Man up.

I type to fill the spaces.  Hearing the click of the keyboard is better than music.  It makes me feel productive, and doesn't make me cry as much.  I don't cry anymore.  

Crying is for girls, and I've made a discovery, I am not a girl.

Maybe that's why Mr. 3 letters will never like me.  A good friend of mine told me I was "one of the guys."  Thanks man.  

...........I wonder if you know the boy I love and you told him that...

Oh well, it doesn't make a difference.  I am a guy.  Might as well start acting like one. And that means no crying for me!

When I was a girl I cried.  

I cried when my dad would hurt me, I cried when my sisters were hurt, I cried when I hid, and I cried when I didn't stand up for myself or my family.

I cried when we weren't friends anymore.  

and I cried when you wrote about me, hurting you. 

And i wanted to cry when i wrote this, but I am a boy now.  

And boys don't cry.  

I cried when I realized I'm no better than my dad.  I'm no better than he is.  

So i might as well be a boy and just become him.  

Just call me Martin Jr.

 I am a boy and even worse, I am a boy with no heart.  Just like my Senior. You taught me well dad.  You taught me well.  I guess that makes sense seeing that you are a teacher.  And since you are a History teacher, you know that History repeats itself.  

Well tip of my hat to you sir.  Your history has been repeated. Thanks to me, your heartless son. 

So I'll just forget about tears and focus on more manly things, like hurting people.  

Because that's what boys do best.  

Boys with no heart. 

and no friends

and no dad.

I miss my smile.

 who am I?

To the "Observer"

Sorry love, i've quit your game.
but it's true some things will always stay the same.


you cheer for her
and
my trust for you will, even now, be unsure


death brings me to my knees
so you could just let me be if you please
i'm sorry you think i don't try
but it's really just that my empathy has run dry
you think you're just an observer
but i must disagree and state my demurrer

you take sides
so obviously her friendship overrides

maybe you're right, and i will never grow
but at least now i know.




you cheer for her.
and my trust for you will remain to be


unsure.

stupidity.

Well when you call out  to me
in the halls
wistfully

it doesn't sound quite the same.
so now I'm compelled to write to you,
 the boy with the three lettered name.

you seem so serene,
untroubled, at peace.
But do you know what i've seen?

you can't hide from Ms. invisibility
and you don't understand
your culpability.... for my stupidity.

I lose my words, my protection
my walls fall down
and I've forgotten my direction.

I try not to look, but you slip into view
and when i'm not thinking
i cant help but think of you.

oh the boy with the three letter name
can't you see what you've done
 you set my heart aflame






You wear a tail
and when i see you
i sail.

oh the boy with the three letter name.
you are to
blame

you spoke to me like we were friends
but all good things 
have their ends.

My nosy search for the truth
must have made me
seem uncouth

now dear boy with the three lettered name
i hope you never find this
declaim.

please don't find this declaim.

because you're the boy with the three lettered name

and all i feel now is shame





because i know you don't feel the same





oh trying to write about a boy is lame.  <----- (and that my dear boys and girls is what i like to call a run on rhyme)  


Sincerely,
Never Writing Again.

P.S. This was for learning intentional purposes only....... kind of

Perfection

These aren't secrets, they're just moments in my life i never want to forget no matter how vaguely i explain them.

Please read and feel free to remember a time when these have happened to you and hold onto it forever; because perfection is something you don't come by everyday.  and trust me, these are all perfection.

When you and a stranger lock eyes, you smile, and they smile back.

When you tuck your hair behind your ears.

When a song steals a page from your diary.

When you say all the wrong things.

When you hear a weepy sniffle followed by a broken laugh.

When you have nothing to say, but you keep talking anyway.

When you wake up with the smell of dreams resting on your pillow.

When you hope a boy will call you, but a friend calls instead.

When you laugh whole heartedly and then cry because you're mad things can't be that funny all the time.

When you laugh at yourself for crying for the previous reason.

When you finally realize you don't mind being ugly. (this one most likely has only happened to me since all who read this blog are beautiful beyond description.)

When all the answers evade you so you respond with a joke.

When an entire class laughs at your joke.

When just one tear falls, and that's enough to sooth you back to sleep.

