fuck titles

So much yet so little happens these days.  

I'm watching a human grow right before my eyes.  

Beginning to end. 

It's beautiful. 

I remember when I used to not capitalize my i's because someone else was doing it and I thought it was edgy and cool. Then I stopped cuz it wasn't my idea and I felt fake. 

Such a small thing.  

I remember the way he looked at me. 

Why cant I forget. 

Feels like another life. 

I need to forget.  

I'm engaged. To a man I love. Really love. Every day I can't believe it. Can't accept the fact that somebody wants to be with me for the rest of their life...

And why does nobody else?

Is it my fault?

I don't think I know how to be close to people. 

It's scary. 

Leaves me thinking about the way people looked at me. 

Wondering if and why that look went away. 

 Do I know myself?

No.

Do I hate myself?

I try not to. 

Do I love myself?

I'm working on it.

I think I do.

I feel like there's a small part of me that doesn't

A small part of me that's scared.

Scared of what? 

Everything. 

It's all too much.

My grip is loose. 

Reality has me in a noose. 

It's slowly showing me how I did it myself. 

Even though it doesn't make sense unless you can see the bigger picture. 

But everything is getting better.

I think everything is getting better.

I'm not sure if anything is gonna get better.

Sometimes I feel like I'm floating in the clouds.

Sometimes it feels like I'm grounded and free.

Sometimes I feel like someone left me 6 ft deep.

Can anybody hear me. 

I'm pounding on the door.

I wanted to be seen

but no one to see my dirty floor. 

To see my dirty heart.

All dusty and cracked. 

To see how forgotten she's been. 

And the scrapes from crawling back. 

Crawling out from the hole.

6ft deep.

Exhausted

I'm exhausted. 

Exhausted because I can't make up my mind on being with someone for the rest of my life or not. Which us probably a sign on its own the relationship should end. But it's not that easy. It's never easy. 

Exhausted from trying to figure out how to be a parent. It's such a big responsibility.  I feel like im fucking it up. I feel like I wasn't ready. Is anybody ever ready?

Exhausted by the people around me. Not because of them, but because of the expectations I think they have of me. Which is a silly thing to give the time of day. 

Exhausted with myself. Why can't I just get it right? Why can't I be better. I should know better. 

I consciously try to remind myself to listen to my heart instead of my head. It's been so long It's hard to remember what that feels like. She's been alone for so long I don't know if she feels like sharing. When did we disconnect? When did I stop listening. She now speaks a language I am not fluent in. 

I'm barely holding on. 

I'm trying my best. 

I need to not trust everything my mind tells me. 

But then how do I make any decisions?

I DONT UNDERSTAND!

The Pit

I feel myself on the precipice in my mind.

So many emotions and thoughts swirling around. 

And then the quiet depths. 

A pit of blackness that now draws me in.

Im starting to miss it when I'm actually present. 

The peaceful freefall into nothingness.

Life is discouraging. 

I guess that how you know you're moving forward,

But it feels like such a big step backwards. 

I need to stay strong. 

My strength and will is the only thing keeping me alive. 

I must keep pushing onward.

Heart Dump

 My baby is growing. He's 25 months now. He's talking, he's playing, he's saying no. I try to get him outside at least once a day if not twice. But I still feel like I lacked in some way for him that day. I've struggled with being present with him, but its something i've really been working on, and it has been getting better. Even so I feel there's some sort of itch he has that he can't voice, and I have yet to find it. Or it's in a different spot everyday. Who knows. I'm trying. I care. I just hope that's enough. 

I talked to one of my best friends for the first time in a long time tonight. It was good. I always like talking to him cuz I feel so comfortable around him. (Until after our conversation and I start to feel insecure and overanalyze) Things are changing. He's busy more. Has a girlfriend in his life he's pretty sure he's marrying. We're growing apart and I hate it. That's life though. People come and go. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they don't. They always leave again tho. Somehow. Can't dwell on the inevitable. It will only drive you crazy. 

My other best friend I haven't talked to in an actually long time. I don't know how she feels about me. I lent her some money she hasn't been able to pay back. Honestly I don't even care about the money. It seemed from the outside like her world was falling apart, and I just wanted to be there for her. I should've been there for her. But with a kid, and the father of my child who cares a whole lot about money took the priority, and instead I was asking her for the money back. Adding to the problem. At least that's how it felt for me. Now we don't talk. She hasn't opened my messages in months. All I want to know is if she's okay. I don't care about the money. I just want to say I'm sorry, and I miss her. 

