my dear friend,

there's 92 days till graduation and I'm not thinking about school

theres only 1 today

1 tomorrow

1 february 25th, 2015

and I still didn't think that day would be yesterday

we're not thinking about others but we're thinking about school

and the biology test that is coming up next friday

the english homework that was due wednesday

who's carpooling to the next basketball game with who

nobody seems to give a freaking crap about anything else,

other than themselves

you'd think every tomorrow would be different

but it never is.

last night twitter told me a bed time story,

a slap-in-the-face, reality check, heart wrenching story 

of the sweetheart who sat next to me in spanish sophomore year

it was a story I've heard one too many times 

two too many times

three too many times

because we all seem to forget

I apologize bryce

I apologize hunter

I apologize terik

I apologize for pretending I was there,

along with the rest of the student body.

I'm sorry for not making a difference

I'm sorry for saying I see you,

when really my eyes were looking at my diploma

I'm sorry for all the people I didn't smile to in the halls

because I was too insecure myself

at school, I was only thinking about school

and how I didn't do my math homework from last week

now I'm thinking of everything but

                   get

          me 

            

                      out, 

               get

                             me 

                                                     out, 

                                               get 

                                  me 

       out

my foot is on the gas pedal and I think I'm going 30 over

no flashing lights are stopping me

I'm not even stopping me

but I should be.

yesterday I got pulled over

yesterday was the day I realized I need to slow things down

yesterday my friend took his own life

he took his own life

he took his own life

he had his own life

I wish he would've seen a lot of things

I wish he could've seen the future 

and the sunset that would come in only a half an hour

the next 10 miles he had to drive only lasted so long

and he still had the next 75 to go

I wish I could see more

I wish I knew what everyone was going through

but I don't.

I want to help 

mainly,

because of you.

I'll try my best to do that

because of you.

angel,

it wasn't the end

high school is not the end

and I know you're still here

don't let us forget.

please, help us remember.

school is messed up because kindness isn't always the answer

the right brain never made room to help

and thats why we have a left

I took a sharp left on the way home from school today

with no music playing in my car

silence seems to end up saying the most

so I decided to listen to my mind

just so I could let my mourning memory of you engulf what is left of me 

I can feel your pain in the front of my brain,

and the sorrow that drowned you, fills up my heart

I'm feeling your suffering and affliction,

but mostly I'm feeling a sense of compassion,

a complete sense of unconditional love.

I'm feeling you tap on my shoulder once again

just like sophmore year,

having me turn around to see you once more

and smiling.

I'm feeling you wanting to help me

this time its not about the quiz we took, or the test we're studying for

this time it's about you, and I, and being there to help each other.

let me hear the words leave your lips so I know you believe them too

"you are not alone"

because those words sum up what I'm really feeling.

what we all are feeling.

I pray that you finally feel that too.

my sweet friend

if I can promise you anything,

I promise you i'll never forget.

yesterday I got pulled over

and driving those last 10 miles home,

I was only thinking about you.

we'll never forget. 

Terik Gagon

2/25/15

paint with me

lets paint a picture of the girl who got her braces off, and the time you got yours on

of you holding your new little brother for the first time
                         
of the sky changing color for the last time

and of the chocolate dipped lake you swam in, your eight grade summer

lets paint a picture of the world ten years ago
                   
of the red concrete bricks that made up your childhood education

of the black stone bricks that stole your heart

and of the time you threw your innocence out the window

lets paint a picture of the time you finally figured out how to ride your bike

of the time you got your license suspended
                       
and of the time your mom realized she couldn't hold onto you forever

lets paint a picture of the trees, and the grass, and the moon, but mostly lets paint a picture of the stars

 of the time the night swallowed us up

of the mysterious mood in the dark canyon

and of the little lights that led us there

lets paint a picture of your report card, and the other one you got from school

of the first B that told you failed

of the mini test marked "life" in the gradebook

and of the NC's you're still trying to make up from last term

lets paint a picture of your triumphs and your struggles

of the smile you flashed when you took first place in state
             
of the disappointing baseball try out
     
and of the coaches who were only there for the money

lets paint a picture of life in itself and take up the entire canvas.

they say life is too short

but i couldn't fit it on one page if i tried.

in the grand scheme of things,

watercolor will dry up,

brushes will lose their touch,

we'll all lose ours.

so keep loving, keep breathing, keep painting your picture

because in the end,

nobody's there to judge.

if you don't leave your mark

if you don't tell your story,

who else will?

keep painting.

