bits and pieces

substance.

something that is lost between 2 half-written songs and 3 post drafts and 4 works-in-progress and 5 assignments all due within 3 days.

when you’re an all-or-nothing person, it hurts to have so many pieces of you in so many different places. a thin spread of mediocrity over 16 different projects sits uneasily in your stomach when you know that you could have slathered one of them in excellence.

thus i’m emptying out into this post all of the bits and pieces that have been irritating my mind for the past couple of months. and destroying that “2” next to the drafts button.

these are little lines that exist as moments, but never became anything more. i think they weren’t meant to be anything else.

why did God prick holes in the tapestry of the sky,

letting heaven peek through into our darkest hours?

     those 1 ams when you have the choice to either push off that test until tomorrow or tackle it tonight - when you run upstairs to sweep because you forgot earlier, and suddenly feel so limb-ey - when you unexpectedly feel the freedom of your legs and the flexibility of your joints and you dance with the dust into the dustpan - when your hair is bouncing off your shoulders and into your vision and mouth but you don't care because it's clean and the curls look lovely today - when your exuberance returns and you fly back downstairs and feel like a ballerina - when you even reach your arms to the ceiling (and touch it because both of your parents are tall) and think that perhaps we aren't human, we're dancer - when all of the exhaustion and heaviness you've felt during that final week of school lifts from your joints - 

     those 1ams. 

she kept her eyes where she knew the shadows to be, and she followed them through the day as they grew and shrunk, whispered and shouted, like the old friends that they were. she knew they wouldn’t leave her at night – like the sun always does – they would only quietly surround and swallow her until they were alone with her beating heart. it didn’t matter whether her eyes were open or shut, then – it was just as cold.

     my dad is making pancakes for 5 children on two different pans. "can you go grab some napkins from the freezer jul?" he asks. "yes," i laugh as i run off to get the paper towels from the garage.

i’ve searched all over my room for snippets of paper with little typewritten sentences on them but i’ve only found purposeless pieces of drawings with song lyrics scribbled on them that i didn’t have the courage to throw out however many months ago.

but tonight i’m letting go. of all of those snippets of words that are hidden somewhere in my room that i thought could make it into a blog post one day.

the ones i found tonight are enough. the past is in the past. my head is clear and i’m ready to find wholeness again. it’s somewhere out there buried beneath 56 documents in my “school” folder and nausea at the thought of studying formulas and frustration because i can’t finish an art project due to schoolwork.

i have a feeling that sunshine can melt most of those away. (the recycle bin should take care of the rest)

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