fairness

my one hundred percent is your eighty.
i was blessed with a high pain tolerance
and at age fifteen, i found out that
life isn't fair.

there's something beautiful about waking up
every morning in pain,
it forces you to turn to prayer --
crying in the hallway with your best friend,
then crying again of laughter.
there's something beautiful about singing a hymn
next to the man
who thanks God he met you.

you have to be open to love for
love to be open to you,
and there's something beautiful about walking away
when he treats you as unfairly
as the world does.

remind yourself that
it feels good to feel the love of Christ
through the people you surround yourself with.

the bad news: the world is unfair
the good news: this is not our home

New Year

This year, for the first time, I didn't do anything big to celebrate New Years.
Tia came over, we wore our grandma pj's, ate ice cream, and watched the ball drop at eleven and again at midnight. For the first time, a minute passed from 11:59 to 12:00 and it didn't feel significant. It just felt okay. A good kind of okay.

1. Write more.
And here I am, writing more. I updated my blog layout and got two poetry books for my birthday. I've been reading more. I finally opened my journal again.

2. Put together the beginnings of a book.
Inspired by the two poetry books I bought myself, I'd really like something tangible, just for myself. Especially since I've strayed from actually writing my stuff down. Maybe eventually I'd sell, but not immediately. Honestly, the production would probably cost more than I'd make.

3. Travel, specifically to California over Spring Break.
ALONE. Alone. Like, by myself. Without anyone else. On a plane. In a city I've never been to. Luckily, I'll be able to spend the week with my aunt and uncle and new little bean. Independence is something I was recognized for during my first semester at Stephens, but apparently I still need some practice because this endeavor is scaring the sh*t out of me.

4. Embrace comfort.
Sweatpants are comfy, and they can be hella cute too. Same with bralettes. Who cares if I go to a fashion school.

5. Get healthy.
Crohn's sucks. Like, a lot. And healthy is not an easy thing for me to be. (DISCLAIMER. INFLAMMATORY BOWEL DISEASE IS CHRONIC AND CANNOT BE CURED BY DIET ALONE. So shut up all you misinformed health bloggers.) But, and hold me accountable to this, I'm going to start trying to actually drink those horrible (no offense) Ensure drinks, make smoothies with protein powder, and eat a more consistent meals. Along with little, easy workouts to build back muscle mass and actually getting to bed on time. Here goes.

6. Streak medicine for as long as possible.
So more Crohn's stuff... I have this app on my phone that gives me a reminder when I need to take my medicine and tracks the days that I've completed or missed. A huge goal of mine is to not miss any days. Tall order, I know. But it honestly shouldn't be as hard as I make it.

7. Be straight up.
I am a people pleaser. I can't help it. Ellie always tells me I need to stop tiptoeing around people's feelings and stop compromising myself for others. I'm going to try to be more honest about what I want/need, with others and with myself.

8. Fall in love with yourself.
This is the first time this resolution has made it on my list. I think that says something about where I am for 2017.

Anyway, happy New Year. Hope 2017 is less scary than 2016 was.

This Week

I have mouth ulcers
and my stomach has
been angry at me
lately. Or maybe
it's my head that's
mad at me. I
can't tell but
I don't really care.
I want to feel
pretty and happy
but I'm having
a hard time
remaining
non-conventional.
My handwriting is
too big and not
neat enough. I
am tired.
I am tired.
I am tired.
I am tired.

Convincing Myself

I'm small

And thin

And fragile

Again

But my heart beats

Ten times stronger

Now

Dear Future Husband

Dear future husband,
I’m so sorry I’ve been so messed up lately, Whoever you are, I hope you’re as understanding as our Lord, because I am an absolute mess. You’ll figure this out, but I am 100% a creature of habit. I live for routine. And being with someone for one year isn’t going to mean very much when we’ll have been together for our whole lives... But it’s strange. This is very hard for me. This whole pleasing everybody when I’m not even sure what would make me happy. I’m not even sure what I want. I’m glad you’re out there, or in here, or wherever, probably struggling with the same kinds of things as me. Anyway, I’m sorry for being like this right now. And you probably don’t need an apology, but I can’t help it. You are going to be so amazing and loving and caring and full of life and love and happiness and hope and joy and peace and most importantly, you will be so full of Jesus. You will help me learn and grow and thrive in Christ, and I can’t wait to know you and love you as best as a wife can, and I can’t wait, but I will, to live and grow in Christ with you. I already love you so much.

The Best Policy

Humbling yourself isn't thinking less of yourself, but of yourself less.

love one year passed

It comes suddenly, out of nowhere, knocking you off your feet.

But it also comes slowly, softly, growing and whispering in your hands.

A sort of contradicting harmony.

A lovely confusion.

A blurring of stark white lines.

The sweetest of strawberries on the hottest of days.

Exactly what you needed, but what you never knew to ask for.

Outside

I forgot my keys when I went to my first class today, and I didn't realize until just now. I'm stuck out here until 11, when my next class starts. I'm sitting on this bench outside my dorm and the air smells like grass. It's warm but not hot. There's a breeze, but it's not windy. It's nice. I'm wearing jeans and a tshirt and my dirty old converse. I feel clean. I feel myself. I'm actually not stuck out here. I'm glad I didn't just go up to my room and watch netflix to waste time. I'm glad I can barely hear the birds muffled by a lawn mower cleaning up the quad. I'm glad I've smiled at about fifteen dogs in a span of three minutes. I'm glad my hair is down. I'm glad I'm alone right now. I feel present. I'm surrounded by bicycles and barks and beautiful shades of green and brick red. This place is intimate. I am whole here. I knew I was forgetting something when I left this morning, now I'm glad I did.

Hey

Dear Myself,
Hey, I know you're trying really hard right now to be you, and you're doing a great job.
But I'll be right back.

Here I, An Adaptation

here I made my first best friend.
But here I made my first friend with whom I still speak.
Here I sat in a desk and wrote and wrote and wrote.
Here we played COD and ate skittles until midnight
when you turned thirteen.
Here we jumped into the freezing lake and
here I was finally old enough to take him out on the jet ski, Nate & Kate.
Here I made my first paycheck and made my first "people skills."
Here I spent all my summer savings because I was too young to know
what money means at eighteen.
Here I broke my nose and you busted your head and we played four square and
cops and robbers and you taught me how to shoot a basketball and
how to get payback for pushing me in the pool,
but that's a different story.
Here I learned the definition of drama, and here I still return. It's fun.
Here I have traveled and sang and kissed and cried and nearly died several times.
Here I stayed two months out of my whole life until
Here I feel safe.
Here I will be in less than six months and
here I will live and write a whole 'nother poem like this.