Boxed Life

It has been a long while since I've got to sleep in my own bed. I've been sleeping in borrowed beds,couches,and mattresses on the floor. I've been kicked out of one living situation in to a not living situation. Technically I am a homeless person,I have no permenatnt place of residence. And, I can't find a job; it is like I have a huge stamp on my forehead that says "do not hire." At this point in my life I should be a somewhat thriving,stressed,ready for summer college kid,but I'm not...and I won't be for a long time. The not being able to find a job means I am usually sans money,which means I barely ever have enough spare change to put gas in my car let alone take my ACT which I need to apply for any and all of the schools I would LOVE to attend. My family helps me as much as they can,as well as my mom since she is in a similar place.

Last year I was living in a place that felt more like home than any other place that I have ever lived in my life. People were more open an accepting of everything.

Now I am back "living" in my "hometown" where everyone judges every move you make and critizies for every choice you do and don't make. I was raised there but I never fit in,and I never want to.

Last year when someone would ask me where I live I would proudly tell them.

Now I hate when people ask me that because it hurts to much to tell them I don't live anywhere;I usually make a joke out of it,but it really hurts to tell people that.

I was plucked away from my real friends,and my real home.

Then I was put back in a place where I only thought I had real friends,and where my real home has been reduced to a now mildewed pile of boxes under a covered concrete slab that is exposed to the elements and anyone who passes by 24/7.

I know the circumstances kill my mom,who just wants me to be me,and be happy,she tries really hard. I know it makes her sad that she can't provide for me the way she wants to. I want her to know that it is okay,and she give me more than she knows. She accepts me,supports me and my crazy self,and just loves me for who I am,and even thinks my crazy tattoo obsession is cool.

I couldn't be more thankful than I am for having the mom that I do.

And my dad,wow,he has shocked me in the recent extra time I've got to spend with him. Let's just say that I know where I get my passion for traveling from.

Thanks dad for showing me something new about yourself that reminds me where I come from.

On an almost closing note,I miss all of my friends so much that it kills me. I don't think anyone understands. I want to tell them on a daily basis,but I'm afraid that they don't miss me half as much as I miss them. And part of me is waiting for them to be the people who falter and say it first,but they never do. I actually rarely hear from them,I know they have lives,but I miss my friends!

I truly am glad to have them in my life,they aren't bad friends...I'm just forgetful...kind of like that $20 you leave in you pants and find when you are cleaning your room a few months later,you forgot you had it but are supper excited to have found it.

All in all my situation makes me sad when I think about it.

Homeless,job less,bruised spirit.

But I keep moving on,growing each day.

I cry often,but I smile more.

Because my boxes are only half full.

Can You Hear It?

Andy rummaged through the cabinet under the bathroom sink,desperately looking for and extra roll of toilet paper,only to be met with towels,discarded makeup bags,an old curling iron,and two boxes of tampons. As last she took a desperate attempt and raided the cabinet in her younger brother's bathroom.

"Ah ha!" She whispered triumphantly snatching two extra rolls out from behind the towels,and taking them back to her bathroom.

She slammed the door,to the bathroom and some canisters of lotion and hair products fell over.

She knew that it was bound to happen,they were already leaning, bareley being supported by the chord of her straightener.

"Yep"

She sighed as she straightened up the fallen pile. She took to the porcelian throne to do business.

The window in the other room was open,and she could hear a train going buy,cars stopping at the stop sign on the corner,then accelerating off to wherever. The faucet in the bathtub was leaking with a tiny drip every now an then,just audible enough for her to hear. For some reason every single noise was ringing very loudly to her.

With a loud woosh the toilet flushed. Andy then went into her bedroom,and sat. She listened,it seemed almost surreal,hearing it,like everyone was living life together but they never crossed paths,never influenced one another in anyway,without saying a word. She couldn't help but wonder.

How unaware are we all really?

When did all of the noises,natural,and man made alike,become background noise?

"Maybe its just me." She spoke to herself again.

Sitting back down at her desk,and putting on her giant headphones,she played some music,blocking out those sounds,in hopes to that when she did hear them...she would really hear them.

From Zephyr to Writing

Zephyr,Wind,Spirit,Indian,Native,Hometown,Bradford,Misfit,Strange,Different,Odd,

Sloth,Smelly,Poo,Loo,England,Travel,Freedom,America,Live,Home,Missing,Wanting,Searching,

Google,Stalk,Beans,Chili,Yummy,Cupcakes,Muffins,Breakfast,Must,Breathe,Heartbeat,Drums,

Drummer,Band,Boy,Cute,Turtle,Small,Puppy,Soft,Hair,Dry,Condition,Color,Crayons,Crayola,

Best,Music,Love,Hug,Cuddle,Pillow,Sleep,Night,Adventure,Movies,PopCorn,Butter,Toast,

Sandwhich,Variety,Television,Sparingly,Lotion,Tattoo,Ink,Pens,Writing

Windows

I don't ever try to make sense,but when I do it truly means something. I ramble on and on,just hoping that someone will take notice,will listen,will notice. I can be happy,sad,angry,confused...most of the time I am. It is all so simple. I can feel it,I have it figured out for just a second. My world is always crashing in,one wall gets fixed,and then the roof starts caving in. Those walls don't hold me...thats why there are windows. My eyes,blue like water,like that of the ocean,so easy to read,so predictable, can damage a soul within seconds,without warning. I've started to think,more than they ever wanted me to. Give me passion,in the making. I bleed it. Splatters on my shoes.I think you are ridiculous,at times we all are. All in different ways,we gained portals with time.Communication is dead.The system,constantly screwing with our heads.

The Messy Attic

Heavy steps

Up stairs

The creaky door

No one has entered in years

Search for electricity

No trigger in sight

Through a fog of cobwebs

See the sunlight

It filters out

That which the darkness hides

So personal

So divine

The contents of the messy attic

Are

To be found

In this mind

Mine

Miss

Hidden behind eyes

Deep

Dark

Searching for some form of light

Natural

Longing

Given up on

No one feels sorry for

You don't deserve this

No one does

Especially you

You think the same of me

I can see it

You believe it

The moments small

Fleeting

Holding on tight

This time is all we have

Far from a hero,you

Far from a heroine,me

Living

To decieve

Wanting to be

Nothing more than free

Higher Love

Right now

I'm not crying because i'm sad

Angry

Nothing negative

I cry because you gave me the strength

To live again

Means so many things

It means the most to me

So much discouragement

The world deals it out on a daily basis

So much kindness

You dealt it on a secondly basis

Lifted me up

Until the end

I'm not crying because I miss you

I am

Because you still believe in me

After the end

My love I send

And yours I still keep

Because that is the kind

Love

Runs so much higher than six feet deep