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.

Certainly not thinking of you

My alarm clock rings and I'm certainly not thinking of you.
It rings again. I drag myself out of bed. (still not thinking of you)
One piece of burnt whole grain toast forces itself out of a dirty toaster and as I scrape the burnt black layer off with a butter knife I'm not thinking of you and I'm not thinking about you eating toast. My hands shake on the cold steering wheel and 88.1FM doesn't remind me of you and my hands certainly don't think of you. I'm walking through the crowded, lonely halls and I'm not thinking about how you are walking right behind me and I'm trying to look interesting because I'm trying to remember that I'm not thinking about how you are walking right behind me.


I'm not thinking about you like the moon doesn't think about us while it watches us sleep.
I'm not thinking about you like the chickens in the backyard don't think about us eating their eggs.
I'm not thinking about you like cement doesn't think about our constant bug-murdering and dirty shoes.
Like the bread doesn't think about rising and like the fire doesn't think about burning. Like physics doesn't think about chemistry and like the paintbrush doesn't think about the artist creating its brush strokes.


I don't think about you about as much as I don't think about death, and I think about death a lot.
Death like falling out of an airplane without a parachute or like getting eaten by a shark or getting shot one day. Or all three at the same time.


I certainly would not be thinking about you if I was dying. I hopefully would not be.


I'm not thinking about you, and I'm not thinking about you reading this, and I'm not thinking about that today is Valentine's day and how you might be thinking about me. I'm not thinking of that.


{Remember when we used to think of each other? Remember when we used to think about us, and your freckles and my bumpy nose, and our own thoughts? Remember when we used to admit it?}



And I'm not admitting now because you aren't admitting and that's how love works, isn't it? Isn't love only a constant cycle of dependency ringing endlessly for nourishment and longing to be held? I'll stop thinking about you if you stop thinking about me, because my thoughts feed on your thoughts, and my love lives off of yours. The existence of love can only survive when nurtured and encouraged by an equal and additional love; it requires dependence on another to increase in value. And our value is dropping. Our stocks aren't being purchased and our stockholders are withdrawing their funds. So I'm not thinking about you.


I'm not thinking about you like the cotton plantation slaves didn't think about their skin color.
I'm not thinking about you like my brother doesn't think about minecraft.
I'm not thinking about you like the fresh-cut fries never think about a good-looking chocolate frosty.
Like your elbows never think about the superiority of your knees and like her eyelashes never think about her mascara and like the 'a' key never thinks about the 'L.' Like the commercial men don't think about anything but money and like the the TOMS foundation doesn't think about anything but African children.



I finish my work and I'm not thinking about you.
I'm waiting in line at the bank and I'm certainly not thinking about you or your money.
I'm squirting saline solution into two empty eyes of a contact solution case and I'm not thinking about your eyes. I scrub my face and take one long look at the pink and red blur of a face in the mirror. I'm scrutinizing myself and I know I'm not good enough to be thinking of you. I'm laying on a firm mattress and curling up next to the cold sensation of a pillow and I'm not thinking of you or your cold feet. Its 11:11 and I'm certainly not thinking of you and I'm certainly not wishing for you and I'm certainly not. I'm just not. My eyelids close and I'm not thinking of you.

My alarm clock rings and I'm certainly not thinking of you.

{I felt like this was necessary.}

{I mean the Nutella. Nothing else necessary at all.}

"Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly 
you forget me
do not look for me, 
for I shall already have forgotten you."
                                     --Pablo Neruda

{Alice}

Running

I run.

I run through the whipping wind and the delicate flowers that
are trampled under my heavy steps.
I run away from unguilty pleasures of the world and the
lustful wants that every hand claims.

I run.

I run and feel cold wet
Cold wet streaming down my face and I can't
remember if its blood or if its tears or if its
apple juice from the night before.
I run, my bare feet sinking in the mud that drags my
soul closer to the ground and further from the endless sky.

I run.

I run from you and I run from him. I run from me.
I run until the word run looks unreal and until
the blurs of trees and clouds and rain become a whirlpool
of unrecognizable confusion clouding my vision.

I run.

I run from love,
I run from people,
I run from hate,
I run from problems.

I run.

You don't know me, but I know Love.

I only know what I've learned and I can only tell what I've experienced, but

I know Love.

