12.28.12

And that song still takes me back to that look in your eyes
The melody reminds me of your soft, sweaty hands in mine
The rhythm makes me feel my heart racing again
The beat brings the memory of that so sacred dancing night
The lyrics help me remember exactly what we felt

12.17.12

Music is so intriguing. It amazes me how listening to that one song can bring you back to that one time in the past, how it can bring back a thousand feelings and let you have one more glimpse of that moment. Every note, every lyric, when played brings forth a certain feeling to spill out from our memory. The past isn't something we can relive, but when listening to that certain melody, we can, even for one moment, slip back in time to that certain place of nostalgia.

12.12.12 again

This is the night I'll go straight to sleep
This is the night I'll fall into my dreams
This is the night I'll erase all the grief
This is the night I'll make sense of my thinks
This is the night I'll hide from what seems
This is the night I'll go straight to sleep

12.12.12

It's the twelfth day of the twelfth month of the year two thousand twelve. Crazy. 12/12/12. Was something spectacular supposed to happen today? Maybe. Something tragic? Not necessarily. Something life changing?  Probably not. This is the last time the date will repeat itself like this. Something special should have happened. But there was nothing too out of the ordinary. I took a super hard test in Grammar. I fell even harder for my crush. My best friend was home sick. What else? Nothing. Ho-hum dumb-drum. My existence feels so irrelevant lately. I have hardly an ounce of motivation. I have to convince myself that schoolwork is somehow important, that my body somewhy needs sleep, that people somewhere care about me. Sometimes, I get catch myself in my daydreams. Disgustolgia is what I'd like to call these silly thinkings. Daydreams, zone-outs, simply staring off into space, thinking of nothingness. That's what my days mostly consist of. Nothing unusual or wonderful anymore. But hey, maybe twelve just isn't even my lucky number anyway.

12.11.12

Remember when we were little? When we would drive around together in my little pink Barbie car. When we would pretend your fort was a real house. When we played hide and seek in the pitch dark. When we made a bet in second grade, and I still owe you two pieces of candy. When you would push me in the pool and I'd pull you in with me. When we would have capture the flag tournaments, and I would always win. When you would chase me around your yard because I took your water balloon. When we played cops and robbers and I was always on your team. When we shot off fireworks, my parachute got stuck in your tree and you climbed up and got it for me. When you sprayed me with the hose. When your kindergarten school picture went though the washer because I forgot it in my pocket. When we played wiffle ball in your backyard. When we made secret agent ID's (and I still have mine). When we'd bang pots and pans around the neighborhood on New Year's Eve. When we made a chalk town in the basketball court. When you let me ride your bike, but no one else. When you taught me how to shoot a basketball. When you took me TPing for my first time. When there was a tornado warning late and we watched High School Musical in my basement. When you threw acorns at my window when you wanted to talk. When we stayed up until 12:30 playing Black Ops for your birthday. When you first told me I was your best friend.
You know, I used to think we were going to get married.
But, you're just my best friend. My brother.
And I love you for that.

12.14.12 - Midnight

I used to be pretty.
Can I be pretty again?
I look in the mirror now and it's not me. It's something different. Someone different. New. Weird. I don't like it.
I used to be pretty. I used to laugh all the time. I used to be able to jump and run. I used to sleep.
Now I can't. I can't be pretty, I can't laugh, I can't sleep. I'm not who I once was. I'm not who I am. I don't know myself. I don't know who I am. I don't. I can't. I'm not. I try, but I fail.
I used to be pretty. Now I'm just here. Existing. Being. And for what reason?
I used to know.