http://eelyah.tumblr.com/
I'm going to be posting my writings and such on this blog. It's got a lot more features than blogger and it copyrights everything you post, so that's why I'm moving it there. I'll probably still post little thoughts on this one since it's more private, but I've let a lot more people know about the other one so it'll be getting more hits. Smell ya later.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
things that rock
my new overpriced faux leather jacket
Puma Punku
books
kettle chips
jonny craig
record players
girl, interrupted
my sweet ride. or bicycles in general.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
The first time I met him I was at my friend Stephen’s house. Stephen had an older sister Heather, who was even more intimidating than she was beautiful and needless to say I did my best to avoid her. He was one of Heather’s close friends and somehow we all ended up hanging out together in their maid’s room which seemed to be neutral ground to the siblings and their acquaintances. There were no official introductions which is how most social gatherings go when you’re fifteen. You just watch to see whose head turns when a name is called and then there’s always the awkwardness of knowing when it’s appropriate to call them by their name since you never formally exchanged them. His best friend pointed out the prominent tattoo between his shoulder blades which spelled out in a beautiful cursive current, lyrics I recognized that read “If everything could ever feel this real forever, If anything could ever be this good again” and below it the name of a woman and numbers that I assumed to be birth and death dates.
“Who’s Lori?”
“My mom.”
In his tone there was a trace of longing and a dash of pain that I seemed to have been the only one to take notice of.
The first night I met him was also the first night he slept in my bed. Despite whatever his intentions may have been I stayed a virgin for another two years. The strange thing was, regardless of the impression I was given he didn’t even attempt to touch me. I was lying there so fervently, propped up on one elbow half listening to him speak and half mesmerized by how absolutely beautiful he was. His features seemed hand sculpted with immense precision by the most endowed face makers in history. His jaw line curved at the perfect angle, his complexion was so clear and radiant that I couldn’t for a second pry my eyes from his face. And there in so natural a pose, lying on his back staring at the ceiling, entranced in his own story, could I really and truly see him in a way I hadn’t a few hours before. Flustered and all too eager I inclined my torso down to him and pressed my lips to his which were surprised at first and then quickly became comfortable with the shape of mine. My impulsivity astonished me. I’d never been one to make myself vulnerable.
I was smitten. He officially asked me to be his on an exceptionally dark November night, or rather suggested it.
“We should go out.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Well, I’m asking.”
“Okay. Sure.”
I sat in my room gazing at the walls, and forced myself to grasp what I was doing. Say it, the trembling voice in my head said to me. Say it out loud. Three minutes passed. “Say it!” Two minutes passed. This time, the tone I used wasn’t as secure, but by God was it sure, “I’m setting myself up, damnit. This one’s gonna hurt.”
Everywhere we went there was a second of silence as they took in his exquisiteness, and then another for them to become conscious of his perfect fingers interlaced with mine. We were incessantly complimented on how ideal we looked together. I grew accustomed to saying “Thank you” numerous times per day when classmates and even teachers threw admiring comments at the photographs on my notebook. We were in a utopia of excellence and exhilaration. The air took on a sense of optimism that was foreign to me, and it lingered everywhere I would go.
One particular night I called him over to discuss a rumor of infidelity. The second I told him we needed to talk he exclaimed, “Is this about Margaux?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s not true.”
“Ah, of course. You still need to come over so we can talk about it.”
When he walked in my room I felt as if he were intruding on my safe haven. Of course he had been there innumerable times in the six months we’d been dating, but in this specific moment he was the last thing I wanted there. Handwritten notes and stuffed animals from him had filled every inch of blank space. Pictures of us tacked to the three pink walls, ticket stubs of shows we’d been to together stuck to the one black wall, and a typed letter declaring his love for me fixed right above where I rested my head while I slept. I sat on my floral comforter where we’d laid abreast evening after uneventful evening until I fell half asleep, still able to feel him pull the blanket up to my ears, give my forehead a subservient peck and then tip-toe unnoticed out the front door.
