Lola

I love Lola. Lola is my dearest close friend who I miss a lot right now. Lola is the reason I haven't posted in weeks, because she is the only one who reads this, so I figured it would be a waste of time to post a bunch while she was away. Lola should be home soon, with her brother, and our friend. I miss them all. But most of all, I miss Lola.

My love and wistfulness for Lola, has inspired this blog post. Actually, I've been wanting to write this for a few days now, but I restrained myself, thinking it was just a little bit creepy. However, I can't take it anymore and this is the only way I can think to cope with the fact that she is away from me and I can't talk to her about the things on my mind and closest to my heart. Moreover, she is not here to give me my morning rant about what aggravates her today, the drug qualities found in random foods, and how her family has done her wrong. Which is equally disappointing because I have become quite fond of those rants.

So I hope that when Lola sees this, she can interpret it as a tribute of love and longing, not creepiness.

I'm not even entirely sure Lola will see this, because I'm not sure if Lola is going to keep blogging when she comes home. I know I am on the verge of creating a new blog which will be completely different from this one, in style and content. But as for Lola's plans, I am not sure. I miss you Lola. Please come home.

Love, Flower.

Love

Love... is a relative feeling. Love builds up, and can just as easily exist between one set of people as the next... it doesn't belong to a set of requirements. Only that person knows if they love or not, and it doesn't have to be mutual. It is just one of those things that means you have feelings for that person, beyond any other feelings you've ever had before. And I guess I started out with the idea of romantic affection, but this applies to other kinds too. Like a mother who experiences the new rush of love for her baby, and the whole new emotional aspect that they were not aware of until they were a parent. It's like the longer you exist, all the different causes of love have more to live up to. More competition. Which means when you're older, your senses of love will be much stronger and more aware and experienced and whatnot, than it was when you were younger. However, it does not make love beforehand, any less.

Bowl

Like warm water

Poured into a bowl

Set out to sit

In the spring

That first touch

So welcoming and soothing

So strong

Everlasting

That season.

But spring is not summer

And it's not fire, it's water

Spring has breezes

Water cools

However long it takes until

The tub of water does not fulfill

Then the replacement so shocking

Bizarre in its blizzard ways

Exhilerating in its first wonder

Leaving with an unusual sting

And a slap in the face

So here you are with confusion

Snow that was your friend

Five minutes ago

Doesn't mean the blizzard

Is any less than the bowl

But the water's gentleness was comforting

This blizzard is foreign

While you know you must take chances

Because that water is getting to be cold

Somehow drowning in cold water

Is more reassuring

Than the bipolar storm.

Alone

One of my greatest fears since I was a kid, was to be alone. In any situation, I was okay, as long as there was someone there to be with me, support me, and to prove that I wasn't doing the wrong thing. When you're alone you're three thousand times more vulnerable, and there's a silence that you can't fix as you can around others. That silence can eat you up and make your inner mind start talking for you, which can be very necessary at times, and at others it can go on to the point of danger. I'm afraid to be alone, and be sitting there unable to override the sound of silence. To have no one to bring me down to reality when I start to imagine the best and believe the worst. And when I'm alone and I cry, I know that there's not gonna be a friend who can say their one word and make me smile.

Twelve

Sometimes, I can close my eyes, and this year never happened. I close my eyes, and I am twelve again, it's a cool summer day, I'm riding home on the elevated 1 train, staring out the window at the clouds. For a second, I have a year. We are standing on the edge of a cliff, and there are so many bridges we are about to cross, but once we are crossing those bridges, we are focusing on making sure we don't fall. From where we stood then, we could merely stand on the edge of that cliff, and look out into the canyon, entirely unaware of what was out there. And I remember so vividly, staring out into the expansive gray clouds, from the view of a vandalized window, thinking that something was about to happen. Future was about to happen, and there were so many points that were bursting, like a nest full of eggs about to emerge.

For a moment, I am back there. I am back in that feeling, right before life changes. It is there whenever life changes, and whenever you need it. And when I need it... I need to touch base with twelve year old me, who surprisingly, knew more about myself, than I will ever know again. Now I know about other people and the world... but it's harder to read my own dreams, and my own desires. When I close my eyes, I remember how it felt that summer, and now that I think about it, that summer was a time of magic.

8th grade

The room held an ominous silence.

It was late. Most had gone home.

One day.

Fake money and plastic flowers

Scattered across tile

Where the darkness gave fluorescent lights

a creepiness.

And that finality

Known all too well

When the energy is built up so high

Just to crash

When hours ago

This room was filled with laughter and joyfulness

Gone so suddenly

Almost like dead spirits

Now all that's left

Are half filled racks with suits

And an empty hallway

Where Axe lingers in the air

And props scattered on the ground

The remnants of multiple souls

Or one collaborative soul

Which I now mourn.

Enemy

I met you briefly in a darkened room. There was a crowd of unknown people, an embarrassment, a cake, and tension. Names whirled by and I saw your upturned face, smiling. At the time, all I could remark was yes, you were pretty, but I didn't put much more thought into it. I was focusing on the burning discomfort that I didn't know how to handle. Because I was here for her and I wasn't going to let anything else take me away from feeling the strongest love for her; after all, I had a guilt trip running longer than any jog-a-thon champion. So, in a desperation to not let the sixteen days since I'd been speechless effect me, I chatted with the others, hugged those who were familiar, and let you all wander around in a buzz around me. Because when I saw your face, in the dim light for a second, the last thing I thought was that you would soon become the next target, my next enemy. I didn't realize what was about to happen, what would ineffectually pierce my flesh. Retrospect haunts me now, because I wonder what it would have been like, to know that within a week, you would be a key part in my life attitude.