Come on unrefined talent, make me famous! Have my passive efforts aggressively pursued by someone else.

I saw your note,
it was tucked away for me to read,
folded in my thoughts.
You didn't say much,
but you didn't need to.
I felt our story in your short words.
I felt a love only you and I know.
I felt a smile,
and I felt a familiar but different
definitely different,
pain.
I felt for your own feelings,
how you ask not much of me,
how you see me and can't,
though you try, to stay mad,
and I ask why I make it so hard to be had.

Gardening is deep

       "Now pull it out of the pot and grab those shears and cut along the bottom. Then pull at the roots and sort of uncurl them."

"I feel like I'm ruining it. Am I ruining it?"

     "No. You're supposed to do that. Marybeth worked in a nursery and they all used to cut about a quarter of the bottom of the plants off. It helps the roots expand. They're all constricted in there and this helps loosen them up, it helps them-"

"Branch out?"

         "Yeah. They grow much better that way."

The internet makes love a little more psychotic,
not that it needs much help with that,
but
you can become click crazed,
a private public investigator;
you find yourself knowing things
you're not sure you should know
& maybe you pretend that you dont,
but you do.
Maybe you've seen all the way down their Instagram well
but still wait for them to tell you about that picture you mentally liked
which is still special, but,
you already heard it in your own words,
you already digested the cliffnotes of their personality.
Anxiety can hang in the meaning of a comment
or uncertainty in the relationship of one of your 534 "friends,"

white lies are painted with starker colors 

when there's proof you aren't where you say you are-

Ms.-uploading-a-picture-when-I sent-you-a-text-hours ago.

I sound like a hopeless romantic
lost in the quicksand of forum threads,
but I know there's a bright filter for every dark one,
that love can be connected more than ever before.
It can be carried by satellites to different lands & times.
It's as electric as your eyes lit up
with words meant just for you.
& even though you can search & search,
there are still things you'll never find,
you'll never know,
& I'm not entirely sure how it all works,
but I believe in it.

A great man

Even though I don't really remember watching Mr. Rogers, I'm glad I did. What wonderful messages he had for the children of the world.

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