cloudy days

"Sweet pretty happy girl," you said on that bright morning, and for a moment, I felt like something of shining value.

Sometimes I wonder how you see me now. If I'm worth less to you because the thunderclouds have covered my face.

I'm still here, you know. Behind the stormy grey, I'm still shining. Maybe it's harder for you to see. Maybe you've given up on me.

But you don't determine the sum of my worth. If I have dimmed in your eyes, it's a symptom of your vision, not a lessening of my strength.

I may be sad, but I have joy. I may be scared, but I have hope.

My God is the ruler of peace and storms alike. Even if you walk away, I will not be alone. Someday I will be free again. I will be warm. I will shine with a strength you've never seen before.

(You can put up your umbrella and wait for fairer weather. It will hurt me. But I will not fault you.)

(In spite of rain, I will always love you.)

stars

Milky Way over the Alps by Leonardo Orazi

unwritable things

I'm thinking about people who don't write. I wonder what it's like to feel emotion without having to put it into words. How does it work? Where does it go?

When writers fall in love, they keep it all. Pages and pages of sprawling metaphors bleed out: letters and poems and secret confessions, things for the world and things for no one else. It's as though by capturing the sparks on paper, we imagine that they will always remain the same.

But what about the others? Those people who don't write -- what do they do when they fall in love? If they don't try to cage their feelings behind black and white bars, do they send them out in the world? Do they give them away? Do they live them? And does that make them better people?

If you have answers, tell me.

Show me.

ten things

1. Freckled knees
2. Sister kisses
3. New books
4. New people to talk about books with
5. Pyrotechnics
6. Haircuts
7. Comic books
8. New words
9. Summer storms
10. Watermelon

7.2.13

the sorry truth

Here's the sorry truth.

I'm afraid I won't be pretty if I cut off my hair.

(Ooh, it looks bad when I say it out there in the open.)

But here's a fact:

I'm going to cut it anyway.

Maybe it won't make me any stronger.

But maybe it's a needed change.

(This is stupid. I know it. You know it. Vanity, the whole ordeal. It's just hair.)

I'm not sure why I felt I needed to say this so badly. 

But here it is.

cheers

I want to talk to you about happy things.

Tell me about the best view you've ever seen, and the journey you took to get there.
Let's compare favorite childhood TV shows.
Do you remember waiting for the Deathly Hallows to come out?
What's your favorite ice cream flavor?
I want to tell you about the life-changing grilled cheese sandwich I made myself earlier this week.
Gardens we've grown, childhood crushes, favorite amusement park rides. Christmas traditions. The best birthday you ever had. The number of Hannah Montana songs you once owned (and be honest).

Essentially, I want to share the conversational equivalent of Skittles with you. A rainbow in your hand. Something fizzy, like soda pop in the summer. No sadness allowed.

(This picture makes me happy.)