Longing.

The moment came, and the moment passed.
Like the thunder the click of my shutter missed by 4 milliseconds.
Like the elevator closed shut minutes before I use another tardy in ENG 105.
Like you and I making eye contact in a crowded Target,
and me--blank faced and raped by surprise--being unable to muffle my disgust.

The moment came, and the moment passed.

I never knew that intense heartbreak and betrayal was so quickly quenched
by only brief eye-contact.
Or maybe that's just me.
But I can finally explore your social outlets without souring the contents of my stomach.
Our pictures together seem ions away and part of a past-self I have conquered.
I am at peace.
And the not-so-civil war between us has faded.
My troops have come home.

And I wish for you so strongly of the best.
You may have been vile, but I have built up an immunization.
And I want to danger into your existence to lend my aid.
And I want to defy my instincts to soothe the pains you'll never admit.
I want to give to you, what you never gave to me.

Any remote form of compassion.

Why?
Simply to prove I have a soul worth the graces of this earth.

Because moments come, and moments pass.

Back. With A Vengeance.

Haven't typed a poem in months.

Let's explore whether or not this is still in me.

NOPE. Just got sidetracked for 4 hours.

We'll try again tomorrow.

And this, this is where I shut down.

The moment I start to want something
I will now think to myself,
"Good job, Ash. Now you officially are unable to get it."
Three strikes.
National merit, Speech, Choir.
I'm out.

This is a poem for the sophomores.

Ten things I know to be true:
1. I'm graduating in 9 weeks.
2. Senioritis is worse than they warned me.
3. Everyone plays it off like they are unaffected.
4. You all can write amazing poems.
5. Sarah Kay is my hero.
6. I'm so damn hungry right now.
7. If I didn't TA for this class, I could get out after fourth.
8. I don't really know why I decided to TA.
9. I want to be a teacher, but I won't.
10. You all need to stop being so cool.

Because as I sit here watching you, I see myself
and it isn't narcissistic, it's depressing.
Because sitting in the corner, you all judge me.
I know you do. I can see it.
And I may only have two years on you,
but you've got a long way to go.
And I've got even farther.
You lay down on your desks
one of you is checking his pulse
and I don't understand how you are not captivated.
This shit is real.
We didn't talk about slam when I was a sophomore.
We read Thoreau.
And he'd be offended at how little I actually cared.
Actually, he probably wouldn't.
It'd take a lot to offend an existentialist.
But you all, you don't care either.
And I'm not existentialist, usually, so guess what--
I'm offended. And I don't even have the right to be.
Your blank-lined-paper eyes are just the cover.
Underneath I know you have pages upon pages of the things you cannot explain.
The things your mind explores while your face remains un-engaged.
We are waging a war against the angst and apathy of teenage mockery.
You are making him tired.
He asks for your opinion.
Begs for your engagement.
And you chirp like crickets to the sound of your indifference.
You will fade.
But you have the option to shine.
Open your hands in front of you
to catch the knowledge bestowed on you.
Unclench your fists and let out a cry of faith.
The world is waiting for you.
So is he, and so am I.
Live beyond your years
and laugh in the face of fear of being shot down.
Because you will be shot down.
And you will get back up.
And the scars are stronger than porcelain skin.
And standing is the only way to begin to walk.
And walking is the only way to begin to run.
And if you ever want to fly, dream of it.
Because maybe someday you will.
But most likely someday you won't.
And that is not meant to discourage you-- it is meant to piss you off.
Prove me wrong.
Write the world a poem that will change its' mind.
Because I know one thing is true.

You can all write amazing poems.

March 5th, 2011.

My room is super cold.
And I feel like a giant weight has been lifted.
The truth, it feels good to let out.
Even when it's not that pretty.
And today was like any other day.
Really, it was.
It's funny how your mind can completely fantasize
about how a certain "day" will map out.
Simply because it is 365 days apart from a significant moment.
Why does it matter?
The earth rotating should have nothing to do with
the memories that flood swiftly into our heads
when we remember what day it really is.

It's like any other day.
And I'm really sorry that I hurt you.
You, as in my best friend.
I never meant to.
But, take a few steps in my shoes.
Then quickly take them off and put yours back on.
I'm not a perfect person.
But I'm trying my absolute hardest.
And I would never do anything
ANYTHING AT ALL
that would ruin our friendship.
I pinky promise.

When I think about it,
today is just like any other day.

I'm throwing it all away.

Guilt.
Shock waves of it are pulsing through my static heart
making it hard to circulate through my tangled brain
feeling the membrane break through the walls of understanding
when I finally say, "I'm through--with everything that is you."

Just realized, this isn't on here. Now it is.

Being alone is like
Clinging to a string
Tied to a balloon
On a highway to the moon
That ran out of gas.

I want to be 112 feet tall
So that you cannot look away
And whenever I sing
The notes will ring
All the way to the tip of South Africa.

