I used to write in Pencil.
everything i said was light and easy to smudge away.
and very easy to erase.
i'd never take risks except on rare occasion, with my eraser tight in hand.
when my tip got dull, i never knew how to sharpen it so i wouldn't.
i would just sit back and compare myself to the pen writers.
when my tip broke, and others would offer me a pen,
i would just pretend that i had another pencil,
the fear of ink on my fingers and clothes
stronger than my love for writing, or just anything.
the comfortable feeling of a pencil in my hand, a trap.
Pen writers scared me. Bold. Owners of their imperfection.
Eternal.
Their confident messiness reminding me of something I never had.
The permission to be bold.
But who needs that? when among other pencil writers, that permission seems like a priority,
and their erasers are sometimes even more crippling than ink on your fingers.
So why not write in Pen where no one can erase me?
I used to live in Fear.
But its okay because I write in Pen now. And I am not Afraid.
The Survivors say that theres no such thing as finding your own Paris
And what I mean by Paris is, your own place that makes you feel wild with life.
A place that no matter what happens, you know that you can always go there. It reminds you of the 206 bones in your body and the fact that you're still breathing.
A place that inspires you.
And yet, here we are,
a bundle of jumbled hats with pom poms,
doubled up hoodies, ukuleles, smoke, and starbursts.
A group of crazies that aren't supposed to care about each other.
A group of teens that spend every day together but haven't truly seen each other til tonight, and
a scattered bunch of "dictating" adults that we're not supposed to love.
We stand here in a place thats safe from the world.
We left our brains back on the bus, wrung out and laying to dry,
and here we are watching the sparks dart sporadically in the night sky.
We are in the mountains, bleeding in a place that says our blood is a masterpiece.
Alive
Here we are, watching the adults burn their walls down with the fire we're standing around.
There they are, wearing beenies, playing the guitar, and dancing with tamborines.
Alive.
We see them.
And we've decided that we love them.
Here we are, a bunch of random teenagers.
The "Inbetweeners" that don't even fit into a stereotype.
A boy who plays his viola for all to hear.
A girl who loves poetry and learns to play the ukulele by the light of the fire.
The kids who feel there is more to life, but are still learning how to see it.
And we are alive.
Here we are by the fire, with marshmellows stuck to our fingers and voices that are running out of juice because of the songs in our hearts.
In a world that is heavily influenced by the survivors, I swear we have found life, love, and trust.
And we have found our Paris.
Dear G,
Thats what I've decided to call you. While other giggling souls chose to call you GareBear or G-Mo, I choose to call you G. It just suits you. Anyways. Now you have a nickname.
I just need you to know some things. I haven't seen you in a year and I've changed so much. I wish I could go back and be the person that you probably needed me to be. And not to be cocky or anything, but I wish you could see me now. I bet you've changed a lot too... and I hope for the better.
G, there were so many things I never came right out and told you. Like, I like you. I know my actions said so, but my words didn't. I'm sorry. I know that you did too.
I'm sorry that I never told you much about me. I would've if I could. I remember the look on your face the last time I saw you. I think you were crying but I couldn't tell because it was dark and you had your glasses on. I know, I don't do good with abrupt-ness either....to say the least. Thank you for not letting go. Just because I didnt cry doesn't mean my heart wasn't heavy. Or that I hadn't cried at all afterwards.
Can I just say that I think you're better than you think you are? Your macho peacock guy failed to work on me from day 1. I know that you knew that, but you pretended that you didn't. Turd. Why do you need to protect yourself in that way?
When I gave you that note in English 9, I meant it....
I may not have had my head when I did it. But I meant it.
I don't know...I want to say that I loved you. I felt a lot of that for you even though we really didn't know each other at a deep level, but I also know what infatuation means and I think I felt a lot of that too. People always say that teenagers don't know what love feels like. And I know that every twitterpated high school couple says that they're the exception to that statement, but when I look at them it seems like they're not. I don't know. I know I've felt love for someone. I've gone to camps and things over the summer and I know by the end of the few days that I'm there I've made new friends that I love. People won't judge me for that. But I know the minute I say that I love you, then it automatically means I'm infatuated. And maybe I really don't, because real love doesn't care what others say. But I think I do. I don't know.
I may not know if I'm infatuated or not right now, but I do know that I fell in love with the person that only I saw: the person you could become. I fell in love with the potential that I never see in anyone, but saw in you. I fell in love with the thoughts about our potential that took up all of my homework time. I fell in love with the butterflies that I felt in my tummy whenever I knew I was gonna see you. I fell in love with the idea that you loved me.
You know what, G? I do love you. I think everyone feels somewhat love for each other anyways, attracted to each other or not. I know I would've loved you even if I hadn't been attracted to you. Just because with me and you theres the added "attracted" factor doesn't mean that we're automatically a cheesy high school couple...infatuated. We can have the "love-each-other-as-friends" type of relationship with the added "attracted-to-each-other" type of feeling to it because thats what it honestly felt like between us. Anywho. Good thing you know me well enough to know how I talk because I don't think this is making any sense haha.
Well. There ya go, G. Theres everything I never said. Thanks for all that you've done for me. Take care.
mE
