“I mean what I say when I say what I mean, or more importantly, I say what I mean when I say what I say. Really, when you say that you don’t mean what you say when you say what you say, it makes me want to say what I mean and what I mean is that you should say what you mean when you say what you say just like I say what I mean when I say what I say. Also, you say you don’t understand what I mean when I say that you should say what you say and say it only by saying what you mean which is a different way of saying whatever you mean, SAY IT! Which brings me to my last point, I get annoyed when people say what they say and don’t really mean what they say but instead they get around what they mean and say things that others think means what they said, but it doesn’t, and instead everyone’s confused – just like you are right now but let me tell you, I mean what I say when I say what I mean!”
I was young once. We all were; but time does not stop for anyone nor does it favor anyone.
Everyday I trek to the attic and look through my memory boxes.
Everyday I open my old tin box and take out my memoirs.
I have many papers stored there, all dating from 1948 to 1963. I flip through them and pick one to read.
Everyday it’s a new memory.
Once I pick, I’m transported back to my youth, back when my bones didn’t creak, squeak, and crack.
This is my life. Only memories.
Though most of my life is gone, I try to enjoy the time I have left. I spend time with my grandchildren, whom I love dearly. I keep a good relationship with my children. I try to keep this family together. I just hope that once I’m gone, my children will do the same.
My time may be up, but I know I lived the way I loved, and loved the way I lived.
My only advice is, “Don’t let it slip on by.”
12 years old
New Slang – The Shins. [This is a result of me visiting down south. It’s southern sounding acoustic. I normally don’t listen to this lol.]
We sat on the grass of a nearby park trying and pretty much failing to assemble an electric plane that required almost no assembly. Thing is, I hate reading instructions and so does Caleb. This is because people spend so much time reading the directions, that by the time they even try it’s already been so long, and then they can’t even get it right anyways. Once, Caleb and I tried reading instructions to bake a chocolate fudge cake and we still ended up with batter on the ceiling and a charred mound of inedible substance..
Yeah, we don’t do well with instructions. Or we’re just horrible cooks. Probably both.
The only things on the airplane needing assembly were a few wing-like pieces and the propeller, yet we still couldn’t figure out where to stick them.
After at least fifteen minutes of struggling and almost breaking the darn thing, we finally got it together and working properly. The next task was getting it up into the air, which took another fifteen minutes. You’d think that it would be easy, seeing as it practically flies itself but noooo, me and Caleb are the only idiots who can’t fly and electric plane. Or at least I think we’re the only ones. Not like my friends have a collection of electric planes and take them out for joy rides every day.
Back to the point.
We decided to take turns flying the thing. As it was my turn, I finally realized my calling was not to become a pilot because of the fact that I almost decapitated Caleb when trying to do a loop in the air. After a while of flying, we got tired of ducking and so we landed the plane and laid on the grass.
As we laid there, I started to think. “I’d love to be a plane. Travel the world. Visit places. Be important to others.”
“Sure, but would you like to be used?” Caleb asked. “Also, they don’t get to go where they want. They just go where they’re told.”
“That’s because they can’t think,” I responded.
“Well, we’re speaking metaphorically here, aren’t we?”
“Touche. But what else can I wish to be?”
“Too cliche. Plus, they can’t really think. They just have instincts.”
“Still too cliche.”
“Fine,” he said exasperated. “Then I’d want to be human. A free human.”
“Nope. Whatever. Maybe it’s best to just be us.”
“Maybe,” I said while thinking, Sometimes it isn’t.
Nine years old.
I was in the only ballet studio in town taking my weekly class. We had to keep our legs up as high as we could for as long as we could. By the time the teacher said we could go home I was shaking. I grabbed my purple dance bag and walked out the studio. As I passed the windows, I saw Caleb’s eyes peeking in and happily skipped around the door to meet him.
“Hiya!” I said, stopping right in front of him. He usually picked me up because our neighborhood was really safe and everything was close together, so my parents let us go wherever by ourselves.
“Hi Kayla. My mom gave me money so we can buy ice cream,” he said. I noticed he was sweaty. It was okay. I was probably sweaty too.
“Okay. Let’s go to Longford’s!” I said with a big grin. He grinned too.
Longford’s was everyone’s favorite ice cream store. They had weird flavors and the shop was really cute. It was even in the original architecture from years ago. It had a nice village feel. Well, the whole town did.
As soon we walked out the studio building I felt the sun start to bake me. It must’ve been a thousand degrees out. It just made me want ice cream even more.
Once we got to the shop, baked and ready, I ran up to the ice cream and put my face up against the glass. I saw Caleb do the same next to me. Immediately after spotting the mint chocolate chip ice cream, I made my decision.
Mint chocolate chip was always the best.
I looked to see Caleb already ordering. We always got the same thing but I liked to think I had options.
I guess I liked that the most. The “always” part of everything. Stability. I never was one for change.
By the time Caleb paid, I had already smushed half the cup in my face.
“You didn’t wait for me!” Caleb whined. I just giggled. Once he got his vanilla cup, we headed home.
The sun was setting and I gazed up at the pink and purple sky in awe.
“I wish it would always be like this.” I said.
“That’s why we’re sun chasers, right?”
