Something Quick, A Break From My Book

It’s three in the morning and it is obvious to me at this point I am not going to fall asleep. I sit up in bed and swing my legs over the side. My feet are flat on the floor and I dig my toes into the shaggy rug placed at the edge of my bed. I rub my toes all through the yarn of the rug, just wanting to feel something normal. I rest my elbows on my knees and place my head between my hands. My face feels numb, my nose feels cold, and I can see slow tears dripping to my knees. I take one grey sweater covered hand and wipe my face. I stand up and begin to pace the room. My face is hot with anger and cold from sorrow. My heart is racing and chest is in agonizing pain. I turn from facing my wall to facing floor to ceiling windows on the opposite side. It is completely dark in my room, but the light from the city outside wants me to come close. I take a deep breath and walk over to the windows slowly. Taking one step at a time, attempting to not fall over from my shortness of breath. I bend down to the ground to open the bottom window just to let air circulate in my tiny room. The window only opens about six inches wide from the bottom, but that is all I need.

I take in a long, deep breath. The air is freezing but I feel it go through my nose, down my throat, straight to my lungs. It is cooling and livening and I thought my heart is stopping in this very moment. I let the air go and create a fog on the window. My eyes close, my head is resting on the glass, I sit there breathing in the rigid October air. Voices  from fourteen stories below are just faint murmurs of the young students walking out of the bar across the way. I hear the stumbling women and the infectious laughter of the drunkards. I sit there wondering where they are all going, what they are doing out this late at night, who they are, if they even knew each other before heading out tonight. Air infiltrated my lungs slowly, air evaded my lungs quickly.





Soon the air becomes a shroud on my body. My skin gets tighter and tighter till I cannot stand it. I stand up quickly and give myself a head rush, a head rush that forces me to hit my actual head on the glass of the window. I lean one hand against the window to gain my balance and to gain self awareness. My eyes shut tight, my nose drying quickly with snot, my stomach churning like someone kneading dough. All these feelings together gave me something I had never had before.

I had never been alone.

Till you left me in the most agonizing way you could.

I lift my hand away from the glass, pushing myself up straight. I wrap both of my arms around my stomach and keel over. I wanted to vomit, I wanted to cry, but all of my tears were stolen by time and my stomach was close to nonexistent. My eyes hurt from the tears but somehow my body is starting to produce more. I do not want to cry any longer so I stand straight. My arms are still wrapped around my body, my nails digging into my sides, digging deep into my skin. I open my eyes wide to let oxygen circulate and blink quickly. I walk over to the window and do something I haven’t done before.

I just look.

I just look at the buildings surrounding me, the buildings that are taller than me, that are shorter than me. I see all the lights turned on throughout the city and I see all the drawn shades and dark rooms. Every light, turned on or turned off, represents a person in this metropolis that is either wanting to be excluded from the outside or is already excluded from the outside. I see below the strangers wandering the streets lonely, with drunken friends, sober. I see homeless men and women with tattered backpacks and grocery carts filled with bags. None of them speak to each other, none of them even make eye contact. They don’t know each other and they have no interest in knowing each other. My eyes wander up to the sky and I see millions of stars, shining bright, falling dull. The moon is full and bright, not a cloud to cover it’s beauty. The only thing worth looking at from up this high. I look down to the building across from me. There are exactly six apartments with their lights still on and activity on the inside. One apartment is a couple watching movies, two apartments are having parties, and the three others are just people sitting in the kitchen enjoying an extremely early breakfast.

My mind is wandering to how many people are really in this city. Close to millions. Of how many of the millions actually knew each other? How many wanted to know each other? The people on the streets definitely did not want to know each other. The people in their apartments were cut off to those people in the apartments with them. Did they know anyone outside of their front door? Now I am wondering if I know anyone outside my front door. Every morning I leave my door at 7:30, get into the elevator where no one speaks to each other, walk out my building with my ear buds in same as everyone else, speak to absolutely no one. I lean my head against the window shifting all my weight towards it. I breath in the thin air and let my lungs fill more and more. I am losing control of my mind. My eyes move in every direction, flittering quickly from one side to the next. My breathing cuts short and my chest gets tight. I lay down with a pillow next to the opening of the window. The sun is slowly rising and my body is quickly going to rest. The air is on my face and my eyes are having a harder time staying open. I know that if I fall asleep now I will miss class, but I am okay with that.

