your tie. Don't zip your zipper, twirl your hair,  bite your nails, tuck in your shirt, don't, don't, don't. The key is nothing.

Convince yourself. Not of your rottenness or of your falsity. Convince yourself of the truth. Relate the nonsense to your frontal lobe slowly and with detail. Illustrate a novel of experience to accompany it and erase any previous drafts. This is why, this is how, this is when. Release your superego and capture your inner id, allowing all inhibition to escape and find a new owner. A fire in your brain, a stove in your heart, a cold, icy look on your face. Don't twitch.

Lastly, engage your eyes. Control the dilation of your pupils. Apply a glimmer to them that is beyond passion and  that portrays truth. People can see mischief in there. If you can't control your eyes you can't control your lies. Do not, under any circumstance, allow them to glow or light up in anger or frustration with yourself or with another, unless they are alight with the burning flame of truth.

You have the lie, you've birthed the lie, you are the lie.

This could have been a lie.
Alice

Hey,

I just wanted you to know,

 that I'm claustrophobic and it isn't helping that you are standing so close to me because I can feel the heat of your palms reaching out for me and I am somehow frozen by the warmth. I'm so frightened of you that I can't resist you and I'm terrified of  your capabilities and wants and needs and of you. I really can't imagine holding you for longer than a few seconds but I can't imagine life without your arms around me. The details are minor, but love is embedded within them. Like the thread hanging off your shirt. I hate that thread. I hate that dangling red rope swinging under your arm but I dread the moment when I'll have to pull it out.

I'm dreading you and your words and your sentences like I dread my AP tests. Exactly not like my AP tests are how I long for those words and can't go a day without them.

Scrutinize me and tell me I'm boring, normal, not-likable and I will stare back at you with warm eyes and willing feet. Throw me in a gutter. Tie me to a moving car. Lock me in a basement and never feed me.

Whatever you want dear, whatever you want.

Maybe it's just the love I'm afraid of.

Just Always

"Oh honey, it was just today."

Only today, only tomorrow, only yesterday. Only always. Forgive me for being cynical but I'm reaching for something that nobody can understand and for a call that no one will hearken to. I breathe slower and pedal faster, going nowhere, finding you. Always finding you. At every corner, in every book; my story is getting anti-climatic and you are ruining the plot. Mouthing the words but never speaking them; glancing but never looking at me. Touching your finger to my lips but never daring to linger longer, assuming independence. 

"Oh honey, it was just today."

Just today when he glared and thought I was preoccupied. Just today when I was the dramatic one and it meant less than pennies to anyone else. Just always. Just always. Your narcoleptic limbs amaze me; one moment rushing towards me with the force of every gale that ever gushed through the canyon, and the next indifferent and unaware of my brain studying you and willing you to remember. Your words softly land on my shoulder but are never directed to the source, never attain their full interpretation. Narrow your eyes and focus on who I am for one moment. Remember my name, remember my face, but recognize my deformed figure in a crowd. 

"Oh honey, it was just today."

When I'm transformed into an imaginary voice and an imaginary opinion and he likes it. When I somehow know and he somehow knows too. My fears are worth more than my desires and I despise it. I am contemptuous and unforgiving, and I cannot draw the veil from my eyes. Read me and remember, draw nearer and discover a girl who is different but the same.

This has been BBC

Welcome to Science Friday here with BBC News.
Recently, new discoveries have propelled the revealing of a new species capable of things currently forgotten by mankind. The species exhibits intelligence and simple reasoning, along with complex spacial abilities. The species has been found to be emotionally involved in all aspects of its short life, along with passionate endearment towards poetry and Austin and Bronte romance. Currently, all other evidence is unstable and the organism itself is unfortunately invaluable without further conclusive evidence.

This has been BBC news.

tarnished

The sponge runs smoothly over the black, tarnished surface of a spoon.

The silence of the house reinforces the loneliness of a house-cleaner,

a reminder of her selfishness.

The whiteness of the cloth is soon blackened, along with

her worn hands that now look as if she had worked in a coal mine that entire day. 

The forks are the hardest; their sharper-than-average prongs pricking her 

fingers through the thin sponge of the silver cleaner.

It pleases her and gives her satisfaction to watch, as the hopeless black rusty

handle becomes her own reflection. 

As clear as water in a pond on a brisk summer morning,

she stares back at herself, wondering if, maybe,

we all need a little polishing every six months or so.

guys I'm bad at this

Abandoned by an adventure.

