The suns coming in the window
Just like another summer morning
I wish I felt the same

Its like I'm almost free
Just one thread tying me back
When I turn around
In the doorway you stand.

We're always curious to find out who we've been compared to.

Illness.

Once in the hospital, I vowed to get better. Once out,
I knew I was my only hope to save myself. I worked hard, learned how to dream, found some dreams and followed them.
Sometimes I'm not sure I solved the problem the right way. I love what I'm doing but at the same time there have been plenty of factors screaming and shouting that I took the wrong path.
The more I try to fight the tide and stay afloat I remember how in my youth we were too poor to afford the swimming lessons that could one day save my life. This simple fact always reminds me that even though I have tried to control it, and I am alive today, that doesn't offer a certainty for tomorrow. I try and try to remain stable, but I am realizing that no matter how I try to stay sane by school activites or insulating myself from the world, the illness was never my choice. I keep reciting 'I chose to stay sane, I chose to live.'
Yea I didn't do the deed, but I'm not sure that really means I won't feel like shit later about what happened to me then and what happened to me now. I could easily become that depressed kid, and have no choice, no oppurtunity to change our fate.
We all want to believe that we have extreme control of our futures, especially in our youth. But we don't and we never will, but the point is we can't discount the hope we do have. They're are powers that if we let them, can strip us of the power we do hold. So lets vow to make a change we want, and don't hold still when some has the opportunity to move us around our own playing field. Hell, make the change to live.

It's over.

Sometimes there are things you just need to let go of. I've let go of a lot recently, in order to take more on.
I know I was never gonna make it in music. I think I have a good voice, but I know its forgettable. I let myself sing badly and out of tune in order to "keep my secret." How dumb. There are sometimes where I just wonder what could have happened. What if I had been able to do more then? Even this story is a secret. My voice is censored, and its stupid. I preach about no censorship, but yet I don't let on that I do these things. I've been building a bridge over a beautiful river for years. Even though the bridge is beautiful, so is what used to lie underneath.
The thought is making me shake. And as the waves in the old glasses on my desk get larger, I know I have to let this go. I have obliged to continue singing, playing guitar, and yes writing here. Maybe one day, I'll be featured on a song, or write a design book, or design a music cover. Maybe or maybe not. Even throwing these things under the bridge I am still way over my head.
I'm just a mess and I can't keep my hands out of anything, I always got to be involved in everything, learning everything I can. I'm now wondering if it was all just wasting my time.
I don't have a good option of what I would have done instead. In this moment of turbulence, I have no good options to make it end faster. I just have to wait until it's over.

Dreams.

During my evening nap, I had two dreams. One, that I had had a baby and the dream ended with me photoshopping the father out of a picture of the three of us. With the baby upright, back against my stomach in my arms, I was perfectly fine with out a man. The second had the interest of white century schoolbook on the background of flesh composited from my right lower back and left cheek. The way I woke up both these locations were on the same parallel as if I were twisting them towards the sun.

Home.

I think I finally found home. I feel so relieved to be there, and when away from it, my soul aches to return. Sitting down next to my roommate, the both of us in the same position, returning from our days. We have just what we need. I have no need to keep my guard up. In our agreements, no one had to back down and now we've finally got what we've always wanted.
Now, on this day, the fifth anniversary of my dad's death, I just can't wait to go home.

I'm beginning to think I'm the one breaking my own heart.

I now realize I was looking for an unnecessary piece of the dream
Something I'll never find.

Friday Morning.

Finally waking up, I rolled myself on to the edge of the bed, sitting up. He sat down next to me, putting on his socks. As I reached for my pile of clothes, I saw the shirt he had been wearing when I came in. I hadn't remembered him taking it off, although I do remember the soft skin of his chest and the exterior light coolness of it and warmth underneath.
It wasn't supposed to happen, but it was nothing I was going to keep preventing myself from. Its not that it was immoral or wrong, it was that my strong head lead me to a way of solidarity. The story seems so common, and therefore I feel it is has no worth than the people that occupy it.
He's obnoxiously tall, and I'm obnoxiously loud, but he fits me when I sleep and silences me with his kissing. It works for whatever it is right now. I feel compelled to sit on his bed while he works, finally approaching all the reading I've been yearning for. I've had this awkward image in my head of us for a while now, sitting straight up but close in his apartment. My bare feet are up on the cushion with a 40 in between them, and he has some mixed drink. It always makes me laugh how he slips into conversations that he has liquor. I'm much more a beer girl, liquor usually starts off disastrous nights. But if he supplys it, I'll probably be there to finish it.
I have a weird trust in him, and I have no idea where it comes from. We have been just talking for a long time, and this past Friday morning, proved me wrong. I really thought it could never work out, but being in real person, just changes everything.

