the who of why

Yeah, it's just me, who am I kidding?

It’s only 2 am, after all… And if I wanna feel pretty, then screw it, I’m gonna do hair and makeup at 2 in the morning.

Eighteen

Every day
it’s one day too late
I’m looking back across the plate 
glass cracked and sweating
clear droplets fall fleeting
down the salted terrain
of life.

When I was twelve
I knew I was fat.
Knew with the utter belief
that only the words of a parent could instill
"you need to lose weight"
so just breathe.

Breathe in 
and out
and in
and out
and by the time you’ve left the room 
there’s no doubt 
that there is something wrong
with us. 

I reached fifteen
silently sucking in every ounce
of air in my gut 
as if not breathing would make me beautiful.

One can only breath in
and out 
so many times before one breaks down.

When I was sixteen I played sports
for the first time in my life
played with the utter certainty of not good enough
but trying. 
Always trying.

If people bought effort I would have sold it
made enough to buy all the pills in the world
and swallowed skinniness with the mouth of a fat girl. 

I’m eighteen now. 

I look back at sixteen and smile
seeing the muscle in those arms 
the legs firm from running laps 
around and around
again and again
until breath was gone and we could run forever.

I see fifteen
we were beautiful 
and we smiled at whoever smiled back
secure in loving.

Twelve was young
hard to remember
just a wisp of a year
puberty and trauma taking their toll
strong in ways we never should have been. 

I’m eighteen now.
I’m lost like a ship at sea
rudderless.
I look into mirrors to find the distortions
and find myself staring back.

If people sold effort
I would buy it
and run until my problems faded into dust.

http://dagenn.tumblr.com/post/89193234958/look-like-shit-and-feel-like-it-thats-how-we

dagenn:

Look like shit and feel like it
That’s how we roll and how we live
And I don’t know if you understand
But I would kill to hold your hand
I don’t know if you feel
The words I whisper when your still
Hand holds mine and the world slows
Panic fades and green grass grows
Breathe a little…

This keeps getting stuck in my head, I don’t know why. Or maybe I do, and just don’t want to admit it.

dagenn:

I really don’t want to analyze documents and poems… I just want to scribble with markers and crayons and make temporarily pretty things. And keep listening to this song on repeat. 

This seems to be the norm of late. 

I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something… Perhaps it’s time to watch Sherlock again.  

I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something… Perhaps it’s time to watch Sherlock again.  

Let me write you a story about a girl who fell in love with a prince who never came.

I really don’t want to analyze documents and poems… I just want to scribble with markers and crayons and make temporarily pretty things. And keep listening to this song on repeat. 

Frog Storms

If I’ve never told you how much I love frogs
I guess it wasn’t raining.

I guess there weren’t little green amphibians
pressing themselves into the muddy grass
dancing away in the rain
looking for something they couldn’t explain.

I really like frogs.
I like toads too.

If you look through my old pictures on my iDevice
you’ll find a horrible picture of me and a toad
probably long dead and gone
I tried to kiss him.
He left quickly.

I guess I was never meant to be a princess.

If I’ve never told you how much I love frogs
you should ask me sometime. 

Sometime when the rain is falling
and the tadpoles have grown legs
when we are dancing in the rain
and I know the words to explain.

I’m actually so proud of this.

I’m actually so proud of this.

So there’s this really cute bunny hanging out with me…