Stars

Why do we wish on shooting stars?

They are dead-- huge, falling, bundles of flaming gas. How do they provide such hope? Humans have always been capable of incredible amounts of infinite hope. I had hope in you and me. Now that hope is dead, and it looks more like a huge, falling, bundle of flaming gas than the beauty of an acclaimed shooting star. 

what i want to be

mermaids vs. sirens

beautiful, mysterious, intriguing

luring sailors to their ultimate death

with the sweet lull of their mesmerizing voices

singing of hope, love, desire

only to deliver none of the above promised

For Me

God creates lightning storm sunsets that can't be captured by a camera to show me that He's bigger.
This storm is for me.
His love is the only love that can ever suffice, and my cup floweth over.
He's putting on a show for me, flaunting all the beauty that He knows I love.
The sky is on fire with lightning tears and a steady thunder as background music for the rain's reckless dance.
God knows I need this beauty right now.
And as the red sun falls, the peace of night covers me with His loving whisper.

Writing from the School Bus

Writing from the school bus hopelessly trying to divert myself, getting lost in the lyrics and thoughts, noticing my handwriting suffering from the bumps and turns, noticing my thoughts getting jostled with each reckless move as well. Nobody notices my pencil glide across the page, creating rhymes with snide. Nobody notices me raise the volume ever so slightly in my headphones. People don't notice much but themselves. They're lost inside a pretend conversation and a fake reality; all while I stay lost in my mind, creating bittersweet, secluded worlds on the blank of a page in the crevice of my mind. It's so easy to get lost, but how difficult is it to find yourself within it all?

Realization

I think people say

"If you love someone, let them go"

Because once you do let them go, you realize how you actually can survive without them, and you might even be okay. You realize that you really didn't even love them in the first place, and once you let go, you're no longer holding yourself back. You realize that being independent can have its benefits, and

You are stronger than you realize.

IBD - UC

http://kellyontherun.com/2014/03/12/an-ode-to-my-commode/

Awesome, funny, accurate, fantastic poetry deserves to be acknowledged. Click this link. 

I Have So Much to Write

I have so much in my mind

I have so much to write

But I can't find the words

To form lines or stanzas

Or phrases or metaphors

Or magic anymore

I have so much in my mind

I have so much to write

But it's all too cliché and pathetic

And meaningless and dull

It seems unfortunate that

My poetry has lost its magic

Four Days

Four days.

It's been four days since I've been out of the hospital. 

Four days in reality. 

A hell of a lot can happen in four days. 

It's been hard. 

What is reality?

Who am I?

If someone asked, who is Katelyn Bartels, I'm not sure I could answer. 

I'm not sure anyone could answer. 

Am I even real?

Is this life even real?

What is real?

My pastor today said John 10:10, "I came so that you might have life, and have it abundantly."

What does that even mean?

I couldn't even get my mind and body under control within four days. 

How am I supposed to live life abundantly when I don't even know whose life I'm living?

I want to know how to live, not just survive. 

But I barely know how to survive. 

It's been four days. 

And all I've done is survive. 

Not live. 

Four days in reality, and I still don't know who I am. 

Does this not concern anyone else?

Thoughts About the Hospital

the light and beeping monitors in my room and

the tangle and tug from the tubes in my veins and

constant thoughts of you

keep me up at night

you're more of a lifeline to me than this IV pump beside my hospital bed

Check out My Journal for some Morbidly Descriptive Entries about Hospitals and an Annoying Chronic Disease

05.01.13

"You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering."

-Ernest Hemingway