trying to figure all of this shit out

Love is not caring about morning breath.
Love is giving you my mittens because your hands are colder.
Love is "did you make it home safe?"
Love is staying home from parties
and kissing in parking lots.
Love is responding to a text with a phone call.
Love is silence.
Love is how your hand fits on my waist.
Love is San Francisco and Russia and South America and North America, too.
Love is for 6 year olds and 18 year olds and 90 year olds.
Love is

Track 1

you looked out the window in my room
you said look at that moon
i thought "look at that face"
you rode 800 miles per hour
300 thousand horse power
700 long days

it was 3 am sitting in your car
under those bright northwestern kind of stars
your heart skipped a beat
when the shadow of the trees
danced against the windows
to the beat of you and me

the boy next door

i'm writing this because i'm home alone and i have too many thoughts and no one to share them with

i just traveled the world for a month
and the day before i left
he told me he would miss me
he said he would miss me "so much"
and it wasn't because i would be gone for a month
but because after that
he'd leave for two years
he said we still had camping trips to go on
and mountains to climb
and i couldn't help but wonder why he waited to long


after we kissed the second time
i told him i've been wanting to kiss him for a while
he asked how long
i said "years"
i didn't tell him it was 6
but that precious side smile on his tired face told me that "years"
was long enough to make his heart beat a little bit faster


i'll try not to be too sentimental
there's a lot of things we never got the chance to say
or hear
but for now i'll keep in touch with your sister, your brothers, and maybe even you
and when you get home maybe i'll tell you everything i never have
and that i can't stop listening to that bright eyes album you showed me

this is a lot more sentimental than i wanted it to be

i've been trying my best to convince myself that i'm not going to miss this place
but there's a reason we spent all of prom talking about cartoons we watched when we were 9
though i may not miss the prison-like halls tattooed with inspirational quotes that i only pretend to read when avoiding eye contact,
i think i might miss parts of this
being 17 -- on the cusp of freedom and adulthood but still hanging on by a few threads
plus staying out late on school nights is more fun when you're not supposed to
and i think when we go out with a bang, we'll listen for the echo

everyone keeps telling me "you're done"
but i don't feel done
because even though we are finished with the fitness gram and arena scheduling,
there are still janitors who have to clean suicide notes off of bathroom stalls
so i'm gonna try and keep all this
in here
in two weeks we won't be known as the stoners, the players, or the not on sunday-ers
we'll be who we want to be

and hopefully real talk will be much more than a poetry assignment

fading

this morning i forgot what you sound like
last week i forgot what you smell like
4 months ago i forgot what you tasted like
and i'm starting to forget
why i'm trying so hard
to remember

here's the thing

you've made my heart stop 4000 times since i've met you

and conditioned my heart to racing for years

now it can outrun the best

you keep thinking you're in love 

but your love is a brand new white t-shirt 

that's dingy after a few hikes and climbs

but you wear it until it rips

my love is satin and it's been passed down

generation to generation

it's been red and blue and yellow once, for a few weeks

and aside from a few stains,

i try to keep it clean

every time i write a poem

it's meant to be about someone else

but it's always about you

one time a boy told me i always smelled 

like sunflowers

and before i thanked him or even blushed

i turned to see if you heard

nothing that has happened so far has been anything we could control

I remember slippery driveways.

I remember honey sticks and getting lost at farmers markets.

I remember telling the girl making a ceramic cross necklace that it was wrong. I remember not understanding why everyone disagreed.

I remember the sour altoids from trader joes and I remember the day the stopped carrying them.

I remember every song on the CD parker seegmiller made for me.
I remember saying I hated nostalgia, and him thinking that was intriguing or something stupid.

I remember drinking so many slurpees. Too many.

I remember my dad punched a hole through the bedroom door.
I don't remember why.

I remember praying to find the match to my sock.


I remember praying for my grandma to be able to remember who I was.

I remember swimming in the gross green lake.

I remember my 8th birthday party. It was a combined party with one of my friends and she opened a present that was supposed to go to me. Even though it was mine, I felt bad taking it from her. It was a stuffed horse.

I remember Zane and how we called him Zane-the-pain-the-big-butt-stain. It was mean but he called me something mean too so it wasn't bullying I think.