concrete crisis

I've decided to run away from my problems because

brick

          after brick

                     after brick

has hit me,

and my body bruises too easy

30 bricks that left a mark:

brick number one: my uncle cheated on his wi(f)e(amily)

brick number two: seeing my best friend cry for the first time

brick number three: the haunting memory of three summers ago

brick number four: saying goodbye for what i thought would be an eternity

brick number five: thinking we'd last that long

brick number six: the four months i'll never get back

brick number seven: him

brick number eight: grandpa's passing and grandmas cancer

brick number nine: counting down the days

brick number ten: getting all ready to go all out for the boy who bailed...again

brick number eleven: thinking about the ex too much

brick number twelve: missing what i shouldn't 

brick number thirteen: the second date i'll never get over

brick number fourteen: being too afraid to reach out, but not being reached out to

brick number fifteen: not wanting to let go for the second time

brick number sixteen: freshman year

brick number seventeen: not being cool enough

brick number eighteen: the knight in the commons

brick number nineteen: when i had no idea it was his first kiss

brick number twenty: my first kiss

brick number twenty one: the wrath of being a student at LP

brick number twenty two: too much time spent studying

brick number twenty three: no photogenic ability

brick number twenty four: my messed up sleep schedule

brick number twenty five: growing up

brick number twenty six: no wifi

brick number twenty seven: new years eve 2015

brick number twenty eight: grandma's facebook comments

brick number twenty nine: loving the family, hating the boy

brick number thirty: spending my birthday money all in one day

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11.12.13.14.15.16.17.18.19.20.21.22.23.24.25.26.27.28.29.30 bricks later

maybe you can see

that if you picked me apart

brick

          by 

        brick

  by 

   brick

you'd find my heart

and when you found my heart

i hope you'd go inside

and if you choose to go inside

you'll notice almost all the bricks 

are falling out of place

so please catch them

please catch me

please carry some of my bricks.

the load is getting too heavy,

and i only brought a knapsack

to the right, but left

i can't figure out why the dad who worked so hard lost his job

or why the mom of six was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer

i can't figure out why the brother who was driving to pick up his little sister from dance,

never returned home that night

i can't figure out why the sun sets earlier in the UK

or why sixteen year old girls are having babies because they can't live without the financial aid

i can't figure out why we complain about what we are having for dinner

when in another country, they're going to bed without it

i can't figure out why the picture that popped up

ruined that little boy's life

or why the father of 4 left his wife for some other lady

maybe he was that little boy

i can't figure out why my friend thought suicide was the answer

when he questioned "do they care?"

or why we can't read between the lines of silent suffering

its always there

i can't figure out why the girl with the distorted body image

ever thought that her weight was more important than her happiness

or why this place i live in is called happy valley

cause over half the people here seem anything but

i can't figure out why bad things happen to good people

i thought curveballs only happened in baseball

XXX

i write about love too much. i think my problem is that because four years before yesterday, i was thinking about how love is everything and everything is love

i know you're sitting there in your chair thinking i'm completely insane, but hear me out

that chair you're sitting in right now...where did it come from?

 think of the person who made it. if it's not handmade, a factory worker helped process it. i know you're still sitting there, still thinking i'm crazy, but listen

a factory is run by people who need money. money to support families, or themselves. i'd bet you anything that nothing in this life is free. and for that case, people need money, money needs people, and circulation is a cycle in itself 

lets face it. working for fun has never been a thing since the beginning of existence. therefore people work for money because self or family support is an act of love

and the tree that grew the wood in that chair? if you're thinking it wanted to give up its branches, you're far from right 

the farmer who didn't want to cut it down, needed the money. and if you're wondering, that family of his is had a wonderful christmas last december

nature gives because it loves and god gave nature because he loves. so why can't we idolize that type of love... down with the trees, down with the cliche mindset. that type of love is almost as fake as the people who believe in it

i marked all my love notes as "read" and the chick flicks as "seen" after i realized reality isn't the cure we imagine passion to be

"relationship goals" hide the thorns in the roses, and dreaming never got a doctor a master's degree

love stabs and it hurts, and maybe you'll bleed and you'll cry but you'll heal. and to be honest, i think the only reason we go through that process is because we're bound to help our kids through it

someday we'll be the old ones. experienced. wise. worn. our age will carry us into the heaven we've set for ourselves. and though heartache is allotted, love is timeless. just remember, timeless never meant perfect

so i'm advising you to pick up the pieces this very instant as you try to understand "the fog". aid your best friend in keeping the clingy boyfriend she won't get rid of. get back together with the ex because everything is going to work out this time 

 society called and agreed that it's better to be the dreamer instead of the one who kept her head on straight. so now i'm leaving it up to you,

pick your poison

ctrl z, please

right now i'm looking at my laptop and there are probably 10 tabs open because I'm too lazy to shut them.

