The reason for tears is always UNSEEN and always ASSUMED.

...he saw the pain that would eventually seek me. He saw the hand descending upon me attempting to wrangle my heart out of its place. To stop it from beating. To keep it bleeding.
And, as if it was a band-aid...a simple cure, he handed me a music box.
"Careful, darling, it's quite fragile," his face was beaming and hopeful.
"Yes, papa." I said, and held out my two hands that were equivalent to his one hand---firm, strong, and selectively vulnerable. He placed it into my sweating palms.
"Isn't it just something?"
And he was right; I couldn't take my eyes off it.
It was constructed of glass and, as I released the knob, I focused on the turning wheels and teeth. Its' song was heavenly, sweet, and light. I smiled.
But what was even more delightful was the child and father waltzing, I imagined, in a ballroom with a wood floor. The child was looking up to her dad, in mid-spin, adorned in a white dress with gold trimming. The father was glowing in pride dressed in a white suit and a navy blue tie.
With the music, and painted smiles...they danced.
I became obsessed with this trinket for days that seemed like only hours.
I played its' song repeatedly until I had memorized every note.
It seemed such a fragile thing...not because of its' glass encasing, but rather...the situation in which the maker had crafted it in. A cheerful moment that could be broken in an instant.
They danced their way into my dreams for weeks.
The song was like air to my ears...it was vital.
I lay on my bed, one evening, stomach-down, staring at the dancing couple.
"Ella!" my mom called as I was humming along with the tune.
"Yes?" I called back.
"DINNER!" she exclaimed.

With the music box in hand, I ran to the kitchen.
I placed the music box on the table and waited for my plate.
I could smell the potatos and roast beef basking in spices and my mouth watered at once.
Then mom set the plate on the kitchen table, took a glance at me, and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"Thank-you." I said and grabbed my fork.
She sat beside me, not eating...and her gaze fell on the music box.
She seemed alarmed and distracted.
Something had set her off. "Uhm...honey...could you please take your toy into your room? It doesn't belong on the dinner table."
With a mouth full of half chewed potatos, I replied, "Yesh, mom."
"Thanks..." she said softly...in a damaged tone.

I started the journey to my room with the music box loosely in my hand whilst chewing. The dance to my room was composed of a left from the kitchen into the dinning room, a few steps forward straight through, and a right into the hallway. I glanced at the music box and concentrated on the cheery father and daughter, just to make sure they were still in my hand---still in my control.

I was so consumed in my concern that I didn't notice the glass display stationed firmly in the middle of our grand hallway. Colliding into it, I lost grip of the music box.
No one was there to catch me...falling due to this spin. This twirl of misery.
On the verge of tears, my knees collapsed, and I fell to the hard wood floor. I gasped.
My fingers fumbled with confusion. I panicked.
They needed help. They needed to be fixed.
Miraculously, the father and daughter figures survived. However, there was a chip at the corner of the glass encasing. I was somewhat relieved that, that was all the damage.

Troubled at the thought that I could drop the music box again, I placed it on my bookcase where it would only be touched once a night.
Every night I would fall asleep to its' lullaby.

The glass caught dust but the music was always certain never to be obscured...it always knew its' purpose.

And this was what distracted me from the absence of my father...
what entranced me so much to not see the bags daddy carried on his back when he handed me the music box.
Then again, I'd rather not know...I'd rather not remember.

My eyes never knew tears. My ears only ever heard sweet songs. And the hand lingered...over my chest...waiting.


(So, this is an idea for a short-story I am writing...this is basically the gist of it. But it'll have hints about what the problem was between the mom and dad...and more description. And more things about the daughter. But...the point is...Once something of value breaks...you don't want to touch it again.)

childish fantasies.

I climbed the ladder of my bunk bed carelessly and slipped under the covers.
My toes and fingertips felt like icicles and my hair was still dripping.
The pillow caught my head. And the bed entrapped me.
I reached for you around my neck.
My night-light guided my eyes. I studied your noose.

