If You Really Knew Me.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I can't get motivated. 

If you really knew me, you'd know that I over think everything. 

If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm a choosing perfectionist. 

You'd know that I'm a horrible speller. And that I love making new friends and talking to those I've always known, but never really had a full conversation with.
If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. You'd know that i'm struggling trying to graduate high school.  If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm singing to myself 24/7.  You would know that I'm always dreaming.  You would know that I've been reading this out loud to myself over and over and over. And over again. And over again. And again. Trying to make myself happy. But that's a lost cause.

If you really knew me, you'd know I don't speak to my family. But I would take a bullet for them.  You'd know I would save my friends before myself.  If you really knew me, you'd know that I have a sensitive soul.  You would know that I love country music and am not afraid to sing it to you until you agree with me. Even if you won't admit it.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm terrified I'll never get married. You would know that I'm a girl. Even if my pen name is a boys.  If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm afraid I'll never be able to have kids.  You would know that I don't sleep. That I can't live in reality. You would know that I'm indecisive.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I re-read all of our texting conversations.  You would know not to lie to me. Or to tell me half truths, or to promise me anything.  Because no one keeps promises.  A promise is just a empty loaded, guilt trip, that gives you false hope to live your so called "reality" on.

If you really knew me, you would know that I'm trying to make my parents proud, but am failing.

I'm sorry.

Bittersweet Hell.

It's a Sunday. 8:00 p.m.
I finished all my homework and am sitting on the couch watching a movie.  Looking at the clock every 10 minutes, counting down on how much time I have left before I fall asleep.

My life is average. I wake up at 6, pee, brush my teeth, take a shower, do my make-up, hair, I get dressed, pack my backpack, and head to school around 7:21.
I come home from school around 2:32 everyday, grab a granola bar, and head to work at the elementary school. I stay there until 4:15 and then come home and eat. I put off doing my homework until 8 that night and finally settle in and finish it up before tomorrow. Once I finish the homework and can't put it off anymore, I get ready for bed.

I pray every night. Sorry to get religious on you. But I feel like it's an important detail to this story. I pray that I will be able to have a sleepless night. Literally. Because in my average life, I have dreams. Not the: I hope to be president one day, kind of dream. But the dreams that mothers wish are sweet. And the dreams that sheep try to count. I have dreams. And I have nightmares.

One day, sleeping turned into my enemy.

When I fall asleep, I dream of everything and anything. I have dreams that don't make sense. I have dreams that make me smile. Dreams that make me wish. And some that make me wait.

The catch: they all come true. Literally.

If my dreams come true, my nightmares come true. It stated off as a bittersweet gift. Turned out to be walking Hell. I won the lottery -- All my friends left me. I received a kiss from my crush -- My parents die. I could never win. Until that one night.


It was a Sunday. 8:00 p.m.
I finished all my homework and was sitting on the couch watching a movie.  Looking at the clock every 10 minutes, counting down on how much time I have left before I fell asleep.

I keeled down to pray, for that sleepless night I wish upon every night. I drag myself in bed and fight to keep my eyes open. I loose. My eyes close, and that's where my story began.

Did I have a dream or nightmare?

Am I going insane? Or is this all true?

Will I ever be cured?  

Will I live long enough to figure out my reality? 

Help me catch my dreams.

Dialogue.

1. What?

2. I didn't say anything.

1. Oh.

2. You cold?

1. No, I'm okay

2. Kay.

1. K, look, I'm-

2. Don't worry bout it.

1. I really am sorry

(Long pause)

2. (sigh) me too.

1. Do you wanna talk bout it?

2. I just, sigh, I don't know.

1. I made a mistake. I'm sorry

2. I know. I'm sorry too.

1. I'll try harder next time.

2. No, No, I mean, you did your best right?

1. I guess.

2. I'm sorry.

1. Me too. 

2. We're almost there.

1. Kay.

2. Hey, it really is fine.

1. I know, I know, I just. (sigh)

2. What?

1. I just hate disappointing you, I guess.

2. Hey. Look at me. You didn't disappoint me. 

1. I messed up.

2. I did too.

1. How did we get here?

2. I don't know. 

Empty Post.

My music is too loud. My back is stiff from sitting in the same position for hours looking at the screen, too afraid to write anything without a prompt. I know your judging me right now.

I know your secret.

I've been reading everyone's blogs, trying to find inspiration. But all I'm accomplishing is the feeling of longing. Of pity. Knowing I'll never be as good.

I'm not enough.

This post won't work. It won't be what I dream of. I won't reread this, because I know there's no point. No point in fixing my grammar mistakes, or wondering if I'm making sense, or if it "flows." Whatever that means.