Me? I'm doing okay. I'm figuring things out, and reminding myself to stay strong. Reminding myself what's important in life. I hope I make it through okay. Right now though I just need to worry about making it through the day. 

And we're back

 Funny how I find this blog again right when i'm finally feeling myself again. 

3 years. For three years I've felt everything and nothing. 

But I gotta be honest it's been longer than that. 

7 years. 

7 fucking years since i've written. 

7 years since i've felt something strong enough to write about it. 

Got caught up in a relationship and didn't let it die. 

Until it killed me. 

Until it made new life. 

And here we are. With everything I need and everything I need to work through on my shoulders. At least they're lighter than they have been in a long time. 

I'm back. 

I'm here to write.

But most importantly I'm here to find my heart again. 

Here to find the fire I once had inside me. 

The independent bitch who didn't give a fuck. The girl who laughed when people called her stupid, because she knew the truth. 

It's harder finding your way when the only person you have to talk to is your brain. 

My brain hates me. 

That one thing I'm now sure of. 

It feels good. 

It feels good to be back.

We're all alive. Though we're searching for an apocalypse.

There is nothing more irritating than forgetting how to write.
Hell, I went to Europe for two months,
History at my fingertips constantly,
And I didn't write a single word.

Guys.

It's easy to forget who you are.

I don't even know if I like writing anymore.
But maybe I shouldn't be thinking about that.
Maybe I should appreciate what I've absorbed instead.
I don't have anything on paper for proof.
But I've changed.

I realize new things every day.

And today?
I figured out something I should try to do more in my life

Make people realize they're alive. 

Remind them what living means. 

We are not on this Earth to make money, live an everyday routine, regret, or focus on the pain.

Yes, it's hard not to notice all the pain.

But that's not all that's there.

We have to believe that.

We have to remember. 



I've become pretty selfish by trying not to care what people think.
Always having a bitter taste in my brain.
I'm trying to forget.
Distracting myself from the world instead of trying to help it.

I could become vegan.
Volunteer and help people.
But I like ice cream and meat,
And I need money for college.

Shit.



But hey,
If you're reading this,
Just take one thing from it.
Remember what living means.
And make sure you're feeling that every day.

This is it.

You know no matter how many lasts we are experiencing in these final weeks of high school.
No matter the people we'll never see.
The teachers we'll never learn from.
The strangers we'll never judge.
I bet you anything the majority of us will wake up Saturday morning and go about our lives like nothing ever happened.

I mean we are only one day older than the last.
One hour more tired.
One minute less memorable.
One second closer to death.

Paris was great.
Neverland was a dream.
Home's heart gained some weight.

We walk these halls everyday, and yet all of us will hear one name, see one person walk, that we had no idea went to this school.

But no matter the cliques,
The hate,
The lies,
The egos,
The tears,
The scars.
The graduating class of 2016 will all breathe as one as we all stand and move our tassels like we have gained some sort of knighthood for turning our papers in on time.

I don't know about you, but for me it's so much more than that. Walking on that carpet and shaking hands with people you barely talked to. I'm doing that because I fucking made it.
I made it through every late paper.
Every teachers pair of eyes in the back of their heads.
Every suicide.
Every fight with parents or friends.
Every time where my heart was heavier than my textbooks.
And after that.
I woke up.
Got ready.
And went to school.
And I bet you I smiled at least once everyday I was in those halls.

My beginning at Lone Peak was bathroom stalls and knowing people by their shoes.
My rising action was facing a tidal wave while holding one hand.
My end is a confused head held high.

Now let's all move on and slowly forget.
Let's embrace our briefcases and hang our selves with our ties.
Let's wither away and become our parents.

But always remember that green is not a creative color.

Writers block is tearing at my skin.
Or maybe I'm blocking out my emotions of what's to come.

Didn't Have My Journal

I will never be here again. 

I was talking to my friend during lunch toast and he told me his biggest regret in his years it's that he didn't write every day since seventh grade. He's not a good writer. But he wants to remember. He wants to remember every tear. Every laugh. All of it. 

