Ya know it’s funny…I don’t like tea but when I do have it…all my worries fade and my anxieties calm and suddenly I feel happier.

Ya know it’s funny…I don’t like tea but when I do have it…all my worries fade and my anxieties calm and suddenly I feel happier.

Here I sit like a pathetic puppy, wishing for something to happen to me; waiting for someone to give me a handout or something, something to make me feel better.

But it doesn’t happen and I’m foolishly naive.

Is this what I’m to expect? If I’m in a relationship will I be looking for a present at every corner? Why am I this way? I guess it’s because on a bad day I expect something. I expect for just some random person to take notice of the hurting girl and give her a treat and to say, “Hey, I see you are hurting. It’s going to be okay.” Maybe that’s why.

"Someday someone is going to look at you with a light in their eyes you’ve never seen, they’ll look at you like you’re everything they’ve been looking for their entire lives. Wait for it."
I give it to you again and again God, take it from me. I don’t want life anymore, I don’t want to feel anymore. I feel completely frostbitten.

I give it to you again and again God, take it from me. I don’t want life anymore, I don’t want to feel anymore. I feel completely frostbitten.

"Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers."
"Be who you are and say how you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind."
Dr. Suess

Where Has All the Air Gone

I miss laughing. I miss when Summers were endless. I miss looking forward to Fridays and the weekends. Ever since college, Fridays are just another day, the weekend just extra allotted time to study—nothing ever stops. Like a wagon going downhill, it just accelerates and soon everything becomes a blur. You scream for it to stop, but it doesn’t. Instead it continues to speed and soon the speed is stealing your breath and you begin to choke. Where has the air gone!

Air…it seemed so free, so pure when I was younger. Now it seems polluted and limited, each gasp I take is only enough to survive another moment. Another moment that knocks it right back out with the force of a hurricane.

Do you even see me professor? Do you notice the girl in the back struggling to breathe, turning purple as you suck all oxygen out from the room? Maybe if you saw the rocks—your demands—slowly crushing my lungs, maybe then, you would even care.

Sunday Morning Calls Home

  • My Mom: I'm stuck between a rock and a hard stick because...
  • Me: *busts out laughing* A hard stick?
  • My Mom: What? What'd I say wrong?
  • Me: Mom! It's a rock and a hard PLACE!
  • My Mom: Ooooh! Well, I guess I was thinking of Moses and the rock and his staff and him striking the rock...