Party like It's the End of the World.

i don't really know what to say about this year,
besides events and stories and little bits that pop in now and again.
i try to think of one giant moral, some lesson that reoccured throughout these months of two thousand twelve.
i guess the lesson that i've learned this year is to live.
to be happy with the little things and to grow from the big things.

i can easily remember how this year has affected me.
so many things have happened, and sometimes it's weird to think of how much.
because to me, it still feels the same.
day after day, it feels like the same, old life i've been living for eighteen years.

but some things have influenced how i live today than from years before.

this year i...
obtained my first perfect grade point average.
made my friendship with my best friend stronger than it's ever been.
began my first real relationship.
graduated from high school.
witnessed a real protest with cops and arrests and everything.
walked in a giant rioting mob.
fell in love.
moved out of the house i grew up in.
and started my life as a real, full fledged adult.

i just can't believe that so many things have happened in these seemingly short 52 weeks.
it boggles my mind just to think about it.
to think what would happen if one of those large events had never come to pass.
and i know they wouldn't without the people in my life standing by my side.

i know i did this last year, but New Years Eve feels like a holiday to make note of special occasions and the people you care about.

so we'll start with W.
this isn't just a person, but a group of people.
i love them with all of my heart.
i don't think i would be the person i am today without the kindness and support these people have brought me through so many years.
i never felt uncomfortable or afraid or even sad around them.
all there were was smiles and hugs.
i'll never forget what family means because of them.

M.
even though sometimes she is stupid, i can't help but laugh when she makes noises.
or focus all of my attention when she tells me about what's new.
she lives far away from me and we don't talk all that much,
but i still remember how she was there for me when no one else was.
and i could never ever give that up.
she makes mistakes, but that just makes her human.
just like me.

M and D.
i love these people, and have since i couldn't even stand.
they support me through out everything, and even though some people think it's odd,
i tell them about my life.
i let them know how i feel, whether i'm screaming it or crying in a soft whisper.
i would never have survived without their care and concern.

H.
i cannot describe how much i love this girl, and how great of a friend she's been.
i'm away, but she still calls and wonders how i am.
i'm so grateful for this tie.
and i know it will never break.
she's the one i need in times of trouble, and the one i want to vent my shit to.
she's my best friend.
and a part of my family.

S.
it's indescribable, how i feel about this person.
i never noticed how big of a part he was in my life until he kept showing up to see me.
he's taught me so much about adventure, and nature, and history.
i feel like i act like him more and more everyday.
and i'm okay with that.
i've never felt completely safe, and he tries his best to protect me.
i wouldn't ask for a better person to fall for.

all of them, every single one, impacts me in one way or another.
i don't think people change because of random things that happen,
i think they change by the people that influence those things.
that influence your thoughts and your way of thought.

but i can still say that i am, deep in there, the same person that i was last year.
or the years before.
but the difference between those years and now is that i have grown.
i have grown, and i still have room, to become the person i want to and am supposed to be.
and it was because of those people that i have in my heart.

so as this year comes with a close,
with laughs,
with goodbyes,
i'll know that 2012 was not a year to forget.

with love and light,
eve morgan

Unknown.

i'm not quite sure what to talk about today.
what's been going on just seems too generic.
i mean, my posting shouldn't just be what's happening,
like an answer to a "what did you do today?"
or a redundant answer to "how are you".
"good, you?"
"good".

it's the same thing over and over again.
and i don't like to be the same.
or to repeat myself.

the love of my life is coming home today.
that's something to report.
or the fact that finals are in two weeks,
and i still have yet to prepare.

i feel like the climatic scene of this year still hasn't come to pass.
not something that i find myself proud in anyhow.
there have been significant events,
just no accomplishments to go with them.

i mean, yes, finishing the first semester of college seems like an achievement,
some award that i should be given,
saying "yay, you did it!" and i would grin and hold it up in the air,
for everyone to see.

but there should be no trophies for simply doing homework and taking tests.
especially when it didn't seem that difficult.
trophies should be earned, not just tossed to you for being "good".
when i answer the "how are you" question,
i want to give that person an essay of answers.
not just the generic or the mundane.
i do not simply want to be average.

i want to be more than that.
i want to enjoy my life, see the things that most people do not,
follow the rabbit hole into the unknown,
and be able to use less muscles in my face than i have to.
"did you know that you use less muscles to smile than to frown?"

so why does my face like to over-exert itself?

i feel like exploration is the easiest answer to this issue.
people always have the most enjoyment when discovering new things.
gives them a sense of purpose.
something that states, "hey, this is why you're here."

i don't know where i wanna go.
i don't know what i want to do.
i'm not even sure why i'm here.

but the only way to figure out those questions.
is to step out,
and follow something unfamiliar.
to take a step,
into the unknown.