I feel like this whole leaving thing isn't gonna hit me until it's August and I realize Lone Peak is starting a new year and I'm not there.

And then I'm moving to Washington. Everyone I knew. Miles away. 

I don't know when it'll be the last time I see them.

I hope it causes you all pain that you won't ever be at high school again after this year. 

Even if you're gonna become a teacher.

Even if you're going to visit. 

Your heart should ache when you think about it never being the same, because that means you cared.

We will never be here again. 

We are so young. And I feel like we're all to caught up in where we're going to appreciate what we have now. 

Yes, it's a relief that's summer is coming. And the homework and tests are almost over. The stress will be gone. 

But we never have the time to truly say goodbye to the families we forged here. 

And those are more important than anything else.

Meh.

So many things I want.
But what do I need.
I'm debating if I'm actually trusting fate to help out,
Or if I'm just being lazy and taking what comes.
I don't want to be someone little.
Someone in a cycle to nowhere.
Which is funny because it always bugs me when people say they want to be remembered.
That not a bad thing to want of course,
But when people usually say that they mean they want to be the next Gandhi.
It's always best to be remembered by people close to you though.
If that's not enough for you that's kind of sad.
Because pain is only there to let you know it meant something.
I don't know about you,
But I only feel pain when people close to me die.
Maybe I'm just heartless.
But I'd rather truly affect a small amount of people,
Than be an icon to the world.
Though as a wise man once said,
Why not both?

101

I just realized that Real Right Now was my 100th post.

Holy shit...

I started this blog the beginning of my junior year. It's crazy to think how much has happened since then.

Back then I was still holding onto my sophomore year and my ex-boyfriend. (typical Kenzie)

I was just starting to gain confidence in myself, but I was still so intrigued with this new thing I had found called love.

Love is the most important thing to me. I told my sophomore friend my life story a month and a half ago or so and he said he admired the fact that the most important parts to me were my relationships. Then just this past week I was talking to my cousin on a midnight hike. I told him a little bit about my relationships and I realized while I was talking to him how important it all was to me. How I don't care about having a big house. I don't care about having the best job in the world - though I still want to follow my dreams - over all of my other dreams I want someone to wake up to every morning. And yes we'll probably try spooning while sleeping, then realize how uncomfortable it is and sleep on separate sides, but so what. I get someone who wants to spend the rest of their lives with me. What on this world is more beautiful than that?

I've had 12 relationships starting my seventh grade year. Each relationship has made me grow more than any friendship I've ever had. I don't know if that's strange. But I think it's kinda cool.

Anyways, totally sidetracked.

This is post 101.

101 posts of depression, complaining, and drama.

101 post and I'm driving in my friends passenger seat with my boyfriends grinning at the back of my head while we blast Coral Bones. (look them up. they're so good.)

101 posts and I'm happy.

101 posts and my friend group has done a 360 no scope and I'm surrounded by the people I never thought I'd be close to. But now I love them. I love them and I'm tired of the past. I'm tired of the drama, and I want to live.

A friend of mine got sent to St George by his parents. That sucked.

An old friend got bullied out of our family. If it counts for anything, I'm sorry.

I'm not sure what I'm writing anymore. I'm kinda just doing another right now.

28 days guys.

28 days and these halls will not be ours anymore.

28 days and then who knows if we'll be remembered.

Who will remember us?

Does it matter?

Should we care about being noteworthy to a bunch of high school students?

Should we pray paint our names on the walls in our blood to mark all the late night papers? All the books read on sparks notes?

Though honestly besides the paper cuts it was more emotional than physical. So maybe our names are painted on the walls. Emotionally...cuz that makes sense... #poetrygonewrong

I don't know. Let's just all be sentimental for a day. Maybe we should do it for a class period. We can make poetic metaphors and all that fun shit. I have no idea.

Just know that we have 28 days left and I don't know everyones name in our class. Sorry Nelson. I feel like everyone has been saying that a lot.

28 days.

Damn.

Real Right Now

A week or two ago we had a lesson in laurels that you can have heartbreak and be happy at the same time. I'm not religious, but I had honestly never realized that before. Suddenly all the confusion in my brain got a little clearer.

I have four friends left.

One is my boyfriend, which means I have no idea how long we'll be friends because we all know what happens after you break up. But it doesn't have to be that way. He keeps me sane.

