You’ve known me long enough

That you can be assured

I would never notice

What you feel for her


No I never notice

Every single reference

Maybe made subconsciously

Or with all-out reverence


No I never noticed

How for ages you desired

Half a decade did you burn

In unrequited fire


No I do not notice

How deep rivers run

Or how deeply is engrained

fervent, enduring love


No I never noticed

How I’m still second best

But flesh and feeling cannot help

The impression in one’s chest


No I never notice

that you’re still in love

With a distant and complicated

perfection from above


Maybe this oblivion

Isn’t all my own

Maybe you won’t notice

One love will soon be gone.


Cutesy Poetry

I’m not a particular fan of cutesy things, whether its a romantic movie (I often laugh openly at how terrible these are, and make the sarcastic comments only an anti-romantic could) or book. Somehow, in the midst of some teenage-girl-dream-filled night, this came out of me, and so I’m going to share it despite my own feelings that it is really not as good as some of the things I’ve written and could write.


Perfectly we are

imperfect; that is the way

it should always be.

*So how boring is this poem? Pretty partial to the next one in all honesty, though the idea of it is very bleh*.


Someday we’ll figure it out,

and if we never do,

at least I’ll have failed

right alongside you.

At least with the second poem I do see some reflection in my own being, and a change I’d say I’ve recently gone through. All my life I’ve been a perfectionist, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing-why shouldn’t I strive to do my absolute best in absolutely everything I try? However, it does become a bad thing when one stresses themselves out and becomes obsessed with the idea of perfection. I’ve been through that stage, and thank goodness I’m more relaxed now (even though my friends still call me the uptight one haha). I’ve recently figured out that success can be measured as much, or even more accurately, by the amount of people who care for and love you, rather than profession or income. As much as I’m still striving for my best, I know some things I’ll never really understand, which is perfectly fine, as long as I have the ones I love around me.

Oh the inevitable clichés. I’m such a hypocrite aren’t I? Eh, oh well.

My life right now could be described, as in the novel The Big Empty by J. B. Stephens, “happily crazed”. I have so many exciting things going on right now, like SATs, college searching, preparing for a group interview with a Scholars Program for my state, working my butt off to get my leg and body back to what it was before tearing my ACL, and of course all the craziness and deadlines that come with school. Picking classes for next year is especially stressful, considering my career choices vary from Historian to Molecular Geneticist to Writer, oh, and I want to have German as a minor. All over the place, as you can see. But I’ve still got the most important people in my life around me, and every day I go to school looking forward to when I can talk and laugh and joke with all of them.

If you don’t like bugs…

…don’t read this poem. I really don’t know where this came from, or how I got the idea for it, but I just did, and then wrote it. Reading it to myself now sort of creeps me out, thinking that I actually wrote this. Feedback would be appreciated, danke.

Venom spit onto my face

without a way to escape.

Bound in the spider’s web,

unknowingly I was led.

Now spider licks me for taste

ready to begin, no time to waste.

He says the more I scream,

the worse it will be for me.

So I let the caterpillar crawl

onto my body from off the wall.

Mosquitoes make me itch under-skin,

knowing there’s no way to win.

The june bug hums with victory,

the ladybug whispers to me.

ants envelop my entire body,

the wasp buzzes loudly,

worm slips into my mouth;

I want to run, I want to get out,

but stinger bee pushes inside,

nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Scraping my inside, scraping my heart,

tearing my body and soul apart.

Pinchers stab my rotting skin:

Never be the same again.

Past Crushes

I was just stalking some old crushes on Facebook and other social networks, and considering I have a boyfriend,  felt like maybe I shouldn’t be doing that. But then I really didn’t care.

Of course I don’t still like them, especially when I could gush (gosh I hate that word) about my boyfriend (but will instead say he is my stupidhead and I hate him). I’m perfectly happy where I am, and I don’t want-and wouldn’t want to go back-to where I was when I liked them. More importantly, I wouldn’t trade what I have now for them.

Still, why do I like to check up on them every now and then, when I’m bored or simply procrastinating? Is it because I love being in other people’s business, like when I like to wonder what each of my classmates will be doing when they get older and promise to friend as many of them as possible, if only for the purpose of stalking them later in life? Yes, I will admit it, this is a thought that has crossed my mind a few times. I hate gossiping to other people, because that’s how rumors get spread, but I like listening to people talk about themselves, so I know as much about them as I possibly can. But maybe that’s not it.

Maybe because, even though I don’t like them, I still feel some kind of connection to them, because, at one point, they were a huge part of my life-probably too big a part, but that’s besides the point. When I think about who I was when I liked them, I give a sort of half smile, sort of laughing at myself and sort of remembering. It’s interesting to see how I’ve grown, almost entirely for the better. I like remembering, even if I don’t want to go back, and remembering them leads to a million other memories that I hope I get to keep.

Because of this connection, I feel like, even though I don’t them to be happy with me, I still want them to be happy. As someone described it, a “father-like (in this case mother-like) love”. You want what is best for the person, even if you don’t want to be with them, to be the one that makes them happy. Because of this connection, you certainly don’t want them to suffer. Looking on their pages now, and seeing their cutesy pictures with their girlfriends (who are both sweet and have been loyal to them for a long, long time…even more than what most teenagers count as a long relationship,  because long relationships for us are about 5 months), doesn’t make me angry. I feel happy and usually end up smiling at the computer screen.

There is nothing in this world that would make me believe that, when you are in a relationship, you can’t care for people from your past. As significant others, we have to remember this, because I certainly am one guilty of intense jealousy. But, if a relationship is solid, and there isn’t any doubt of the love two people share, than this should not be a problem. This is one of the things I’ve slowly come to realize, from both first and second-hand experience.

I’m not one to write about teenagedom and love, but I had the sudden urge to write this, as much as I had the sudden urge to check up on my old crushes on Facebook and their other social network accounts.