Wonderful Little Love

I

Wish

For

One

More

Hug

Just

To

Know

You

Remember

The

Way

Things

Used

To

Be

The

Way

Things

Used

To

Be

Wonderful

.

à moi?

Dreary December

In bed just past 11

My skin, with the remaining scent of rose water

Surrounded by a sea of pillows and blankets

I look through the slit in the blinds

Just to watch the rain fall

With Christmas two days away,

I've yet to find a present for anyone

the only gift I've given

Is this night, a gift to myself

The gift of a second glass of wine,

Ella Fitzgerald classics echoing in the background,

Langston Hughes poetry thin between my fingers

And thick in my mind

And the 7 minute intervals I take in the midst of this

Just to watch the rain fall..

I know I won't, but sometimes I will because of you.

I won't wait forever

And I know you wouldn't want me to.

I won't be mad

If you decide you're ready for love

If I'm not the one you want.

Even when you're feeling blue

I won't tell you how special you are to me,

Because you don't even think it's true

I'll let my actions prove it to you.

I won't stay up at night and cry,

Because this time,

I didn't lie about my life

And you're still by my side.

I won't say it'll never be over

Or that I never want it to be,

Because time is a mystery

And love turns to history

When people don't think

Before they commit for good.

I won't try to be perfect

And fix all my flaws

Because I know you wouldn't love me

If I made any sense at all.

What I will do,

is let you know

That your love is safe with me

And that's the way it will always be.

Quince? Quince, obv.

December 5, 2009

So let's see,

Chanel No. 5

Polaroid Camera

Polaroid Collection Book

L'Occitane Rose Water Bath

100$ to Urban

A success, if I do say so myself.

Bonsoir Jolie Madame

Let's move to London.

(ALL PHOTOS BY JUSTIN CALVERT)

First Sunday of the month

Although I'm only in high school, 

like many others I constantly get the question:

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I do my best to spare them the narrative, 

But I feel I must share it somehow.

As a child, I wanted to be a writer, artist, and on some days, a rockstar. 

Obviously, the rockstar thing didn't take.

A blessing in disguise I'm sure..

So now, I do the art thing (HSPVA). And I do the writing. 

But after years and years of shifting from one far fetched dream to another, 

I have finally become content with one answer. 

Next time someone asks me

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I'll look at them, smile, and simply answer

"Happy."

8:28

Do you ever get so angry, it wears your body out?

All you wanna do is drop everything and sprawl out on your bedroom floor, and close your eyes hoping that maybe, just for a moment, the universe will literally chew up and spit out your existence.

Just as you felt it has already.

Being so confused,

because you wake up hurt, go to bed hurt, sit in Biology class and radiate all the pain you've ever endured.

You are bitter and sarcastic, never wanting to give anyone the time of day because when you do, you only get hurt.

You want, need, someone to hear you, you need someone to listen.

But at the same time, you don't want to bore them, or push them away. 

You don't want anyone to know how deeply your cynical remarks really go. 

You want to keep it a secret, 

how every snarky remark was never something to be taken lightly.

You want to pretend they can't see it, 

but it shows.

It shows by the way you talk,

the way you walk,

the way you second guess your trust and love for everyone, especially yourself.

The way you need people, 

and yet you can't picture being anything but alone.

I need you, as a friend. 

And nothing more.

The girl you see every day is not who I am,

it's the bitter result of the person within me,

created by my past.

And, never, not ever carried any further beyond this moment.

This moment right here.

8:28 PM

September 21.

Lawndale Art Center

Amazing.

Need I say more?

My dreams did not come true, they only came apart.

My little corner...

although now it is bombarded with stacks and piles of crumpled homework and artistic failures,

I have come to love this space, 

along with all the pastel remnants, scattered photographs, and miscellaneous objects 

which inhabit this specific part of my bedroom.

It's uniqueness and typical randomness complement my personality,

 I couldn't ask for more in this little corner of my world.

Cc

Once again..

Oh, the best of times.

Party time