My mother said, "Here honey, take care of it."
And in the distance, typing away, I heard my 13 year old cousin say, "Only a fool makes that gold, you know, Ella-laure?"
Then mom shut him up and told him, "It's meant for my princess, Ryan."
(At least...that's how I remember the conversation.)

What the noose held was magnificent. You were stunning.
So valuable. How is it you ended up there? Was this your destiny?
Or do we drive our own fate?
It was a beautiful snare you tied around your neck.

My eyes were growing tired. I dug under the marked X and I was surprised at my findings.
You had turned a silver colour. Fool's gold. That's what he said. Fool's gold.
You tricked me.


I hope you guys can understand this...it's honestly soaked in symbols. If you know what's been going on. You know the story. Hope you could make SOME sense of it :)

lesson learned.

SO, I was taking care of my baby cousin, Carlos.
And we have this game where I sit him down onto the
surface of our living room table. Then he stares at me.
And as if testing my trust, he jumps off....expecting me to catch him.
Once he's in my arms, I spin him around a couple times...and just look at his smile.
and listen to his laugh.


It's always perfect when someone catches you. It's always bliss.
It's...comforting to know that you can jump
whenever you want to be taken for a spin...
whenever you want to be cheered up....just jump
and hope he'll catch you.

...trickle me silly.

"You make me sound terrible."
"I can't make you sound anything...I never could."

Rinse me clean...in this room of emptiness.
I am made anew...
in soul,
of heart,
of brain,
in love.
Bask me in kisses.
Softly caress my cheek with your lips.
New.
I've been made new in your love.
In your heart...let me rest.

...sitting on your lap tell me stories of WW2. Yes, I miss you.

So, I was going through old pictures because I'm making a powerpoint for my uncle's 50th birthday and I came upon you, grandpa. I miss you...I don't think anyone understands, mostly because no one knows how we were...what we were...best friends and such. We understood each other. And that picture of you....so happy...singing happy birthday in front of a cake and (obviously in the moment) clapping your hands. Your smile. Your eyes. Your hair that I used to stroke my fingers with. And the hands that I used to trace with my little pre-matured fingers. I miss you. I miss it.
The moment I tried to forget...you reminded me...to remember and never forget the good times.

"You had my heart, at least for the most part
because everbody's gotta die sometimes
we fell apart, don't worry, for you...I'll make a new start
because everybody's gotta die sometime, yeahh..
but you told me "Don't cry."

...play on, my orchestra.

(I CAN'T SLEEP! and I HAVE WORK TMR...i'm done.)

With every breath
he creates serenity with a ballad.
With every step
he takes, the world will motion onwards.
With every touch,
he strokes hatred into affection.
With every word,
speech acquires a higher significance.

So, love,
help me breathe. Breathe me rose petals on the floor. THROW me into your music.
help me move. Take my hand...DIRECT ME FORWARD...away from my memories.
help me touch. My heart bleeds black...paint me a canvas with TRUE PIERCING RED BLOOD.
help me speak. Help me say those three words. I want you to know...that I do lov...

A discovered post-it...

You CLEARLY don't understand,
Those weren't just the tears of some lame marching band.
My harp did its' sweet doings,
My symbols did their arguing,
My sax soulfully painted its' blue and purple hues,
My violin cried it's mournful ever-lasting tunes.
I hope you know now.
It's not that simple.
It's the one step further.
It's us moving forward>>>
Not back<<<
*A NOTE FROM MY ORCHESTRA*

Bust it.

"I busted the windows of your car
...and no, it didn't mend my broken heart..."

Honey, that's not your size.

I hope you understand, dear, that's a size too big.
Shoot for something smaller, why don't you?
You're no where near the bulls-eye.
It seems like you're wondering aimlessly.
These dresses are meant for those who rise above.
And you don't, hun', i'm sorry--
you ...just don't cut it.
You blend in...and we want neon...
you're, i'm afraid, a pastel green.
You go unnoticed.
You're nothing.
Scum.
Dirt.
Beyond dirt. Oh! There you go, associate with them.
You do excel at one thing, now that I think about it.