“It’s not true. Nothing happened.”
“I don’t want to be the paranoid girlfriend here, and I know you two were friends long before I met you. So you didn’t have sex with her?”
“God, no. We’re just good friends.”
“If she’s so great of a friend then why is she saying things like that? She doesn’t like me, does she?”
“No, no, she likes you just fine.”
“Well then I suggest you tell her to stop saying it. Like, now. Go call her.”
“Okay.”
I inched closer to the black wall, wishing it would suck me right in so I wouldn’t have to put the pieces that fit so perfectly together. My best friend came in after that, asking how it went.
“Is he still here?”
“Yeah, he’s just in the living room on the phone with that girl. So what, do you think he did it?”
“He said he didn’t. I told him to go set her straight. I just don’t see why she would make that up.”
“You should talk to him some more. Want me to bring him back in here?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Before I had time to conjure up what else I could say to him he came bursting through my door, tears rolling down his face and that beautiful head of hair going every which way as if he’d been running his fingers through it for hours.
“I-I can’t! I can’t lie! Not to you. I can’t. I did it. It’s true! I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I never meant for it to happen. I don’t care about her; I don’t give a damn about her! You’re everything to me. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it happened. Fuck! Oh, God what have I done!”
In that moment something came in my room and took me away. The words were so far away and I could barely make them out. Didn’t mean to. Couldn’t do it. True. Stupid. Love. Sorry. Her. The air transformed into a foul, opaque remainder of something I used to believe was beautiful. It was as if God had changed. I stumbled and staggered over my next few words, sure that I must have scraped my elbow trying to get them out.
“What? What? What did you do! Oh my God! What did you do!”
He tried to touch my arm and with feeble force I expected to come out much more vigorously, I shoved him away. I’d never seen one person so completely broken in my entire life. Irrepressible sobbing was the background music for our circumstances.
“Why! Why did you do it! What’s wrong with me, Alex! Why am I not good enough? What did I do?”
“No! God, no, it’s not you! It was never you, you’re perfect. You…you’ve filled the hole my mom left, Haylee. You’ve brought me back. You’re amazing; it’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m an idiot. It’s me. Oh my God I am so sorry. I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”
I pondered those words as thoroughly as I could, then ran to my bathroom and threw up. When he looked at me again I saw pieces missing from his eyes and more than I ever wanted anything in my life, I wanted to seize him in my embrace and tell him it was alright.
“Get out. Get out of my house, we’re through. You don’t love me. Don’t fucking touch me. Get out!”
“No. No no no no Haylee, please. God, please don’t. I-I- oh my God. I can’t be without you. Please. Please I’ll do anything just don’t do this.”
“Me? I haven’t done a thing. You’ve done it all yourself.”
The proceeding week I collected flowers sent to my school and came home to find notes on my bed professing his inmost apologies along with admissions of relentless anguish and regret. On the eighth day of despair I found him sitting on the steps leading to my house and I was sure he hadn’t stopped crying since I last saw him. Here I realized we would never be the same, that we couldn’t relive the start or foresee an effortless course. But love is a filthy, rugged, agonizing, wondrous thing and I couldn’t elude it. If everything could ever feel this real forever, it would never be this good again.
“Who’s Lori?”
“My mom.”
In his tone there was a trace of longing and a dash of pain that I seemed to have been the only one to take notice of.
The first night I met him was also the first night he slept in my bed. Despite whatever his intentions may have been I stayed a virgin for another two years. The strange thing was, regardless of the impression I was given he didn’t even attempt to touch me. I was lying there so fervently, propped up on one elbow half listening to him speak and half mesmerized by how absolutely beautiful he was. His features seemed hand sculpted with immense precision by the most endowed face makers in history. His jaw line curved at the perfect angle, his complexion was so clear and radiant that I couldn’t for a second pry my eyes from his face. And there in so natural a pose, lying on his back staring at the ceiling, entranced in his own story, could I really and truly see him in a way I hadn’t a few hours before. Flustered and all too eager I inclined my torso down to him and pressed my lips to his which were surprised at first and then quickly became comfortable with the shape of mine. My impulsivity astonished me. I’d never been one to make myself vulnerable.