Gratitude.

home.
that word cultivates so much meaning,
that sometimes
it feels like just letters
smacked together to present comfort.
some solace.
some peace.

over the course of these five days,
they have been full.
have been boring,
so many assignments and trials
and episodes of Weeds.

so this is where you fell
and i am left to sell
the path to Heaven runs through miles of clouded Hell right to the top
don't look back
turning to rags and giving the commodities a rain check

my minds been whirring quicker and quicker,
and i feel like i'm going to explode.

the board has contained less words, thank god.
crossing over accomplishments, slashed through like cuts,
and as the trials are erased,
there is still a scar,
just like the discoloration on my right knee.
it's unnatural.
it's unwanted.
but the abnormality is now a part of you,
just like how the many abnormalities are a part of me.

i hope that these next 9 to 12 days,
are filled with relaxation instead of grief.
that all this work and pressure and compromise
can be replaced with pleasure, serenity, and giving.
i mean, that's what Thanksgiving is all about right?

giving thanks.

i don't ever wanna let you down
i don't ever wanna leave this town
'cause after all this city never sleeps at night

for some reason, my mind, separate from my soul,
likes to worry and stress and freak.
i'm screaming at myself to stop,
but i keep pushing, breathing heavy, sweat beading on my forehead,
for a prize that i know that i've already won.
i just have to keep reminding myself that.

i know what i am thankful for,
and i guess in the anxiety of returning to the place that held my everything,
that held me,
i'm beginning to remember the good things.
the great things.
and i start to forget the bad things about the city.

i'm thankful. i'm grateful.
for my family, supporting me with every stupid decision or idea i have.
for my books, oddly enough, for teaching me more about the passion that i have gotten more and more obsessed with.
for my best friend, because without her guidance, i know i would be worse off than now.
for all of the friendly God lovers, holding my hands when i needed something to grasp.
for Him himself, never wavering, always watching over me.
and for the boy, no, man, that accepted me for who i am and still is willing to stick around.

i keep asking for more, expecting more, wanting more.
but i know i already have everything i need.

i just need to keep reminding myself of that.

Three Syllables.

i often dream of what it'll be like.
what it will be like to run,
to jump, to squeal, to smile
so wide that i feel like my cheeks could
burst like balloons.
i dream of how so many butterflies
will emerge inside me
and how my heart rate will quicken,
and how i won't believe it,
how i can't believe that i've just seen
your face.

miles and miles and miles away,
i can still feel the goosebumps rising on my skin
when you breathe in my ear,

i can hear your laughter ringing from a distance of states,
as if you were only three feet next to me.

i imagine that look,
that one of wonder and of fondness,
that look of love you gave me,
when i tilted my head and asked "what?".

i knew it before you even could catch a glimpse.
how much you cared and how much you felt.
how out of all the pieces of the puzzle,
i was the biggest one in your eyes.

i try to wrap my head around how i could be so attached.
so obsessed.
so infatuated.
and so in love.

it scares me, this feeling.
this feeling that bounces back at me again and again,
without warrant and without connection.
it's just there.
never wavering.

all i want to tell you is how i miss the glory in your eyes.
or the way your jawline feels when my fingers trace it.
i want to tell you how the slightest imagine of you sends my mind reeling,
reeling with memories
of hiding underneath the covers,
my head resting on your shoulders,
or the way your voice shook when you told me those words.

those 3 syllables convey so much meaning.
and i knew that just by seeing you sleep.
so open and so vulnerable.
i just couldn't believe that i had that there.
next to me.
letting me look into
what most people find as solitary.

knowing you so well is frightening,
and exciting at the same time.
i get giddy when i know
that you understand it the same.

you may find it different,
some things that i say may vary from yours,
but the way i feel
and the way you feel
are still on equal levels.

it's still the same love.

and i'll always believe that.

"Maybe 'Okay' Will Be Our Always" - John Green

okay.

Won't You Stay.

lovely girl won't you stay
won't you stay
stay with me
all my life i was blind
i was blind,
but now i see

i never really imagined how different it is.
being here, surrounded be these four walls,
walls which contained my home.
contained my sleep,
contained my lazy habits,
contained my tortured sighs,
and my constant breakdowns.

this was my space.
this was my privacy.

but now i'm a stranger.
it still calls to me, but now,
i cannot hear the sounds.

fleet of black
fleet of black limousines
these tinted machines
here comes the cavalcade

with armored cars
armored cars like berettas
flags on antennaes designed to keep me safe
keep me safe 

it's hard to even believe how 7 weeks have changed me.
molded me into something different,
replacing parts of me.
that, or just pushing some attributes into the closet.
like my love of creativity.
or my sense of laziness.

some parts i'd love to come back.
like the rush i get when i write for my own self.
or the smile that crosses my face when i find a funny paragraph in a book.
there's something about the written word that intrigues me.
but the way someone speaks them sends chills through my veins.
maybe that's why i'm so fascinated by film.

i don't know whether or not i find my writing as interesting as others.
but i know one thing: it's real.
so real that i sometimes scare myself.

but it's who i am.
how i write and how i speak my ideas,
does not need to be understood by anyone but myself.
thinking otherwise just leads to defeat.
and i know i am stronger than that.

t.v. cameras,
t.v. cameras and stagehands
american bandstand,
electric guitars

and he's singing songs,
singing songs for the lonely
all the girls with the room keys,
they know all his words by heart
by heart

my heart lies in different places.
in alamo.
in dublin.
in seattle.
in san diego.
and in san francisco.

my life is only just starting.
according to my paternal role model.
but the difference between him and i,
is that i know what's important.
and where the pieces of my heart should lie.
but the biggest piece,
the one that involves all my creative virtue,
belongs here.

