Daisies and love?

He loves me.... He loves me not.... He loves me... He loves me not.... He loves me! 

Oh I think that was two petals...

Uuuuuuugh!

Do I even love him?

Is this a crush or deeper? 

How is a daisy supposed to tell me that?

Or predict his mind for that matter....

My heart and brain are so separate from me.

They make choices on their own,

And then make me fight about them internally. And so these poor flowers end up petal-less.

This daisy is supposed to make up my mind for me, but then my heart is left out. 

I don't think I want to play this game anymore. 

I think, just one more daisy....

He loves me... He loves me not...

Almost first kiss.

      As it got closer to Christmas time, I found out that Anonymous Guy had never seen the lights at temple square. I'd been on a few dates with Anonymous Guy before, so after checking with a friend if she could go on a date to see the lights, I invited Anonymous Guy on a date. For the sake of easier story telling, let's call him Bob. About a week or so later, Bob, a couple friends, and I are in Salt Lake City and after a minor fiasco, we find a place to park, get out and start walking. Of course it's cold so Bob's being nice holding my hand to "keep it warm" and I'm having a great time laughing and talking with my friends. It's important to note that Bob was the first guy I'd been on more than one date since I'd turned 16 a few months before, so I was feeling pretty special.
      A couple of blocks and a few lit up trees later, we reach Temple Square. The four of us are walking along, laughing and having good time, but we all pause at the reflection pool in front of the temple and look at the glowing, floating orbs and the nativity scenes. Bob, still holding my hand, looks over at me and says "Rachel?". I look over at him and he has this serious look on his face, but he also looks really confused, as he grabs my other hand. I had NO clue what was going on. So I'm standing there in this beautiful place, a nice, good looking guy holding my hands, looking in my eyes and all I can say is "yes?...." His mouth is moving up and down like a sad little fish. I can tell he's trying to say something, but I'm just getting more confused (remember, I'm 16).
      Just then, my friend comes over and grabs my elbow. She drags me away saying "come look at this!" so over my shoulder, to Bob, I say "tell me later alright?" and I go look. About and hour later, we are looking at this ginormous tree and I ask him "what were you going to say earlier?"  Bob is still looking up at the tree, doesn't even look at me, and says "oh, well I was going to kiss you, but... I changed my mind." Just says it, like it's no big deal.
Immediately a few thoughts run through my head:

1. Bob was going to kiss me?!
2. Bob was going to kiss me?!
3. Bob was going to kiss me?!
4. Well he isn't going to now, so that's that.
5. I'm not as sad as I probably should be,,,, I guess I didn't want him to....

So, I let go of his hand (because he had started holing my hand again) and went over to where my friend was a few yards away. We talked and laughed and had fun the rest of the night but for some strange reason *insert sarcastic tone there* I was a little frustrated. 

      Later that night, he was dropping me off, and I thank him and go inside. He must not have actually wanted to kiss me because he didn't try again. Either that, or I'm a lot scarier than I thought because two years later, that's the closest I've come to my first kiss.

Beauty is Not Quantifiable

Beauty is not the number on the scale. 
Beauty is not the size of the jeans you just bought on sale.
Beauty is not the color of your hair. 
Beauty is not what brand of clothes you wear.

Beauty is not quantifiable, 
even though society thinks its views are justifiable.
Beauty is not the model on the cover, 
even though many girls wish they were her.

Beauty is in smiling for a stranger, hoping they'll pass on the favor.
Beauty is the light in our eyes when one of our friends gives us a surprise.
Beauty is the charity we give, hoping those people will do the same as they live.
Beauty is in the moments we share, spending time with those who care.

Beauty is not quantifiable,
Beauty is in every moment that we make memorable.

And every day of our lives, others values are shoved in our eyes.
Forced in our ears and into our minds, there isn't a societal view I could justify!
You see, their views aren't real, that's not who we are.....
As people we feel. We feel with our hearts!

That's what Beauty is.
Not the model on the cover.
And yet, every day, more girls want to be her.
But what I want you to see, and what I need you to know, is that Beauty isn't skin deep.
It's just not that shallow.

Beauty isn't quantifiable because beauty can be found inside every soul.
The smile we give, the light in our eyes, every day as we live, as we live our lives!
To give that friend one more surprise.
Those moments and glimpses into the soul...

That's what makes beauty unquantifialbe.

Addicted

Have you ever gotten addicted to a book? The characters pull you in and you no longer remember that there is a world outside of that book. You are the characters. You see in your mind's eye the vivid colors and impossible settings that surround them. You are no longer you. You are them.

Have you ever gotten lost in a book? You're trapped inside and you whole soul is held captive. All that you can imagine, is what is written on the page, and what your mind is creating from the words. A whole new world can be created in one sentence. In your mind you can see trees with gold leaves against a burgundy sky that seems so real you are shocked to see ours blue.

Have you ever become part of the book? You are the protagonist. No longer yourself, you have no independent feelings or thoughts. You are gone while you read because you have ceased to exist. You're confused when the book is over and the spell is finished. You have to come back to yourself because the story has ended.

No wonder the pen is mightier than the sword. When words are powerful enough to create worlds in our heads and transform us into new people, it's no wonder we escape into them. Because once you've experienced what it's like to become someone else, you're addicted to the sensation of reading.

ME

I have re-written this post..... three times.

So this is the fourth.

and I guess what I really want to say is this:

Thank you to Eva Nine for hiding me.

Thank you for reading this.

and yes, thank you Nelson for the prompts.

I always write for my sanity

 but my poems aren't always about me.

I just write.

Sometimes I write gibberish

laoisdvnaoitnaslkvlaiurfjsxdvokjwofoakjfjx

igaohgldgksuihgksgksiugavjazsdgkasdvkksj

hjdnvjbskjfknaksjdvksjgkskjdbgjksbdgflslijs

and sometimes I make way too much sense.

I'm crazy and weird in a (mostly) good way.

I like green skittles, 

and blue m&m's taste different than the other colors.

I watch documentaries 

and romantic comedies 

and Bollywood 

and action flics 

and Disney

I listen to classical

and indie

and 80's

and acapella

and whatever is on the radio

I LOVE reading. A lot. 

I couldn't list those.

Basically.... I'm just me.

Not really Eva Nine, 

Rachel Emily Wagner