I remember getting called to the principles office for sticking pickles on the brick wall every day at lunch.
I remember falling in love on trampolines.

I remember 8th grade night games and never wanting to go if Tanner Thompson wasn't there.

I remember trying hard not to get the bottoms of my jeans soaking wet from the North Western rain.
I remember counting freckles.

I remember when my sisters hamster died, she ran away with it and we couldn't find her for quite an hour.

I remember how Olivia Evans house always smelled weird.

I remember the tan leather lady that lived in the neighborhood.

I remember my dad sitting outside during lightening storms.

I remember when the neighbors got in a drunk fist fight outside of our house.
I remember peeking out the window when my mom told me not to.

I remember 24 hour drives.

get well soon

he told me his whole world was falling apart

that the sun didn't shine for him any more

i told him to focus on the things that he loves

the girl with toothpick legs and a ceramic heart 

had shattered his 

and whenever he stood up his hands shook

but he thinks it's all his fault

one night he tried to write the things he loved

and was left with nothing but a blank paper 

covered in tear stains

these boots are made for talking

my mamas always borrowing mine 

she's never been one to love what she has 

but I borrow hers just as much 

so maybe it says just as much about me 

as it does about her. 

once I fell for a boy who never wore any. 

I guess he felt like he needed more protection around his heart 

than his feet 

and I guess I should've done that too 

because while his feet grew callused and tough 

his heart didn't even bruise. 

my dads been buying the same pair since I can remember

and he's had the same job that long too.

I can't blame him though because he's doing what's best and I love him for that 

plus, the pair he keeps buying are cool.

they're cool shoes. 

they say you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes 

so maybe that explains why my sister wears the same ones every day 

and why my brother only wears the ones his friends wear

and why I take so long to pick mine out in the morning.

this is not a love poem

this isn't a love poem.

this is a poem about cactus popped basketballs and wool blankets,

2 hour bike rides and 25 cent trinkets,

too many years of thoughts that never got to taste the sunlight,

or dance on the tips of your lips.

too young to be behind the wheel,

but perfectly young to know what it is to feel.

this is about betrayal and heartbreak and beds that we never found time to make.

slurred rants to anyone who would listen 

and hour long meetings our mothers made us sit in.

this is about trying not to care when she puts her fingers through your hair

and looking at each other for just a second too long.

perfections not needed for something to be grand, 

but it's constantly fighting for that coveted upper-hand.

this is about sugar and spice and everything nice 

about memorizing your eyes and seeing them whenever i closed mine

about constantly saying "i'm fine i'm fine i'm fine"

this is about learning that just because someone stops thinking you're incredible

doesn't mean you ever stopped being incredible.

maybe this is a poem about fear and youth and learning the truth

about trial and error and always messy hair

but this isn't a love poem.

yo yo yo

beatrice who eats oatmeal every morning 

who's little sister is cooler than her 

and who rarely brushes her hair 

who thinks coconut water is really gross and who is trying to like mushrooms 

beatrice who loves when you read your poetry to the class 

who kills every plant she owns 

and thinks about your feelings a lot 

beatrice who cut off her hair and pretends she doesn't regret it 

who prefers cloudy days over sunny 

and who sings until she loses her voice 

beatrice who loves to hike and hates to rollerskate 

who loves the word Cadillac

and hates when people can't swallow their pride 

beatrice who usually goes by olive

olive daphne sunderlage 

bite-size

i want to give you something new and something real
i want to give you a serving sized portion of my heart and i want you to eat it all in one bite
and i want you to ask for seconds and thirds and fourths and fifths
i want to give you a VIP pass to the workings of my brain and i want you to sit back and take it all in

but i just can't

because you see it's world war three and it's my brain versus me
you've gotta fight, my brain tells me, you gotta win you gotta fight
you gotta take all that power, all that beauty, all that might
and turn it into something more than a song written for someone who will never hear it

but i just can't

because i've written chorus upon chorus and song after song after song
but they all sound the same and i'm trying to find someone to blame it on
it's gotta be someone's fault because i'm telling you, it's not mine
but they keep giving me lineups to pick out the criminal
and all i can see is my reflection in their eyes

so i'm sorry that i can't give you a poem that you'll put on your wall
and i'm sorry that i can't take the blame for it
but you have to understand that we're on act 3 of a 10 part play
and this is the battle scene
and you've got your ammunition and your spears
and all my mama gave me was a pencil that's already broken
and a heart too big and too red for all of this

something new: tunes

Playwright Fate- I Blame Coco

I Blame Coco is my favorite music discovery. 