Synonyms

Night

Dark

Black

Lost

Stolen

Wander

Unknown

Obscurity

Gloom

Evening

Midnight

Dim

Dead

Nocturnal

Ebony

Oblivion

Thick

Broad

Substantial

Night

I've been such a fool

Sometimes I wonder if being sentimental is a good thing.

I asked my grandparents to come to my graduation; they offered me money instead.

When Santa comes, I sometimes just wish I had a check for the two hundred dollars he spent on clothes that didn't fit and dolls that I grew out of nine years ago.

I've never believed in the Easter bunny.

I burned the poem you wrote me yesterday because it reminded me too much of that little sophomore who made me feel more beautiful than the moon.

The pictures of moments that I pinned on my wall have holes all in between everyone's eyebrows and on their wrists and I'm starting to wonder if I'm destroying my past.

We ate all the cookies that we made for Christmas tree ornaments.

Nelson, He said only six words.

I never wished the best wishes.
Small                Remembering is easy; reliving is difficult.
freckles   Needles
on my              in
knobby              my 
knees.                    arms
     realizing you'll never weigh           for
            100 pounds.                  hours.

Keys under my fingers like friends.

Arm, hammer, nail                                         HAMMERING
knife bullet noose.                                          FALSE
                                                                     DELUSIONS
                                                                     INTO
                                                                     MY
                                                                     HEAD.

            Fireplaces that smell like Christmas eve.
Hi, I'm
Awful-                                Just lie here 
Who are you?                     and whisper small. 
I wish I could be embarrassed.                                    

I never really took French

À  q u a n d  r e m o n t e  l a  d e r n i è r e  f o i s  q u e  j' a i  d a n s é ?

A v e c  q u e l q u' u n ? 

S i  s e u l e m e n t  j e  p o u v a i s  t e  d i r e  c o m b i e n  j e  t e n a i s .

a v e c  a m o u r ,
                            a l i c e

How to Flirt

According to my mom: Just be nice. Stop being grumpy or no boys will ever like you. You have to at least pretend like you think that they are cool. They all have low self-esteem.

According to Charlotte Bronte: It is necessary to portray a helpless woman while also seeming independent. An innocent heroine who saves her love from beds set aflame will easily capture the heart of her lover.

According to Stephanie Meyer: Stare and give off an uninterested and creepy vibe. Become completely self-absorbed and dependent on your lover, and surrender yourself to his every will while having extremely low self esteem.

According to high school students: Hug at every opportune moment, snuggle up close to him when you are 'cold,' and laugh at every joke. Make sure to take note of every significant action he takes and exaggerate it while acting very impressed. Touch his arm.

According to my dad: Boys have low self-esteem.

According to followers of Steve Jobs: I <3 your data plan. Let's iMessage until 3am. :*

According to Beethoven:

According to e.e. cummings: i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

According to a 12-year-old: Deliver chocolates to her doorstep but don't let her know it is you. Sign it Anonymous. 

According to the UPS man: Ask her to not only sign for the package, but to write her number.

According to birds: Dance like a crazy fool and puff up your chest in order to seem more important. Tweet.

According to Justin Bieber: As long as you love me, we could be starving. This could present a problem because we may both be near-dead, but as long as you love me, I'm sure we can find something to eat. (each other?)

According to Mr. Nelson: Love is a rattlesnake. Love is a toothbrush waiting for toothpaste. Love is like eating your first hamburger. Love is when my wife picks out my clothes for me. Love is rap music. NOBODY KNOWS WHAT LOVE IS, BUT IT SURE IS WONDERFUL AND ALSO A PAIN!

According to Alice: A waste of time that should never be practiced among peers because it demonstrates extreme incompetence and dependency.

The things I thought this day

My parents made green pancakes.

Green is not a creative color.

I didn't miss you, cold.

Collegeboyscollegeboyscollegeboys.

I'll never be here again.

Turkey pepperoni sounds very delicious at this moment.

I hate peeling potatoes. They can eat their potatoes with the peels on for all I care.

Not cool, Robert Frost.

My hair still matches my eyes.

Oh, baby pine tree. Someday you will be beautiful and then we will cut you down.

COLLEGEBOYS

Oh, I wish I had gotten one of those brownies.

How can she keep her Cadbury eggs in the same bag as her Goldfish? That can't taste good.

Stupid earwig. Die earwig, Die.

I can't believe I thought this would work.

She let him drive?!

Oh, I want to marry him. Oh, why is he engaged.

Hipster weddings.

The most important word in the English language is not love. It is remember.

You are the precious adornment worn around the neck of your ancestors.

Must lose weight while eating what I want and sitting on the couch.

collegeboys?

