Today, I was in my car pulling out of a Chinese restaurant, when I saw a man jogging across the street.
Even though I didn’t know him, my heart began to flutter. Does someone out there in the world get butterflies when they see him, when they know he’s near, or glance down the street and there’s that same toque or scarf?
Does everyone’s heart soar for someone? Does someone get butterflies for someone else out there, the way I do when I see him?
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, I’m so afraid that I want to run away.
It takes more than good memory to have good memories.
Sometimes mischievousness takes over my body and I smile to myself.
I wish I were a classical song,
A powerful crescendo.
Soul enrichingly graceful, able to cause tingles deeply embedded in the skin,
So when someone heard me,
They really listened.
- Recently I kissed a boy who probably wished I was someone else.
- Being an atheist was boring.
- I’m more sexually attracted to the female form, but I know I’m straight. Can you blame me?
- Those traffic lights that count down really stress me out.
- Talking on the phone with anyone I don’t know gives me anxiety
- I’m not sure if I want children because I’m afraid I’ll be like my parents.
- Some secrets are necessary.
- I don’t like my picture being taken because some day someone will cry over them.
- I want to know that little acts can change a person.
- I used to cry on father’s day when the other kids made gifts for their dads.
- I look at chandeliers and wonder if I could get out of the way fast enough if it fell.
- As an artist I feel guilty that I’d rather watch the people at museums than look at the art.
- I have dreams about watching a movie and the next day without doubt, it’s on t.v.
- I’m afraid that when I’m happy, I’m boring.
- My ambitions interfere with my love.
- The dedication page will read: For ———, who attempted to ruin my life.
- There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
- The reason I have a crooked smile is from years of keeping a straight face.
- Every time I see a parking ticket, I pretend it’s a love letter.
- I haven’t been tobogganing since I was 10.
- I don’t think there is any romance left in the world, Hallmark stole it.
- When I meet new people I imagine what it would be like to slap them across the face.
- Being clumsy will never stop me.
- Whenever I receive/send anything FedEx, I think about how the item would have helped Tom Hanks in Castaway.
- I still can’t grasp the concept that I won’t live forever.
- I wish that for one day, everyone would say exactly what they want to say.
- I wish I could carry her demons so she wouldn’t have to.
- I have friends that I love but don’t respect because they’re not very smart.
- My favourite number is 1073 because it kind of spells ‘love’
- “I’m saving the earth and strengthening u.s. foreign policy, you?” Whenever I see someone driving a hybrid car covered in arrogant bumper stickers I am filled with incredible solace knowing that in a collision, I would wreck your shit.
- I stick post-it notes in books I’ve signed out in the library.
- I tricked my mom into thinking that vodka is supposed to freeze in the freezer, I’ll never tell her it was the water I filled the bottle with after I dumped it in the sink.
- I’m afraid of going to the doctor because the likelihood that I have a terminal disease is higher than normal.
- I dislike opening gifts in front of the person who gave it to me.
- If I get married one day, I wouldn’t mind if it rained.
- I can’t help but feel like maybe I was born in the wrong decade.
- I resent the majority of black america because every Darfur activist I know is white.
- After the first year I stopped going to Track & Field in protest of making people feel degraded, even though I came in 1st for 3 of my events.
- I’ll lie for you if you’re a terrible kisser, and by God, there are a lot of you out there.
- I wonder how many people worried about Jesus returning before they finished the last Harry Potter book.
- I hate graceful people.
- I love my best friend but she’s very selfish and I wouldn’t want her in my zombie shelter.
- I intentionally get in the way of tourist photos, maybe they’ll talk about me in 10 years.
- I can’t believe I thought my first boyfriend was good at sex.
- I love when people who smell good borrow my clothes.
- I don’t think I’ve changed anyone’s life significantly.
- I fantasize about rejecting apologizes I know will never come.
In my writer’s craft class we’re assigned to write an autobiopoem, the examples and class discussion all show a lot of happy-go-lucky ways of doing so.
So as a test, on days when I’ve been in very good moods I’ve been writing as if I’m having a terrible day and want everyone to blow up.
Presently viewed as vindictive, over-bearing, blackhearted and monstrous.
The kind of gal who wears boots for height and authority, a turquoise Mary christened in Trevi water, and hair cropped short based on lack of tolerance.
Someone who preferred using her own mind rather than relying on simpletons to entertain her as a child.
A lover of the idea of physical ‘pressure’, to visit destinations like the Laurentian Abyss, Ethiopia, and a distant planet all so she can experience the pressure of drowning, sympathetic heartbreak, and gaseous imploding just to say she could.
Someone too young to feel like the constant parent, psychologist, and executioner to those who can’t fight their own demons.
Who seeks out exuberance and solace once again in the air shifting and intertwining throughout the leaves, the tug of a smirk or even a full-blown smile at the edges of her lips, and the never lasting calm before the storm.
A girl who hopes to once again enjoy the euphoric words of Jane Austen, the reassurance in home movies, the low moaning crescendo gaining momentum, the undecipherable calming verse, and the solitude in, “Yes! I Am A Long Way From Home” by Mogwai.
Who longs for the memoirs of the past, the ambition to persevere through the present, and the adrenaline needed for the future.
Who hopes to write a novel based on empathy and not just sympathy, a simple love song, and endless post-it notes to leave in books rented from the library.
Always unconventionally wishing for more than simply ‘attainable’ from any walk of life, and contentment followed by acceptance in the unattainable.
Who will now and forevermore fear slippery, slithering reptilians, failure, and fear itself.
A girl who anticipates gazing along mountainous and untouched terrain, to hear the waters skim across beaten rocks and continue to run deep, to frolic and graze a hand amongst the tall grass, to smell the fragrant aroma of wildflowers, and to taste the wind from distant countries on her tongue.
Who believes that a writer should always defy the mainstream of things and express what’s on their mind, create a new form of language in their words, and evoke emotion in everyone.
But she believes most of all that days like today won’t last forever.
I think I’ve made a discovery.
Something I’ve never read, heard or seen anything about, although I’m sure nearly every person on the planet has experienced it, or something close.
You know, that feeling where suddenly all of your muscles ache, and your eyes are burning. That spot right in between your lungs, just under your ribcage but just above your stomach, the feeling of your heart igniting into open fire, where it wants more than anything to burst out of your chest. Where you sit there days or weeks later but you still can’t feel it beating, this empty crevasse in your torso.
I assume it’s what someone would define as heartbreak, and that is something everyone has heard of.
But what if heartbreak doesn’t mean your heart is broken? That it has cracked into pieces inside of its little domain at your core?
What if heartbreak means that it’s trying to break free of your body, to escape and never be seen or heard from again?
Still intact as a whole, but never ready to agree to go through this feeling again?
What if heartbreak means that you’re broken, that you’re empty, that you have no more heart.
Just something to think about.