Some people think he's Cupid, but

I know Love like I know Santa, or like I respect JFK.

I know Love like a friend, like a best friend. 

Sometimes we fight and sometimes we have secret handshakes, but we never forget.

I know what Love likes and what Love gives.

Love lays on worn trampolines and finds the stars even on a cloudy night.

Love will never let you go on the roller-coaster alone, even if he is terrified, of heights.

Love always remembers your birthday. Even if he pretends like he doesn't.

His favorite sandwich is whichever yours is.

When you smell Love, its like maple syrup. or Brownies.

You always know that Love is coming because a swarm of butterflies flit around him and 

reach you before he does.

Sometimes Love leaves, but he will never abandon. 

Because whenever that song comes on, it reminds you of Love, and you want to skip it, but

you don't.

Because you miss Love.

You miss Love's touch and you miss his warmth and you miss his endless excuses for being late.

Love sometimes has a bad reputation.

He likes to keep his reputation up, but Hate and Regret frequently ruin it.

Love rolls around with kittens and kisses puppy faces. 

Love always dresses like..You know. You know how Love dresses.

He always remembers to tuck in his shirt and comb his hair, but

he never smokes.

Love forces you to forget your other friends, so be careful.

Love caresses your hand and touches your cheek and respects you.

Love does not disrespect.

Love respects you and respects your values and respects your body.

Love knows your worth.

Love will send you pictures of puppies when you are sad, and

Love will put up with your crap.

Sometimes Love gets tired, but he never gives up. Ever.

Love passes in the hall and smiles even when you don't look up.

His favorite food is sugar.

Sometimes Love will ask you for sugar, but he won't accept it unless 

he knows you really want him to have it.

Love never dies and will always listen, no matter 

who you are or what you look like or even if you are black or white or asian.

A list of things Love loves:

balloons sugar cupcakes books twizzlers music lovesong simonandgarfunkle memories earphones trombones buttons matches chewedfingernails ellafitzgerald beanbags doves weddingcake lipstick clock flames whiplash stainedglasswindows nutella pretzels rosecoloredglasses homeadebread chickennoodlesoup snow airconditioning anklebraces pictureframes bicyclesandlongboards gnome 7peaks oldcameras typewriters

Happy-ness

They say you can never be happy if you never live in the present. Every "What if" and "If only" resonates with regrets and things left ungratefully in the corner. They say, "Money can't buy happiness." Money can't buy the treasure of joy that somehow the earth has misplaced. But, you can buy serotonin pills. To be continually wishing for gain and another pound to be lost wastes precious moments that you can't relive.

But, Isn't it worth it?
Isn't that one moment of achievement, that one purchase you have been saving up for, that one bite of elegance and wealth worth an inch of happiness?

And Here I have compiled a growing list of things that will
OBVIOUSLY
INEVITABLY
INESCAPABLY
UNAVOIDABLY

would make me giggle with joy and allow me to feel like my life is worth living once gained, if only for a moment.

1. Nutella. Nix that. A lifetime supply of Nutella.

2. A boyfriend.

3. A genie in a bottle.

4. A Not-World-Class High School.

5. Vacation homes in every European country. And Australia.

6. Money to buy everything at Anthropologie.

7. The entire Anthropologie collection.

8. Einstein's brain and FDR's social skills.

9. World Peace.

10. A 1970s Mustang convertible that did not break down.*

11. The ability to play the violin.

12. A boyfriend...who would bring me Nutella.

13. A leather half-case for my camera.

14. To be busy, but not stressed.

15. A private jet (? Maybe public. I couldn't meet anyone new on a private jet.)

16. Free 24-hour shipping on all my online purchases.

17. *the ability to parallel park comes with this convertible

18. Dance parties every night

19. An unlimited iTunes gift card. Ehhh, actually just iTunes.

20. An iPhone 5 An iPhone 6

21. Nutella and gummy bears

22. For Ridley's to be Kohler's again

Considering that this was a relatively short list, I've decided to spare you any more lusting and save you from sin by ceasing my wishing. But these little lusts (Some less than little) would undeniably make me happy and would most likely make you happy. Maybe not eternally happy, but for now...
for now...
for now...

He said we could write about whatever we wanted...I chose Nutella. Judge if you will.

{Nutella} tempts me.

Alice.