Verisimilitude

The heart begins beating at 4 weeks
after conception and doesn't stop till death.

Until I met you I was only

three weeks old.

The fetal heart rate is approximately 

twice as fast as an adults. 

Yours was going 72 

mine was going 146.

Plato theorized that reasoning 

originated in the brain, but that

passions originated in the heart.

You see, my frontal lobe
was FAR from developed.

The "thump-thump" of a heartbeat

is the sound made by the four 

valves of the heart closing.

Your thump-thumps kept
getting louder and louder.

75 trillion cells receive blood from

the heart. The only thing that doesn't 

receive blood is the corneas.

75 trillion cells receive blood
unless you tie a tourniquet, 
and you tied it all too close to me.

About 610,000 people die of heart

disease in the US every year. 

That makes heart disease
1 in every 4 deaths.

While making sure you were 
one of the 3, it got me 

a lot closer to being that 1.

Your heart beat changes and 

mimics the music you listen to.

I listened to you for hours on 

end, so it was no surprise when 

my heart sounded exactly like you.

Your heart beat changes and

mimics the music you listen to,

and your heart sounded 

nothing like me.

Because the heart has its own
electrical impulse, it can continue
to beat even when separated from
the body as long as it has an
adequate oxygen supply.

xxx
(help, I can't breathe)

Nostalgia At Its Finest

I remember the first school talent show I was in.
Third grade.
Colten Simper told me I was the best one.

I remember Colten Simper. 

I remember he would chase me at recess and I would throw my shoes at him.

I remember the mornings when I was little, me and my sister would sit on the floor between the fridge and the pantry, and we would tell each other about the dreams we had that night. 

I also remember the day she got send to rehab. 

I don't remember the day she came back. 

I remember my first kiss and my first train ride and I remember the first time I saw my mom cry while she was giving me a talk about being nice to the other kids.

I remember laying in the snow for what felt like hours, watching the snow come down on me. 

I remember I was 7 when I flashed the neighborhood boys because they wouldn't get off my playset. 

I remember my aunts reading me Shel Silverstein on Christmas Eve. 

I remember crashing into a boulder on my bike.

I remember the school field trips when even the parent chaperones teased me. 

I remember my first time to the zoo.
I went with my dad and my second grade class  and he taught me how to play the alphabet game. 

I remember going to the zoo at 16 and still thinking it's amazing.

I remember the first time I cried at school was 7th grade when Garrison told me I was fat. 

I remember people being surprised when I tell them I'm not in college, I remember people being surprised when I tell them I'm not in 6th grade. 

I remember my first cheer competition and my first house and my first best friend. 

I remember back yard water fights and front porch fire works. 

I remember cuddling on the couch with my mom every morning. 

I remember forgetting to get off the bus in second grade and crying when I realized I missed my stop.
I remember the bus driver was really nice and he took me back home.

And I still remember thinking that my skin was all that I was worth.
And I still remember realizing I'm more than that.

   I remember,  

     I remember,

       I remember. 

      

          I'm scared I'll forget. 

Daniel Boone- White Elephant

Its all just a challange

                             

                                               

                                                

Lonely can occur anywhere.

She was lonely in her car, 

lonely in her room, 

lonely in her thoughts, 

lonely in the sea of people. 

and she broke. 

You need to love her like she is something to be learned

for she is trapped in world you know nothing about

and love is the escape.

Back bones do break, but the things that are bending

now are her soul, her heart, and her ability to keep attending

but violence reports are pending

because she can't figure out how to tell you that her demons

are winning, that loading bar is spinning.

Death said now, she said I'm not sure how,

its all just a challenge and she doesn't 

think she will ever be the champion.

Blood too thick for paper

You guys already know a lot about me if you've been reading my blog
but heres some things you probably don't know about me:

I sleep with stuffed animals because ever since I was four years old I've had a really hard time sleeping alone. On my 6th birthday my parents gave me a life size Strawberry Shortcake doll so I would stop bothering them at night. 

My current sleeping buddies are a giant pillow pet giraffe named Eddie and a small Nemo fish. 

I am obsessed with anything to do with the sky. Rain, outer space, the moon, lightening, sunshine,
Im fascinated with it all.

I think the eye is the coolest part of the body. 

People tell me I have a lot of friends, and that I'm really good at talking to people.
But I spend lunch alone so...
I don't really believe them.