in writing.

so that's how it will stay.
i just have to keep reminding myself,
that it will always be here.

thank you God, for telling me.
or else i would have been lost.

lovely girl, won't you stay
won't you stay
stay with me
all my life i was blind
i was blind,
but now i see

Infinite Ties.

i never wanted to let go.
holding your hands so tight, afraid that i was going to break your fingers.
i couldn't help the slipping tears,
falling onto
our non-breaking bond.

i heard the steps clacking on the concrete,
as mine clicked on the brick.
i didn't want to listen,
i wanted to run back.
i wanted you to take me in that beat up car,
and just drive until we hit day.

words mean more at night
like a song
and did you ever notice
the way light means more than it did all day long?

i woke up the next day with an empty feeling in my gut.
like a black hole was created in my chest,
right after you exited my reach.
i looked left, right.
alone in this foreign land that i'm forced to call home.

the only time it felt familiar was with you in it.
and without, it was just like the first day.
anxiety creeping in like a stranger,
and shaking,
something that i know when i'm scared.

i don't know whether seeing you that day made it better or made it worse.
because i was so entranced by your smile,
and so moved by your lips,
i forgot to remember that soon, you wouldn't arrive again.
at least,
not for a little while.

words mean more at night
light means more
like your hair and your face and your smile
and our bed and the dress that you wore

he's right, words do mean more at night.
and the light isn't just me.
you think that i'm special, that out of the both of us,
i'm the one that should be favored and deserving.
but that's not completely true.

i don't think i could even walk without your kindness beside me.
i couldn't laugh without your jokes, or without your smile.
there would be no thought without your interesting opinions.
everything about you is fascinating to me;
and you treat me like a princess everyday.

more than anyone ever has.

and i wish i could leave my bones and my skin
and float over the tired, tired sea
so that i could see you again

i'm trying to find a time in my life that was important before this.
before the whole existence of you.
but i can't.
not just in the romantic sense either.

conversations had never been easier.
and i was never scared to cry,
or tell you my darkest secrets.

sometimes you think that i don't tell you everything,
but everything i say to you is more than what i say to others.
the content might be short, but the meaning is pages and pages long.
with everybody else, it's just banter.
with you, it's about my dreams. it's about my wants and my passions.
it's about me; not the things that revolve around the world.

and that's important for you to know.
because someone i love deserves to know everything and anything about me.

so i'll send you my words
from the corners of my room
and though i write them by the light of day
please read them by the light of the moon

i'm going to begin writing to you personally.
with a postman and everything.
because that is showing how much i care.
not this.
this is just how i feel.
but i want to show you how i feel.

so just wait.
one's coming soon.

maybe you would leave too
and we'll blindly pass each other
floating over the ocean blue
just to find the warm bed of our lover

so i'll send you my words
from the corners of my room
and though i write them by the light of day
please read them by the light of the moon

You Gotta Have Faith.

last night i couldn't sleep.
after another long, hard conversation;
i slammed my phone in the charger, plugged my ears from the world,
and laid my head against the tiger,
just wishing that tomorrow could be a better day.

i did not get the rest that i so much needed,
that i so much deserved.

it's been only two weeks, but i feel like it's been months.
you're like Peter Pan's shadow, running away when you should be tucked under my feet.
i'm trying so desperately to catch you, but you keep slipping out of my grasp.

i can't be the only one chasing.

i want the world in my hands
i hate the beach
but i stand in california with my toes in the sand
use the sleeves on my sweater

let's have an adventure

you keep thinking none of this fazes me,
the distance.
the confusion.
the torture of love.

but i'm not as strong-willed as you think i am.
i still run rivers at night.

i imagine sitting here in bed, like i am now,
and i turn to look out the window to see you on the ground, there, waiting for me.
smiling with your snapback and your flannel.
and i jump, throwing everything that was in my lap to the side,
snatching keys, flipping doors open,
running so fast that i almost trip down the stairs.
and as the door automatically lets me through,
i pause,
so i can look at you.
and within seconds, i'm in your arms.
and we're together.

and if i may take your breath away
i don't mind if there's not much to say
sometimes the silence guards your mind
so move to a place far away

the goosebumps start race
the minute that my left hand meets your waist
and then i watched your face

see, that's the difference between you and me.
i'm not picturing a moment with you gone.
that thought replays in my head everyday,
because i believe that it will happen.

like i said before,
being able to kiss you,
hold your hand,
play with your hair,
jump on your back for a piggy-back ride,
wrestle with you,
talk to you,
whisper things to you;
that's what excites me.
that i'm able to, again and again,
be able to do that next time i see you.

that's what keeps me standing.
that's what helps me when i get upset,
or when i miss you.

you are here, stuck in my head,
never leaving, never ceasing,
and i know that's not just because of love.

it's because of friendship.
it's because of standing by,
every day, just there if i ever needed you.
you did that for four years.

i can't thank you enough for that.

it's too cold whoa
for you here
and now
so let me hold whoa
both your hands in the holes of my sweater

it'll all get better.
time is just a necessity.
you'll find your place in coffee central,
and i'll find mine with all the weirdos and Giant's fans.
but what connects us isn't conversation or calls or texts,
it's love.
it's thought.
and it's faith.

so have faith in me, and i'll have faith in you.
and if we do that,
nothing in this world will ever stop us.