my two little sisters are playing upstairs alongside each other

enjoying simple company

making memories

and i guess I'm wondering why we couldn't do that. cause games were made for children and i think we're still playing them

someone once told me that freedom comes with a cost but peace came to mind.

and that thought will always be tattooed to the back of my brain because status quo says i'm too old for a temporary

right now i'm sitting in my room enjoying my own company

and if i'm completely honest i don't think these walls can hold me.

they've never done wrong but right now they're not right...my silents screams are not so silent anymore yet i feel like these walls are the only ones who understand

here they are, blocking what i should be seeing but can't seem to

i still don't know if i like that or not

so i type and i type and i type and i'll continue to type about what i'm feeling cause i'm scared these tears are gonna run dry today and this desert i live in provides no closure

right now i realize that there are actually 3 tabs open and I'm not just talking about my laptop

my brain is here but gone, because 6 days is there and i think i'd rather die than walk through those crowded halls. Halls filled with insecurities, colored hair, and smiles painted on so well you'd think they were real.

you know,

the halls filled with hellos and goodbyes and laughter and silence and reading and eating and fighting and crying

the halls that are actually empty?

maybe those walls could hold me

but i'll sit here with my walls wishing they were those halls. cause if my walls were those halls, i'd have a better chance of seeing you

i'll sit in this dark room i call my own. i'll stare at this dimly lit computer screen and play our song on repeat cause i can't undo what already been done

i'll type and i'll type and i'll type and i'll type, till my fingers bleed grief and my soul is content

because this backspace key never seemed to work, 

and I'm getting tired of white out

i am what i'm not

 

i know i'm human because i cry

 and those tears that fall

damn

they fall fast

they fall hard

and I've always been afraid of falling

but thats how i know that i am alive

because i can fall

i am tangible

skin and bones and eyes and all

not perfect

but i am

so i'll continue to think about how I drive too fast and work too slow

i'll probably even continue to cause my own sleep deprivation over worry

cause i don't just worry but i worry too much

and when i worry i'm thinking about you and that group project i was never apart of

and how i hate being the one to text first but I hate the thought of not talking

and im thinking about how I care what other people are thinking about

 how i worry that foreign things were what he was thinking about

and how sometimes i can't even explain what i'm freaking thinking about.

so who am i to judge?

seriously,

there are over a billion, trillion words and i can't get any of them onto paper?

i understood the math homework last night,

but i don't get myself 

i get that alone is one summary of human existence 

and that time seems to be a funny little thing

yet it doesn't like to make jokes three-fifths of the time 

i get that "goodbye" is sometimes a life sentence, 

and that no matter how many times you tell someone you love them, you can't prove a thing

 i get that i only get all those things because i am.

 even when i'm not there

when i'm just existing

when i sit through this class called "life" and don't hear a word

each 

     and
every
         minute

                                                                       

     seems to calculate itself...

so if you asked me

yes

i'm human

but to tell you the truth, 

i'd make one hell of a robot.

a "love"ly countdown

1

                     2

           3

                                  4

             

                           5

         6

                                           7

                                                            8

                            9

                                           

                                           10

           

                                                                   11

                               12

     

                                                   13

14 days till valentine's 

my heart took a trip halfway across the world

i lost it in july and still can't seem to find it

flashbacks of elementary school days are the epitome of my self-hate  

how i used to write the last name of my crush after my own 

how i was too nervous to talk to boys  

how i would plan out what specific valentine i was giving to what specific person

because of course,

that was the most important thing

one year i was riding home on the big yellow bus all by myself, carrying my "mailbox" full of valentines. Walking down the steps to get off, i tripped and they flew higher than my dignity. 

i don't know about you,

but valentine's day has never been my thing.

I haven't been able to get over the fact that there's only one.

1 day out of the whole entire 365 to show affection?

If only every day were valentines day, (excluding the pda)

maybe we wouldn't be so afraid of ourselves 

our emotion is buried deep in that hole we once dug to china

a chunk of our hearts, 

each and every one of our hearts,

drowned in the red sea

and though I'm still trying to revive them

most won't let me

mentos will upset a bottle of coke

so open up the package and 

share them till theres nothing left

let your cup be halfway full of ice

and fill it to the brim with caffeine

february wasn't made for explosions 

neither were you.

x marks the spot

      and o won't subside 

you may not be ready for february,

but welcome her with open arms

put on your red lipstick,

don't bother to grab your phone

take her hand and feel it in yours

february is ready for you

and there is nothing you can do about it.

xoxo

--Lola