Can you call them University boys?

universityboysuniversityboys

BAR-B-QUE

This post is stupid. I hope people read the previous one.

somebody different

He stands perfect,
Commander of the Stars,
Pleading for an impossible obedience
And raising a standard.
He battled for choice,
And entrapped the Father of all Hate.

His ultimate love enfolds us,
Despite superiority that makes
His compassion unnecessary.

And yet,

He builds bridges beneath us
And creates tangible comfort
Like warmth.
His scarred hand is a beacon
Among the black struggle.
Full of strength, never wavering.
Lost, look up.
Fallen, but not down.

The life in my lungs,
The blood pumping through my arteries,
The soul in my throat
All leap with unquestioned gratitude
For their mechanic functions.

His acceptance is unconditional,
And he already toils on high
To created a permanent home for us.

He eagerly and patiently awaits
With mercy draped around his very
Existence.
Sending support and tears for sorrow,
His frame
Is selfless.

Nirvana

They lay there, side by side; so close they could feel each other's auras. She gazed up and he gazed at the outline of her face in the glorious dark. She said,

"It's like they are talking to us. I think I finally know what this is about."

and he said

"What"

She sat straight up and leaned back. "All these lights in the sky. It's all one terrific and challenging enterprise--great spheres of hot gas and fire and debris all surrounded with some kind of magnificent nothingness. To get anywhere, we have to trek through the nothingness and brace the threats of endless unknowing. To experience that glory of discovery and faith and...just new. We have to face the black."

He nodded his head. Face the black.

So they stared innocently upwards; not looking at specifically anything, not searching for a star to wish on, not for Andromeda, not for man-made satellites. Their eyes somehow opened to the vastness of the outside, managing to focus on the everything of it all. Seeing as a whole, seeing the integral parts of the oblivion, it changed things. And they knew. Instantly their eyes opened to the world outside of this one, and instantly they knew eternal purposes and never-ending promises. And as they grew older, they never hesitated or questioned because they remembered.

And now for some Star Wars quotes. (I know you secretly love them.)

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"

“That’s no moon, it’s a space station.” 

“Into the garbage chute, flyboy!”

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

"You don't need to see his identification...These aren't the droids you're looking for...He can go about his business...Move along."

"Don't call me a mindless philosopher, you overweight glob of grease."

"Yousa thinking yousa people ganna die?"

"I'm haunted by the kiss you should never have given me."

One more...

"Love won't save you, Padme. Only my new powers can do that."

Psyche

I'm laying helplessly on the ground and attempting with considerable determination to eliminate the arch in my back. It somehow seems detached from reality; the vertebrae lifted in a perfect bend above the carpet. I want so badly to somehow force myself to mold completely with the flat surface beneath me, to merge my irregular and curved body with the straight, uniform lines of the foundations around me.

 I just, really want Nutella.

I guess what I'm saying is that I need to distort and carve myself to have harmony with everyone around me.

a famous death

It was supposed to be beautiful.

Lying in the bed until one night, you were just gone and your body weighed .3 oz less, because a part of you left, and they proved it. They scientifically proved it.

It was supposed to be perfect, like a good dream that never ended. Like an old man who looked forward to the future with his aging wife and his children around his bed, thanking him for his colorful life. We were supposed to hold your hand until the end and then look back and smile at all your jokes and look up and say how much we knew you were there and how much you would never leave. There would be tears and hugs and more tears but good tears. Like salt that somehow heals wounds with a sting that curdles blood.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

It was all over and everyone knew. I think they always wanted it this way, with the cameras and the flashes and the bullet that started a hundred wars. Wars of hate and wars of change and wars to fight other wars. Because you could never imagine making an impact without the gunshot,

screaming,
echoing,
ceasing

Are you happy now?

So many angry people, so many unjustified parents, so much terror. Stop now, ban this, make a law against that. This isn't the problem, that didn't cause it.

          you just wanted the fame

You tried out for the second grade play when you were seven. You acted your best and you gave it your all but they made you the tree in the background.

A tree with no opinion,
                  no part,
                  no influence.

Maybe that was when it started
                     
                   you just wanted the fame

And now, you can have it. You can have that nasty recognition that Mrs. Robertson or Smith or Almond never gave to you as a second grader. You can have the nation looking at your body that weighs .3 less and you can smile at your disgusting handiwork that gives you permission to look down and smirk with  pride. This doesn't change anything. Your news was only screams of spilled souls on the front page of every newspaper and you were the subject of every tweet and facebook and instagram and pinterest post for months.

You didn't understand the beauty of passing,
                                                       leaving,
                                                       cherishing.

                                         you just wanted the fame.