I wish I could shine.

Not too shiny though. I don't want to make you blind. Well, maybe. . . If you were blind, you wouldn't have to read this post. Therefore, you wouldn't be a witness to this writing funeral.

Why would I make this any longer, if I know you probably already stopped reading. Why would I want to talk about enjoying life, or living to the fullest, or maybe even death, if you're just going to think what YOU want?

You suck.

Stop thinking about yourself, and the blogs that are "good." Start listening to others. Help me shine too.

My Release.

Sleep.

Why do you even care? What difference would it make if I sleep or dream? They don’t matter anyways, but why do you care? Thanks though for your ever encouraging words. But whatever. I don’t even know what I am supposed to be writing. I think I just want to prove that I can type fast.

I don’t know. Stop talking. I know. Who listens to my thoughts? No one. But I don’t mind. I really don’t. Okay, well maybe I do. But who needs to know? Who would like to know I can type fast? All they will ever see is the finished product after I’m done typing. If they even finish reading what I have to say. Probably not. Why do I care? Why do I think? Should I even be human? What if I weren't would you care? Would you call the police and have them take me to rock bottom? Is that even a place? Trees. Wait, what? I don’t know and I probably won’t ask or delete what I just said. Why am I typing again? I can’t remember what my goal of this paper was. Maybe it’s to just take up time from work, because I’ve been sitting here for the last hour and a half. Staring at nothing and thinking about typing fast. And if I’m going to mess this up and get fired. It’s always a possibility. Why is there a bunch of green markings on this page? Can you see those or do they disappear like everything else I accomplish? Why do people erase my achievements, but never my mistakes? Do I really matter that much that you have to find everything wrong with me, to find something good with you? I would feel ashamed if I were you.

If you didn't know, this post was about sleep.

Goodnight.

I'd be Lying.

Won't you let me give you a hand?

I have an extra I'm not using

Won't you let me lighten your load?

I mean after all your legs are shaking

And I can understand

all I need is your hand

Oh, won't you take the fall?

It is me after all

Won't you let me match your stride?

I can slow down if you want to

We can handle it side by side

What do you say girl, don't you want to?

And I can understand

All I need is your hand

Oh, won't you take the fall?

It is me after all

I'd be lying if I ran away

I'd be lying if I ran away

And so I'll stay

But won't you let me by your man?

I'm strong enough you know that I can

Be the one to ease your mind

Ease your mind

And I can understand

All I need is your hand

Oh, won't you take the fall?

It is me after all

I'd be lying if I ran away

I'd be lying if I ran away

And so I'll stay

There is not much that you can do

To get me to run away from you

There is not much that you can do

To get me to run away from you

Courage.

Would you walk into a burning building?

Would you walk into the burning building if a loved one was trapped inside?

Would you walk into the burning building if a stranger was trapped inside?

While sitting around a campfire we all say that smoke follows beauty. We all move to get out of the way when the smoke blows towards us. I love the smell of campfires. But I hate the leftover smell they leave the next day, when you're in your clean house. The heroes in this picture smell like fire and will smell like fire the next day. And the next. They don't get leftovers. They walk into burning buildings for strangers.

Firefighters get paid as much as teachers. So how come we always hear teachers joke and complain about payment, but firefighters say nothing?

I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they do complain, and I never hear it. But what I do know, is that these men and women are heroes. They take courage to a new level. My courage is talking to someone in a new class and whether to get up in the mornings or not. They walk into burning buildings for strangers.

I know I'm not the best writer. I know I'm probably not the blog, that people check to see if I've posted something new. Sometimes I focus too much on the: I suck. And, I'm never going to be as good as her. Or as smart as him. So I literally might not be walking into burning buildings weekly, but I am being myself. And that's courage to me. I am walking into burning buildings. I get burned. But my skin grow back stronger.

Team Adam.

If I was on The Voice, I would choose team Adam.

He reminds me of Nelson.

I Hope You Always Find a Reason to Smile.

Death can wait. Live now. Because the next step you take might be blind, but that blind step could be the next best thing.

Don't question it.

Death can wait. Live now.

If I Was Born Blind

If I was born blind,

would I care

would others be kind

or would it be too much to bare?

If I was born as a drum,

would I care

would others play me with their thumbs

or would they have an affair with a guitar, would they dare?

If I was born a dog,

would I care

would others try throwing me a log

or would they just stare?

I was born a human,

do I care

others are watching me like they watched Truman

and judging me by what I wear.

do I care?

I would say no, but I would be lying.

