Sunday, January 29, 2012

Forever Young.

Life is crazy,
but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I keep seeing quotes like, "Love burns brighter than the sun."
I disagree.
Love is like the embers of a spent fire, because that's what's left at the end of the day.
Yes, it burns hot, but slowly and completely, too.  It can burn you, but only if you're stupid about it.  What hurts us is generally the immediate flare up, when it's started but sometimes not tended to, or the immediate dousing with cold water.  Love in it's entirety doesn't hurt us, it's everything that could come with it that does, such as loneliness or rejection.  Love is the basic burning that starts in the soul and slowly makes it's way throughout the entire body, down to the toes and up to your nose.  In the bright daylight, perhaps it's hard to see, but when it comes down to when it matters, in the deepest, darkest part of the night, it burns obviously and steadily.  Love will endure.
How often I've breathed those three words silently into you.
love always, laura elizabeth.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

I'd stop the world and melt with you.

To put things lightly, he got the jar down for me (the few inches he has on me being all that was needed to reach that high shelf in my soul) and even unscrewed the top I put on so forcefully.

And they were delicious, of course.  Every chocolate chip "remember when" and all the same whirlwind feelings of September 24 baked into the dough.
did you feel the breath when I mouthed those three words into your neck?
Sorry for the absence, those who care.
"Owls and Tacos.  Life is good."
love always, laura elizabeth.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Attitudes, parties, and prom dresses.

A girl worth kissing is not easily kissed.
A girl worth hugging is not easily hugged.
A girl worth loving is not easily loved.

Boyce Avenue.
Mitchell, will you please love me like that?
love always, laura elizabeth.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

How to Love, the Trial.

Breaking down and coming undone
it's a rollercoaster kind of rush
I never knew I could feel that much
That's the way I love you

Exhibit A:  The number of text messages from you I've locked on my phone, because one of the sentences in them was something like, "I'm just glad I have you" or "Screw society and I miss you".  He's said a whole bunch of really nice things like, "you looked gorgeous tonight" and "who wouldn't like you?" but I didn't save any of those on my phone.

Exhibit B:  I spent every song in the dance last night trying to catch your eye and be around you.  I felt awkward looking at him. (Not because he's weird looking or anything.  And not because he can't dance either.)

Exhibit C:  I find every excuse to touch you, and I notice every time you touch me.  I get a little jittery in my stomach just thinking about it.  He touched me a lot (sounds wrong. Wasn't.) and each time I just thought, "Oh.  That's nice."

Exhibit D:  I find myself hugging him so I can pretend it's you.  I don't hug you because I'm afraid I won't let go.

Exhibit E:  It seemed way more right for me to go in your car than in his.

Exhibit F:  I keep thinking about wanting to be around you.  I got a little apprehensive every time he asked me to hang out.

Exhibit G:  He asked if I still wanted to go to Taco Bell sometime.  I said, "Yeah maybe!" and thought "Can he come?"

Exhibit H:  I have not once texted him first.  With you, I always feel like I have to fight for a conversation, but I still do it.

Exhibit I:  I find myself thinking of a hundred different possible scenarios for when I see you in the halls tomorrow.

Exhibit J:  "L" and "M" are right next to each other in the alphabet.  Also, last time I twisted off an apple stem, it landed on "M".  I feel like they both should mean something (even if they don't).

Exhibit K:  I pretend to be snuggled up to you every night.

Exhibit L:  I've written an incredible amount of posts about you, and I like re-reading the very first one. (Remember how you were a self-proclaimed slut?  Good times...)

Exhibit M:  I'm always thinking of "Remember When"s that I just want to tell you all the time, and have to physically stop myself.

Exhibit N:  I hear some of my favorite songs and wish that you'd listen to them and think of me.

Exhibit O:  I'm always dying to hear more from you.

.......and so on.

The verdict has been reached, and that's the way I love you.
love always, laura elizabeth (also known as "wingnut").
p.s. I love you.

How to Love, Sub-Post A.

If I didn't know you, I'd rather not know.
If I couldn't have you, I'd rather be alone.

Thank you, beautiful, beautiful song.
-Love at a Coffee Shop, Landon Pigg.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

How to Love.

I am a terrible person.

That should be written across my forehead.  "I am a terrible person.  STAY AWAY."  Someone should make me a shirt that says, "WARNING.  This girl does not know what to do, ever.  She does not know how she feels until it's very late in the situation.  She does now know how to fix things very well.  Approach with caution."

