A Mostly Sensationalized Account of Something I Noticed Today


It’s strange because I thought I was over him. He never crosses my mind; I no longer get the urge to speak to him. But I still, quietly, seek him out, I watch him stand up, and when I see pictures of him I still wonder what it would be like to hold his hand––to kiss him. My subconscious can’t let go.

Why is it that people feel these varying degrees of love? I can’t say I ever loved him, that’s for certain, but I can’t say I never loved him, that’s just as certain.

The myth perpetrated is that we fear love. I disagree. We aren’t afraid: we’re confused, we’re lost. We fear love only as we fear a friendly Labyrinth––not with a desire to escape, but with a desire to learn, to comprehend. It is most unfortunate for us, then, that we will never find constants as the maze continues to shift around us.

There is no unconditional love, only shades in a scale and those that do not fit in a scale. I believe what I had for him was pink––a tough, blushing fruit. It was never meant to be meaningful. But it’s always meaningful: eye contact with an intimate is meaningful; intimacy with a stranger is meaningful. Meaning is inevitable. Meaning floods our worlds, washes our veins, colors our blood red.

It’s nonsense that we are confused by our own feelings, knocked out by our own passions. “Why would you love him?” someone asked me. The truth is, I don’t know why I love. And I would bow in reverence to anyone who could spell out the complete reasoning of their heartstrings.

I write because I cannot control. I cannot control love, so I’ll keep talking about it with pompous air while I reveal little, if anything, of value.

Ciao for now,



Song One


You’re somewhere far beyond the horizon I can see.

You’re somewhere in the long distance, are you waiting for me?


The next time that I close my eyes, I’ll love you until dawn.

And when you wake up from your dreams, do you miss me when I’m gone?


Every little lullaby keeps whispering your name,

And though I keep an open mind I still can’t win the game.


The thought that keeps me going on is your voice in my brain.

The fact that you are still not here is driving me insane.


So tell me, do you feel a thing just picturing my eyes?

Do you wonder what stars I see when you’re looking at the skies?


Do you take the time to know that I am on this Earth?

Could you even realize just what this life is worth?


Love can live across the maps although we’ve never met.

It can happen, and it will, it just hasn’t yet.

These are Memories

THESE are the little scars

that cut slits in my heart,

that burn me while I sleep.


THESE are the little thoughts

that will not let me walk,

that chase me down the halls.


THESE are the little hopes

that dance into the sun,

that burn up into ash.


THESE are the little loves

that never love me back,

that always need me more.


THIS is the little way

that every day will pass,

that I will spend my life.

So This is It

Jack Stewart

4503 Carson Avenue

Mason, Missouri, 63000


Dear Jack,

Do you

remember all the time

we sat around being stupid

for no reason and we would

laugh at ourselves and at

everything else,

not caring about or even thinking about the

things we were supposed to

be doing,

we were so busy

enjoying each other’s


I’m not sure when

you changed or even why,

what shifted in your head,

or your chemistry,

or whatever,

that made you change. It’s like

one day I had you and the next

I had your shell,

your memories, the bits and pieces

that were you once

but all of a

sudden were more like

corpses in my hands. I

promise I

cried when it all went down

the drain, when you

stopped answering my

calls and responding to

my letters, when

you left me, gave me the cold shoulder, like we

never had anything.


You had really been leaving

me for a long time,

you turned into a ghost before my very eyes and

I didn’t even notice. I

didn’t notice when you grew

white like a sheet and

started fading into the air,

but now, you’re

full-on invisibility cloak and

it’s too late for me to

stop the process, to

pick up the broken pieces and

glue them back together,

because I made a mistake

by loosening my grip when

you started to slink away.


I always wonder

if I could have

fixed things by

holding tighter and

refusing to drop the amazing, fragile thing

we had.

If I had only realized that

you were wriggling towards

the light, and that

in your eyes, I

was the dark, then maybe

the wounds could have

healed before they were sunk all the way,

before the bleeding

became fatal and

before the glass piercing the skin

was too deep to come out.


Do you remember the

promises you made

me? I know that

you have a strong recollection

of the ones I made to

you, the ones I didn’t just break, the ones

I shattered, the ones

you brought up time

and time again. But

you never acknowledged or even

apologized for

the promises you made

that were empty when

you made them, that

you tossed on the ground

and ripped apart with

your bare hands,

like what you did to me

when you left,

like what you did when you discarded

me at the side of the

road like a cigarette butt or

a straw from McDonald’s,

like that was

all that I was worth,

like that’s all the humanity you saw in me.


I suppose this is a letter, Jack,

to say I’m sorry,

and say that I hope

you’re sorry, too.

Because every day

I wither a little more,

because there is a gaping hole

where there should be you.

I look the same,

but on the inside I

have nothing, like

a Barbie doll, I am hollow,

made of 100% outside.