My own baby polar bear

I'm in a frenzied state of isolation with no hope of escape. My drowsy eyes stare at the alarm clock that has been wrenching me out of bed since I was eight. The 'Snooze' on the snooze button is worn away and I can't even remember the last time I didn't push it.

I keep having dreams about polar bears and big dogs. All I want is for them to love me and cuddle with me and lazily dream next to me while I write. But I can never catch them. Sometimes the polar bear follows me around and lets me love it for a moment, before it disappears. 

Does this demonstrate my need for an emotionally stable lifestyle with more trusting relationships?
Or relationships at all? Maybe.

I 

NEVER 

DREAMED

I 

WOULD

NEED 

LOVE 

MORE 

THAN 

MY 

OWN

IDENTITY

But here I am, and the truth is that I did dream. Not of needing love but of needing that stupid polar bear.

constellation saviors

Never dread the day when I have no words to spit at you.

My thoughts are frozen on specifically,

you.

 and the world rushes by,

leaving me in its wake.

Followed by the rhythm of 

Long-short long-short long-short

Them?

Ain't nobody got time for that!

You?

Ain't nobody got time for you, 

or your jokes or games or gambles.

Those stupid gambles.

Remember me when I'm still here and never 

forget the distance of the race

until you are running it.

The ancient souls who watch 

distill the soul and remind us

of careful encounters.

cue running horses into the sunset while an endless sky of billowing clouds swim through the cold air and a withered girl lying in a field of black thorns. the satiric animals of the sky stare down on her pale skin and whisper to one another of her fragility and her limp existence. A conclusion is made and she is lifted finger by finger into the sky of endless "noir" and gleaming twinkles, never to be lost without a star again.

Oh, dear, you look frightful.

I'm afraid of a lot of things. Spiders, murderers, space heaters. I'm afraid of never living up to my potential. Fear crawls up my legs and eats at my heart whenever I feel incompetent or whenever there is a possibility that a boy could like me. I'm especially afraid of those boys.

I'm afraid that I'll marry an abuser. And I'm afraid that I won't want to leave him and he'll kill me.

I'm scared that if I write this post tonight, then nobody will read anything else I've written and they'll be stuck with this dirty washrag.

I'm most frightened of words.

Words that bite and words that melt your confidence like acid. Words that encourage falsely with an air of sarcasm that tears and rips.

Words like 

Crawl,

Stalk,

and Hate.

Rejection,

Dismissal,

Elimination,

Failure.

I'm afraid of words like Love and Forever and Infinite.
I'm especially afraid of infinite.

"Your dad is dead"

"We can't buy groceries"

"I'm leaving you"

Words, words, words, haunting, deteriorating, eating at my conscience and feeding my creativity all at once. I'm afraid that I'll someday have so many words I won't be able to use them all, and I'm afraid that I'll forget all my words and I'll lose the connection that the syllables create between me and my parents, me and my friends, me and myself. 

{I'm afraid of dark words--like unforeseeable and like black and placid. (Especially placid because of what comes after the placid.)}

Dark words like sex and like the b and the f and the h and the lmnopqrs swear words. I'm afraid of the power that they give and the authority that they bestow.  I'm scared to use them but I'm scared that if I don't then I can't be good, I can't hold that power, I can't captivate an audience. Without them your sentences simply can't be daring, or creative, or "deep". I'm scared of people who use them and I'm subject to their power. I'm not preaching to anyone, but I'm just saying that you frighten me.

Frankly, 

It's quite terrifying.

 Boys, belly buttons, toe fungus, optimists, Nazis, gingers, chili peppers, eight year old children, long fingernails, losing my eyelashes, car accidents, bald people, falling, falling and not having someone to catch me, french horns, mannequins, canned food, earthquakes, dinosaurs, (really dinosaurs), scary movies, mirrors, big spoons, dependency, hammers, spiders, bugs, knives, Attila the Hun, murderers, karate classes, sour cream. Death of people, life, eternity, kids that never blink, spilling nail polish on tables, driving on the wrong side of the road, not getting accepted to college, being poor, spending all my money on food, having kids, being pregnant, getting an epidural, etc etc, other baby-having related things.

Hey, I know, I'm a Pansy.

{Alice}

knuckles and necklaces

She has hair that screams a thousand whispers
and knees that could impress an audience
A necklace that chokes beauty from her eyes
and socks that can conduct static from lightning bolts.


She remembers and chews her nails.
She paints her nails to prevent it but
she chews the polish,
and then she chews her nails.


Her hair lays flat, worn from the whispers
and she removes her necklace
to expose a soul that was broken by the world.