You're outstanding at being that...dirt...or whatever is below.
Have fun, enjoy.
And DON'T try to make your way up the ladder...that leans against our castle.


It seems that people enjoy convincing others that they're not worth it; that they don't belong in the BIG PICTURE.
But I do. And you do too. Understand that. Breathe it. Live it. You've already been entered into this competition.
It's called life...and you have no choice but to live it. Cross that out...Step 1: Live life. Done.

A real man, with a good heart...he's more than enough.

Wow, excuse me...sir, I don't mean to be staring.
But you're looking amazing.
And my senses are just blazing.
Can't you feel that?
My heart is racing!
I don't think you can even comprehend.
I'll never want this to end...

I'll break your heart someday; but leaving you is the last thing on my mind...

He thinks I can't see...
He's somewhat true.
Hardly, actually.
I CAN see...
I CAN see the NOTHING.
the NOTHING plastered on his face where there should be something.
Or if nothing on your face, at least say SOMETHING.
SOMETHING REAL...
and SAYING "Nothing" doesn't count.
Just letting you know.
And no, I'm not being a hypocrite.

I'm the sidewalk you always trip on..that always catches your fall.

This works.
It fits.
...I can do this. With him. A life with him? Yeah, I can. He's my home. Not only does the occupant know the home. The home knows the occupant. And in this way...people who come in...feel the love. I know why my parents like him too. It's because they feel it. I KNOW they do. He asked me today if I could do another month and 3 days without him. I didn't know what to say. I did...I did put on a facade that last month. I preferred to play it COOL...not REAL. I suffered. It was agony beyond agony. It was a pain like no other. I just didn't let him know that. I guess that's just me. It's my pride getting in the way.
I didn't want him to know how inadequate I felt without his hand in mine--how empty I felt without his shoulder to sleep on, on the bus going to school or how silent I realized it was without the ringing of his call or the sound of his step in line with mine. I felt beyond uncomfortable.
I felt lonely. I didn't tell him that.
I didn't tell anyone that.
I know this is extremely "old-school."
But...I don't want to look like the "girl who can't stand on her own 2 feet without a boyfriend."
I am independent. I am. I can go without a significant other.

I just can't go without HIM.
Even as my best (to me anyways, he didn't think he was) friend...I'd still feel this emptiness. Even if we weren't "together" I'd feel so apart. My saturday mornings wouldn't be complete without his phone calls early in the morning that consist of eating breakfast, watching SYTYCD and talking like we think we can dance. (Excuse the play on words.) My wednesday mornings wouldn't be complete without our shared hot chocolates from Liberty. And my sleep wouldn't be at all satisfying...because I'd wake up realizing he wasn't the last person I talked to...or the first voice I'd hear in the morning.
I want to wake up to his face in the morning. I want to feel his breath stroking my hair when he holds me. I want to KNOW he's there...to phone...to talk to...to bus to...

Dreaming about him...is amazing, don't get me wrong...however...
The pain...the sudden jolt of reality comes when I wake up and realize...it wasn't real.
And I'd start to count down the days...

...took one shot to your heart without breaking your skin.

zip-up honey...it's getting cold. (btw, summer...please come back to me)

Let's place a lock on this lock and throw away the key! Take me away with you; anywhere you want. I'll never seperate from you. Can't you see we're made for each other? We fit perfectly! Like the two strands of a zipper. I won't ever want to un-zip from you.
Just take me somewhere...take me somewhere with you...and only you.
Away from all these distractions. No one understands. I need you to be with me.
I'm greedy at times...NO, all the time. You might not know this...but secretly, I'd rather you were with me alone. Did you know your songs fill my head at night...and rock me to sleep.
Did you know when I wake up, I hallucinate enough to believe you're beside me...asleep...holding my hand. Isn't that just perfect? Until I realize...that you were never there to begin with.
Then I think about how I know you'd WANT to be there...and that makes me somewhat better.
You know your lips are just...paradise...no--heaven....

...no...no...no.
Better.
They're...more than better.
They're...better-est-er.
Just kiss me.

...now.

I think you've officially removed all sanity.

...and she writes.