Really, though.

I'm a terrible person and I don't know what to do and I hate myself a little for it.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Where would we be now?

So, I didn't say anything about Christmas.  Or new year.  Here I go.  Merry Christmas, Happy New Year.  Don't get in fights, smell the roses, don't eat too much but certainly eat enough, give candy to kids, go to a dance, read some books, play in the rain, kiss someone, go to school, and love and smile more than you see because you get what you give.  That is my advice to you.  That's all that will really be said about that in this post, sorry.  If you want a cliche, go check out any other blog [which isn't to say I dislike cliches, because I love them.  I just have too much else to talk about right now].

**Warning:  My thoughts right now could probably be split into five different posts about five different aspects of my life right now, but I'm not going to.  So good luck.  If you get lost, scroll down and just read the tags; they usually sum things right up.

To tell the honest truth?
I wanted to punch something.

I wanted to scream and cry and throw a pillow at the wall when you told me what you did.  Last night, I decided I sort of hate you.  Today, I realized why; because it shouldn't hurt this much.  It shouldn't hurt at all.  Why would it?  I thought I got over you.  You thought I got over you.  But I guess you tricked me with your manipulations into thinking that maybe we still stood a chance.  I hate you because I care about you so much still, and I truly want you to be happy.  I was so upset.  I was so close to blowing over and I kept clinging to a pretense to keep myself calm.

Then I remembered an idea I read in a beautiful book, "Tuesdays with Morrie".  He says to let yourself fully feel the emotion, then detach yourself from it.  Put it on a shelf, then step back.
So here's what I did.
I took a bowl full of the feelings you've made me feel in the past [remembering that many of them are positive].  I reached inside my heart and mind and pulled out everything I could possibly connect to how I was feeling today and last night, put them in the bowl, and turned on the mixer.  When they were well mixed, I put globs of these feelings on a pan and cooked them at 375 degrees until they were golden brown.  When they were cooled, I scraped them off carefully, put them in a large jar labeled "Mitchell", closed the lid, and put it up on the highest shelf of my life; after all, I do treasure everything I've learned and felt from you.  I took a few steps back, cleaned up the kitchen of me, and then walked away.  And that is my personal recipe for living happily.

I've put it away on a shelf, to be explored and possibly enjoyed on a day when I feel tall enough to reach up and grab the jar again.  Today, though, I prefer to walk away with my head as high as I can.  So what do you say to laying down our weapons and ceasing this constant battle?  This is my surrender, I've raised my white flag.  You've fought valiantly and so have I, but after all, I'm not a violent person.  Who knows, maybe you could go on forever.  But I can't.  There needs to be a time where someone walks away, and I'm far too weak to stay.

Oh, love, how full I am of "remember when"s.  I feel like with every passing minute, I remember something else that I want to rush and tell you and hope you still feel the spark.  But you've made your bed and left me to find my own.  That's fine, because who knows what I'll come across in my future?  This year has already brought me pain, but it's brought me happiness, too.  Discoveries, even, about myself.  And again, who knows?  Maybe all the personal attacks in our battle last night you took on me meant that you do still remember.  Remember when?  Remember when?  But life should be lived now, not then, and already I've forgotten; I used every "remember when" as the chocolate chips.  They're not gone, just put high on a shelf, to be enjoyed when I can reach them easier.

Now, to be friends.  Again, that can't be done until I manage to get to that jar full of us again.  If I try to get it down when I'm just not ready, the jar will slip from my fingertips and crash down on my head, breaking apart the cookies and the feelings; I'll have to start over again.  This time, though, some ingredients would be missing, and it'd be that much harder to make them well.  Cookies are pretty bad for your health, anyway; you don't need them so I'll make myself live without them, too.  Call it a diet, if you will.  I might want it, desperately, even, but I know there will be a reward at the end of it for you.  If you can do it, so can I.

One last reserve, however; if you ever find yourself less than happy and without someone to turn to, I'll welcome you.  I once made a promise to you that you can trust me, and that's the one thing I left out of my cookies.  Keeping your promises is healthy, after all, it will hardly break my diet.  I don't know how much you want to take advantage of this truce, you might want nothing to do with me ever again; but at least you know you have it if you're in need.

Some final pieces of advice:  Smile more than you frown, hug more than you're hugged.  Treat every girl with full respect; make her feel cared for and of high quality.  Wave to passing cars, listen to too much music, and for heaven's sake, do your physics homework.

With anything that's left, laura elizabeth.