Comments Posted By under that tree

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Wouldn’t it be nice if I could be more, do more?
Looking on from the outside in, I see the potential
But I am inside out, looking at the big world
With all of its offerings…
With all of its advice…
With all of its challenges…
and I think I don’t belong there
and I think it isn’t fair
That I should be fighting for my identity
and all that I am passionate about
When it wont get me by in this world
This world…
Their world.
So I am safe in my head
In my lonely world
Everyday thinking
Everyday waiting for
The world to change
Instead of finding the courage
To change it myself or
Just change myself.

» Posted By under that tree On 09.18.2013 @ 1:10 pm


Why couldn’t she just say no? What about that word is so difficult? Body language clearly doesn’t get her point across. She doesn’t owe you an explanation, but she still wants to tell you that it has been a very long time since someone has touched her. Her brain is screaming at her, screaming at her heart. Problems. Reasons why she can’t and shouldn’t let her guard down. She’s been through too much to be ok with this right now.

» Posted By under that tree On 02.03.2013 @ 9:53 pm


She has been gone for almost 17 years now. I search pictures, people’s recollections, and my own memories for resemblances. I can’t see them like others can. I want to. I want to see her in myself… But really, I just want to see her.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.31.2013 @ 8:07 pm


I’m not your sweet girl. I’m not your naughty girl. I’m not your toy.
I’m not your old lady. I’m not your new gal. I’m not your honey.
I saw your friend. He said you were making time with the girl next door.
I’m not your main squeeze. I’m not your baby. I’m nothing to you.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.29.2013 @ 12:52 pm


She waited in the lobby for the car to arrive, stopping just short of the curb. It was dark now. She stepped out onto the wet pavement and searched left, then right. Glistening lights and deep puddles. Glass breaking in the distance. A siren. No sight of the promise she had been so hesitant to welcome just hours before. Why then, standing in the rain, her heart still protected from the storm, did she not feel relieved?

» Posted By under that tree On 01.28.2013 @ 12:28 pm


To know what is real and true for me, for my life, for my thoughts, actions, and plans… To know what is real and true for my world, for my heart, for my soul. To know what is real and true… is to feel what is real and true. It is not a knowing like any other. This knowing, this awareness, is always certain. Do not be fooled by your brain. It looks out for you, yes, your best interests in mind… But who is to say what is best for you? Your brain or your heart? Are your best interests even your interests at all? Whose are they? Ponder on that, in your little house, with your little family, with your little routine and your job that you despise… Everyday much like the others. I might want that one day. To live in the “real” world. Today though, I choose differently, because I know that my best life is waiting piece by piece down a different path. A path called adventure. It is time to collect these moments.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.22.2013 @ 5:39 pm


The violent sweep of yesterday’s phrases could never negate the act of speaking them. No amount of apology or kind words could undo that gaze, the locking of eyes as you fouled the very trust your love was built upon. She will forgive but, no, she will never forget.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.16.2013 @ 6:21 pm


Flesh on flesh. Vague promises of home. I will ache for you in the morning still. Your bones are hollow like your words, so weak. I built these walls because of you. I tore them down for you the same. Curtains over my eyes so pretty. I will see what I choose, not the truth. Take shelter in me, temporary love, and I will provide. Leave me with a blueprint in my heart. Leave me with a hammer. I will build again, without you.

» Posted By under that tree On 02.18.2012 @ 4:48 pm


He would adopt any opinion that made him seem more radical. I couldnt help but feel sorry for him, even though this was a conscious decision on his part. I simply inquired one day as to his lack of identity, and questioned at what age he forgot who he was. What happened to the boy who climbed trees and stayed there til dusk? The boy who made mud pies and rainwater soup for his friends, and brought dandelions to his momma? He stared blankly and replied; “the world is a dangerous place.” I never felt that statement as strongly as I did in that moment when I realized the truth, as cliche as it sounded, was that this world really does destroy us.

