Can We Pretend That Airplanes In The Night Sky Are Like Shooting Stars?

I have lived a short life. All to many good and bad things happening in the mix of things. I am only 18 for now almost garunteed to get older. Once upon a time I wanted to "grow up" and be a doctor; I changed my mind many times like any growing child.

But I began to fear the world and all that was in it. It was suppose to be an age of innocence. Stolen by the fear of weather or not I was going to be yelled at when I got home from school every day. I knew this was wrong...I was not suppose to fear like this. But long ago I took the role of survivor instead of playing the victim. I finally came to terms with the fact all that I endured was "abuse." And I over came that. No matter how many times I was told I was nothing,no matter how often I was told I was worthless,and no matter how often I was screamed at and threatened for doing innocent things,I knew he was wrong.

And whenever I heard the yells,or breaking of furniture,I would sneak my way outside no matter what time of day or night. And I would Look up and wish on everything that lit up.

Even airplanes.

I finally got my wish and I know after so long.

Everything is going to be okay.

I'm going to be okay. And I know that there are people who care about me no matter what. I have learned to love myself in general. And I have opened up. I finally find it in my heart to trust someone. That fear is being replaced by innocence once again.

I am growing happier by the day.

Not saying I don't get down,I am only human. Stuff happens,but all is never lost.

And when I "grow up" I know that it will not be about what I am but how I am.

I've got a lot of growing up to do still and I know what I want to be "when I grow up" but that is irrelevant,because I know how I want to end up is happy.

A strange and simple concept.

And to think this huge revelation all started with me pretending that airplanes in the night sky were shooting stars.

Don't Try To Lie,I Know The Truth:No Longer A Secret

At some point I stopped caring

About wether or not they know my secrets

Because no matter how deep

No matter how painful

No matter how stupid

No one cares

HE Loves me

Because I'm not ashamed

Who I am

Is who I will be

Not because it's my religion

Because it's my RELATIONSHIP

With Him

I know

He sees me

He knows me

He forgives me

He understands

We talk for hours on end

Even if every conversation is heard only within my head

What I am lacking

He is not

For I am broken

On my knees

I pray

I ask

To know His love

Never really letting me fall

He will always answer the call

I BELIEVE

Once and for all

HE LOVES ME

ALL

Of

me

Bleeding Passion

I bleed passion

I bleed it internal

Beauty from within

Urges me to win

Not the race

Nor the game

This passion

Wants me to win for the same

Equality

A more open mind

Not let hate bind these hands of mine

Just in time

Making one

A difference

Starting with a heart

Ending with a start

Don't let the world us tear apart

From the outside in

Bleed it

From the inside out

Stand for something

Show them where effort ends

Where passion begins

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

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