Trying to be true to myself is harder then I thought it would be. I say I don't care what people say or think about me, but I do.

I believe everyone cares to an extent.

Humans lie.

Fear

I can't breathe.

I don't want to breathe. Holding my breath so you won't hear me, I close my eyes and count to 100. Pleading and praying to God to let me live. I control my sobs while straining to listen to your movements. Trying to figure out how close you are to discovering that your not alone.

Crouched in the corner, trying to vanish by squeezing my legs to my chest, and hiding my nose into my knees. Secretly hoping to suffocate. Silence.

Silence.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . nothing.

I slowly lift my head, wanting to gain hope that you have left, but not taking the chance. Stretching out to my full height, I take the first tentative step towards the closed closet door. I see my shaking hand timidly push the door open slightly. Stop.

What am I doing? My chest tightens, my vision goes white, my mind goes blank, I turn cold, sweat covers my body from in between my toenails to the roots of my hair. 1,000 pounds pushing into my shoulders. My heart floods. I'm afraid. My legs give out as I collapse to the floor hoping you can not smell my fear.

I listen.

I listen to the even breaths. . . .

1. .

2. .

3. .

4. .

5. .

6. .

7. . . seconds to realize that they're not mine.

Pets that Peeve me

• Interrupting

• Chewing with your mouth open

• Dog eared pages in books

• Loose change

• Two-faced people

• Tangled sheets

• Loose hair stuck on clothes

• Liars

• Science

• Eraser shavings

• Toothpaste in the sink

• Dull pencils

• Wire hangers

• Judging

• Someone looking over my shoulder while I'm on the computer . . . . go away mom.

If You're Thinking About Me

If you're thinking about me:

Like banks think about being robbed

like mosquitoes think about blood

like wishing wells think about pennies

like kids stealing those pennies

like parents think about their twenties

like dumbo thinks about flying

If you're thinking about me like:

Monsters think about closets

like parachutes think about working

like dumb kids smirking

like sunblock thinks about fighting

like toilets think about being cleaned

like umbrellas think about rain

and rain makes me think about you....

But if you're thinking about me like:

Vacuums think about sucking

like dark thinks about light

like flowers think about blooming

like rings think about bells

like bells think about ringing

like apples think about trees

and trees think about leaves

If you're thinking about me

then why are you wasting your time writing this poem

instead of talking to me?

But if this is your way of communicating,

Then I'm thinking about you too.

Are You Impressed?

Everyone always says that FIRST IMPRESSIONS are everything. They say don't screw this up, because you never get a second chance to make a FIRST IMPRESSION.

No pressure.

Sweaty palms, twitchy knee, wandering eyes, hair twirling, nail biting, pen sucking, nervous. I hate FIRST IMPRESSIONS. If your trying to make a good FIRST IMPRESSION, are you being yourself? If someones meeting me for the first time, I have to think if I'm meeting the real person. Or are they putting on a show trying to make that good FIRST IMPRESSION? Who's real?

FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

People are getting so worked up, so nervous that they are becoming someone they aren't. Why judge the FIRST IMPRESSION? You could have ran into a woman, and thought she was Satan from hell, turns out she was the next Mother Teresa. The high school drop out, turns out to be the next millionaire. FIRST IMPRESSION of a girl next door, turns out to be vicious cougar. Give someone a chance. I'm a blubbering fool. Don't judge me by MY FIRST IMPRESSION.

Cumbersome Love

Love.

You want an extra opinion on love, go watch this movie: (500) Days of Summer. Any scene from this movie I could have quoted, so I decided to just show you the trailer. All I can think of to write about love, is that I'm a believer. I don't know if I've ever felt it, but I've seen it. And I want it.

Love.

The most overused word. Love is cumbersome.

Intro

"If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants." Sometimes we can't do things on our own. We need to start off somewhere, so why not allow the help from others? Why are we so afraid to ask for help? Are we ashamed? Embarrassed? Prideful? What good will it do if we go through life alone. What's the point. What are we trying to prove? Our strength? Or our we just showing our weakness?

I chose the name Nathaniel after my brother. It was effortless to be around him. He was always the funny guy that could make you laugh when all you wanted to do was cry. The one some said, didn't have a serious bone in his body. Very few saw just how deep he could get. He's my hero. He didn't let people see him hurt. He never showed his weaknesses. He made life entertaining, and wasn't afraid to shoot high for his goals, or be blunt and tell you how it is. He makes me want to be a better person. Isn't that what a hero is? Someone you can look up to. Someone you know always has your back. No matter how much crap you get yourself into...

Nathaniel