Time for Something New

I don’t think blogs are necessarily written to gain anything besides the gratification of writing, BUT. The but had to come and here it is: I AM RESTLESS. Twenty years old, one semester away from my AA in Liberal Arts and still living at home. I am ready to make a change but I do not know how! This is my cry for help: HELP.

I am open to ideas, suggestions, housing? No probably not the last one. If there is anyone out there who understands this babble, make yourself known!

Sincerely,

voiceofaspirited(emily)youth.

I skate for you. 

Do you think about me?

Do you watch me trace your old rollerblade routes, like a lifeline?

I skate your routes in hopes you will appear. I feel you here, in the wicked whip of the palm trees, in the angry crash of the waves. I smell you in the sea soaked air. 

How do I hold onto a ghost? 

I wish I could hold your hand again, but I’ll settle for the coarse grains of sand creating indents in my palm. 

Like messages from above. 

The Girl I Once Knew

There is a girl I used to know, but she vanished in a plume of ashen cigarette smoke. I loved this girl, she was funny and loving and happy. I guess  I didn’t know much about her in the end. What i do know, is that she is gone but I will find her. Her vanishing act took place about a year ago, she was replaced with a twisted doppelganger. The only resemblance was bitten down fingernails and dark eyebrows. All other attributes had morphed into an altogether darker being. Knotted hair, dead eyes and hollow cheekbones. A stick figure full of jagged edges replaced the girl I once knew. She may never come back, but I loathe this version. The scent of tobacco and dishonesty linger in every room she travels through. Her presence, once welcomed now garners wary and worried looks and hushed tones.

What happened to her? the demons won. Sometimes, early in the morning, when I watch her swipe mascara onto her jet black eyelashes I catch a glimpse of who she used to be. Though she disappears as quickly as she came and I wonder how I can get her back. This mystery girl reminds me strongly of a chameleon, turning whatever hue the situation dictates. Among her crowd, she is wild, magnetic, yet almost dangerous. Gray smoke curls around each lie she tells, because there is no truth. I see her other times in certain classes, letting the old self shine through. The literary genius-ready with each answer. God I want her back. I follow her as closely as possible, cringing and admiring her brass exchanges. When did she start hating herself so much?

She goes home and channels her old self as best as possible; though it is a bit like wearing too small clothes. The feeling is off. She makes nice with the family she used to adore. Now, they are just more strangers to be civil with. I watch as she interacts with the mother she used to call her friend. Each sentence they utter is a cautionary volley, seeing which will be set off first. The mother utterly wary of this daughter 2.0, limits all freedoms in an attempt to find the girl she once knew. The brother who used to admire her, has lost all respect and sadly wonders where his sister went. He shakes his head, disgusted. I watch this girl-she does not care.

She is angry. Why? Why is she so angry? I can feel her blood boiling, I can feel the control slipping away. Who is she? why is she so lost. Anger is best channeled through treachery and bodily exchanges. The urge to kill, becomes the urge to fuck. Gone are the days of young boys and fruitless crushes. This is a time of charm and debauchery. She becomes a seducer. A serpent stopping at nothing. For whom she wants, she has. God, who is she? What is she? A whore? Femme Fatale? A victim? None, she is the girl I once knew.

The Warmth of Solace

…And he stood alone in a sea of souls. For not one man nor creature could move the stony silence.

From the highest heights to the depths of the sea-the shout was lost.

For who does listen to the shriek of the lost soul? Not I, not you, not we together.

For the veil of aloneness shrouds all.