In Your Eyes, Babe

                    

i sense a runner in the garden
although my judgements known to fail
once built a steamboat in a meadow
cos i'd forgotten how to sail

i moved into my college dorm room the other day.
it was all fun and games, moving my stuff all around.
books lining the shelves, bedspreads and sheets, clothes, coffee, desk paraphernalia...
and after everything was put away and unpacked;
this sinking feeling welled up in my gut.

and it still hasn't gone away.

i just feel like someone has shoved me out of my life, the one that i loved living, and pushed me into one that is scary, awkward, and foreign.
i don't like this feeling.

i know the runner's going to tell you
there ain't no cowboy in my hair
so now he's buried by the daisies 
so i could stay the tallest man in your eyes babe

i woke up today feeling like i'm at some sort of camp.
that the routine i'm pushing myself to do will just end,
and that all this stuff thrown out around me,
will be placed in the same suitcase, and i will take the same car,
and i'll drive myself home.

but this is my home now.

it's so hard to remember that.
but ten or twelve, or thirty days from now;
i won't feel like this.
i won't nauseate over the creeping anxiety running through my abdomen,
or the panicking breaths that i'm just beginning to know.

through out all of this, all this adjustment, all these new experiences, all these new people, new routines, new living areas, new food, new everything...
i'll still have some of the old to help get with all of the incoming new.
like my breakfast club poster.
or a cup of coffee from my favorite mug.
my tiger pillowpet.
a skype call from someone i love.
and calls from the people who raised me.

those things are what will get me by.
because i need the sentimental's.
no matter how different this "new beginning" or "new life" is.

but who knows?
college might just be the biggest trial of all.
or the biggest gift.

only time will tell.

Go Ask Alice, When She's Ten Feet Tall.

i read a book these past two days.

about a girl who just didn't know how to feel.

it hit home because the numbness running through her arms and legs;

ran through mine 720 + days ago.

i highlighted and marked it,

grasping any substance from this diary that shouldn't have been publicized.

i spent what would have been a lovely time on sand dunes with friends,

sticking my nose in the memories of this young adolescent.

this poor, ignorant, naive, sad, sad, soul.

but this is what she wrote that hit me.

bear with me, it will be long.

but it's what her heart wrote.

it's my birthday. i'm 15. nothing.

i want so much to be someone important

maybe the new me will be different.

i'm not really sure which parts of myslef are real and which parts are things i've gotten from books

i've lived in this room all my fifteen years, all my 5,530 days.

i'm certaintly no bargain

sometimes i think we're all trying to be shadows of each other

i don't want to be a robot!

maybe things will look brighter tomorrow

but i better paste on the fake, phony smile

one, two, three and here goes the martyr.

there had to be something in life that was worthwhile.

like oil and water, i can't quite adapt or fit

i just wasn't listening or maybe i didn't want to listen

i'll never think of it again

i wouldn't want anyone to know i've really used them

maybe Lewis Carroll was on drugs too.

my mind still flutters with the wonder of it all.

i'm living with doubts and apprehensions and fears that i never dreamed possible.

oh, terrors, horrors, endless torment.

i must forget about everything.

at this stage of my life, nothingness is a lot better than somethingness.

she holds up everybody and everything but me, and man have i been let down.

i was the only sane and perfect being.

if there were medals and prizes for stupidity and gullibleness i would certaintly receive the half-assed one.

it was a lovely experience which only makes me more lonely.

i wanted to be ripped, smashed, torn up as i had never wanted anything before.

i'm lonely, i'm heartbroken, i hate this whole number and everything it stands for, i feel like i'm wasting my life away.

all dopers are part-time sewer dwellers, the two go hand in hand together.

i wish i could just tear it out of my life.

up, up and away.

i'm so scared, i'm almost sick.

after you've had it, there isn't even a life without drugs.

no one in the world but a doper could know the true opposite of being depressed.

who needs to go down when you can go up?

i'm about to blow.

i don't know if it's the same day or week or year, but who the hell cares anyway?

i'm as sick as i've ever been in my life.

i don't have any stories worth telling.

let somebody else think for us and do for us and act for us.

i just wish i could love myself.

i am being drowned in my own tears, suffocated, submerged, inundated, overpowered.

will i spend the rest of my life feeling like a walking disease??

it seemed to be rolling backwards, like it was rolling in on itself, and there was nothing i could do to stop it.

i used to think i was the only one who felt things

i can barely move.

in fact i understand so little i don't know how i even exist.

i'm really dragged and tired and sad and worn out and fed up.

i'm really afraid.

i have to force myself to take every step.

i'm tired of being left out and pretending it doesn't hurt. i'm so tired that sometimes i just want to run away again and never come back.

i feel like the grayness in all the gray days in the world

i have never been so tired.
i think i have fallen off the face of the earth and that i'll never stop falling.
how can i admit anything when i am so scared i can't even talk?
i wanted to ask God to help me but i could utter only words, dark, useless words which fell on the floor beside me and rolled off into the corners and underneath the bed.
sometimes i think death is the only way out of this room.
in a lot of ways i hate myself.
i'm sure without drugs i'll be scared out of my mind.
do you think life can get by you without your ever seeing it?
sometimes i wish i had never been born.

when i read this truth, i get ill.
imagining all the shit this girl, this unknown girl, went through..
it's hard to tell that people, appearing normal, have all these weights in their bags and backpacks;
when they stand up straight, they're actually barely standing.