But--alas, I am only 5 foot 6.
If I exaggerate an inch.
You are handsomely tall
I feel 8-year-old small
Standing in the shadow of your ego.

I wanted you to be happy.
I wanted to spill a truckload
Of daisies on top of you
Just to give you a few
Reasons to be alive.

But roses and lilies are
Poison by the weeds of regret
Even the soil of forgiveness won’t
Forget that which we don’t
Have the strength to loosen our grips on.

No.

As it seems, you never left my mind.
You were just buried under other petty troubles
that I tried so desperately to grow big enough
to out-do you.
But it's not an easy task, nor has it been accomplished.
Part of me is so happy
because you seem so happy.
And the other part of me can't delete old pictures
or see the rest of my life with anyone that is not
the exact same person as you.
I want to let you go.
But I feel my heart turn cold when I try.
And I feel my veins flow slow when I lie
and say that you are gone from my mind.
For you live in the basement lobe of my brain with my innermost emotions.
And the moment you make a trip to my frontal lobe,
My throat tightens. My hands shake. My legs quiver. My stomach aches. My breathing is quicker.
And I'm a professional at covering all of that up.
Because neither you nor anyone else has a clue.
And I don't want them to.
You are happy, so please stay that way.
I know this feeling will leave eventually.
When I said that last time I didn't know how far "eventually" really was away.
But I will be patient and try my hardest to melt this ice cold heart
without falling deeper back into love with you.

It's a quiet revenge.

I'm so dramatic.

JUST BURNED THE LETTER FROM YOU FUCKERS AT NATIONAL MERIT. Thank you so much for making me feel special for being one of 16,000 to semifinal. You told me that I didn't make the cut to the final, but you didn't mention how special THAT was! One out of only one-thousand epic let-downs in the country. Goodbye $24,000+. Nice planning as if you'd be there, only to find you slipped through my fingers. Your ashes are in a plastic bag labeled, $24,000.

This is a homework assignment.

Did you say, growing up?

There is no safety net.
Okay, there is, but much less of one.
And the moment I look at the ground,
14 years beneath me,
I begin to shiver and shudder at the sight.
Like a child's first night
without a night light.
But... I can see a light coming in
when I see the faces that I know
Aged 2 months in growth and distance.
This is a new start.
Is it okay that I feel unprepared?

Can you hear the thunder?

I swear, this place has its own zip-code.
I feel like a dog lost from home
running to-and-fro with its tail between its legs.
Dissecting the yellow slip of paper in front of me.
Like a ticket to peace.
Like a map of safety.
Like a bible.
I prefer the building filled with artsy people.
The beloved, A-building.
I dread the building filled with required classes.
The hell-hole C-building.
This is going to be a long four years.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
I don't know.
And I'm not sure I'll ever know.
At least not until I get there.
And even then I don't know if I'll really know.
All that I know is, I want to be who I want to be.
And I want to be ME.
Throughout these four years and the many afterward,
I aspire to be nothing but myself.
And when I find my place
wherever it may be
I hope there will be many people smiling next to me.
And one holding my hand.
All that I really strive toward is this:
Happyness. And happiness is not always perfect.
I want to take my punches and throw some of my own.
I want to build some bridges and burn the rest.
I want to climb a mountain of accomplishments
no matter how far that means I may fall.
Whoever and whatever I am, is what I want to be.

My Same-Name best friend
She was a fish.
She always would go with the flow.
And since basically birth we've been swimming down the same river.
But when school started, we reached a fork.
And we split like bananas.
But every Wednesday the rivers would cross.
And our same-name-game continued until
High School.
And it was when the rivers crossed and began flowing together again.
High School.
The first four years going to the same school with my best friend.
What could go wrong?
Oh trust me.
The campus was more like where our rivers became an ocean.
And now it seems even harder to find one another.

The Philosopher
He didn't go to school.
Well, he did.
But his mind was always somewhere distant.
Bookmarked in the Bible, most likely.
He let me into the wonderland of his mind.
If it were a physical place,
I'd be lost in just moments.
When life brewed a storm like the apocalypse
He re-wrote the ending.
He lives in his dreaming.
I hope he never wakes up.

The Prince
We did it backwards.
We began a quest AFTER we were head over heels.
Aren't you supposed to search for love?
Not search AFTER love?
We fell hard and fast at a young age.
And the four years ahead of us
were years reigning over a kingdom.
And the two we spent together were exactly that.
Without the crowns.
And when everything fell apart, you see
we both were...
Lost.
It's a feeling that never left.
But I'm learning that maybe he wasn't meant to quest by my side
But merely be a portion of the quest itself.
Just as I am for him.
But after a year and a half more...
I am just as lost as before.
It's a feeling that never left.

Like a murder.

I think I murdered the very last person on the earth
who had any hope left in me.
Congrats, self. You're all alone.
How melodramatic.