I'm selfish because if I find a really good song that I connect with, I won't show it to anyone because I feel like the song is mine. Considering that, if I show you a song, don't take it lightly.

Im the one who Nelson yelled at for having a different journal,
I told him I couldn't use a composition note book
because the ink from my pen showed on the other side of the page.
He told me to stop writing in blood.


Sorry.

Thats the only way I know how.

I write in my own blood, I sleep with stuffed animals, and I spend lunch alone.

I think the only places I belong inside Lone Peak are sitting at a piano, and room 221. 

I like having black nails and wearing sweat shirts.
I like painting my face and I want to be in a Baptists choir.
I like cuddling more than I like kissing,
and I like to know the whys of everything.

If you tell me something and I ask you "why?"
it is because I want to know the way your mind works.

You guys called me Alice,

But you can call me Amanda now.

I Can't Make You Love Me

https://youtu.be/u_FFiSkM0RM

-Heart

In biology we learned about hearts and our teacher told us that the heart stings (tendons) can sometimes break after a deep emotional trauma causing the heart to lose form and as a result be unable to pump blood effectively, you can literally die from a broken heart.
I learned that, then I got this letter from my heart. And it went like this..


Hey Alice, listen here. Let me tell you something you've been needing to hear for a while. 
I am not broken. 
Our past experiences have not rendered me incapable, 
they have not snapped my strings, 
they have only made them stronger.
I am pounding harder than ever,
my beat growing stronger,                                 

can you feel it?

My song grows louder and more complex as the days pass on.
I yearn for the melody and accompaniment of a second song,
I try to sing to the neighbor down the street from me but Mr Brain doesn't like to mess around much.
But I grow stronger even still and one day he won't be able to ignore me.


P.S. Don't be concerned about your crooked ribs, 
       that happened before I accepted that I'm caged for a reason.

P.P.S. Don't let anyone cage you,
          run free darling.

-Heart

(Blue ticket) HANDS

My hands are always fidgety, with small fingers and knuckles knocking together. Awkward turns and curves from brakes and slammed doors. 

My hands are cold. 

His hands were warm and knowing. They knew how to fix things and they knew how to hold me. They were gentle and firm. Gripping mine soft enough to not hurt but tight enough that I knew, in that moment he was here. 

In between your fingers were mine, and in between my fingers were the secrets you'd never tell me.

But, my hands are cold. 

Cold hands and a bold heart

But it's only now going to start 

We traded in for longer nights 

And constellation star lights 

Winter is coming with a storm ahead 

So for now I'll hide under my covers

Thinking about Incidental lovers 

Staying all winter in my bed

And probably wishing I was dead

We beg for summer stars 

And chasing after Mars

Accepting our creation

Along with our Damnation 

We're supposed to get liberation
from those in our family nation
but all I got was probation and a citation that says

Starvation, taxation, no relation. 

They say I'm like a Dalmatian

..That was a lie, no one ever called me a Dalmatian..

I only said that because of this fixation that my vacation
should be in a location that has a gas station. 

I'm running low. 

My minds a glow telling you things you already know and although below there's things that don't flow quite right, their too tight and I picked this fight. So I smite with all my might and then I take flight, it's almost twilight and I don't feel alright. 

My hands are cold, but my heart still warm. 

taking hold of this art form

And you know I don't conform, I perform, never sticking to the norm, but I should probably inform that I'm my own ice storm.
I'm my own Individual, never too predictable, nor am I traditional. So don't be typical, this isn't a ritual. This is real, so tell people how you feel, before you eat your last meal and peel back the covers and go to sleep,
then pray to God your soul to keep. 

I tried to close my hands to pray,

But their too cold. So in my heart a prayer I'll hold,

God might send me to hell when I'm old.
But at least I'll know my heart was bold.

Im sorry, I haven't been thinking straight lately

We turned into the intersection as a blue truck sped toward us, the girl in my passenger seat screamed, I slammed on the breaks and protectively put my arm in front of her. Grabbing onto her as his headlights collided with mine. We jolted forward as our cars slammed into each other. He was going 40, I was going 10. My hood bent up at an awkward angle and his headlights bounced off the engine in my car. It all happened in slow motion and I still couldn't do anything.