I turn my head to look down to the ground once again. Still, no one speaks to one another, no one acknowledges one another. Sometimes I wonder if those people even exist or if they are just a product of my imagination or fabricated from this life I am living. The lights in buildings are shut off also realizing the sun is coming up. My room is now entirely freezing and I drag my body to my bed. The parties from the building across are shut down, the couple had gone to bed an hour ago, and the ones enjoying breakfast have left for work. They still do not realize that no one else in that building was awake as the same time as them. I lay in bed and listen to the noises of cars, busses, and trains. But not to the sounds of people who know one another. I am realizing you did not make me alone.

I was already alone in this city.


I wrote this in about an hour and it was just an idea I came up with. I was in the shower singing New York, New York when I realized how much I actually do miss living in Chicago. While this story is not entirely true to me (I was never up at three  in the morning crying about men) but it is somewhat resonant of my experience living in the city. I loved looking out at night to see how quiet the streets had become and it was always interesting to see people wandering the streets at ungodly hours. And yes the apartment across the street always had a party going on or someone up at a strange time watching movies.


Here’s An Unfinished Piece

Because of you, I am not the same person.

I used to lay my legs on your lap and rest my head on your shoulder. I sang songs to you and whispered poems into your ears late at night. You would look at me with wide green eyes and tell me how you loved my voice and you could listen to it all night long. How my voice could soothe you and and how my songs were nothing without such a voice to follow; how my songs were nothing without me.

I used to rest my hands in yours and drag you into the middle of the living room to dance with me. I would put on something light and fun and dance all around you and you would laugh. You would laugh at how silly I would become and you’d pretend to be impressed with my terrible dancing. Then you would change the music and put on something slow and romantic, then you’d take me by the hand and waist. You would twirl me around and dip me all the way to the floor.

I used to sit in our sunroom and stare out the windows with a blank stare and a blank canvas in front of me. You’d bring me piping hot coffee in the morning and warm tea in the afternoon. You would wrap your arms around me and tell me that inspiration would come if I stopped thinking about it so hard. I would say you’re right and then dipped my brushes into the paint. You would sit there with me drinking tea and we’d get distracted from my work and talk about our futures and our lives.

I used to sit in our living room and daydream about us. I would stare at you while you read the morning papers or your work reports and think about how lucky I was to be in love with someone as beautiful as you. You would catch me looking at you and ask me if something was wrong and I’d say no. Then you’d come over to me and kiss one cheek, the other cheek, and my lips. You’d laugh and tell me how lovingly silly I was.

Because of you, I am not the same person.

I can’t sing anymore. I don’t want to dance anymore. I have no inspiration to paint. I no longer daydream about being the luckiest person alive. All of these things were things that you did to me or made me feel. Now you’re gone and so is everything I was. Shame on me for looking so deeply into your green eyes. Shame on me for singing for someone whose love was not undying. Shame on me for believing those laughs were laughs of endearment.


This is something I started working on today. It’s definitely unfinished but I hope you guys like it so far.

New Year, New Updates

Hello to all my wonderful readers. It has been quite a while since I have written and I will tell about that later on, however, at this moment we must pay great tribute to someone.

It has been a couple of days since the news came through, but better late than never. It has taken me a while to process the passing of this wonderful life and in truth, I am still processing the news as are many other lives across the world. With the passing of David Bowie, we lose a life that has changed more lives than he will ever know. He was a musical legend and has personally meant a lot to me in the last couple of years. His music taught me to expand my mind in many ways and taught me how to truly be okay with being just who I am. With his different stages in his musical career, he also taught many other souls, just like his, to be who they are and continue on with themselves and only themselves. Many friends of mine were quite devastated with the news of passing and considered him a role model. With this being said, we must celebrate Bowie and all he was and all he will ever be. He will go down in history as one of the greats.

With the sad side of me out of the way, I would like to tell all you lovely people that I have officially started the process of writing a book. It’s actually really exciting and I’m hoping it’s really exciting for you as well. From time to time, I’ll post small snippets that I’ve written. I don’t want to give out a lot of detail about it because I’m still in the early stages of writing. However, I can tell you that it does combine a few of my posts that I’ve already written on here. One of my resolutions for the year was to write more and this is what has come of that resolution.