Spring.

It seems in the last years, that spring is a tainted season for me. For others it signals new beginnings, for me it symbolizes the end of life as we know it. Early this week and the weekend before that, it was all I could think about, what will end now? Maybe this year, the fifth one, is an earthy catalyst, were the stars shift their course. My sister is getting married to a man I always considered as a brother, I'm letting a pseudo relationship happen, and I'm moving into a Philadelphia apartment with a roommate I can trust and rely on. I feel like I've learned to keep my inhibitions reserved. In the last year and a half, I learned who I was, and now I'm just learning how to live like it.

Truths.

I think I'm prettier when I'm sad.

I believe getting drunk will give me bearings on where a relationship is going.

If I could run from Philadelphia to Baltimore, everything would be alright.

I wish I could fix things that didn't involve mechanics.

I find sexual organs foreign and unnecessary.

I never have any idea what I'm doing.

I make lucky guesses, and I feel bad because people rely on me for those guesses.

I'm just scared. And I'm afraid that if someone takes that fright away from me I will have lost all my soul.

Coping.

I believe this story has gone downhill, not with the plot but it appears that my fingers have become brittled and the river of thoughts dammed with their remains. As well, I am finally learning what it feels like to have someone believe in you, if only for a second. It shoots by like a passing car, but a moment later your hair is left to dance in the wind of good thoughts.
At home, there was only one person who I felt truly believed in me. He understood the sickness because he had his own and we were the coping mechanism in a world that thought they could get along with out us just fine. I am becoming to realize that even though our connections have diminished along with the hospital visits, both our brains are sagging under the weight of what we had to learn to get along at such a young age. It scares me so much I don't even want to describe it. Thinking to write down a note, and after looking down the words have become dislexic. From a young age I learned to cope with the difficulties of the ways I was hearing words not being the way everyone else did. Speech and remedials don't seem to be helping me now. I try to sound out words but they still don't come out right. I end up rewriting everyother word, and giving professors blank stares. Dumb and inept, I try to live up to a legacy that never existed in the first place. Maybe my skull is caving under the pressure of "you are so smart." The only thing I ever got smart about was coping, and these lessons aren't standing the test of time.
I have a professor who doesn't believe me when I say I'm a lost cause. I hope to god I prove him right.

Oh no.

How did this happen? I couldn't have let this happen, not again, not now. All these thoughts about nothing being perfect are becoming crippling, stunting my growth. The fears of connecting with people, the crying while driving, I'm seeming to think that its all spinning wildly out of control. Is it really still the safe kind of depression or is it real this time?
Oh but I won't let it go to far. There is no way that I'm letting all this work go down the tubes, even if it hasn't been work on the right dream, I cant let two years of college go. All just because I can't drive or shop with out thinking about how great everyone has it. Five years after my dad died and I still end up crying in a Target. Like really?
My former best friend at the time of my fathers death said that I should have been over it in about a week. That's a little over dramatic, but now, seriously? I'm going to be emotionally crippled for the rest of my life. I'm going to be crazy.
I feel crazy, I feel like i should be locked up. Mostly because I'm running out of ways to fix it. Maybe now I'm just being over dramatic, nicely coinciding with my diagnosis. I feel like I'm emotionally running away from everything, so I'm thinking physically running maybe the best bet. But its Philadelphia pre-spring at 7pm, and that's just not going to work out. And there's no way I can be around people in the gym and not cry, specifically skinny people. I guess I'll just brood for a while. When I do start running, don't expect me back for a while.

Five.

