a process

things i never want to forget:

yellow roses

jai ho

the hike

the ill in chill

my green walls and pink bed

that smell

punk

disneyland

antm reruns

las vegas

the-B-each

the same, person, ect.

old clothes

photo booth

all day and all night

you're every minute of my every day.

things i want to forget forever:

yellow roses

red pearls

the flickering light of that lamp

no response

that smell

the lies

excuses

failure

busses trains and city blocks

ten pm bedtime

biting my nails

migraines

my 19th birthday

additions/subtractions to come

i think my cat reads my diary

as opposed to dark alleys, smoky nights, and a burglar's grasp, life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter....no pun intended. in reflection of my time spent in this foreign mid-western land, i would have to say that i have no regrets. watching this situation transform from grey to color has been interesting to say the least. as i frolic about like a child, i cant help but stop and take in the fresh air. things i never thought twice about, now seem like the only things that matter. and i wouldn't want it any other way. i honestly cant believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but i am so glad that i stayed and i am so looking forward to next year and the years after that. i want to play with vintage appliances, i want to prance around zoo animals, i want to buy grade books, glitter glue and construction paper. i want to do absolutely nothing and absolutely everything with some of the most genuine friends ive ever had. i always knew i liked teachers.

so here's to a bittersweet summer apart from the new, but reunited with familiarity and comfort.

ABBY YOU SUCK!

dear abby,

i hate you for finding my blog. you sneaky little critter, you.

love, alexis

i live for genius

i find it disheartening how this whole thing has rolled off your shoulders so easily. its incredible how painless this is for you, and how extremely crushing it is for me. maybe its a role reversal, maybe its a mirror reflection of the way things have secretly been all along. and maybe its because i am sitting at the other end of the spectrum. the difference between one and seven is vast, but it appears that this year is the right time to love for the now.

im not concerned about that list anymore. i am not frustrated with the actions or the "rumors" or the truth. what settles like a rock in the pit of my stomach is how effortless it is for you to watch seven slide down the drain. and the constant buzz of undeserved guilt pressing on my ear drum and veins. one would think that it would have had a stamp somewhere in the corner of your heart. but the blatant disconnect proves otherwise.

i almost wore red pearls today, regardless of the fact that im walking on sunshine. i was bothered by the list at first, then agitated by the switch of fault. but now its dark and thought and back to square one. square one, for the first time in a long long time. and thats all because to you. square one does not point blame, it merely speaks the dead and honest truth.

the bees knees

im sure you think they are from me. but i promise they arent.

on another note. i went out on the town. and drank jolly ranchers. and gabbed with the future teachers of the world. it was silly fun.

see this thing im wearing. its called a smile. its been a long time coming.

and i feel it, in my bones. its like rainbows, butterflies and lemonade in summer time.

when the lights are low

the mother, the child, the addict, the rock, the talker. and nothing works. and the sky is falling, and money doesn't grow on trees, and manners are taught. discipline is enforced, studies are mandatory and relationships fly. silver clinks together, hair gets wet and skin gets dry. warm welcomes and tearful songs. old lady clothes from that shop on the corner and yellow roses in february. center parts and candles that need lighting. give and take and none of the above, and those female musicians of course. pizza men, humming birds, chapped lips, holding hands and tight hugs. and here's the the effortless flow of the waves on the road. its all that really matters.

and just like oedipus, all the masks will eventually shatter to the ground, and all that will be left is a venerable scared meek blur hiding in the right hand corner of an empty matchbox.

either grey or blue

i have never been more confident about something in my life. the rockford girl read my mind, and i sort of want to go back.

and just like you my little one, i can not catch a break.

paper or united?

i cant say whether you speak of the child or of the adult. both valid options.

the child glides quick down the slide and climbs cautious up the rocket ship. viewing the land through rainbow lenses. opinions and ideas like the teacup and saucer that are stamped with teddy bears and daisies. though the actions are callow, the child is marching swiftly toward triumph.

the adult is burdened with the routine of responsibility. making decisions, making money, making it work, all the while gripping their therapist's hand. crawling consistently the corporate latter of every day life and watching as objects fall from the top and splatter like blood on the pavement.