Project Together Team
One More Second
Two Door Cinema Club – Come Back Home
“The loneliest people are the kindest, The saddest people smile the brightest. The most damaged people are the wisest. All because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they do.” ~Anonymous
I stared at the ceiling above me. Blank, blank, blank. That’s how I felt – with the hint of gut wrenching pain. I tried not to focus on it because if I ignore it, it goes away. Lie.
I abruptly got up from my bed, grabbed my keys and walked out of my empty apartment. My parents were working. I didn’t have a terrible backstory. I didn’t have a tragic disorder. I couldn’t tell you where the pain came from. Which probably hurt the most.
Pain is pain, in any form. It doesn’t matter the amount because it all hurts, just in different ways. I didn’t know why I was sad.
My friend cut herself. I didn’t think it would leave scars though. It’s kinda nice to know you’re not alone – the thing is, you’re always alone in your own head. Your prison, of sorts. You might think you’re protecting yourself, but you’re not. You’re hindering yourself. But once you’ve built those walls they take so much effort to pull down – even if it’s just an inch.
I headed over to the cafe in my neighborhood. It felt good to finally breathe in fresh air. It was late spring but the weather had been harsh all year. Only now was it warm enough to go out without a sweater. Winter always gets to me. That winter depression syndrome or whatever the hell they call it.
I jogged across the street as a car beeped at me. When I hopped on the curb, I could already smell coffee. Love the smell, can’t stand the taste. As I sat down, I already saw Joe coming over to me – hot chocolate, cinnabun, and coffee in hand. Joe was a near-30 year old man who had become my friend over the winter.
I had gone to the cafe one day because I was sick of winter and was in need of some chocolate to make me feel better. I guess he noticed and sat with me, claiming he was on break. I didn’t believe him at the time but I let him stay.
“You good?” He asked, sitting down.
As I grabbed my beautiful hot chocolate and cinnamon, I replied, “Eh. Alright I guess. It’s spring so…”
“Ah, the bitter Winter has been chased away by Spring.” He said with a dramatic wave of his hand.
I nodded slowly, smirking slightly at his poetic statement.
As I watched the steam from his coffee wreath around his face, Joe said, “So you hangin’ in there?”
“Yeah. One second at a time.” I said softly.
He smiled and winked. “That’s the way.”
~Edited June 20, 2013~
Through Raindrops: À Travers Gouttes de Pluie
I sit at my table holding my coffee. I stared out through the raindrops on the window nearest me. I’ve always lived in this small town on the coast of France. I’ve always come to this exact café. Ever since my mother let me taste her coffee so many years ago, I was addicted. My mother. Sweet, darling, beautiful mother. I miss her.
There was a double tap on my table. Our secret knock. Me and Jean. Always together. I like always. A strong word. A word holding promises of forever. Something I’ve always tried to hold onto, but failed.
“Hé. (Hey)” He says. He sits. I continue staring through raindrops.
“Vous bien? (You okay?)” I finally look to him. There are bags under his eyes.
“C’est comme demander a une personne ‘pourquoi vous pleures?’ Inutile. (That’s like asking a person ‘why do you cry?’ Pointless.)” A corner of his lips twitch. Mine do too. Those are the first words I’ve spoken in days. The most in weeks.
“C’est vrai.(That’s true)”
“Je sais. (I know)”
He is my brother. Not by blood. By life. We feel the same. We share that family bond; the one that no one but us can sever.
We both went through the death of my mother. Admittedly, I was shaken slightly more than Jean. But she was my blood; while she was to him, family. The bond of a mother and daughter, I believe is one of the stronger bonds.
There are many bonds in this world. Whether good, or enchaining. The bond of families, the bond coffee has on me. These bonds can be broken, but something else is broken in the process. Trust. Hope. Minds. Love.
Jean and I sit still. Both lost in our thoughts. He looks out the window. I do the same. We both sit staring.
‘À Travers Gouttes de Pluie.’
Six years old
“It’s innocence when it charms us, ignorance when it doesn’t.” ~Mignon McLaughlin
We were sitting on our porch, heads in our hands, staring out onto the street. We had gone there to escape but we could still hear my parents arguing in the house. The birds tried chasing their voices away with their songs, but their songs weren’t strong enough to chase away my sadness.
“It’ll be okay,” Caleb said from beside me.
“I know,” I responded. The grown ups would always say that. ‘We’re just having a disagreement. We’ll make-up later.’ Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn’t but the way Caleb said it always made me feel better.
He pointed up to the sun lowering in the sky, “You see that?” he asked. “We’ll always chase the sunny parts.”
I looked at him, “Together?”
When I die, I want to die like my grandfather who died peacefully in his sleep. Not screaming like all the passengers in his car.
Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.
Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.
-Brian Gerald O’Driscoll
Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.
I have no words…
There are times in life when people must know when not to let go. Balloons are designed to teach small children this.
Don’t let it slip on by; don’t let things pick up and waltz out of your life.
Life is like a balloon…if you never let yourself go, you will never know how far you can rise.
Sometimes you have to, “sail away from the safe harbor.”
To see a rainbow, you have to endure rain.
To feel love, you have to endure pain.
Love is like a balloon; If you don’t hold on tight, it gets away; if you squeeze too tight, it disappears altogether, leaving nothing but a memory…
But when held just right, [it] never leaves. So let your heart be a baloon to someone else.
~skarred on lovelandia
Love carefully, tenderly, and often.
Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon.
~Winnie the Pooh
I love Winnie the Pooh.
Balloons are great metaphors…..here’s one last quote for good measure:
I don’t suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.