The outside was all you ever

seemed to care

about, though, and once

you were through with that part of me

you pushed it away

like the rest didn’t

matter at all.


So, this is it, Jack.

This is the last

bundle of words

that you will get

from me,

this is the last time I’m going to try to explain how hurt I am,

how dejected, and this is the last time

I will ever think that

there’s a way to

talk sense into you, and I can

assure you of that much,

because I know you’ll just recycle this letter and

get back to whatever you were doing,

like chopping carrots, or watching

reruns of Friends like we

used to on Fridays, or maybe

making out with your

shiny new girlfriend who

isn’t looking for commitment yet.

This is the end, el fin,

no more once upon a time

or fairy tales or happily ever after,

no more movie nights or

little play fights about who will buy the popcorn or

holding hands and swinging them,

no more us,

no more Jack.

It hurts to say goodbye like this, not

seeing your eyes when I say it or

getting a goodbye kiss, but it

had to be

done like

this because

you’ve changed your number

and you’ve moved very, very

far away. Just

know that every day I

wake up and I’m

less alive, that

it will be a long time until I’m

whole again, that

even after I think I’ve

moved on, there will

still be a little part of me that

remembers you and

blocks out everyone else,

that someday I will

move on for real, and with someone

great, and then I’ll

be happy, that I hate

needing someone,that

I hate myself, that

I hate being told I’m loved when I’m not.


This is it, Jack.

Have a nice life.


Yours truly,


10-Day Blog Challenge…Day 3

Saying how many people have won my heart in the past, this one might be a little tricky. But I will think of what would make me melt.

(Hint: just one of these things won’t make you boyfriend material. There are lots of standards I have based on age and personality among other things, and I will not sell myself/lower my standards.)


Eight Ways to Win My Heart

1. Write a song or perform someone else’s. Preferably, you will be singing and playing either guitar or ukulele. (Of course, what do you expect? I mean I’m a girl so obviously that’s going to be the case.)

2. Be  funny. Don’t be that obnoxious funny with crude jokes and such, which is funny to me, I’ll admit, but not the kind of funny that will make me fall for you. Preferably, the humor is somewhat sarcastic and clever, the kind of jokes Han Solo would tell.

3. Tell me that something (or a lot of things) I do are amazing. Compliment me on something I write or draw, or the way my voice sounds. If you really mean it, tell me I look nice. WARNING: BE HONEST! I’ll know if you’re making it up. That’s almost as bad as telling me my drawings, stories, poems, and/or singing are terrible.

4. Be sweet. Show some interest in having a conversation with me, listen as well as speak, speak as well as listen. Consider and remember things I tell you, refer to them in the future if they come up again. Don’t be creepy about it though (it should be clear where to draw the line).

5. Become interested in something that you know I like. Don’t fake it. As weak a reason as it sounds, common interests are an important basis in any kind of relationship and so they are, too, in liking someone. Especially if you find this interest because I like it. Not sure why, exactly, but that seems cute. Just don’t be creepy about it. WARNING: DON’T FAKE IT!

6. Be intelligent. I have zero interest in people with low IQs. If you’re posting on Facebook, don’t be stupid about it. Don’t be stupid with your friends (at least not around me.)

7. Be nice to everyone. If you’re a total sweetheart to me, but treat my friends or maybe even people I don’t know like poop, then you’re just a bully in my eyes. A lying bully, too. And if you’re not nice to me, then clearly you don’t stand a chance dating me. There is NOTHING attractive about a jerk.

8. Always tell the truth straight-up, unless it could be offensive. This includes: if you like something I do, if you don’t like something I do, if I chew with my mouth open, if I wear too much makeup, and, if we’re not together, if you like me. Girls will ALWAYS want boys to let them know when they like them, it’s a fact of life that applies to about 97% of the single female population.

Wow, that’s it. I did it.

Maybe I should have guys I know read this.


Ciao for now,


ice cream breakup: A Poem


i wonder what it would be like

to have someone like you

i bet you would sing me songs

and make my dreams come true

i bet you would send me flowers

just because you wanted to

and i would never forget

that i had someone like you


i wonder what it would be like

to look into your eyes

to laugh a little and blush a lot

i know it would be nice

to think about your smiles

and let out a few sighs

to feel loved in your arms

and pretty in your eyes


i wonder what it would be like

if you laughed at what i said

if we sat next to each other on the floor

with your head on my head

if we passed notes quietly

and loved each word we read

if we had entire discussions

where not one word was said


you just have to see me first


something tells me you would be

an ice cream breakup

if i ever got the chance

if i was so lucky for a date

or even a school dance

if i could get a conversation

or just a sideways glance

i wonder what it feels like

to have your hand in my hand

i wonder what it feels like

to write our names in the sand

and i only wish i knew

what it’s like to love you