You’re Missing

I wrote this poem a while ago and decided to post it. I just uncovered it and remembered how much I loved it.


I was the love of your life

and you were the love of mine

and you were the lover of my mind

and everything I wanted to find

But then you left

and you took it all away

and nothing I said could make you stay

and I shouldn’t even bother now, anyway

But I love you,I love you.

And screaming doesn’t help

because you never listen

to the pain I felt because I was missing

you so much that my blood would glisten

Across my skin

I started getting sick

and my hair was thin

and so was my body

Because I wasn’t enough

to keep you around

and I knew that, so I lay on the ground

hoping to stop this spinning around

but my world isn’t slowing down

So why is yours?

that’s not fair

you keep your sanity, your weight, your hair

and meanwhile I’m here, gasping for air

wondering, wondering why you’re not there.


Novel Idea!!

I’ve been working on two autobiographies (I know. They’re about two completely different things, but I’m in love with both of them). Of course, life throws you curveballs, and I’ve been thrown a good deal of them lately. I’ve been having a very difficult time putting them all together. I was lying in bed this afternoon, crying because the heartache came over me again, and the idea hit me; I need to write about this. It will be fiction, but only sort of. I’m making a character and giving her experiences like mine, like my friends’…anything. The two of us need to understand each other with different ideas so we’ll actually have things to write about and learn about one another. I plan on calling it, Chasing Daisy, for reasons I will explain. Daisy is the name of Gatsby’s one true love; that almost unattainable dream that he needed to be truly happy. For me, Daisy is not just a novel character. She is the happiness I’m looking for in everything. She’s the ex-boyfriend who is now going into the air guard, saying he’ll be back for me when he comes home. She’s the sadness I feel–the demons that haunt me every single day. She’s so many things for me, and I need to address them. Hell, this whole book could be Daisy for me, and I could actually catch her. This is going to be interesting to write, but I can’t wait. I’m holding off all other projects until this one is complete. I’ll post things periodically about the book on here; maybe I’ll ask for opinions or editing or what I should even do, but I’ll definitely let all of you wonderful, talented people stay in the loop!

No Guts, No Gory

I sat outside the house, as I had been for several days now, reminiscing the time that I had spent silently hiding among the grass in a sprawling field. I remembered watching as they came, creatures in pairs and groups, sauntering along and stopping occasionally to grab and observe those around me with eager eyes. If one was not satisfactory, he would be dropped back onto the ground carelessly, and the creatures would continue on, leaving the rest of us glad that we had survived another day. After a good time of evading the eyes of the creatures and hoping that I wouldn’t be the one to be dragged away next, it was to my dismay that I was selected by a group of takers.

            Upon my arrival to their small dwelling, I was set on a table beside a few of my new acquaintances. We were terrified and curious as to what our fates would be, and we didn’t have to wait long before we found out. The young lad on my right was chosen as the creatures’ first sacrifice, and the rest of us were forced to watch in horror as the proceedings ensued. A knife shifted into our view, and we were shocked as one of the creatures dug the blade crudely into the top of our poor friend’s head and began to cut around its perimeter. After the larger creature had separated one part from the bottom, several of its smaller offspring dug in, tearing out his innards and dropping them into a bowl with a sickening splat. Following the gutting of our poor companion, we found ourselves looking on and holding our breath as the larger creature stepped in once again, this time slicing a grotesque image into his front side as the younger ones cheered in sick excitement.

            I watched as the horror continued on each time until finally, it was my turn to endure the damage. I had heard of these acts of insidious destruction before and had nightmares about the subject; families being separated, children and their parents being forced to stomach the inevitable torture that would occur, all the while knowing that they would never see their loved ones again. I never once thought it would happen to me; I was so young-I didn’t deserve to have my once peaceful life end in such a gruesome and untimely way!


            I woke up in a daze and eventually became aware of the steady warmth that was burning inside me. I felt no pain, just the brisk wind of the fall that I had come to know and love on so many autumn nights. Then I heard voices emerge from several of the small creatures as they walked down a path beside their fellow traveler;

            “Come on, Dad! Hurry up!”

            “It’s time to go trick-or-treating!”

            “The other kids will love our jack-o-lanterns when they come!”

Untitled Poem

It’s not fair 

that you get to live a normal life

unharmed, untainted, unafraid.

It’s not fair 

that you’re strong and intimidating and wreckless.

It’s not fair

because here I am, a year later,

still broken, hurting, upset, sad, and scared.

I’m not scared of seeing you anymore.

I’m scared that I’ll fall back into your trap

like I did so many times,

apologizing because you said it was my fault

and I believed you..

I believed you.

And I lied to my family and my friends

when you gave me gifts and flowers and that damn Taylor Swift CD.

I let them think it was because you cared about me.

I let myself think it was a reward for being sorry.

I still don’t know what I was sorry for.

You chose to hurt me,

you chose to yell at me,

both for really no reason

and I know that now.

But I don’t understand why.

I doubt I ever will.

Writer’s Block

At my college, I was recently hired as a night host in my residence hall. It’s a decent job-you literally get paid $8 an hour to sit around, have people sign pieces of paper and do your homework. It’s not too demanding. At all.

The thing here is, on weekends, night hosts work from 11:45 at night until 4:45 the next morning (which is why this is being posted at such an odd hour). We can’t get up and walk around unless it’s 4 feet to the bathroom or taking our hourly rounds of the building, in which one of the two hosts must stay behind to watch the doors. Back to the timing of the job, though (my apologies-writing this at 3:30 in  the morning is not as easy or fluid as I thought it might be).

I figured that since my homework is done, I would bring down my writing things (notebook, laptop, pens, pencils…) and write some pieces or work on ones I already have in progress or something. I have no idea. Just to write and stay moving and awake. That’s all I wanted. I want to just write and enjoy myself and what happens? Writer’s block strikes. My dear friend, how I’ve missed you! 

*That line was sarcasm. I promise.*

So now, here I am, 3:33 in the morning, sitting in a college lounge chair with a little bag of potato chips and a craving for one more cup of coffee (to add to the 3 I’ve had all day), and I can’t even think of a story to tell or a song to write or a poem to construct. Nothing is coming to me at this point, and I’ve still got about another hour. 

Lesson learned: don’t bother writing at 3 in the morning unless there’s something really weighing heavy on your mind that you know for a fact you can write about. Especially if you’re me.

Elegance is the…

Elegance is the only beauty that never fades.

Audrey Hepburn stated this, and it has become somewhat of a mantra of mine. I believe that as people, we should hold ourselves to acting with elegance and class every single day. It’s an important part of who I am as a person-I treat people with dignity. That’s the legacy I want to leave behind, through both my writing and my life in general.


This begins my blog about my life as a college girl and life as a teenage author.