A text I sent to her. 
To the girl sitting in my shot gun:
Last night felt like deja vu. I don't know of what though. 
Just the part of you screaming and me grabbing you and the jolting part. 
Felt like i've done that before. 
And I feel like I can't function anymore. 
And did you see the way his car filled with smoke? 
Did you notice how slow everything was? 
Did you see my radiator bleeding out all over the asphalt? 
I feel like I will never move on from this. 
I feel like I won't have a moment without thinking about it. 
I don't pray very often. 
But I have talked to God so many times today 
about how grateful I am that everyone is okay. 
I am so sorry. 
Are you emotional about this? 
Because I am.

It doesn't feel real, it feels like a dream. And this is a problem. Nothing feels real anymore. I used to be scared of everything and I would feel my emotions too hard. So I taught myself that most things aren't going to kill me, and if they do, so what?..  

During movies when I'm getting too emotionally invested, I breathe and tell myself it's not real. I no longer cry during romance movies, The Notebooks not even real, sorry to break it to you. 

Horror shows don't give me nightmares, 

Car crashed that feel like dreams give nightmares.

I'm scared I'm getting too detached from life, too detached from the events in my life. It scares me that everything feels like a dream now. 

How to Get Over Someone

1. Listen to sad songs that make you cry, make a playlist of the songs that break your heart.
2. Cry. A lot.
3. Take all his stuff back to him. All the notes he wrote you, all his jackets, and sentimental items.
4. Write down everything that reminds you of him.
5. That playlist from number 1? Listen to it every day. It will hurt, and you will cry, but listen to it anyways.
6. Every time you go somewhere you will think about him, try to make new memories with new people.
7. Go to museums and realize that other things have history too.
8. Kiss as many people as you need to in order to get the stamp of his lips off your brain
9. That list you made back on number 3? tear it up like its nothing
10. Time is really what it comes down to.
11. Spend time with other people, make sure you don't isolate yourself or become a hermit.
12. Realize that the person you loved is different now.
13. Accept that things are different now.
14. Meet new people.



This list is crap. You don't just "get over" someone. You cry for months on end. Day after day you will see things that remind you of him and it will hurt, you will remember things he used to say and the way he would smile at you when you were having a good day.
You will miss the way he looked at you,
and how he wrapped his arms around you when you were crying.
You will miss the way his fingers sailed in the ocean of your skin.
You will miss the 2:37 AM calls and the way you would stare at the stars together.

I miss car rides with him.
I miss the way he looked at me and how he wrapped his arms around me when I was crying.
I miss the way his fingers sailed in the ocean of my skin.
I miss the 2:37 AM calls and staying up all night on the phone.
I miss him coming over after work smelling like grass and lawn mowers, but he just wanted to talk to me and see me and ask how my day was.
I miss the late nights and early mornings.

I miss the smell of your sweat shirts.
I miss driving up the canyon with you.
I miss going to the gas station with you and getting drinks.
I miss calling you just to tell you to go outside and look up because "the sky looks so beautiful, and I want you to see it"
I miss our hikes and drives up the canyon.
I miss the breakfast runs to Betos.
I miss the five hour talks in your jeep.
I miss spending every day in the summer with you.
I miss you okay?
I miss you and I think thats just how it is when you love someone,
a piece of them stays with you forever,
you never truly let go of what you had.




I wanted to teach you how to get over someone,
but seeing as I'm not too good at it,
maybe you could teach me.

They forgot something

They warned me about drugs

They warned me about sex

They warned me about driving fast and being friends with the "wrong crowd"

They warned me about getting behind in school work

They warned me about drinking alcohol and watching R-rated movies,

But they never warned me about falling in love.

How am I supposed to fit for eternity?

The longest time I've ever had a best friend is one year.

One whole year of being a best friend with someone, that a really short time to be with someone when I remember that im supposed to be with one person for all of eternity.

Relationships are over rated,

how do people expect me to be best friends with someone for a whole eternity?

Like even if it's not eternity, even if we're only married for like 50 years, that is forever!

My parents have been married for 18 years and they don't fit anymore. 

Married at 18 years old my mom didn't know who she was, she's different now she's figured out who she is and what she wants and that doesn't seem to be my dad. 

I think that people should stay in each others life's until they no longer fit.

How do you expect people to fit together for eternity?

My parents don't fit anymore but what's holding them together is me and my three siblings.

My parents stay together because they think it will be easier for the kids.

But me watching my parents not love each other?

That is not easy.

This may be a really horrible thing to say, but sometimes I wish they would get a divorce.

Because I want them to be happy, and they don't make each other happy.

They don't dance in the kitchen anymore, they don't mean it when they kiss.

They probably don't mean it when they yell either, but they do that anyways.