Can't you see I'm trying?
Scrapes and these rug-burns at my knees.
With blood under every fingernail.
I'm BEGGING YOU, please. (Oh, please.)

You lift my chin with your [mmm] seductive hand,
And your touch was anything but dainty;

...an overflowing romance.
...The passion was inspiring,
You launched this cannon ball splendidly, I must say.

And your eyes, they set the perfect scenery...
...they made me believe.
...and made me fall.
...Boy, with one sway...you made my heart dance.
WE HAD IT ALL.

You & I were like
a dandelion in the wind
a bird in its nest
or a kite in the sky
becausethe result of our collide was
...pure beauty.

It's such a waste...we had tasteful ambitions.
To throw them away...now, that's just disappointing.

So here I am...alone.
A writer denied,

...so, please, open my eyes.

Defined Emptiness

Like the hollowness of a straw-I serve a purpose. You tend to suck the passion out of me. The care. The patience. I've been taken advantage of. I realized that I am afterall, defined; established clearly only by my surroundings. You see what encases me and yet you are blind to what I am. You believe it is inanity, concealment; ...a sort of seclusion. I've attained such judgment before. However, none like yours has scarred me so. I have taken to your laughter, your lips, your words of prayer and song. They fill my vessel. If I am the emptiness of the straw--you are my encasing--you are what defines me.

Love, all I need is you.

You make me want to hurl...

I'm sick-blue in the face
With the lies you fed.
I've been run down and let down
and presently,
...on this street...I'm lying down
where you have abandoned me.
I can feel it's rough surface,
chisling away at my face, my lips...my heart.
I think I'm allergic to your counterfeit;
Your facade has made my throat swell...
And no longer can I breathe at the sight of you.
You've taken away my once existing knowledge
and now I'm no longer certain.
You've strained my heart of all its' blood,
It's turned a deep purple...
A purple heart;
to show the world the damage I undertook in this battle.
You see my skin is grey because
My soul has disintegrated.
You took what I knew was life, love, and trust.

It's called the past because I'm getting past...

I awoke with a cringe.

I shuddered at the thought of the sun...the blinding...
too hopeful sun. (He's normally my let-down.)

He whispered me my morning song.
Reluctantly, I surrendered my hand to the slice of the cool air.
I pulled down the sheets exposing my neck... I felt naked.
My ears have never heard this sound before.
A sound so piercing. So full of mystery. Silence.

My eyes still faced the darkness,
I knew it was time to turn,
And turn I did.
His answer: a slap in the face.

Extending my arms...my fingertips kissed the clouds.
My eyes shut for a moment only to return....

return to the shadows.
Wishing I hadn't faced his black curtain,
I revealed myself to the light...the world...
And I knew that I would never surrender my cheek again.

My dreams pointed onwards
and I knew that the darkness would be no more.
I sensibly got past my bed and dove head-first into the world...
mid-dive...with his songs rushing past my body...I prayed to myself...
...hoping to slip immediately past the waters' boundaries...of hate, masks, bees and clowns.

Falling isn't falling if you don't cry when you hit the ground...

Love is a funny thing. You expect it to be easy. You expect it to be a world of roses and laughs and perfect moments that you find only in movies. You expect him to always say the right thing, and always know exactly how you feel, or exactly how to react to it. You expect him to calm you down when you're yelling or to chase you when you run away. You expect so much that you feel entirely, and utterly defeated when something doesn't exactly match up with all your plans. but that's the thing.

Love isn't a plan.

It doesn't have a certain beginning and it certainly has no end or visible finish line to those deeply in it. Love happens; and it is so incredibly messy.

People around you can't comprehend why you do the things you do, or why you fight so hard for something that seems to cause you so much pain, because simply, they can't see. They can't see the invisible ring of insanity that surrounds you when you're in love. It's inconvenient and painful and devastating at times,

but we can't live without it.

We can't BREATHE the same way or function quite right without it.

Sincerely,
Ryan et Moi

"You have to forget what other people say;
when you're supposed to die,
when you're supposed to be loving.
You have to forget all these things. "
-Jimi Hendrix