Thanksgiving.

As much as i dislike some parts of thanksgiving,
i’m not going to lie. i’m kind of excited and happy.
even though after all the “hello’s” i’ll go straight to my room
and be a loner, i’m just happy to see his face.

I admit, i do miss my brother.
haven’t spoken or seen him since…i don’t even remember when i last saw him.
surely there will be no hugs, but my heart will be warm at the sight of knowing he is well.

On another note,
my mother is quite the bitch and comedian.
words from my mother right when i woke up:
“you were mad so you ate a bagel last night huh”
me: “no…i was hungry.”
“are you sure? cause it’s ok if your mad. i’d be mad.”
me:”i’m sure! =)”
“wow, i’d be like ‘who are you, get out of my sight you son of a bitch’ i’m mean like that”
me: LOL

 

anyways, happy thanksgiving!

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Crack open that old book.

that smell.

a pungent, crisp smell that comes with a feeling. 

it has aged since you last touched its brittle leaf.

 

as you turn the pages of the past

you get this warm soothing feeling.

and you know that while reading,

it is a must to compliment those precious words with melodies from the heart.

 

brush the hair from the face,

let out a sigh of heartbreak.

 

you finished,

and wish to read it all over again.

stop that.

this is hard to say. i’ve never realized it before.

this feeling is hard to explain and hard to make true.

i whine and hope for that one thing with my bests.

and now i realize…i might actually be scared.

i’m running away.

wanting to be intrepid isn’t going to help me get over this.

i fear for the worst, and at this point, i’m not so adventurous either.

my heart was open and free.

i feel it slowly closing its mechanical doors on me now.

i’m used to having those random epiphanies of the future and worrying to the point where i want to cry.

those epiphanies are what makes me human, or at least feel human.

now i don’t know if i want my future to happen.

it’s crazy. i know i want my hopes to come true.

but will i ever be ready and jump in?

everyone around me has.

there’s a block of concrete sitting on my dreams of love

and it refuses to budge.

Magical.

imagination is where she lives.

crisp light air surrounds her and the smell of lavender is in the air.

a flower in her hair; it starts to rain.

circles of love as she gets soaked.

she looks up to the sky and

droplets of water fall to her face.

it brings out the real in her.

 

as he watches her from afar,

he looks at her oddly

and smiles.