She has such a unique voice, unlike any I've ever heard.

She's Sting's daughter. You can kind of tell by her voice. 

Anthems For A 17 Year Old Girl- Broken Social Scene

This was the first concert I've ever been to. 

They opened for Feist and I was only 8 so I don't remember much.

I remember falling asleep on the stairs that lead to the stage,

and liking this song a whole lot. 

It's been a favorite song ever since.

Baby I'm Yours cover - Arctic Monkeys

This is just the cutest.

Alex Turner's voice was hand crafted by God.

Between The Bars- Elliot Smith

Elliot is my all-time favorite artist. 

His music is so deeply emotional and beautiful and everything.

I love this live recording of one of my favorite songs of his.

Sweetheart, what have you done to us - Keaton Henson

He is beautiful and his voice is beautiful. 

The second video is him reciting a poem and it's really cute.

It says a swear and I'm sorry kinda.

3 AM sprints up the stairs

in 3rd grade i was afraid of bees and in 6th grade i was afraid of change and in 8th grade i was afraid of boys and in 10th grade i was afraid of myself and in 11th grade i was afraid of time and now i'm almost done with 12th grade and i'm still afraid of all of those things but in 2 months i'll have to be afraid of them on my own. 

a teenage shoot-'em-up

I'm tired of taking bullets for you

what?

I'm tired of it 

what are you talking about

come on, just come on 

we have to get going 

you think I'm going to fall for this again

I said I'm tired of taking bullets for you 

It didn't mean anything

you know I love you babe

everybody's waiting in the car 

let's go

I don't want to go

I'm hungry 

there will be food there, darling 

I love you 

let's go

I just want you to give me something 

give me something that's not a pain in my chest 

give me warmth or thrill or a trophy

because I've been chasin' for so long 

been runnin' from bullets for so long 

and my knees are all scraped up 

got shin splints real bad 

because this whole time 

I thought I was saving you

I thought I was taking those bullets for you

that's why I kept getting back up 

the doctor always thinks it's a miracle

i recover so fast

but it's because i got places to be

lovers to save

bullets to take

but baby you bought those bullets 

hell, you bought the gun 

you loaded it 

you're the bad guy 

it was you firing all along 

and I'm just so tired of taking bullets for you 

that's not life

today my dad told me that he didn't like his job 

he followed it up with 

"you know, that's just life" 

but

I don't think that that's what life is 

I don't think you need to settle 

I don't think you have to be stuck doing something you don't love

I refuse to believe that I have to live a life of mediocrity 

I hope when I'm 42 I can tell my daughter that I love what I do and I love what I've done 

that I wouldn't want to be anyone or anything else

and that that's life. 

I guess I just don't want to live a "well, that's life" life. 

shovels and testaments

he taught me a lot about love 

and how it twists and turns 

how it rolls over in bed to be closer 

and how it hardly ever learns 

the bible didn't warn me about heartbreak 

and neither did the preacher 

he taught me about God and prayer 

that I should always dig deeper deeper deeper

but our love, our love digs 2,000 inches deep 

and stretches 5,000 miles wide 

and no chronicle and no testament can make me long 

to be anywhere but right there by his side 

and i miss you more than words

it was 9:14 when my mom got the call

she ran sobbing into my room

and when she told me 

i didn't believe her 

"no he didn't. no he didn't. no he didn't."