However, for now, I will post something new I wrote a few nights ago while I was having trouble falling asleep. It’s a short poem and for me, poetry is unusual. I can read it, I can analyze it, I can’t write it. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

For the moment,

This has been Neutrality

A Small Something On the Spot

I wrote a book with one thousand and ninety-seven pages.

The first page is about the day I met you.

The last page is about the day you broke my heart.

The one thousand and ninety-five pages in between are about every day I was in love with you. Head over heels, madly, hopelessly, and shamelessly in love with you.

I can remember the day we met, from the last day I saw you. I remember tiny details of small conversations. I remember the late nights spent talking and sometimes the talking for days on end.

I remember the times you would never talk to me and make me beg for your attention. I can feel the tear-filled nights like a fresh wound. I can remember every small dig you made into me and you having no idea.

There were days when you felt so close and days you felt a million miles away. Every hello was a blessing and every goodbye was said with a heavy heart. Days and days would pass and I wouldn’t see you and those would be lonely and slow. Then there came the day where you stopped coming around. The day when I didn’t know it was our final goodbye.

These one thousand and ninety-five pages are filled with these memories, both good and bad and the memories of what we were and what we are.

Page one is about the day I met you.

Page one thousand and ninety-seven is about the day you broke my heart.

After the last page was written, I took all of these pages and threw them into a fire. I threw them into a fire so these pages could never be re-lived and the pain could never be re-felt and the words can never be re-read.

I burned all one thousand and ninety-seven memories we had ever shared and I hope you can understand.

This is just something I came up with and it’s been on my mind for a few days after listening to the song Burn the Pages by Sia. By absolutely no means is this the next greatest thing since Nicholas Sparks wrote The Notebook, it was just something I wanted to give a try. Also, in total honesty, I’ll probably read through this a thousand times and update it and make changes just because it’ll probably bother me.



Drawing To A Close

Tonight, I find myself being extremely nostalgic of the last three months that have seemingly flown by. It’s now midnight and I’m typing away listening to my favorite song, Ribs by Lorde. If you don’t know who Lorde is, start using the internet.

Anyways, let me tell you why I’m feeling especially sappy and nostalgic.

In a short six days, I’ll be sleeping in a different bed for about nine months. I’m leaving for college. Even though I’m only an hour away from home, in the great city of Chicago, I’m going to miss this place. I know in one of my last written posts I wrote about how much I hate this town, which is still very true today, but I’m going to be away from my closest friends and family for a while and that kind of sucks.

Four of my five closest friends have already gone back for their second year of college while one stays behind with me for now. My best friends have given me the summer I’ve always wanted this year. In my head, I always picture everything having this cinematic feel, like my life is really a movie and everything happens how I want it to. Even though that seems odd and so ridiculous, it’s how I’ve pictured almost my entire life.

I think being able to cut loose after graduating high school this summer with my friends has really helped me to understand who I am and who I want to be and where I’m going with my life. We’ve spent late nights talking and being honest about how unreal and close the future really is now. We went on a trip to Starved Rock, we’ve gone to the beach, we’ve spent a day in the city, we’ve spent countless nights at Wal-Mart at ungodly hours, we went to IHop at midnight which was a first for me, we’ve had countless bonfires, attempted stargazing, and this all led to our final goodbyes.

I can’t help but tear up now thinking about how we’re all really growing up now and we’re all making our own way in this world and going in our own directions. Saying goodbye is always really hard, especially when you share so many memories.

I’m going to miss dancing in the car with my two closest friends, making late trips to the mall, all the bonfires where we sit around and roast each other. I know that no matter what they’ll always be around for me, and I’ll always be around for them, but it sucks not having all of my friends physically here.

With all of this being said, I’d like to leave you all with one simple piece of advice.

Life will push, pull, trip, and shove you in all different directions. One day you’ll be out of the house chasing your dreams, living the life and then the next you’ll be in bed ready to take a sick day for the next week. But the great thing about that is you don’t go through it alone. You’ll always have a friend there when you need one.

To younger readers, make the most of your time at home and make great memories because before you know it, life is going to flash by and that is exactly how I’m feeling at this exact moment. Don’t become sappy, nostalgic me. Don’t wait till your last summer at home to make the most of it.

Signing off for the night, this is Neutrality.

