dandelions

k... i decided i never want to be somebody's baby. i want to be their girl. i don't ever want to define myself by another person again. if i'm their baby..that ties me right to them. but if i'm their girl..i'm still my own girl, but i just belong to them. in a safe way. not an owning way. i'm so scared i'll fall back into that. what makes me think about boys so much lately? i feel kind of pathetic. but at the same time, when girls talk to me about their boyfriends and stuff, and they're all "my boyfriend sent me this cute text and i can't wait to see him this weekend" and what not, i used to get super jealous. i'd think "aw so cute i wish i had that." but now when i hear that, i'm just like... "heh... cute." but i could really care less. it's really strange.



ANYWAY. we're having the first writer's right meeting of the year tomorrow! LUL. it makes me kind of sad because i really wanted to be president for the whole year, but i guess the point is that we're doing it. i'm doing the literary magazine so it's all good. but i feel like i should write something new before the meeting so here goes...



laughter shatters into ten thousand pieces, each embodying a tiny memory that floats away like the precious petals of dandelions in spring. others dismiss their frail posture and weightlessness, seeing only art upon the bottom of their tennis shoes. but i've always thought them such wondrous things, full of air and oxygen; a million breaths of light parachuting the whole masterpiece toward the sky. we untie the strings from our fingers and let our memories ascend to the clouds like 99 red balloons. and joy rattles our bones, forgetting everything. we're blank and it's like we've just met each other again. i don't know your name but i know i loved you once. i don't know your birthday but i know what wine you drink. goodbye, beautiful stranger. may the daylight bring you as much peace as the sun will allow, because that's where you and i will rest, while we all journey on through seperate maps, compasses pointed north, the wind offering nothing but the scent of dandelions and a small gust of "you're on your own."