It's been so long since I've seen them dance in the kitchen that I've forgotten what intimacy looks like. 

Memorize what connects my lungs to my heart

I once knew a guy who could tell exactly how I felt by the way that I would breathe. 
I don't think he could do that anymore, I breathe different now. 

Fourth Period Thoughts

They say it takes 21 days to make a habit.

But I haven't carved into my skin for 365 days now. 365 days and during fourth period today I felt the sensation, the urge, it said:

"bite your fingers till the indentation on your skin could identify your dead body 15 years from now"

"Scratch your skin till it looks like the red moon everyone awed at last month, they thought it was beautiful, they think you're not”

What color is the moon with out the sun or without the earth casting her shadow on it? What does she look like all by herself?  And how do you figure that out?

"It will make you stop feeling"

"It will slow down the anxiety"

But then there's me, telling myself:

"No"

"Just find something for your hands to play with. No wait actually you need to put that rubber band down right now. It's okay, just put it into your back pack"

"Get your hands away from your mouth!"

"We are ok,

we are ok,

I am ok,

it's ok.

Alice, You are O.K."

"Your fine"

"Your fine"

"Your fine"

"Your fine"

"Just breathe, everything will be fine"

"Try to focus on the lecture, it will distract your mind"

"Sit on your hands"

"Just close your eyes. Breathe"

"In, out, in, out. Why does the kid to my left keep asking me questions. In. Out. In. Out.         It doesn't matter who's looking at you. In, out, in, out, inoutinoutinout. It's okay"

"You don't need to ask to go to the hall, you will be just fine"

"Grip the chair, distract yourself, but try not to look like your going insane."

"Today is your one year mark, don't mess that up"

365 days, that just over 17 times the number of days they say it takes to make a habit.

365 days and today was hard. So was yesterday.

The Bricks That Built Me

Eleven bricks for almost dying at nine months old

Thats when I decided I was a fighter.

Six bricks for the broken bones

Thirteen for the broken hearts.

Five hundred-Thirty Two bricks for each time I was molested,

Seventy-Three bricks for each time I cried about it.

Five bricks for the right rib cage that is lazily sloped to my center,

Eight bricks for the left one that takes a sharp crashing curve towards my lungs.

Twelve bricks for the shallow breaths,

Seventeen for the shallow thoughts.

Two bricks for each friend I left,

Fifty-nine for each friend that left me.

Seven more bricks for every day I was alone,

and six for every day I wasn't.

Nine-teen for every unkind word that slipped out of my mouth,

One for every unkind word that slipped into my ears.

Eight bricks for every time I hurt myself

Twenty-one for every day that I didn't.

Two for every boy I kissed,

And one for every boy I wanted to.

One for every city I've been to,

Five for every ocean I swam in,

Nine for the braces, 

and eight for the glasses.

Six for every picture I took,

Sixteen for every picture I drew.

Ten for every time I danced in the rain,

Twenty-three for every time I danced with my dad.

All these bricks and you were my keystone.

1. key·stone

   [ˈkēˌstōn]

   NOUN

   1. a central stone at the summit of an arch, locking the whole together.

Calloused Heart

Maybe next time my heart breaks it won't hurt as bad, because it's harder to hurt things that are calloused. 

How Long Boarding Is Like Loving You

These Things Are How You Make Me Feel

Like the whole spectrum of color and light, sometimes its exploding inside of me, sometimes its exploding just out of my reach

Like running through a field in slow motion

Like there are cities growing inside my chest

Like the way my mom feels at parades and sometimes the way I feel at parades

Like a California subway station whether empty or full

Like a campfire up the canyon 

Like when your underwater and realize how quiet it actually is

Loving you is like driving down Suncrest too fast

Loving you is like bowling, but sometimes i’m the ball and sometimes i’m the pins

Like trying to clean up raw eggs off the kitchen floor

Like blasting music in my car, sometimes its nice, other times it gives me panic attacks

Its like night time in the rain

Its like kissing in the rain

Its like I am the rain, and I'm just falling

Its like exploring a foreign country but occasionally its like moving to yet another house that I will never call home

Like getting called on in class when i wasn't paying attention

Like having one card left in uno then getting hit with a draw 4 card, it sucks, but sometimes it doesn’t, because i was trying to let you win anyways

