If roses are red, and violets are blue, then why are some pink and lavender too?
I used to wish I was a flower. And then I was told dandelions were weeds.
Unwanted and despised. Their cheerful yellow faces, uprooted or sprayed.
Abused because they grow of their own will power.
I used to want to be a flower. Then I was told that the only pretty roses were red.
But purple roses are my favorite. So what does that make me?
Not a Valentine's bouquet or anything special. Just a flower.
I realized one day, that I am a flower. But I'm unique.
I'm not a red rose or a blue violet.
I am the weedy dandelion who just want to grant a wish.
I am the smiley happy daisy that grows in the cracks of the sidewalks.
I am the out-of-place lavender rose in a rose bouquet full of reds.
I am me. I am a flower.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Moving On
I thumbs-ed down your favorite song on Pandora today. I never thought I would get this far. I guess I've finally walked far enough away to start closing the hole in my heart. You hollowed me out when you left that way. Though I would never love again. Thought I would never feel anything again.
I was happy today. I almost went a whole day without thinking about you. When you yelled at me that way I though the words you said were true. But I looked in the mirror this morning and almost like what I saw. Your words hit me harder than you hands. Is this how all fathers treat their baby girls?
I went to my friend's house today. When her father gave her a hug, she didn't look like she was waiting for the egg shells to crack. then he gave me a hug and it was so full of fatherly love. He must've seen the surprise in my eyes.
You called today. It's the first time we've talked since you left. I cried. I yelled. I SCREAMED at you. And yet, I'm still terrified of the man who was supposed to walk me down the aisle.
Mom got married again today. Already he's a better dad. Of course, you'll always be my father, I can't change that, but how could I have ever called you dad when you hurt me the way you did?
I turned 16 today. It's been a year and a half since you left. I'm still scared of you. I live in another state now, and I'm still scared. Why do your abusive words replay in my dreams? Why would you ever say those things to your baby girl?
I told my heart to move on today. I also decided to move on yesterday. And I'll say the same thing tomorrow, because 14 1/2 years of hurt is quite a lot to move on from.
I'm 17 now. I'm still scared of you.
I was happy today. I almost went a whole day without thinking about you. When you yelled at me that way I though the words you said were true. But I looked in the mirror this morning and almost like what I saw. Your words hit me harder than you hands. Is this how all fathers treat their baby girls?
I went to my friend's house today. When her father gave her a hug, she didn't look like she was waiting for the egg shells to crack. then he gave me a hug and it was so full of fatherly love. He must've seen the surprise in my eyes.
You called today. It's the first time we've talked since you left. I cried. I yelled. I SCREAMED at you. And yet, I'm still terrified of the man who was supposed to walk me down the aisle.
Mom got married again today. Already he's a better dad. Of course, you'll always be my father, I can't change that, but how could I have ever called you dad when you hurt me the way you did?
I turned 16 today. It's been a year and a half since you left. I'm still scared of you. I live in another state now, and I'm still scared. Why do your abusive words replay in my dreams? Why would you ever say those things to your baby girl?
I told my heart to move on today. I also decided to move on yesterday. And I'll say the same thing tomorrow, because 14 1/2 years of hurt is quite a lot to move on from.
I'm 17 now. I'm still scared of you.
Mirrors
A shiny plate of silver, behind a pane of glass.
That's all a mirror is. It's views don't really last.
Mirrors can't reflect what others see in you.
Warping what's beautiful is all they really do.
You're freckles are precious to me, but the mirror says they're ugly.
"Cover 'em up" it says. "Put on some make-up" it says.
"You have to look like her, cuz she's prettier" it says.
But that's not what I say.
I'm telling you, "You're gorgeous!"
Can't you see? Don't you believe me? I
don't see the acne or the stray or gray hairs.
I don't see the line by your eyes that the mirrors say reach your ears.
What I see are the moments when hands of love have touched your face,
and left those little red dots you don't need to erase.