Almost five years. Five years of coping. Five years of sacrifice. Five years of fighting for a legacy. Five years of fixing. Five years of crying. Five years of believing what was most available. Five years of defending honor. Five years of being my mother's significant. Five years of growing up alone. Five years of taking care of everyone else. Five years of getting stepped on.Five years of being the man of the house. Five years of being an adult at 14. Five years of fake maturity. Five years, no dad. Five years, and I still miss him just as much.
Five years of learning to use my voice. Five years of being stronger. Five years of not needing anybody. Five years of learning who I am. Five years of learning what was best for me. Five years of growing out of the wreckage.
Five years, five years, five years. I never thought I would be here, I never would have guessed I would have made it. Five years spent being me, and this anniversary will not be a catalyst for change. Five years ago was. I will forge on. Five will become, ten, twenty, fifty. Fifty years of being me.

Chasing Home.

Paint me what home is.
Leave the directions on the table.
Cause I don't know.
If I'm doing this right.
One more chance to suffocate.
Or take a breath and see where it goes.
I'll follow the sky.

They'll let me know.
If you were wrong.
If this is letting go.
I can only trust myself.
And the clouds that follow me.

If I followed the sun.
I would never know the night.
If I followed the moon.
I would never see the light.

All the colors.
Censored by my worthless dreams.
The chase, in the end.
Would never be worth.
The times I dreamt.
Of the day I would leave.

No matter the pain.
Or the loss of dreams.
I could always do the same thing.
And follow the sky.

I will miss the view.
And all the times staring into it.
Wondering how often it changed.

Questions.

Do the buildings really echo the sky?
How do you measure a day?
Let me know before you leave.
Make your choice.
Push it back.
Leave before I see you.
Let it glow.

Home-sick.

I've been missing Baltimore a lot lately. Its kinda scary but almost comforting to think that I have a place to visit when shit up north gets bad. It makes me feel not so betrayed by Baltimore and its surroundings.The weather recently got very nice here, around the same temperature it would be in Baltimore. Even though I feel so comforted by this fact, I still pause everytime I call Baltimore home. Its more like my childhood home and I'm in Philadelphia to fill out my life as I was raised to do. I like the idea of the family I have when I'm on the phone. I love them very much.
I had strange trouble getting to sleep last night. I went to bed at 12:15 and I woke up at 12:55 feeling like it was morning and I was going to miss my class. Later on in my sleep, I had a dream that my mother died. I ran from door to door yelling, "My mother fucking died, expect no further from me." I feel like this is how I acted when my dad died and I was kind of dissapointed that I did act that way. However to this day I have no idea how I could of avoided it, specifically at that age. During high school it was a large fear of mine that my mother would die too and I would be left to move to South Carolina or Virgina. I find it ironic that now, I worship moving so much. Now I think my dream just didn't involve letting everyone know, it was more like running away from the inevitable.

Bravery Never Came By Choice.(cont)

He would stare at me adoringly, feel so bold of my accomplishments, but we live as equals. Truthfully, we just live. Bravely wind ourselves in and out of eachothers lives. Going home was no longer a chore, and every phone call, worshipped. Understanding is bigger than flattery; and boldness better than bribery, in this perfect life. Love would not be this overzealous use of time and words, but a meager discussion of our comfort of compainionship. This life would be this easy and this hard; and this perfect.

Living the Dream.

In review, I have become fearful that my dreams I'm living are not the dreams I'm dreaming. Fortunately this is not the same way as before, where I could not even imagine having a future. This time I have a future, even if only seen in short spans, I'm not sure the "right" choices were the right ones after all. I'm getting caught up in the circumstance. I have seen so many people make their beautiful lives out of mistakes. I have spent so long making sure I didn't make mistakes. Theres alot of people out there who are formally put on this earth to review my life and make sure I'm doing it right.
And of course, as I am set to leave, I make a connection. And I just want to scream, GOD FUCKING DAMNIT. I try so hard to make an impact when I first come back, and as soon as I accept nothing will happen, everything does. Why can't I make the right mistakes, the beautiful ones, that pop up like spring. You expect them to come but you never know when.
As usual, I just want everything to be perfect. I worked hard for what I have in Philly, and now i don't want to go back for the slightest chance that I might have something with this boy. Hes one of the few that we've liked eachother, and I can see it going somewhere. I still have plently of chances in Philly. Its just I'm not good at dreaming the future.