its hard to say whether you speak of the child or of the adult.

snap shut your eyes

this is a fiasco. and im living in the past.

the time has come bend and snap into the future and present. its the right thing to do, believe me.

california represent

oh hey manhattan beach. see you in like, um, LESS THAN 48 HOURS!!!

maybe today will be new

people are laughing

ive walked on the rooftops of skyscrapers. and let me tell you, things look much better from above.

crystal geyser

DNE.

elephants seashells and an ugly flower

its really disappointing when you expect the expected but the expected never comes. and when the unexpected becomes less and less expected. i always knew someday you'd have to let go of the dead ones, i guess i just never expected it to be me. maybe i expect too much. maybe just enough. or maybe not enough at all.

but its all dead to me. and sometimes i just go. without acknowledgment, i see the backside of my body slowly walking away. no answer. i give it three hours, two days, a month. it will knock.

i know im not good, but i do it anyway. and to be honest its only been three weeks. and to be even more honest, you'll never see the underside. or the other side. or any side.

wrapped tightly in a purple band

the house is dark. as the holiday season came to a close, i found myself focusing more on the disappearance of things. like the bright squirts of colors lining my roof and doorway. like the constant knowledge of something to do, somewhere to go. like the strategic plan i once had for us. like the disappearance of us in general. like the gas in my tank, like the money in my wallet, like the polish on my nails. like the love in my heart, the joy in her eyes, and the sound of your voice in my ear.

i am not going to say that this year feels different. its like when you turn eighteen and you still dont feel like an adult, like the first day of college and you cant believe that your youth has been ripped from below your beat up converse high tops. look to your left, look to your right, there's no one there to band-aid the cuts on your knees. it's a world of laughter, a world of tears, its a world of hopes, its a world of fear. a world of lies, misconstrued plans, and long car rides.

plaster a smile on your rosy chapped lips and play all the right games. they wont understand, they never do. its a fake, a facade, its a show, a play even. a night of spectacle and awe, all to be iced tomorrow and fixed up to the same status old times, good as new. good as yesterday? good as last month, the summer of two thousand and nine, that february with yellow roses? nothing can compare, nothing ever will...not even pizza men or hummingbirds.

words from the bathroom floor

i often wonder what we have in common. and im looking for a little advice. how are we supposed to know when to put away the candles? when the flame stops flickering, when the hot wax ruins the table cloth, or when you're good and ready to blow them out and call it a night? i would say the latter, but lately i've been noticing my candles to flicker out and die long before their time. im not sure what to make of it. but i am beginning to realize that i've wasted a lot of time and money. which is more than you can say, you blind soul. you just wouldnt think of it, you just wouldnt see it, you just wouldnt care. you just wouldnt. and thats you. but not me. im a money waster, but the problem is i dont realize i've bought a piece of crap until i've brought it home and thrown away the receipt.

looking glass

phoebe, we're not the same, but we think the same. its not contagious, but if you're willing to get the ball rolling, then im all in. its not the repeat. its not the uncontrollable vocal cords. its not the steps, the fingers, the squares or the knees. its the ticks. its the antics. its the thoughts, once you make up your mind then there's no turning back, you have to do it. i want to sit up on the old wooden cat walk with you, together we can look down upon the dull yellow lights and admire the green folding chairs.

listen to the teacher, do what you want. if that means jump, then just jump.

weedsss

it hasnt been my day, my week, my month, or even my year.

give give give= ____ ____ ____ ??? that doesn't make any sense at all.

toss your cookies

thats really gross.

you're tiny.

you're not.

i prefer you as a blonde.

i just cracked my ankles.

read me a story.

ten perfect little red squares.

watch me while i walk awayyyyy.

fold, paste, repeat.

ive got sparkles from head to toe.

let the rain sing you a lullaby at night.

what if i were?

i read that.

and i think you're too hard on yourself.

again and again til i get it right.

just one more time.

silver liquid drops.

i want to sit on the beach.

with you.

in the rain.

you know you make me wanna....!

barffff.