Second. A guy I've considered liking for a while but honestly it's not a good idea. He's good just as a friend anyways. I hope to visit him whenever I'm in town. If he decides to go on a mission I hope to be there for his farewell also.

Third. He is the closest to saint I've ever seen and I can't wait to see where he's going on his mission. He will be the richest out of all of us one day and I refuse to believe anything less.

Fourth. She isn't around too much anymore, but I hope to move to Washington with her in July. Every now and then when I meet up with her I feel the relief of talking to someone who isn't stuck. We're all stuck.

(Silver, if you're reading this don't feel insulted. We've been growing apart for a while now and you know it. We've both changed and it's for the better. I still like talking to you.)

(Pink, you're probably not reading this because we haven't talked in forever, but all I can think to say to you is I'm sorry, and I don't hate you if that's what you think.)

Everyone is talking about college, but also how they don't want to graduate. I say let me out already, but I'm not even going to college next year. I just want to figure out who the fuck I am.

When I started this year I could not imagine graduating. Though slowly but surely it became quite a desire.

I used to say what's the point in a very negative way.

Now I say it because I want a challenge.

I want to stop being pointless.

My grandpa died last week, and I don't know why I didn't tell anyone.

My ex is reading Peter Pan with his new girlfriend.

Joseph is my last play here.

I haven't gone into work in a week in a half. I'm probably gonna get fired.

I'm failing all my classes except two.

My dogs look like Yin and Yang. They're cute.

I want to read more. I want to play the piano more. I want to go to school while I can. I want to love my dad. I want to buy more records. I want to do my fucking laundry. I want to not need to sleep. I want to move to Washington for a year. I want to talk to my sister while she's in Germany. I want to talk to my mom while I'm in Washington. I don't want to be one of those people still in their hometown a year after they've graduated. I don't want to be one of those people still in their hometown three years after they've graduated. I want a job. I don't want a job I hate. I don't want to go to stage crew after the play is over. I want money. I don't want to be greedy. I want to go to Disneyland by myself for my senior trip.

I'm sitting here watching my cousins play Smash Bros. on our Wii U. I want to play, but I love to write. I should probably be sleeping soon because I need to get up in the morning for attendance school, because I need a lot of sleep to actually get up in the morning.

My dad is packing to leave for work. Just like he always has since I was born. I need gas, but I don't have any money.

My ex visited two days ago and it felt like old times. It could never be old times.

My mind has been muddled, but I'm so ready to wake up.

I went to my middle school last week. It was small and everyone was really short. My best friend kept telling me about all his good times there. I did not have to good of a time there myself. Lots of lessons though. I'm grateful for it.

I've been writing what's on my mind for too long now.

Peace.

Chopped Peanuts

It all started with some chopped peanuts.
No.
No it didn't.
It started a long time ago.
Before I could ever possibly realize.
Then after one crush and three relationships...
Well,
Here we are.
And we are eagles.
We are flying,
Living,
Breathing.
I don't understand it all quite yet,
But I do know one thing.
I'm happy. 
So fuck it all.
Let's put our middle fingers up and own the whole damn sky.
Because we can,
But only for two months,
So let's try and make the best of it.

P.S. You make me feel like Margo Roth Spiegelman.

Background 00's Music Into A One Man Show

You were written in the background.
But you were the only real things on stage.
Straight to the point just like always.
The stage is a mess.
The words are whispered.
The eyebrows raised.
We're all just too scared to acknowledge it.
But you,
You are as transparent as the ocean on a clear day.
If there's a fish swimming to the surface you can see it.
But the ocean floors are dusty.
You have to wade into the water to feel.
You have to dive into the depths,
And it's so beautiful,
I don't know why people don't do it often.
I'm scared of water,
But I'm ready to have my eyes opened.
So let me toss this ocean shit,
And be clear myself.
I like you.
With you it's real.
I didn't like you at first,
Because even you can't deny,
You're rough to get used to.
But I always knew there was something more,
And now I'm finally seeing it.
You're my best friend.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
So with this low key salute,
I thank you.
It's a real great time around you,
And I don't know how you feel,
But I'm finally not worried about it.
So again,
Thank you,
I like smiling into your solid eyes.

Unfinished, Like Everything But Dessert.