Its like wearing your favorite shirt and staining it

Its like the universe when someone doesn't appreciate the immense perplexity of it, 

i’m usually the universe

Like the moment you tip your chair back too far

Like the time I tripped down the stairs with a spoon in my mouth and it got shoved to the back of my throat

Its like getting a zero on a math test when you were expecting a hundred, also, its vise versa

Its like you planted lovely flowers in my lungs, they were nice for a while, but darling i cant breathe anymore and their roots are digging into my chest 

Its like the freedom of riding your longboard down a hill, but its also the speed wobbles, its also the terrifying moment of stepping off and cascading toward the ground, tumbling till your lying sprawled out on the asphalt, breathing heavily and heart pounding. Its the road rash and the ripped jeans and the headaches. Its the telling your story over and over, its the bandaids, its the scars that fade but never enough.

I Had To Replace My Zipper Again

My heart is broken. 

It's been shattered, torn out, trampled on, soaked with tears, stabbed, and sewn back together. 

73 beats per minute, give or take a few.

The words you said did not carve into my heart and pass through my veins, although, that's what it felt like. Really, it's just an organ and it cannot feel in that way. 

My heart is not literally broken, but I think we like to name the pain and know where it comes from.  Because when we were little and our mom asked where it hurt, we would point to the scrape on our elbow.. So now they ask "where does it hurt?" And I point to my heart because it feels broken. I point to my brain because it won't stop rattling off depreciating thoughts and memories of us. I point to my lungs because I cry so hard I can't breathe. I point to my stomach because it's tied in knots. I point to my blood shot eyes. I point to the hands that won't stop shaking. I point to my soul because everything feels wrong without you here. but I'm grateful I don't have to point to my wrists. 

I think we're all waiting for someone to read in between the lines. And in between my lines it reads HEARTBROKEN, it reads LONELY, it reads DEJECTED, it reads MISERABLE, it reads DAMAGED. But it also reads STRONG.

So if my heart is not literally broken then why does it feel like there's a hole in my chest?

When you left it's like you ripped out my zipper and I can't put myself back together now. All I'm left with is useless zipper teeth and broken threads, but there's a gaping hole that reminds me of when you decided I was no longer good for you. And do you know how to fix a broken zipper? You have to remove it, thread by thread pulled out of its bearings. My first thread was changing the background on my phone so it was no longer a picture of us. The second thread I pulled out was changing your contact name to just your name and taking off the heart. The third thread was taking all your stuff, putting it in a box and dropping it off at your house.

And you know, even after you put in the new zipper, your still left with Dozens of pin holes where the threads used to be, and you have the raw bleeding scars from where you put the needle in over and over to pull the new thread through. And the first time you zip up the new zipper, it kills, you go slow because your scared it might rip out if you go too fast. But you zip it, little by little, it reminds you of the pain of the whole process, but mostly it reminds you of him leaving. 

Roxberry fixes everything.. Right?..

I made plans with him four days ago

he blew me off again

I'm fine

He's with her

he said we'd go to chick-fil-a

I'm fine

I just left the food at his house

I'm fine

"Can you give him this note for me when he gets home?"

I'm fine 

"I'm just gonna go now, tell him I said happy birthday."

I'm fine

He's not worth crying over

I'm fine

I'm fine 

IM FINE 

(or at least I'm trying to be)

He said he'll make it up to me with a Roxberry. 

I told him I didn't want him to buy me things

I just wanted him to spend time with me.

I asked him if he cared about me

He said yes

I said prove it.

Human

Writing this, I am sitting in a hammock in my back yard. The sun is in my eyes, 

it's 6:10 and I'm spooning Apple sauce into my mouth. Im probably happier,  

and more content with my life than I have been in the past two weeks.

And then I went to the cemetery with my youth group where two of the kids 

in my ward were buried this last year. 

We visited their graves and sang their favorite songs to their head stones, 

I don't know if that was for us or for them but it made my lungs compress and my heart beat slower and softer but harder at the same time 

We were getting ready to leave and I told my leader I was going to get 

in the other car because I just wanted to go home.. 

And then I started bawling. 

It was mixed with screaming I guess and I wonder if I startled the other girls 

when all of a sudden I'm screaming. 

I tried to hold it in, they said let it out, but then it got stuck. 

It got stuck and it just wouldn't come out, and i couldn't breathe anymore than the dead girl from my ward. 

All the girls kept touching my back but I knew dam well that they don't care 

about me. 

Sure, their good people.. They pretend to care about me when I'm sad. I don't 

want "good people" because that feels like a pity party. Their good people, just 

not good friends.