Dear Anonymous,


I'm sorry that you went through all of this pain.
The numbness, the addictions, and the constant fear of self loathing.
I hoped by the end there was hope for you.
But stories like these never end well.
I wish I knew your name so that I could tell you how great you were. How much of a fantastic and graceful and wonderful person you are.
And so I could walk by your grave and put flowers next to the stone, holding your name.
Holding you.
But I didn't know you.


But I know someone a lot like you.

Hearing your story frightens me for hers.
I want her to be safe; just like your parents wanted you to be.

But all in all, I am sorry.
And I'm glad that your at peace.

to those who skipped to the very end,
i won't be ashamed or annoyed with you; but i'll ask you just one question.
read Go Ask Alice.
i swear it'll change you.

or at least change the way you think.
the way you look at people.

because i won't ever look at them the same.

Save That for Black and White.

some nights i stay up, cashing in my bad luck
some nights, i call it a draw
some nights, i wish that my lips could build a castle
some nights, i wish they'd just fall off

i find myself a dimwit when i blog.
that's why i've stopped for quite a while.
but fuck it, i just felt like it, okay?

my mind creeps back to those old summer days of my youth.
how everyday i would either be wading in unsalted lakes,
or cartwheeling on mountains.
because with my imagination,
my backyard was miles and miles of gorgeous nature.

now when i look at it, i only feel nostalgia.
i don't find that utopia for anything else but childhood.
and as of two days ago, i am not a child anymore.

this is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?
why don't we break the rules already?
i was never one to believe the hype

save that for black and white.

past is past, but i still travel backward.
but instead of enjoying it like the Doctor would,
i find myself pining.

i remember last summer all too well.
and how different it was compared to this.
different places, different friends, different guys...
but the same lessons are learned.
but as of now, the goals and mistakes and opportunities these few months have taught me more than any other summer would.
the other ones just feel distant,
like a star in the night;
as if they're gleaming silver trophies in a glass case.
just there to look at.
not touch.

but i still wake up, and i see your ghost
oh lord, i'm not sure what i stand for
what do i stand for? what do i stand for?
most nights, i don't know anymore.

would you like to understand?let me just give you a glimpse of comprehension.
the two-thousand twelve summer was all about:
1. letting go of old relationships.
2. making compromise.
3. giving in so that you can't give up.
4. crying out to an Absolute.
5. making the effort to try long distance.
6. living in the moment.
7. sacrificing.
8. satisfying.
9. trying.
10. loving.
11. living.
12. surviving.

all that we can do is survive. we just have to figure out the best way how.
i finally figured out how.
just lie down, listen to the melody,
and soon,

you'll know.

Close Minded.

from the past few weeks of these endless summer days,

i think i've grasped a tiny idea of how people work.
how they act, how they think, how they move,
how they breathe.
(i'm not saying i know everyone inside and out, mind you).
i'm just saying i know a lot about a certain type.

i see the differentials.
i sometimes feel like an AI,
scanning people for their flaws,

so that i could take them out with my machinery.

but i can tell who have open doors,
and those who shut them out to the public.
like they don't want to deal with the ever changing world that we're living in.
and let me tell you,

noticing that vice does not make me feel joyous inside.

it makes me want to throw up.

i don't like the idea of pointing out the mistakes instead of pointing out the accomplishments.

i don't like when people use others just to throw them away.
and i especially despise when it repeats.
like the victim is part of the fucking rinse cycle.
constantly dirty from the control,
and pushed around and flipped upside down,
the manipulator feeling like they need a "cleanse".

i never get physically ill from just words.
but when they're used with such callous tone and cruelty,
my esophagus tugs at my abdomen,
desperately pushing nothing to the surface.
it just needs to force something out.

but instead i swallow my rage.
and leave it alone.

the sad part of this all is,

that i make myself sick too.

for leaving them close minded.

and for standing still instead of shoving the door open.
breaking it at it's hinges.

so the shut gate is broken.
and it's open for all to know and all to see.
just how i do.

Make Color.

i'm changing things a bit.
new fonts, new colors,
and new change.

this isn't going to be another blog post with different lyrics explaining how i feel.
this is just me writing about me.
that's all this blog ever was in the first place.
so i think this may be the end.

i sit up in bed, contemplating the summertime, and i think about what to do.
should i call someone, should i watch tv, read a book;
what should i do?
three years ago i would have told myself to paint. to draw.
to make something of what my hands could do.
of what my mind could do.
but instead i turn mush into my mind, and numbness into my fingertips.

i don't do.
i don't do anything that warrants creativity anymore.
and it's so ironic because in less than two months,
i'll be at one of the most diverse and inspirational places,
with a creative writing english major.

what a joke.

what a fallacy.

i'm going to be who i was at fifteen.
at least she made the effort to make color.
someone once told me that i put color into his life.
now i think it's time to do that with myself.
make something right.

the strings are gonna come out.
the acrylic will splatter.
the ink will run.
and the tears will stop.

i'll make a difference this time.


anyway i can.

with color,
with love,
and with light.