Let’s End Body Shaming, Please.

I want to start this off by saying that I’m not a tiny person. I will say that proudly and if anyone has a problem with it, well, get over it. With that statement out of the way, let’s talk about this thick girl movement that seems to be happening everywhere now.
Last night while sitting in the car with my mother, the popular song by Meghan Trainor, All About That Bass, was playing. My mother then said to me, “Someone on facebook was writing about how this song is mean to skinny girls.” Well, now we have a good debate for the rest of the world to think about.
I can understand why women, who aren’t of Cara Delevigne’s stature, love this song. It’s empowering and sends a well written message to younger girls who deal with self-esteem problems on a daily basis. Trust me when I say I understand because I used to be one of those little girls who would try to hide my body because I was never comfortable with myself. Who doesn’t compare their bodies to the tiniest person in their class?
I can also understand, however, where the female population on the smaller side feel a little attacked. Now a days, most people are talking about how its so great to have curves, not have a thigh gap, and quite alright to have some junk.
But let’s take a second to remember that thicker women have been body shamed for quite a while now and this whole thick girl movement is just taking flight. I also want to say that just because thicker girls and women have been body shamed for the past decade or so, doesn’t make it alright for them to body shame the smaller women.
I know what you’re thinking. How could a thick woman write against her own movement? Easy. Thick women know what it’s like to be body shamed. It feels awful. So why should we do it to the other women who have always been praised for having small stature? Does anyone remember the golden rule? Do unto yourself as you would others.
After years of dealing with self-esteem issues, I’ve finally reached the point where I can accept who I am and I’ve learned to stop body shaming myself. I’ll never body shame myself, so I would never body shame another girl simply because of her smaller stature.
Let’s put an end to the “Thick-Girl/Skinny-Girl” movement. Let’s put our energy towards something more worthwhile and put an end to body shaming across the board.

Let’s Talk Men.

So the title of this blog sounds a little generic and cliché but I can tell you it’s far from it. I want to tell you, from personal experience, you don’t need a man to make you feel good about yourself. To who ever is sitting on the couch or at their desk looking at their computer or phone screen: you don’t need that man who keeps coming in and going out of your life.
Men are kind of like light bulbs. They shine in your eyes for the longest time but after months or even years, they go out. I can tell you that personally. However, to not be totally pessimistic, eventually you find one that shines bright for the rest of your days and who never fails to light your paths.
To the ladies with that one man who pops in and out of your life (kind of like how guys always have to flip through ALL the tv channels and never settle on one), you don’t need him. Drop him now because you’re only hurting yourself. He’ll come and go, tell you promises he never keeps, ignore you for months then right out the blue only want you, but you don’t need that. You don’t deserve that. I can also tell you that personally.
In the words of Francis Whitman, we weren’t raised to be treated like that. We deserve much better than to be treated like a child’s toy.

Children, Parents, and Restaurants

I can easily start this article off by saying that whenever my best friend and I are extremely annoyed, we feel the urge to text each other and say, “It’s time to blog.” Well, it’s time to blog.
Todays annoyance for me came from what was supposed to be a nice, enjoyable, simple meal with my mother. We sat down for our meal thinking it would be a nice, quiet Sunday night at our favorite local restaurant. We were wrong.
When two parents are sitting down to eat with their children, you would hope the parents would be firm with their children, remind them to mind all their manners, enforce all consequences, and hope the parents wouldn’t behave like their children. The family of four sitting in the booth across from us, however, followed none of those hopes.
The children, in question, were nothing but rotten and the parents were nothing but useless. The two girls were unreasonably loud, had no listening skills, and couldn’t control themselves. The father never once corrected his kids or even chimed in to help his wife when she attempted to correct. When the wife attempted to correct her daughters, however, she didn’t make too much headway.
Let’s understand that I am 17 and I don’t have children, unless you count my cat, so I can’t exactly tell someone how they should raise their children. However, every parent should raise their children to be respectable, calm, and collected in public, including restaurants. It’s acceptable to let children run a muck in fast food places because at least then, they’ll be getting rid of the food they’ve put in their bodies.
Being raised by very southern parents and an extremely southern family, manners and politeness are in our blood, contrary to popular belief. I may sound like I’m pointing my nose up to this small family, but I’m really not. My only hope is to know that parents are teaching their children manners in a social setting.