What I see are the times you've pulled your hair and been stressed so much because you care.
What I see are the moments when your laugh lit up your eyes and made them rival the stars in the skies. Those lines are records of memories that are so precious to you and me.
So next time you look in the mirror, just remember, it's only silver and glass.
It can't reflect your level of class.
Your beauty and elegance and grace soar above,
and those are the parts of you that I love.
Mirrors would have you think that your reflection is the absolute truth.
That what you see, is what others see too. But that's not true.
Mirrors aren't right. They are silver and glass. They only reflect light.
Mirrors can't show you what I see.
Oh how I wish you could see what I see.
That's all a mirror is. It's views don't really last.
Mirrors can't reflect what others see in you.
Warping what's beautiful is all they really do.
You're freckles are precious to me, but the mirror says they're ugly.
"Cover 'em up" it says. "Put on some make-up" it says.
"You have to look like her, cuz she's prettier" it says.
But that's not what I say.
I'm telling you, "You're gorgeous!"
Can't you see? Don't you believe me? I
don't see the acne or the stray or gray hairs.
I don't see the line by your eyes that the mirrors say reach your ears.
What I see are the moments when hands of love have touched your face,
and left those little red dots you don't need to erase.
What I see are the times you've pulled your hair and been stressed so much because you care.
What I see are the moments when your laugh lit up your eyes and made them rival the stars in the skies. Those lines are records of memories that are so precious to you and me.
So next time you look in the mirror, just remember, it's only silver and glass.
It can't reflect your level of class.
Your beauty and elegance and grace soar above,
and those are the parts of you that I love.
Mirrors would have you think that your reflection is the absolute truth.
That what you see, is what others see too. But that's not true.
Mirrors aren't right. They are silver and glass. They only reflect light.
Mirrors can't show you what I see.
Oh how I wish you could see what I see.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
My thoughts make no sense
I love thinking and writing. So I write what I think. Does that make sense? Good. Because the rest of this may not.
Years ago I found a book called "The Search for WondLa" and as I read it I fell in love.
The fantastical world that Eva explored sounded awe inspiring, terrifying, exhilarating, and debilitating.
I wanted to go!
Walking trees, cities on lakes, a giant water bear that basically flys.... I wanted to go. Like I said, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but to a 14 year old who's life was falling apart, it was perfect. I still want to go. This honored title belongs high on the list of my favorite books, next to "Pride and Prejudice", "Entwined", and "Fablehaven". Eva Nine is brave, smart, curios, a little sassy, innocent, and all around fantastic. Basically, who I wished I was at 14.
Now I'm older than the heroine of the story, but I don't care. She's still my favorite. Wacky braids, freckled nose, random collection of stuff, mismatched boots and all. So it may no make sense to you why I chose a 14 year old fictional heroine to be my pen name, but it makes sense to me.
You can stop making a confused face now. I'm not explaining anymore. I'm done.
Seriously stop scrolling.
I'm done.
Years ago I found a book called "The Search for WondLa" and as I read it I fell in love.
The fantastical world that Eva explored sounded awe inspiring, terrifying, exhilarating, and debilitating.
I wanted to go!
Walking trees, cities on lakes, a giant water bear that basically flys.... I wanted to go. Like I said, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but to a 14 year old who's life was falling apart, it was perfect. I still want to go. This honored title belongs high on the list of my favorite books, next to "Pride and Prejudice", "Entwined", and "Fablehaven". Eva Nine is brave, smart, curios, a little sassy, innocent, and all around fantastic. Basically, who I wished I was at 14.
Now I'm older than the heroine of the story, but I don't care. She's still my favorite. Wacky braids, freckled nose, random collection of stuff, mismatched boots and all. So it may no make sense to you why I chose a 14 year old fictional heroine to be my pen name, but it makes sense to me.
You can stop making a confused face now. I'm not explaining anymore. I'm done.
Seriously stop scrolling.
I'm done.
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