Here's Looking at You, Kid.

i'm graduating in a day.
closer to two, but it doesn't feel as such.
i just feel like i'm going to come back.
that it'll just be another year, and i'll walk these halls with pride.
but no.
i've already had enough days of that.

it's bittersweet, but mostly bitter.
that most of these faces i brush past,
won't ever be in my view again.
it's too soon.

it's too soon to forget all the memories here.
all the drama and hardships and studying and cheating and begging and becoming bored.
all of the learning, the sleeping, the tests, the lectures, the study guides, the rallies, the football games, the productions in the PAC...
i can't believe that i'll miss all of that.
it doesn't even feel real because if it did,
almost a fourth of my life would be gone.

it's crazy.
i don't understand.
every bone in my body stays silent while my nerves circling around them shiver.
shiver with fear.
shiver with anxiety.
they move and convulse because they know there's an ending.
an ending that even i haven't taken all the way in.

all these yearbook signatures with all these heartfelt messages...
sometimes to me they seem fake.
like they're trying to take four years of ignoring you for whatever reason,
and putting an apology like nothing ever mattered.
will i miss people like that?

maybe.

but i am excited to start anew.
a new school, with new people.
the only people i'll miss are friends from other towns.
because they really love me.
in the end, you always miss the people you love.
and the others will just fade away,
like ink when it's wet.
it just drips, staining the ground,
and when the rain comes,
it's gone.

that's what i'll be here.
i'll be gone.
and i'm not sure how many will care,
and it won't matter because i'm not even sure that i will care.
only time will tell.

bye, san ramon.
it's been fun.

here's looking at you, kid

with love and light,
eve morgan

I Can See For Miles & Miles.

when i listen to Bi and Bp, i never feel crowded. 
i never feel fear or contempt or rage or worry.
their voices, Justin and Israel's; 
criss-cross and make a melody that could never be copied.

i can't really explain how i feel when i hear them.
it's like the big bang.
exploding into billions and million of pieces,
creating the beauty of the universe.

it's like feeling invisible even when you know that you're making a footprint.
it's like hearing the winds speak to you,
even though all it is is whistling in your ears.

listening to Justin is like listening to the hearts.
and listening to Israel is like listening to the cries of souls.
together, it's like listening to the world,
feeling every single thought;
as if it was your own.

that morning sky just gave me a look
so i left while you were sleeping
that's all it took
and i chalked a line south down the coast
going where my thirst was open
for the things that i don't know

i've never felt like this while just listening.
i usually think there is something to do, or to accomplish,
that i have to move, get on my feet,
walk, run, glide, skip,
ANYTHING.

but no.
all i have to do is close my lids and open my drums.
embrace the silence of myself,
and just hear the melodies of everything else.

"someway, baby, it's a part of me, apart from me"
you're laying waste to Halloween
you fucked it friend, it's on his head, it struck the street
you're in Milwaukee, off your feet

Christmas night, it clutched the light, the hallow bright
above my brother, i and tangled spines
we smoked the screen to make it what it was to be
now to know it in my memory

when pupils adjust to the light,
my back creaks as i sit up.
i breathe, cough, and breathe again.

for a long time, i forget.
i forget how the world is so vast and ominous,
and unimaginably beautiful at the same time.
it shocks me every time i fit headphones into my ears,
every time i walk without fear.
and every time i deafen myself so that i can again see.

so hold high have faint your reasons
(Boy, you'll never get on)
don't you forget you came from nothing
(Boy, you'll never get on)
that wind is calling my name
and i won't wait
or i'll never get on.

...and at once i knew i was not magnificent
high above the highway aisle
(Jagged vacance, thick with ice)
i could see for miles, miles, miles

everything is beautiful.
you just need to cease all the noise;
before you can see.

are your eyes closed?
if so,
then you understand.

with love and light,
eve morgan 

Falling Backwards.

i know i haven't been here in a while.
you may think it's because i've forgotten, that i've been too busy, that i just haven't had time to think.
it's that i've had too much time.
i couldn't write because if i did, i'd be afraid of falling.
afraid of falling backwards.

yeah i know it's hard to remember
the people we used to be...
it's even harder to picture,
that you're not here next to me

i remember the summer.
there is no way that i could even handle forgetting.
even though things changed,
it always affects.

i drive down roads in my stupid maternal van,
imagining footsteps slapping against the sidewalk,
laughter ringing throughout the block.
inside my imagination, i don't know what to think.
because another pair of feet appear, like shadows from the sun.

in reality, however, i know what is right and what isn't.
but la scala and "inspiration" get in the way.

i know i'm different than i was.
i can tell from the videos of my somewhat younger face,
smiling and skidding across the screen,
complaining about her important woes.

they seem minuscule now.
at least, i hope they do.

i've wasted my nights
you turned out the lights
now i'm paralyzed,
still stuck in that time,
when we called it love,
but even the sun sets in paradise

too much, yet too little, has changed.
i don't know what to make of it anymore.
that's the fear creeping in.

