things i’m sorry for

i’m sorry i stayed up until 2 last night watching MTV instead of sleeping

i’m sorry i said my mom was a bad parent for not calling

i’m sorry i cried after she did

i’m sorry i talk with my hands too much during interviews

i’m sorry i talk too much

i’m sorry i sometimes dislike my friends for being happy

i’m sorry i don’t understand W-4s and direct deposit forms

i’m sorry i don’t know how to use concealer and i don’t own a blazer or dress pants or a car

i’m sorry i think my life would somehow be better if i did

i’m sorry that i talk more about reading than i actually do read

i’m sorry that i’m 18 and i wiped my booger on the wall

i’m sorry i lied

i’m sorry i’m not actually sorry about that

i’m sorry that i glanced at the clock only during your parts of our conversation

i can tell you that coffee isn’t an adequate substitute for sleep

and the Beatles’ last album was Abbey Road

but we still won’t win at trivia

i stole a pen yesterday

i’m sorry about that

An Explanation for My Irritation

imageIt is on days like these

when trees grow tall and green

and songs are whispered and laughed and sung together

When ponytails are loose and chocolate is melted

and we speak a language of inside jokes

that a reminder of reality – that I am almost adult

only furthers my transformation

into petulant child

small thoughts in the rain

it’s raining right now

and all i can think about is when your house caught fire

i couldn’t get into the neighborhood because of all the fire engines

at first i wasn’t scared

but then

then

i walked to your house

i didn’t run because

 i was afraid of what was waiting over the hill

 but of course you were fine

even though your house had caught fire

and it wasn’t raining then

and now it’s raining and your dog is dead

and all i can think about is how sorry i am

i know you loved your dog

and now it’s raining

and you don’t have to open the door to let her inside

The Riverbank, Part Two (My Pillowcase)

It is things like my pillowcase

That send me back to when I curled up by the riverbank

Black tears clouding my vision and corrupting my heart

Although I built a bridge and conquered the waters

I am not a magician

The bridge remains there and so does the river

And I am scared that something will frighten me

Into running back over the bridge

And that this time I won’t have the courage

To overcome the inky waters

The worry swirls in the head that rests on my pillowcase

The same head that holds the eyes

That shed the tears

That poured into the river

And soaked into my pillowcase

Through the eyes of someone else,

It is just another dry, colorful, pillowcase

The washing machine washed out all the memories

But I see my pillowcase,

And if only for a moment,

It takes me back to the riverbank

The Riverbank, Part One

For the longest time, I just sat by the riverbank

Too scared to swim across

With each tear I shed, the waters grew larger

Every shaky breath I took turned to wind

Inky black tumultuous waves

Black from the mascara I wore to hide my unhappiness

But with every tear, my shield dripped away

Consumed by fear, obsessed with the water

Riveted, terrified, depressed

But then my hand slipped out from the other

Unlocking my knees from my chest

Touching something that felt familiar

The soft lushness of thin blades

Emerald grass grew for miles, I found

As I began to look at my surroundings

Vibrant colors I hadn’t noticed

Green grass, the scarlet flowers that swayed

The sky was blue, so very blue

And I wanted to kiss it for saving me

Trees soared above my head

Solid like I wished to be

They knew my wish, so they gave me their branches

And I built a bridge over the river

When I finished, I walked across it

And I saw, looking back, that the water was still there

But somehow,

I was no longer afraid