I hate car rides that don’t drive me to you. I am an open map, with 18 different roads and 6 right turns that lead me all back. I am ready, I don’t want to go slow. I want it, I need it.
I have spent the past couple days driving, both on I 275 and on a highway of ideas.
There must be something or someone who is keeping me going.

I fucking hate it.
Busy signal. Straight to voicemail. 
Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up.
Redial. Redial.
I have a problem.
241 - 65 … 5 … 4 ? 3?
I am so shaky, my fingers are forgetting the one number they know.
Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up.
I NEED TO TALK TO HIM. 
I am afraid. I am alone. I need attention. I need him.
I am a ( Read more... )

I am wasted.
I am pumping with stale red wine.
I am knee high with emotions and shallow thoughts.
I am looking for attention.
I am waiting for him to take me home.

He is buzzed.
He is running on whiskey and cigarettes.
He is inflating his ego.
He is looking for action.
He is waiting for another tally mark tattoo.

We are naked.
We are burning with pure ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

Happiness:
Coffee
Daydreaming
Doodling
Long Showers
Causal Smiles
Oranges
Strawberry Water
Short Shorts
CollarBone Kisses
Sandals
Spring Cleaning
Blushed Cheeks
Compliments
Painted Toe Nails
Sunrises

I am upset. I am mad. I am looking for the cigarettes I don’t even smoke. Glaring at parked cars around me, I grow with rage and turn the key.
It is power, it is power and I love it.
I light up.
It is going to be one of the those longest shortest nights of my life that leaves me confused and looking for aspirin in the morning.
I take my first drag.
I ( Read more... )

And so I write.

And I write about sex, love or migraines.

And I write about coffee, religion and ripped jeans.

And I write stories about him, hoping that I might be chapter, a sentence or even a apostrophe in his life.

But most importantly I write what I want to see, in hopes that I might find me.

I know three and half things about myself and they are ( Read more... )

"We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others." 
                                                                                       - Hemingway

Sometimes words make it easier to fall in love.

I am a coffee cup full of frustrations and six packets of artificial sweetener,

The cream taints my deepness,

And I am stirred till everything looks alright.

Favorites:
Coffee.
Traveling.
Text Messages.
Simplicity.
Thai Food.
Hemingway.
Tank Tops.
Turn Lanes.
Watching Movies.
Three AM.
Thoughtfulness.
Romance.

New Ambitions:
Dream Big.
Learn A New Language.

Ideas:
Make Homemade Salsa.
Write A Monologue.
Drive To The East Coast.
Read In A Rainstorm.