Set Me Free

For an hour I looked out my window at the birch trees swaying in the wind. Tears dripped from my eyes to my arm while Guinevere licked at my face. I’m not sure what it is about today that makes me this way. Is it the lack of caffeine? Hormones that are flowing through my body, marking the half way point of another 50-something day cycle? Possibly just the fact that I don’t know how to make myself happy anymore.

I am drained, my chest aches for a mystery reason and the confines of my mind jump to conclusions. Am I sick? Is there something wrong with me that I am unaware of? Seven days without caffeine. I have no more cigarettes. I don’t like myself right now and I can’t figure out why. 

I just want to cry and be held, but who would comfort me the way I need? Who would let me sleep next to them, staining their skin with saline? I remember, I was happy. Maybe not yesterday, but the day before that. Perhaps I just need a break.

n. a kind of melacholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life

tragic-trekkie asked: Let's move to Hawaii! (:

We should bring a caravan of amazing people to Hawaii!!

tragic-trekkie asked: I always know when you See my posts, my page will say I fifteen or so likes from you. I giggle and say 'oh, Zyla is online".

thats because you have good taste in posts and shit :D

A surge of energy
mingles between our bodies,
Instigates us
to make moves we’d
ought not do. But
we don’t always do the “right” thing.
And I wouldn’t say
it’s wrong. Our
two worlds colliding is amazing.

Every time I think about it, I want to move back to Hawaii. With its five minute showers and blistering sunshine. I want to bury Rachel, turn her into a mermaid. I want to climb rocks and eat froyo and have the best sushi of my life.

Something about right now screams “ABORT! ABORT!” and demands that I take another step back from my life and figure out what it is I want.

Smoking gives me a false sense of serenity that I don’t care for any more. My mind feels numb and as though I’m a back seat driver, barely visible from the rearview mirror. There’s a ghost driving for me and she loves danger and excitement. She wants everything and nothing and causes chaos and destruction.

I’m not sure what to do.

I don’t care if you’re less experienced than I. I don’t care that you have a serious dilemma of choosing between almost topless girl or weed. I can go for days without seeing you or hearing from you. I want to take things slow with you.

But when we are alone and you kiss me, that’s all there is. 

Our friendship is still a little thing,
revolving around a smokescreen and flirtations,
fueled by my hunger and his intellect.

It expands over arting and video games,
pace stunted by our awkwardness.
It’s new, every experience exciting and amazing,
like the start of something better, more affirmative.

I took him on a sort of date Sunday, I only call it a sort of date because that spark of interest was there, but there was a seemingly invisible wall of nervousness making me not able to look at him. We went to lunch and saw “The Avengers”. We walked around, watched ducks swim along in puddles from the melted snow and sprinkles of rain falling. We smiled and laughed. He kissed me. And it felt amazing.

He still remembers and has the pain of giving up something so precious. In reality, he has actually lost three things: you, her, and the life he could have led. I hate knowing he feels such a sorrow. But I am proud that he could muster up enough care and love and devotion to you that he could feel this pain. 

For you, I believe he would have changed everything. He became stronger and more of a man. Your papa loved you from the first moment he knew you were there. I remember the devastation he was in, his tears. 

One day your spirit will come back, and I hope you can be with one—if not both—of them.