I was smitten. He officially asked me to be his on an exceptionally dark November night, or rather suggested it.
“We should go out.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Well, I’m asking.”
“Okay. Sure.”
I sat in my room gazing at the walls, and forced myself to grasp what I was doing. Say it, the trembling voice in my head said to me. Say it out loud. Three minutes passed. “Say it!” Two minutes passed. This time, the tone I used wasn’t as secure, but by God was it sure, “I’m setting myself up, damnit. This one’s gonna hurt.”
Everywhere we went there was a second of silence as they took in his exquisiteness, and then another for them to become conscious of his perfect fingers interlaced with mine. We were incessantly complimented on how ideal we looked together. I grew accustomed to saying “Thank you” numerous times per day when classmates and even teachers threw admiring comments at the photographs on my notebook. We were in a utopia of excellence and exhilaration. The air took on a sense of optimism that was foreign to me, and it lingered everywhere I would go.
One particular night I called him over to discuss a rumor of infidelity. The second I told him we needed to talk he exclaimed, “Is this about Margaux?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s not true.”
“Ah, of course. You still need to come over so we can talk about it.”
When he walked in my room I felt as if he were intruding on my safe haven. Of course he had been there innumerable times in the six months we’d been dating, but in this specific moment he was the last thing I wanted there. Handwritten notes and stuffed animals from him had filled every inch of blank space. Pictures of us tacked to the three pink walls, ticket stubs of shows we’d been to together stuck to the one black wall, and a typed letter declaring his love for me fixed right above where I rested my head while I slept. I sat on my floral comforter where we’d laid abreast evening after uneventful evening until I fell half asleep, still able to feel him pull the blanket up to my ears, give my forehead a subservient peck and then tip-toe unnoticed out the front door.
“It’s not true. Nothing happened.”
“I don’t want to be the paranoid girlfriend here, and I know you two were friends long before I met you. So you didn’t have sex with her?”
“God, no. We’re just good friends.”
“If she’s so great of a friend then why is she saying things like that? She doesn’t like me, does she?”
“No, no, she likes you just fine.”
“Well then I suggest you tell her to stop saying it. Like, now. Go call her.”
“Okay.”
I inched closer to the black wall, wishing it would suck me right in so I wouldn’t have to put the pieces that fit so perfectly together. My best friend came in after that, asking how it went.
“Is he still here?”
“Yeah, he’s just in the living room on the phone with that girl. So what, do you think he did it?”
“He said he didn’t. I told him to go set her straight. I just don’t see why she would make that up.”
“You should talk to him some more. Want me to bring him back in here?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Before I had time to conjure up what else I could say to him he came bursting through my door, tears rolling down his face and that beautiful head of hair going every which way as if he’d been running his fingers through it for hours.
“I-I can’t! I can’t lie! Not to you. I can’t. I did it. It’s true! I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I never meant for it to happen. I don’t care about her; I don’t give a damn about her! You’re everything to me. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it happened. Fuck! Oh, God what have I done!”
In that moment something came in my room and took me away. The words were so far away and I could barely make them out. Didn’t mean to. Couldn’t do it. True. Stupid. Love. Sorry. Her. The air transformed into a foul, opaque remainder of something I used to believe was beautiful. It was as if God had changed. I stumbled and staggered over my next few words, sure that I must have scraped my elbow trying to get them out.
“What? What? What did you do! Oh my God! What did you do!”
He tried to touch my arm and with feeble force I expected to come out much more vigorously, I shoved him away. I’d never seen one person so completely broken in my entire life. Irrepressible sobbing was the background music for our circumstances.