I dance while nobody is watching.
Maybe it's because people tell me my body is all wrong,
But I know my soul's all right.
I keep it hidden a lot,
Though I know I can do better than what the world tells me I'm meant to be.
If I come home and I'm the only one there,
I sing at the top of my lungs,
Dancing with my socks sliding on the tile,
And I make myself some damn lunch.
Though most the time it's dessert.
Frosting,
Potato chips,
I'll work out tomorrow.
You see once upon a time,
I thought God didn't like the look of my face.
Head down in the halls,
Headphones on,
Making sure those "too nice" of people wouldn't call me out.
I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel,
Because I wasn't looking.

She

She played the piano.
Played it so beautifully,
And loved it.
Everyone couldn't help but stare,
And feel the music.
She told a story through her fingers.
But it was not her story,
Her story was filled with tears when no one was staring.
Her story was filled with cuts into her being,
Because she didn't know who she was.
Silently she suffered,
While everyone just wanted a piece of her music.
But her notes were breaking,
Breaking,
Breaking so slowly,
But effective none the less.
She couldn't hear the notes anymore.
She was always in outer space or underwater.
Her music was the ground she couldn't stand on anymore.
But she played the piano.

She smelled like cigarettes.
She smelled like coffee.
She smelled bitter and sweet,
And was a mess but neat.
Broken on the inside,
But pretty for everyone to see.
Every morning less sleep.
Falling harder than falling deep.
Running forever,
Running to better,
Herself.
From what?
I do not know.
Only she will ever know.
I don't mean her mind.
I mean her fingers.
The ones she put in a casket long ago.
Her soul. 
Buried deep beneath everything she is now.
Buried beneath her smell.

Inception

Look.

Life is hard.

Everyone around you in relationships,

When you're going through a break up...still.

Finally saying "I love you" to your mom,

And only hearing "okay" back. 

It's easy to feel alone. 

Easier for your mind to tell you how useless you are. 

And you're always changing,

So what if you become all the side effects of who you wanted to be?

It's hard to explain how hollow I feel. 

How I care but I don't.

How scared I am.

Today I had a conversation.

And great friends turned into awkward small talk.

We eventually grew used to each other again,

But we got a glimpse of what things will be like a year from now. 

Do grown ups still get scared of the dark?

Is it okay if I don't grow up?

Should I even give a shit in the first place?

I feel like I'm in Inception and can't tell what's fake or not.

P.R.O.M.

What to do when you don't have a date to prom, but everyone is talking to you about their dresses. 

1. Whenever you run into your friends who are in relationships pull out your phone or book.

2. Go to the store an find all the chick flicks and chocolate you can.

(Ice cream is also acceptable)

3. Stay at home avoiding any social interaction with females. Prom will come up if you risk it. 

4. Wear your prom dress while you eat chocolate and ice cream and don't give a shit about spilling. 

5. Get over it. 

P. R. O. M.

u       e        u         i

t        l         t         n

         a        o        d

         t         f

         i

         o

         n

         s

         h

         i

         p

         s

but...um....yeah...

Being antisocial is more then just being an awkward person that doesn't talk much.
It's thinking about breathing,
Thinking about every step you take,
Because if you do anything wrong people will laugh at you.
Oh know your shoe is untied,
Hurry and fix it before you trip,
But find a corner so you don't get stepped on when you bend down.
Being antisocial is like being a ghost.
But when someone actually sees you,
When they smile at you while your sitting in the halls alone.
When you drop something and you're not the first one to pick it up.
When someone sees you,
You think you can be something,
Besides the trust issues with anything and everyone,
Besides the over analyzing,
The low self esteem,
The whole fucking lot that's trapped in your mind.
You've been deprived of social interaction,
But how can you start a conversation with a stranger,
When you can barely spit out the truth to the women who gave birth to you.
But you try anyways.
You say hello,
Though it was too quite and they didn't hear you,
Or they're one of the ones that just ignore you.
What do you do then?
Pull out the phone,
Pull out the book,
Like nothing happened. 

We see you judging us.
We feel those eyes.
But we will learn to keep our heads up in the halls,
Because we've missed to much color,
After looking at the floor for so long.
We will learn to wear our insecurities on our sleeves,
Because yes we're different,
But we've learned that it's something to love.
We have learned that it's okay to love ourselves.