thoughts of caffeinated beverages and teas.
i would hold the warm brew steadily in my hands,
and when i would take a sip, i would savor the flavor,
and glaze a smile across my face.
when my eyes would open,
the faces i would see would turn that glaze into a grin.

i wish they could be there all at once,
so i would have no more guilt,
but the thing about responsibility is,
is that sometimes you have to break down the bridges that you have built.

if "Happy Ever After"'s did exist
i would still be holding you like this
all those fairytales are full of shit
one more fucking love song, i'll be sick
now i'm at a payphone

i'm beginning to hate this blog.

with love and light,
eve morgan

Oh, You Skinny Love of Mine.

you know that one moment you have, may not be a lot, but a moment in time where you think to yourself: Why am I still trying?

that annoying question. you curse at yourself, inside that never ceasing brain of yours, for even conjuring that thought that flashed through for a second like lightning in a storm that doesn't have thunder. you hate it, because you know you want to try, you think, you believe that somehow, some way, the thing or whatever mission or quest you have created will work out into your favor; you will win.
i'm still fighting, but the battle has already been lost.

my triumphs are already over.
they're already done.
this little magic box, which holds my dreams, my loves, my secrets, and my accomplishments; is only a figment of some sort of drug that manifests inside my skull.
that little box, that treasure that i own;
you smashed it with the axe of your ignorance you call your home.

there's a girl with dark eyes, who's looking at the face of one she loves.
she doesn't recognize it.
the features are the same; the changing colored eyes, the roundness of the cheeks, the birthmark they're embarrassed of, the smile the freckled face girl has seen a number of times.

come on skinny love just last the year
pour a little salt, we were never here
my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

staring at this sink of blood and crushed veneer

you know what i've heard about masks?
they always end up unveiling the truth.
and you know what i've heard about truths?
most of them hurt.
especially when they were secreted away from you in the first place.

the more i think of you as a diamond,
the more you become a piece of coal.
dull, dark, and smudging everything around you; dirtying it up so it can never be again clean.

the dark eyed girl would go home, carrying her books on her back (among other things), and would scroll through countless photographs, smiles crossing at her favorite ones.
those figments of color all across the parchment,
they're unique just like a snowflake,
never will one be the same again.

i tell my love to wreck it all

cut out all the ropes and let me fall
my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
right in this moment this order's tall

the dark eyed girl blinks, at a loss.
turning in concentric circles an emerald, around a thin, hardly polished finger.
she doesn't wonder or worry at what is going on,
on why the world is spinning too fast for her to stand.
but how in the hell this happened, and how much she can withstand.

my eyelashes stick together.
my fingers fly around like hummingbirds, tapping everything, touching everything, hitting everything, because i cannot stop.
if i could stop, i would let you know.
if i could get over it, i would have told you.

i don't see the point when i hear one instead of two.
when the phone never rings,
and when it does, it isn't you.

i told you to be patient

and i told you to be kind
and i told you to be balanced
and i told you to be kind

but in the morning i'll be with you
but it'll be a different kind
i'll be holding all the tickets
and you'll be holding all the fines

right now, i'm holding all the fines.
i'm holding all the punishments, all the things that should be pushed to you.
but i clutch, like a precious item, i clutch them so tightly that they rip.
for you deserve these, but i cannot bear for them to fly.
i cannot see that they will stick.
you'll just brush them off, unlike all the other things that stay in your head.

you know, i miss not being able to see under the mask.
it's a harsh truth,
because the turtle hiding under the shell is ready to bite.
not ready to see, not ready to become a part of the world,
but is plotting to make it's appearance.
it's sad.
because i don't miss you.
i miss the mask you've left behind.

and i told you to be patient

and i told you to be fine
and i told you to be balanced

and i told you to be kind

and now all your love is wasted

then who the hell was i?

i'm breaking at the bridges

and at the end of all your lines

with love and light,
eve morgan

With Eyes All Over.

when i was a little girl, i had an assignment.
it was crucial and important.
"what do i want to be when i grow up?"

the answer everyone expected was along the lines of "princess of "fairy" or "astronaut";

something trivial and silly, just like how young children are.
but my response wasn't any one of those things.
"i just want to be loved."

isn't that why we act like we do?
why we strive and work our asses off to get where we are?
we twist and turn in the mangled webs of society, stuck with plastered fake expressions and false identities; used so we can be liked, so that we can be appreciated;
so that we can be loved.

but that's a little out of reach when the people meant to like you for who you are judge you and inspect everything you do as if you were some experiment; like they are just waiting for you to become the defect;
the failure.
it doesn't matter that your grades are perfect, because you're branded as nerd or geek.
it doesn't matter that you're intelligent because you're tortured and ridiculed for spending your nights studying instead of doing what the "cool kids' do.
it's all about surface area.
you're judged by every scrupulous detail, every figment or fiber; and it shoves you deeper and deeper into the dark place you're beginning to call home.

when they look at you, they don't see how you work forty hours a week just to pay for groceries; they just notice the dirty "rags" you wear.
when they look at you, they don't see the scars and the bruises hidden under your sleeves, they only observe the loser alone at lunch.
when they glance, they don't see the rivers that have ran down your face countless times, just the plastic doll smiles you're used to faking.