» Posted By under that tree On 02.09.2012 @ 5:46 pm


Against the odds? I like a good challenge. Yes, that one seems fittng. Yet im somehow at odds with it.
Ratios and algorithms… Mathematical blah blah jargon.
Hmmmm. Evens? Yes! Thats it! That one will do just fine.
What are the odds?
I am so odd.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.30.2012 @ 9:23 am


Hoop it up! My Dad says. Adorable when he says it too. The excitement in his eyes, twinkling. The corners of his smile, creasing. Looking, pausing. Eyebrow raising. Then tilting his head sideways. Bending forward, slightly. Claps his hands, once.
Times like this will live with me, always.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.28.2012 @ 2:17 pm


She never oiled it. It was a loud welcome home siren, which gave her just enough time to shove him out the bedroom window and put on her good wife clothes.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.24.2012 @ 4:51 pm


Ohio. Who decided it was a good idea to put a rocky hill at the end of a runway? Whoever it was changed my life forever, and cost my mother hers.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.21.2012 @ 4:41 pm


When she was young she would stop and smell the flowers. How beautifully fragrant each them was. So unique. A reason to linger. But then her world was turned upside down. Then it was shook violently. Then it was kicked around like a ball. Then loving hands picked it up, brushed off the dirt and set it on a sturdy shelf. She stops to smell the flowers, still today, but now they only remind her of funerals.

» Posted By under that tree On 01.09.2012 @ 7:54 am


All the pretty things she held so dearly in life were now up for sale. Greedy fingers snatching her teapots. Sweaty palms fondling her jewelry. They were just things. Pretty little trinkets. Souvenirs. Collectors of dust. No real value, other than what she bestowed upon them. Sentimentality. To her they were memories, to which she clung, lest she forget. All that is left of what was, what had been, of a formerly vibrant life. Now costing under twelve dollars.

» Posted By under that tree On 12.31.2011 @ 12:39 pm


“Im sorry”, I said.
“Im sorry!”, I yelled, I cried. “I dont know what you want me to do. What do you want me to do?”
The words were lifted from my tongue with a heavy breath, and fell softly on deaf ears.

» Posted By under that tree On 12.25.2011 @ 5:21 pm


It all seems so different after that. The final peek from under the cover of light is so unique. Those final moments that you seek when moving toward unfailing darkness with an ever clenching hand on the corner of the day.

» Posted By under that tree On 12.20.2011 @ 8:17 pm


Castle. Mom is in it. She’s the princess looking out the window, the day I wore my beautiful dress.

» Posted By under that tree On 12.12.2011 @ 11:40 am


She was still so pretty, but now cold and hard. I loved her better when she was made of flesh and bone, when she still had warmth. I guess she found herself afterall, when she looked in the mirror.

» Posted By under that tree On 11.28.2011 @ 7:46 am


Black patent mini skirt.
It made her feel alive. Like the beautiful person she was, and not the nothing he had her believing she was for so long. She put it on and saw herself for the first time in years. A new chapter for an old soul.

» Posted By under that tree On 11.09.2011 @ 9:54 am


The alcohol stings. It washes away the remanence of true character. Yet, here I am again, sacrificing myself to indulgence. Silly, silly me. It is the morning after that I feel the most influenced.

» Posted By under that tree On 10.30.2011 @ 9:18 am


Be still, the wise ones say. Still, I cant ever seem to stop moving. Always in motion, perhaps attempting to do too many things. Not one of them seeming to be enough. Still, I said to myself this morning; be still. I hear it ringing in my ears still, though it is afternoon and I am still moving.

» Posted By under that tree On 10.27.2011 @ 11:56 am


Is there such a thing as instant gratification? Possibly, on a superficial level.
Then my mind skips along and I think; Autonomy. How long does it take to free ones mind? Years of practice? Could it be done in a day?
One thing I can always count on to be automatic is a feeling. Any feeling. Whether it be fear, or love, or anger… even indifference, I know I will always feel SOMETHING (Immediately) {Automatically}

Im growing fond of listening to how I feel for once.

» Posted By under that tree On 10.25.2011 @ 9:39 am


Today I found myself. When I awoke this morning, I didnt really wake up. But as I was driving home to take a nap after having only been awake for two hours. I woke up, for real. I decided to come here, and learn how to be myself again. A novel idea this is. How I lost myself in the first place is a mystery.

» Posted By under that tree On 10.24.2011 @ 8:51 am

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