On the drive home everyone kept saying "that was nice". I was silent but I kept 

thinking "that was not nice, that freaking hurt".

Well that makes for 2 breakdowns and 5 hours of silence today

That probably makes me pretty human.

I had a dream last night

I had a dream last night that i walked up to a bar table and my parents were drinking beer
(let it be known that my parents are very against drinking)
Their cups were filled with golden liquid and had very long rubber straws sticking out.
There was a lady talking to them about being careful to not drink too much
She said "theres two sides: drinking till your numb, and drinking till it hurts."
I turned to my dad, made spirals in his straw,
I told him, "I hope you drink till it hurts"
He turned to me surprised and asks "Why would you say that??"
I told him that feeling pain is better than feeling nothing at all and walked away.

A list of my biggest fears

1. Car crashes
2.  To grow up and be just like my mom.

How to be yourself

1. Find clothes you like

2. Find music you like

3. Find restaurants you like

4. Find books/movies you enjoy

5. Find things you like to do

6. Find places you like to go

7. Now, forget what people think of you.

Forget about trying to be in with the ''cool kids'' or the ''popular crowd''.

Forget about what other people say, what they think, and how they look at you.

Find all these things you like and DO THAT.

Forget about the stereotype that goes with it.

Listen to that music, wear that style,

 Like things that are different.

 Have your own opinion. Like what you like.

Color outside the freaking lines

Be messy, be bold, be quiet

BE WHATEVER

but,

be you.

Oh to be a kid again

Oh to be a kid again

when you could color your house pink

and it didn't matter if your rainbow was 

out of order.

Oh to be a kid again

When you could run through sprinklers

and throw Pokemon down and they thought it was cute.

But five years later and throwing down Pokemon

is considered immature and nerdy.

SCHOOL KILLS CREATIVITY

It started in third grade when my teacher said:

"Why don't you try to color inside the lines

don't you think that would be prettier?"

That's when I started thinking that it was better to

color inside the lines, 

and that it was better to be just like 

everyone else

man was i wrong..

They ask me what my favorite color is
and I reply with
black.

They continue to tell me that
black is a shade not a color.

Just another person telling me that black
cannot be my favorite color,
for it simply is not a color.

Invalidated again
just for being myself.

HURRICANE WARNING

I know I'm a hurricane, but I hope you can stand your ground while I tear everything up, I hope you try and help me calm down. I hope that while my winds are blowing, you don't run away. Instead, I hope you stay, I hope you let me know I'm important. I hope that when I'm crying, you brush my hair out of my eyes, clean the tears from my cheeks, kiss my forehead and tell me I'm beautiful. Im hope you whisper "I love you".

I know I'm a hurricane, but please don't give up on me. My winds will die eventually. I know I tend to mess everything up and I'm always in the way. But if you stay a while, I promise you will see that I am beautiful. But I've got to warn you, I'm a different kind of beautiful. If you stay long enough, you will see and understand it. It's not so much the kind of pretty you would normally recognize, I'm pretty in a different way. I'm pretty  when I pour my emotions out at the piano. And although I didn't write the song, it seems as if it came straight from my soul. I'm pretty when I dance in the mirror, pumping myself up for a party of one. Im pretty in the way I think, and the things I can do, not in the way my body is shaped. I'm pretty in the way I giggle for no reason, but just because I'm happy to see you. I'm pretty in the way I bite my lip and shake my hands to keep myself from crying. And when I do cry, I'm pretty in the way my eyes turn the color of the ocean, I'm pretty in the way the tears silently roll down my cheeks, and tickle as they fall off my chin. I'm pretty in the way my mind works. I may not have the nicest body, the prettiest face, or the long shinny hair, but I will love you with everything that I have.

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I guess you weren't ready to handle my hurricane, because while I was getting ready to say I love you, you were trying to figure out how to say goodbye.

Trying on Hats

Let me just give a preface to this post, that to some of you it might reveal who I am.

     When we wear hats are we hiding part of us that we're ashamed of? Or are we just showing off something we're proud of? I think maybe a little bit of both, I get different attitudes when I wear different hats. Clothes give me different attitudes when I wear different styles. Songs give me different attitudes when their flowing through my brain veins.

So music, hats, and styles are rubbing their vibes off on me,

But what am I without all of that?

                                           I haven't written anything with the past three hats I've tried on,

           

                                                                                                           Maybe it's time for something new...