when someone looks in your direction, don't think of it as calm or comforting.
think of it as an "audition".
"you always have to look your best,"
is what my mother would say.
well, mom, i hate to agree....
so i won't.

i won't just be some piece of material used for your conformist clothing.
i won't walk around fearful, like a cowered animal, hiding from the hunter.
i won't use my words like weapons, like the poison that drips from your mouth.
i won't be some thing that you can laugh about, like i am some joke or saying used over and over again until it's meaningless.
i am not meaningless.
i am not your play thing.
i am not an excuse to talk trash.
and i am not your bitch.

don't pretend to know me,
because you don't.
but i know you.
and i am so, so sorry.

with love and light,
eve morgan

I Am Not A Poet.

i am not a poet.
i'm just someone who has a desire for letters and a fixation on the written words, and how the jumbles can fit into grandeur's of exhilaration, and be molded into beauty that has long been forgotten.
i am not a poet.
i do not lay away at nights, thinking of how my sentences should rhyme, and wondering what context or format in which my stories shall be written.
i am not a poet.
for i do not stress, i do not cower into my words, instead of pushing past with my fists. i do not worry or crease my face like crumpled ideas thrown into the trash only to be fished out, like a tug and pull. i do not go into deep thought about the horrible homecomings of lost men, of shallow souls returning after they've already been put to rest.
i am not a poet.
i don't sigh at heartbreaking love that sends me into a crescendo, or feel my body almost shatter when my ears meet the sweet sounds of suffering and of notes blowing away into the wind.


you see i am not someone that never cries or opens their heart.
i am not someone that walks away from a war that has long needed an end.
i am not someone who does not wish the best onto another, even if that other has done irreparable damage.
i am not someone that wishes to see frowns and tears and shudders instead of the grins, the laughter and the joy.
i am not someone who turns their back when times get tough, or when situations are thrust upon thee, almost too difficult to uphold.
i am not someone who judges based on lies, based on harm, or based on surface.

so don't you dare judge me.

don't you judge me;
for not using my words like weapons, but instead of a sheath, my mouth is a vessel for ardor, for fervor, and for a fire too wild for control; yet warm enough to melt the ice.
don't you judge me;
for making my laughs higher, my walks louder, and my presence stronger, because if otherwise, i would not be able to take one step.
don't you judge me;
for not wavering or drawing back, like a cowered animal, so full of fear that they might be shot.
don't you judge me;
for standing by the people i love, and for supporting them through their most idiotic actions and their most heart wrenching cries of need.

i'm not afraid to tell the truth.
i'm not afraid to end my work midway.
i'm not afraid to embarrass myself in front of a crowd.
i'm not afraid to take a rest.
i'm not afraid to let myself go, with all the blood, sweat, and tears.
i am not afraid.

i am not a poet.
i am just a girl that can't sleep.

with love and light,
eve morgan

It All Begins With One.

the sun goes down 
the stars come out
and all that counts
is here and now
my universe will never be the same
i'm glad you came

there is a time;

when you just sit back and wonder why you are here.
why you were created,
and what your purpose is.

i have a little story to tell.
i once had a friend that didn't believe she had a life.
it did not last long, her sadness and her wonder,
of why she was put on this earth.

one day i asked her:
"why do you think you're here?"
and she just sobbed, shook her head, and buried her face in her hands.
"I don't know," she whispered.
but i did.
she then went on to tell me that she hasn't done anything important, when everything around her swirls about in motion and she is stuck in the earth without so much as a shake.
she didn't believe that she could make a change; or that she had.
that she even made an impact, or even a dent in anything.

that was the first time i saw someone i cared about believe in such a twisted, convoluted lie.

why do i know it's a lie?
she changed me.

imagine no possessions
imagine if you can
no need for greed and hunger
a brotherhood of man
imagine all the people sharing all the world

i told her that she had a life.
i told her that she makes a difference.
i told her, that with just one person,
there's enough power to change the world.

when i first said these words, i hardly believed the bullshit i told my dear friend.
but now, i'm glad those words left my lips, always there.
because to me now, it is not bullshit.
it is real.
this is real.
life:
is real.

imagine there's no heaven
it's easy if you try
no hell below us
above us only sky
imagine all the people living for today

imagine there's no countries
it isn't hard to do
nothing to kill or die for
and no religion too
imagine all the people living in life for peace

i'm so tired of all the fighting.
of all the heartbreak and regret.
it's time to do something.
it's time to step out of the comfort zone,
out of the four walls you call your home,
and make the difference you never thought you could.

"It All Begins With One."

there are so many horrible things in the world,
and no one believes it's their job to solve it.
to put a stop to it.
what disappoints me isn't the lack of passion,
or knowledge, or determination.
it's the lack of confidence.
the lack of truth,
the lack of love;
that no one loves themselves enough to believe.
to strive into the goodness of themselves,
and just break it out, to make that change and that mark that they were meant to.

so don't think that you are just a blip on the map.
that you are just an ant in a giant ant farm.
because yes, you are just one,
but you are the one.
you just have to learn;
to believe it.

you may say
i'm a dreamer, but i'm not the only one
i hope someday you'll join us
and the world will be as one

the sun goes down
the stars come out
and all that counts
is here and now
the universe will never be the same
i'm glad you came
i'm glad you came

with love and light,
eve morgan