I don't know.

I don't know what to say or do to make this situation more endurable because tragedies like this don't just go away with "rest in peace" and "I love you".

they linger and they tug at our hearts;

our eyes become familiarly wet and the mental exhaustion sets in at an early time of 11:35am. 

it's unfortunate lone peak knows this routine by heart.

high schoolers shouldn't have to know it

NOBODY should have to know it. 

today we wore dresses and suits and ties.

the sky was grey.

I like to believe it was mourning with us;

it cried frozen tears and had clouds too thick not even the thinnest ray of sun could peek through. 

today wasn't happy.

and that's okay. 

it was okay to cry,

it was okay to hug,

it was okay to just be sad.

I didn't know Terik very well

I didn't know his suffering and I didn't know what hurt

and I still don't know what to say. 

but I knew his intelligence and blue eyes.

I knew his humor and on the first day of junior year I knew his handwriting. 

I'm sorry I couldn't see through it;

I'm sorry I couldn't see through the squiggly letter k's

and I'm sorry I couldn't hear the cry in your voice when you would greet me at Zupas.

I'm sorry Terik. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. that's all I know how to say.

this is just what I've been feeling today.

PS you guys, I really do love you all. all day i wanted to just be with you because I knew you guys would understand and feel with me. it was so nice just to be together and to talk, I know we all needed it and we needed each other. you guys rock. never stop being you ever. 

love is absolute

when i was watching the oscars there was a quote in the movie 'birdman'. and i really liked it, so here i am writing about the quote, 'love is absolute'.


my dad told me once that love was absolute;
and that you could love someone so infinitley if you really tried to understand.
but trying to understand him is like trying to read freshly smudged ink.

you cant.

5 and 7
we were just kids
and i remember being afraid of his anger;
i thought he'd hit me if i didnt let him borrow the purple crayon.
but i still loved him because daddy told me love was absolute.

june of 2009
we swung on the swings on our last day of school
"sissy why do you have to leave elementary school?'
he would ask
and i assured him i would still be home to help him with his times tables
and that he could have my favorite pen to help him remember them.

thursday evening in september of '13
i took him out for ice cream
he told me not to worry
about the liquid in the funny bottle.
i stood still and let out a small breath;
i still loved him.

3:06am two years later
i hear whimpers through the walls.
i tried to love him that day
but the odor and the drugs were too much;
i let him cry alone.

and i shouldve worried two septembers ago.

friday
we experienced judges and parole officers
and all i could think of was how he made me go through a true heart break;
the kind where your heart is picked and prodded at
until everything eventually falls apart.
the fatal kind.

1:03pm today
i had to fight back tears
no one wants to be seen crying in spanish class
because then you have to explain.
and i dont think i can explain him.
i dont think i can explain drugs
i dont think i can explain the definition of infinite
and i definitley cannot explain why love is absolute;

sorry dad, i think you were wrong.

rose garden

the ones who take their lives are the ones we expect to least.

the captain of the football team, 

the girl with perfect blond hair,

the boy who drives an audi;

they all seem to be fine when inside

they scream.

they feel pain

they feel the pain

excruciating, agonizing, searing pain.

their hearts ache and their lungs gasp for air, and we give them only so much as a glimpse because to us their lives are "perfect".

take a step back. 

look. breathe it in. taste the bitterness.

these kids are everywhere.

one of those kids could be you.

these kids are outcasts in their perspective.

they think they don't know themselves

so they can't accept themselves.

we live in a world where acceptance by others is valued more than red roses are by gardens.

to not be depressed we must be accepted by others.

acceptance is key

acceptance is key

others MUST accept me.

screw others, 

accept yourself.

because in the long run acceptance of yourself will keep you alive

and running free 

so you can see what light you give off

and what kinds of music describe you;

it could save your existence. 

don't hide yourself.

share your emotions

curse into the sky  when nothing is going right and let yourself FEEL.

remember who you are.

be the rose in the garden and remember you are valued.

be you,

love you,

be nice to you,

accept you.

hipsters & high school

i realized a few minutes ago that my blog is me.

it's who i am 

it's what i breathe

it's what my heart beats to

and that is definitely far from the definition of 'hipster'

because apparently that's the thing nowadays

to write like a hipster.

and I'm not even sure what that is and i think that's why i always have writers block, because i try to write like someone i clearly am not.

so I'm going to write from my heart to see if that changes anything.

alrighty, here it goes.

the story of my high school life begins with letter grades and brown eyes that I couldn't seem to figure out.

they ranged from C's to A's and

he ranged from love to hate

my heart skipped beats and my eyes 

turned weak from the derivatives 

clawing at my pupils.

the day we spoke about us and the day I choked on variables was the day

I wrote on napkins at in n' out instead of notebook paper about how much i wanted you to love me again 

like i still loved you

and how much i craved the touch of your fingers intertwined with mine

and summer nights in the bed 

of your '96 pick up

listening to 'the cars' and spilling

logistics about life and how much

we both despised calculus;

how nothing mattered but the wind and the stars that spelled 'stellar' in the sky.

and how we know this love will never exist again.

the heartbreak, the dropping grades, the empty sound of number two pencils scratching on lined paper; that's how the story of my high school life ends.

with D's and some hopeful B's

a few words shared 

but nothing too personal

and a diploma with a cap and gown.

and an ending with brown eyes;

still unfigured.

living in the sea

i wanted to share this at the slam but i got too scared. next time.

sometimes i wonder about heaven
how maybe we were made out teeny strips of gold and dripped from gods hands into this little glistening river we call life.
but most of us know it doesnt necessarily 'glisten'.
did god in heaven make it that way?
that when were born, instead of being eased into the river we were actually thrown into the storming riptide?
of course he did.
he meant for us to figure out how to swim by drowning us first.
we choke on the salt and are thrown against the rocks;

"you arent good enough"
"your brother is addicted to drugs"
"your acceptance has been denied"
"you arent strong enough"
"you are worthless".

the test is whether we can mend the wounds on our heads from the rocks and pull oursleves out of the water.
and lots of the times, we continue drowning.
we sink deeper and deeper
and even though we've been taught to swim we lay limp,
not caring who the hell wants us to break the surface.
but then again, how do we know if there really is anyone?