When someone hugs you and you don't want to let go.

When you give someone a goofy grin with your face stuffed and food falling from your lips.

When you smell his cologne before you see him.

When you watch a smile break across a shy girls face.

When you trust someone.

When you finally find a band that can solace your breaking heart.








P.S. feel free to share your own experiences... i might elaborate on mine eventually, or maybe not, oh actually having a choice! perfection.

For someone more beautiful than words could contain.

Today was a regular day.

A regular day where I got up and groaned at the face in the mirror.

A regular day where i held back many a tear.

A regular day where i huffed angrily at a woman i adore

A regular day where i sat near a man whom i always ignore

A regular day where i felt regret. 

A regular day i most likely will forget.

A regular day it was today.  Until it was no longer a regular day.

A regular day it remained to be when i stared at pictures of others having fun.

A regular day it was indeed where i envied everyone

A regular day where i opened my blog to release what was repressed

Then it was not a regular day. Because today i was blessed.

********************************

Today a girl made me sigh.

Today a girl made me laugh.

Today this girl opened my heart and nuzzled herself right inside.

Because today a girl gave me a compliment more meaningful than she could ever understand.

Well, because you see,

Today this girl made me forget the mistakes i see in my mirror.

Today this girl let me release all my tears.

Today this girl even had me eat humble pie

Today i will never forget.

Because today Sarah Janelle Thueson made me cry.  (in a wonderful way---not sadly!)

But what does sadden me is that she could be so kind and not understand that i'm not as wonderful as SHE. 

If only this lovely girl  could understand that i wish to be ANYONE but me.  

Oh couldn't she look in the mirror and see what I see??

Sarah you can be you!!!! why on earth would you ever want to be like me?

I should send my blog to a Dry Cleaning service....

I must apologize for my previous post.

I realize it makes absolutely no sense.  Yet i cannot bring myself to delete it.  So there it will hang like a wet cloth next to a dryer.  (because i could just as easily delete that post as i could dry a cloth sitting next to a dryer.... did that connection make sense...?? )

 I seem to be developing a pattern of writing quite obscurely.

darn


Haven't you ever done something that was just so heart felt and so true, you couldn't get rid of it no matter how awful it was?

If not, you obviously don't own a blog.

 because that's pretty much the whole scheme of this thing.
If i didn't put my heart and soul into each one of these posts, most of them would be deleted by now.

because most of the things i type are so silly, but so true to myself i can't just throw them away without feeling anything.

Here's what I'm trying to say:  i'm utterly ashamed of my blog posts, yet completely proud of them at the same time.  Therefore the delete button goes untouched.




and my blog hangs. 


soaking wet with embarrassment 




























and i believe it will hang there for quite some time.  






why do i do this to myself?

Sharing necks

If you opened up my neck you would find unspoken sorrow, bottled for years on end.

The pain would  spill out, dripping, sticky, and wet on your hardened heart, softening it up, gulping down your barrier and chewing, carefully, thoughtfully on your unsuspecting empathy.

You are a kind person underneath that shell covering your soul

and this makes you weak to the monster in my throat.

If you opened up my neck you would find rejected tears and piercing breaths. 

The tears would soak you to the core and seep into your bones.

You would feel no chill, but the fluid resting on your bones would be unsettling.

You would feel pain.

My weapons would stab you.  My breath.  My forgotten breath.

They would whisper in your ear and tighten your lungs.

Constricting your flow of angry blood and penetrate your thoughts.

They would tell you to feel.

Feel for this girl.

Feel for yourself.

just feel.

But you would reject it at once; fore this thing that speaks is evil.



.....




Isn't it?


.......

If you opened up my throat you would hold onto your walls surrounding your heart as tightly as you could.

Because the monster would slowly be finding you. The true you.

It knows you have feelings and it has seen your heart.

You would barricade the remaining vulnerable things.

But it would be too late.

The Monster would shred the last bit of your shield.

Then you would look down and see all the things you've hidden from the world.

Without the protection, without the walls, without any coverings at all, alone and frail.

And finally you would look down and see who you were, who you are, and who should've been all along.




If you opened up my neck you just might find yourself again.