detachment

What I am afraid of is never being able to fit in anywhere. Not fitting in as in being the same as everyone else and disappearing into the background, but finding a setting where I can naturally express myself and feel like home. Or finding the people who understand me and I understand them, and the feeling of connection and safety that forms between us.

Because despite the friends I’ve made and the brief moments of joy I experience when I am in contact with others, I always feel a sense of detachment and loneliness. Like I am always on a different wavelength and too odd to quite comprehend the way others think and feel. I might even feel judged for who I am and that makes me unable to even open up. I’m never really there with the others, never present in the situation, no matter how hard I try to push myself closer.

I am afraid that I will keep looking for that feeling of being at home… but will never find it. And at the end of my life, when I’ve tried so hard just to keep myself afloat, I’ll realize that there never was a home for me. Maybe I was simply thrown into this life to wonder around, looking for something that couldn’t be.

Or maybe this is just high school. 

Favorite Color Poem - Brave New Voices 2010

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYaOuQJUI84

4 chambers and pumping blood

i don't think robots can bruise, or have aching collar bones from carrying the world on their shoulders. i'm pretty sure they don't have stomachs to incase butterflies, and i'm almost certain they can't ache for open arms. my heart is more than just machinery, it consists of four chambers and blood that pumps for warm spots on the carpet and late september days. robots do not have common sense but neither do i, we desire the things that will destroy us in the end. i see grey skies and long for better days, i hope and i aspire for love. i have learned that there is so much more to life than simply surviving it.

true colors

my color consists of dark hues but a beautiful undertone that if you stare deep enough it can consume your whole vision.
i am a technicolor of bright rainbows,
and blacks.
i have my good days and my bad
and i even cry sometimes.
but i smile even more.
you can look at me and decide that the hues aren't for you,
and let it ruin your whole picture.
or you can choose to see the beauty past the stain.

overlapping souls

i stumbled across my older sisters creative writing journal from when she was back in high school, i found a poem she wrote about me when i was just a sophomore.
thanks sis, i love you and i miss you..

Baby, this poem is for you and that broken heart of yours. This poem is about tears that were shed and brighter days to come. This poem is not about that stupid boy that broke your heart. This poem's about iced tea... and souls. Over lapping souls that just seem to make sense together. This poem is about the only child, with 4 sisters. This poem is about struggles and comfort, because the comfort that you seek will always be here. Sitting by me at a table with 4 legs, 2 chairs, and a gourmet meal. Because this dinner is for us. Sadness, depression, hurt, loneliness, and stupid people are not invited, they never are.
Insecurities will never break us. Age will never break us. School, stupid boys, drama, stress, differences, disagreements, will never break us. Our overlapping souls that is. Now don't get me wrong, those things will come. And I don't know if they're under your bed but they're under mine. And in the closet, and every time I look in the mirror. But you my friend, you are beautiful, your soul is beautiful, and because of your soul overlapping mine, I hope I can soak up some of that beauty, some of that brightness & laughter you shine forth. People who bask in your light will never be the same. And baby, I'm lucky enough to sit on your sun. And I'm forever changed because of you and your soul.

i'm sorry, this phone # has been disconnected

last night you called me.
and for the first time in months i heard your voice.
you sounded the same,
but time has turned us into two different people.
i think i know why you called.
word on the street was that i was happy,
and maybe it was hard for you to believe that i could be
without you.
you asked me if i ever thought about us, the old days.
but all that comes to mind is you and her blonde hair.
your taken lips kissing hers and the fact
that you never called.