dear life...

i really don't like you...

Random poem numero dos

Paper heart, why do you flutter
ripped and wrinkled
collecting ink

paper heart, you hold dreams
hopeful and sincere
wringing tears

paper heart, you can't hold on
burned and smudged
failing subtly.

Random poem numero uno

She shakes off the morning
to feel something real
to run her fingers
through shimmering air
to somehow make sense.

Silk and glitter
fill her dreams
decorate her thoughts
with reckless abandon
and hopes that always crash down.

She sinks in her fears
clinging to black and white dreams
and the blooms of dead flowers
beads and wishes
fill up her heart broken jars.

Average

Somehow, I never could believe that I would be the average girl. I never wanted to believe it. Everyone thinks they can somehow "rise above" whatever road blocks and construction sites appear before them. Nobody ever wants to settle for average. The sad thing is that those people are deluding themselves. The people who fiercely believe that they will step into a higher version of themselves someday are going to be sorely disappointed when all they have are black and white memories and cracked mirror images of the past and ripple views of a future they want. I am one of those people. I dream of what I want to be, what I want to have. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of the generic career paths that I would take: veterinarian, Broadway star, nurse, teacher, princess of the world, mother. I truly and honestly believe that I could achieve those things. Now, after completing my freshman year of college without any major screw-ups or successes, I can firmly say that I am cemented in the 'average' group. I will probably never rise above my station or achieve anything of great worth or value. I will be utterly completely average, for as long as I live. Does anything about me stand out, speak of anything even remotely extraordinary? No. I have mousy brown hair, I am average height, my grades are average, I can't sing or dance, I have no other special talents. I am un-extraordinarily ordinary. I can see that now as I sit here and watch Saturday Night Live on a Thursday night. Now I can completely believe the average girl, see her in all her average-ness and accept that she will remain average. Hooray for being average...

"Omitted Names"

Random story idea I had earlier today:

The plastic box felt cool in his hands, condensation pooling beneath his fingers. The room was stuffy, more so than usual. He was nervous, which was completely abnormal.
He set the box on the metal table and glanced around. The furnishings seemed to change minutely every time he entered the room. Dane collected odd pieces: a painting of a deep, violent red sunset hung behind a three foot tall statue of a ballerina. Chinese vases stood beside a broken skull and half-melted wax candles. A dainty porcelain figurine sat on the science lab-like table, a reminder of the French Revolution era.
The gigantic mahogany door swung open silently. Dane stepped in looking as unlike an assassin agency boss. The petite brunette was dressed in a long flowing black dress that followed her curves. Her heels clicked against the marble parquet floor hurriedly. Marietta Dane threw down a manila folder, her brow creased with disappointment.
"You have been keeping something from me, haven't you?" She crossed her arms over her chest and turned a slightly sad gaze at him.
"Don't look at me like that, Dane." He said and reached for the folder. Her hand stopped him and she moved to stand behind the table.
"Not yet. Is there any information you would like to share with me, Nathaniel? Oh, I meant to say Reid. How silly of me."
His face grew pale. She knew.
"I have known since you were hired, Reid Avery. You don't honestly believe you could have hidden this from me, do you?" She leaned her muscular arms on the table, one hand still on the folder.
"Just give me my assignment, Marietta." He sneered out her first name and adjusted his tie when he caught the icy glare she shot at him.
"Take it."
She lifted a hand and took a step back, running a hand through her long loose hair.
Avery flipped open the folder, eager for his next target. His jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, believe me. I am." Dane's voice was firm, no room for argument.


Any comments? Critiques?

Potentials.

There are always going to be potentials. Always. In such a secluded spot as Grace College, my whole college career is going to be full of them: potential classmates, potential hallmates, potential boyfriends, potentials husbands, potential coworkers, potentials bosses, potential people who will have a huge impact on my life. Life is full of the potential people. Of course, you can't simply ignore them. They aren't going to go away when you close your eyes. Nor are they going to suddenly sport neon signs that tell you whether to choose them or not. You have to be aware of them but be able to push the potentiality back to the far recesses of your mind. Otherwise, you won't get to know them as real human beings, just a piece of furniture to live with for the rest of your life. Now, Megan, you are giving yourself very good advice. Its about time you followed it. Be a good girl and listen to yourself. Stop searching for the potential. The potential will present itself to you. Be ready!

The zone...

Why is it so easy to get stuck in the comfortable?
Why so hard to get out?
Today, I escaped the box, the zone and stepped out into a territory that I have never been in before.
And you know what?
It felt good.
Strange....