not him

not him

me and my sister

we didn't talk for 3 days 

i think she was afraid she would say something wrong

i was just afraid of breaking down

i've driven past your house every day 

hoping i'd see you in the yard

just like i always used to 

but all i see is a sad swing set

and a flood of memories that never ease the pain

i'm afraid to speak to your mom

what do you say to a mother

with a 17 year-old son sized hole in her heart

that she'll spend her whole life trying to mend

she's been knocked down so many times 

but she keeps getting up

i know you love her with all of your heart

i know you love her with all of your heart

i'm trying not to be angry

at people who are moving on too quickly

and teachers who never said a word about it

and god who let it happen

because i know we're all trying our best

and these things are hard to talk about 

but god, please send him all of my heart-broken love

and tell him again that i love his curly hair

please tell him that i love his smile

and the way he'd get excited when he told stories

please tell him that 

please tell him that

i've cried a sea every day since he left us

and i'm starting to forget how to swim

like a ton of bricks

we started to lay bricks on a thursday

it was a master plan

you said you wanted to build a tower so tall you could kiss the sky

and i wanted whatever you wanted 

so i put my hair up

you put your gloves on

and we got to work

brick by brick we built what i thought was a beautiful love

but to you was just a stunning piece of architecture

it was breathtaking, really

people would stand and stare for hours to watch us build

but baby i played all my aces too soon 

and i ran out of ways to convince you that these bricks have nothing to do with me 

they never did 

we forgot to use mortar 

and it was our fatal flaw

as soon as the cold winds started to blow

our towering establishment fell to the ground

and whether it was my beautiful love or your stunning piece of architecture

we lost it all

the crowds scattered

i took down my hair

and sighed a long sigh of relief 

because i'm afraid of heights

and blue never really was my color 

(just trust me on this one)

when i was really little, i was hung up over not being able to tie my shoelaces
every morning i would try,
but they always came undone and left me with a pair of scraped knees and bruised elbows
i beat my self up over it every single day
and i'd lock myself in my room for hours just trying to get my uncoordinated little fingers to figure my way through what seemed like an impossible maze of loops and holes
i realize now that my problem could have been fixed by my mom's bulk-sized patience
and a little bit of velcro
but at the time it felt important
so it was.

when i was in junior high, the boy i loved, loved my best friend
it felt like the ground was crumbling beneath my feet
and every time i saw either of them,
the heart that i displayed comfortably on my sleeve,
fell right off and quickly through that collapsing terrain
now i realize he was not worth the heartache
and definitely not worth losing a friend
but at the time it felt important
so it was.

two winters ago i felt sad
not go-ride-your-bike-and-take-a-bath-and-you'll-feel-better sad,
it was an i've-been-sad-for-weeks-now-and-i-have-no-idea-why sad
but i kept hearing people's opinions
about how people who say they are sad are "emo" or "too sensitive" or "only asking for attention"
so i didn't really say much about it
and like other hard things, it passed
but at the time it felt important
so it was.

there will be people who make you feel bad about feeling things
there will be people who tell you your sadness isn't real
and that you need to just "get over it"
but rubbing dirt in the wound and biting your tongue is only going to give you an infection and a whole lot of canker sores

i'm here to tell you that your feelings are real and they are important

you are allowed to feel your feelings.

cross my heart hope to die

I love unfinished poetry and unmade beds. 

I love when people begin a sentence and abandon it when they realize they don't know what they want to say. 

I love holes punched through the wall because the girl loves someone else.

 I love the sound people make when they see a falling star. 

I love when they spit when they talk and then apologize for it. 

I love mascara-smeared eyes and shaky-voiced 2 AM confessions. 

I love kisses where teeth collide. 

I fall in love with people in their most honest and vulnerable moments,

 I fall in love with their stained blue jeans and slipped curse words and guilty pleasures. 

Honesty is a reminder that we're surviving, that we've survived a lot of things, and that we'll probably survive whatever comes next. 