“Why! Why did you do it! What’s wrong with me, Alex! Why am I not good enough? What did I do?”
“No! God, no, it’s not you! It was never you, you’re perfect. You…you’ve filled the hole my mom left, Haylee. You’ve brought me back. You’re amazing; it’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m an idiot. It’s me. Oh my God I am so sorry. I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”
I pondered those words as thoroughly as I could, then ran to my bathroom and threw up. When he looked at me again I saw pieces missing from his eyes and more than I ever wanted anything in my life, I wanted to seize him in my embrace and tell him it was alright.
“Get out. Get out of my house, we’re through. You don’t love me. Don’t fucking touch me. Get out!”
“No. No no no no Haylee, please. God, please don’t. I-I- oh my God. I can’t be without you. Please. Please I’ll do anything just don’t do this.”
“Me? I haven’t done a thing. You’ve done it all yourself.”
The proceeding week I collected flowers sent to my school and came home to find notes on my bed professing his inmost apologies along with admissions of relentless anguish and regret. On the eighth day of despair I found him sitting on the steps leading to my house and I was sure he hadn’t stopped crying since I last saw him. Here I realized we would never be the same, that we couldn’t relive the start or foresee an effortless course. But love is a filthy, rugged, agonizing, wondrous thing and I couldn’t elude it. If everything could ever feel this real forever, it would never be this good again.
Monday, October 5, 2009
all i ever wanted
"I know I treated you like shit and i feel awful about it and still do. I just wished I never did that cause you were really good to me. hell you're entire family was. I just want things to be resolved as much as you do."
that's all i EVER wanted you to acknowledge.
that's all i EVER wanted you to acknowledge.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Final Product
You and me, we’re all we’ve got,
Watching everyone we love falsify their thoughts.
Tracing back the merciless months,
I know ‘em like the back of my hand-
The unbearable desolation we tested firsthand.
There’s diamonds in the dirtiest places,
And stars in the blackest skies,
Devastated outcomes revealing the mightiest ties.
It’s been a long time getting up from such,
Testing ourselves and everyone we see,
Challenging them to disagree,
With what we’ve crafted of an old friendship,
Sending them sailing on a distant guilt trip.
A thousand praises I’m indebted to you,
You’re the greatest thing to ever happen upon me,
All the kept promises you’ve forced me to see.
The road’s obstructed with opposing declarations,
But it’s so bright that I can see through the breaks,
And let me tell you it’s beautiful despite the mistakes.
We’ll never have a place here,
Still lost our head in the clouds never daring to come down,
Outliving them all, now the talk of the town.
We’ve raised and dragged each other this far,
Breaking and scraping to get where we are.
The way I see it we’ll never look back,
And if we do it’ll be the slightest peek,
Only to recall our great triumph streak.
Watching everyone we love falsify their thoughts.
Tracing back the merciless months,
I know ‘em like the back of my hand-
The unbearable desolation we tested firsthand.
There’s diamonds in the dirtiest places,
And stars in the blackest skies,
Devastated outcomes revealing the mightiest ties.
It’s been a long time getting up from such,
Testing ourselves and everyone we see,
Challenging them to disagree,
With what we’ve crafted of an old friendship,
Sending them sailing on a distant guilt trip.
A thousand praises I’m indebted to you,
You’re the greatest thing to ever happen upon me,
All the kept promises you’ve forced me to see.
The road’s obstructed with opposing declarations,
But it’s so bright that I can see through the breaks,
And let me tell you it’s beautiful despite the mistakes.
We’ll never have a place here,
Still lost our head in the clouds never daring to come down,
Outliving them all, now the talk of the town.
We’ve raised and dragged each other this far,
Breaking and scraping to get where we are.
The way I see it we’ll never look back,
And if we do it’ll be the slightest peek,
Only to recall our great triumph streak.
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