this is me.

changing everyday.

damn youtube, you used to be cool with no ads.

I've had so many tears that I feel feel-ed out
I'm spent
I've spent too much time,
too many tears.
I'm dried up.
Dried up and then flooded with
complacency.
But every now and then
I feel the wrenching of my heart,
Almost like it's saying,
"Oh, I'm still here,
You feel that?
Good, because you should.
You should feel some more,
Even if I have to heart-beat the apathy out of you.
It's time to open those wounds,
Let them heal naturally,
Not with the synthetic stitches
of others' approval.
Let yourself heal.
I promise you'll feel more like you
if you do.

WHY AM I ALWAYS THE HORNIEST WHILE I'M ON MY PERIOD?! It's not fair. sorry for the caps. ACTUALLY I'M NOT SORRY.

I remember (of all the weird things my memory holds on to) an episode of American Idol where Simon Cowell asked interviewing questions to contestants before they auditioned and one of them was "If you just won $100,000 what would you spend it on?"

This one girl said "I would give it allll to charity."

Simon scowled at her and didn't even give her a chance to audition. "Oh come on! All of it? No. I'm looking for a real answer here."

I laughed because in my head I instantly thought, "Yeah right bitch!" Okay maybe some small percentage of people would-some of it or most it, hardly all of it.

Simon asked the same question to the next contestant and she instantly replied "A hot pink cadillac!" and he smiled and let her sing, and then smiled some more after she let out the honest song in her heart.

I also watched a program about people who have won the lottery. One was a humble man in his forties. Brown-bearded, beer bellied, and honest faced. As grammatically incorrect as this sentence, but full of good intentions and insight. This man had a passion for fishing so he opened up his own bait and tackle place and hired himself as his only employee where he continues to work because he gave the rest of his money away. He helped a few friends with their bills and bought them trucks to get around town. He paid off the mortage for a woman who cared for him as if she were his own mother. He teared up just talking about paying off that mortgage for her because he cared about her so much. He was so happy to help someone he loved and it made me cry. There I am crying on my bed watching my recorded DVR shows in my own little place.

One day I hope I can make someone that happy, to be that happy for helping someone else. I started talking about money and then ended with talking about love and happiness. I guess that's all I really want. Then I think, well isn't that all that anyone really wants? No, actually. But I love the people who do. and yeah, I know I say money isn't that important to me but um yes I need it and want to make it and have more of it but it's not all that makes a good life.

Okay.

When someone flips me off while driving
it sparks a small fire in me
I am far too excited to honk my horn
when the situation calls for it
when its a bigger car (size or party wise)
you will always be wrong
when there's that asshole
speeding past me
I remember that sometimes I'm that asshole too.
Maybe that asshole has a pregnant wife in the front seat
a dying relative clutching for life in the back seat
a job interview in 3 minutes and 45 seconds
Let it slide, let it nearly scrape past you
it could have been you
you could be them in the future
speeding toward an event
a ticket
a surprise moment in life
a death

When I feel you being pulled away,
when I feel you,
when I feel,
I can suspect
that it's not just me
who I worry about.
When I see a distance in your eyes,
a distance I can't reach,
a distance never measured,
I want to find you,
even be lost with you.
I want to make you stay,
stay in my gaze.
Where is your mind going?
Come back to me.
I can show you a path for your eyes to look-
not always on me,
I don't expect that,
but with me,
ahead,
looking towards
who knows,
but looking towards.

You told me you didn't like all the stuff I wrote. Okay, yeah I expect that, but still I mumble a little "Ouch" to myself. Oh come on, I say to myself...I dont like EVERYTHING someone does or says or writes either.

Yeah but,

but.

You told me I'm accessible and unstructured. This is true.

That I have talent and unrefined skill.

& I say that's just me in general,

unrefined talent.

Is this a poem right now?

Nah, but it could be.

In fact yes, it is.

I declare it so right now.

Put it in the modern art of poetry book that I have just made up in this moment.

Signed,

Me.

I think about those drives to Tahoe.
Loud, loud music of my choice blasting from beat up speakers, 
which at the time was any crazy electronic/melodic dubstep I approved of. 
I hear the songs now and I think of those drives. 
Songs that started with pretty voices and built up to an energy that I can't explain. 
Songs with sound waves that matched my heart beat. Driving for 3 hours and feeling nervous 
the entire way. An excitement that followed my car's speed. Long and winding into the dark. 
So dark that I didn't know what was coming. Redwoods spearing through the distance. Cold & fresh air seeping onto the glass.
A log cabin-esque looking gas station. 
A town you could miss in the blink of an eye. 
A familiar road sign that told me how far away I was 
from being wrapped in your arms. Red bull and sugary treats to keep me awake. Dark drives with flashing high beams. Late night thoughts. Excitement creeping up on me as gas drained. Excitement in my veins. 1/2 way there. I'm coming baby. 
I have to pee really bad but god damn I can't wait to kiss you. 
This drive is worth it. This all means something to me. This will be something to look back on. I'm looking back. I feel it in my heart. I remember those drives the most. That feeling. Not so much the days we spent together as the time I spent thinking about coming to you. The delay of being in your arms. The distance I travelled. The distance before we were two. The distance between me and you.
The distance I fought in the dark before I reached you.