Honesty is letting the rain fall and not worrying about getting wet. 

a haiku for every boy i've ever kissed

 

I
flip phone in my hand
heart pounding out of my chest
young love's just too weak

II
two of our talents
were keeping our secrets and
having too many

III
a reckless daydream
you were cold nights and long hikes
never safe or sound

IV
a naive heartbreak
i swear on my life you were
my biggest mistake

V
on long summer nights
we drove fast and kissed slowly
and I felt nothing

VI
you were an expert
at using logarithms
as well as people

VII
goosebumps and cold hands
i still don't know your full name
I don't even care

VIII
forty minute drive
you came to me every week
but I never you

IX
unrequited love
fingers deep in curly hair
now we never speak

X
three lines of a poem
couldn't explain the feeling
that still hasn't left

XI
cold and trembling hands
you said you used wikihow

but you never learned

you had me at 10100110100

sometimes i think i might be a robot... but maybe that's just high school. i don't want to be a robot. i want to love and hurt and cough and sneeze and buy plane tickets.

how i know i might not be a robot:

1. my heart beats. it beats really fast when i'm on roller coasters and when beautiful people look at my eyes. it beats really slow when i'm sleeping i think. but i don't really know that much about science.

2. i'm bad at math. i thought i was good at math until math got hard. robots are good at math.

3. tears come out of my face and i can't choose when they do.

4. i want things that aren't good for me. i want taco bell and attention from mean boys. i want red velvet cake and i want to stay up until 2 every night. i don't want to wear my retainer and i don't want to eat kale. mom if you're reading this i don't want to eat kale.

5. i can't recharge myself for energy. sometimes i sleep for 10 hours and wake up at 5% battery life. sometimes i sleep for 2 hours and wake up at 100% and ready to run, run, run.

7. when my headphones get all tangled up i can untangle them and it only frustrates me a little bit.

8. i skipped number 6. 

9. i don't have to remind myself to inhale and exhale. i take that back. sometimes i do.

10. i get tired of chasing after people. 

11. i color outside the lines.

12. i can feel and hear and smell and see. i don't know if robots can do that, but i know they don't smell ashes and think about spring break in the mountains.

maybe 12 11 reasons isn't enough but i'm tired and i have to go brush my teeth.

the calendar kids

February we met. it was so loud but you were so calm. you just patted your heart to the music, like he told me you would. i looked at you and you looked at the ground. i'd never seen someone so graceful but so bold. you told me i had pretty eyes and i forgot how to use my hands.

March we kissed. we kissed on couches we kissed in trees we kissed in cars and in forests and at the top of mountains. your hands were so soft -- i learned that in february -- but in march i learned that your heart was too.

April we fell. we fell and we fell hard. i fell for your lyrics and your patience. you told me that if you never saw me again, you'd spend the rest of your life searching for someone who could make you feel the way i do. we soared so high, knowing how far we'd fall. then we soared higher and fell further.

May we learned. i learned about the scars on your wrists and the girl that made them worse and what happened with your mom; you learned how to open up.

June we learned how to be apart. it was only a couple weeks at a time. you'd always whisper "we'll be just fine" over the phone and i believed it. i sure as hell believed it because your smile put stars in the sky and your voice put the moon to sleep.

July we explored. we climbed mountains and we swam in water that gave us goosebumps. we drove hours and stayed up till 3 am practicing what we learned in march. we missed trains and didn't care because that meant an excuse to sit and talk for hours longer than our curfews allowed. we'd fallen so far that i wasn't sure if we'd ever hit the ground. i thought maybe we wouldn't. i prayed that we wouldn't.

August you left. you left and 1,000 junes could never have prepared me for it.



now it's February all over again and i always pat my heart to the music -- but when i turn to look at you -- you're never there to look at the ground. oh, how i'd kill just to watch you look at the ground.

sun glow, electric lime, robin egg blue, periwinkle, razzmatazz

i once had a teacher who docked points if you doodled on your papers

she said that flowers distracted from what was really important
what was really important was math

was equations 

capitols 

grammar 

spelling 

but I thought flowers were important

so I doodled 

and I lost points 

don't let the parents get you down
don't let public school get you down
don't let 12 years of adults putting creativity caps on your head and giving you compliments like
"math looks so good on you."
"has anyone ever told you that you would look beautiful in physics?"
"this geography really makes your eyes pop!"
get you down

they took away my crayon boxes and told me to use pencil instead of pen in case I made a mistake
they made me spell "creativity" and "imagination" out loud
they taught me the definitions

and tested me on it every week
but they never told me to try it on

and they never told me it made my legs look long 

or that it complimented my skin 

they took away your crayons when you left third grade but now they're scattered all over the floor of nelson's room so now's your time

to pick one up

and draw some flowers.