June '13.

I have the emotion to write poetry, really, I do. I have the vocabulary and I have the knowledge, at least I seem to think I do, which is all that really mattered anyway. I lack the phrasing. I lack the metaphors. I know enough about good poetry to recognize it and be jealous of the author, but I don't know enough to actually write it myself, I end up trying something like this until I inevitably get frustrated. The words necessary to capture you elude me, and it's frustrating, but I'll keep trying, because I really do know enough about poetry that I should be able to write it well by now.

I think it's funny that last November I hadn't done Ballet in five weeks and I almost quit, but now I have three toenails falling off and more blisters than I would prefer because I was just the lead in Snow White. I think it's funny that a year ago, I was thinking about how two years previous to that I had my first kiss and since then I had fallen in and out of love with someone new. I was wrong, of course, I was still so very deep in the trenches of World War Mitchell a year ago from right now. I know I really am free now, though, because every other week the same thought floats to the top of my mind that says, "Remember when we were in love?" It's not accompanied by feelings of sadness, either. It's not accompanied by much, really. It's just accompanied with some lines of songs and seven digits that are as persistent as the sun. But it's no point, really. Where we used to struggle to stop talking to each other, we now struggle to continue. We can't have a lasting conversation to save, well, anything, really. This isn't to say that there are hard feelings between us. This isn't to say we don't care. This is just to say that we've truly moved on. It shouldn't be allowed to move on as far as we have, because we've moved on so much that we've almost moved back in, and isn't that a disaster waiting to happen.

The problem is, I'm waiting for love. I'm waking up and telling myself that I have more than enough love to supply a third world country, and then I'm going to sleep telling myself that maybe the sun will bring more opportunities. I can't keep living based on the sun, guys, because it's Summer and I'd much rather have the starlight in my eyes. But that isn't the problem here. The problem is, I'm waiting for love, and love doesn't come to those who wait for it. Love sneaks up unexpected, when you're too busy splashing around in the ocean, when you're too busy buying otter pops from the local neighborhood kids, when you're too busy doing your online classes because you're too good of a student not to. It's not that I'm not doing those things, but I never let my back be fully turned in case Love decides to make a visit and I might miss it if I'm not watching out for it. I know this isn't how love operates, but I also don't know this at all. Who am I to say that's how it happens? I know She Will Be Loved, I know it forwards and back, but when will I Be Loved?

Boys go on missions. I go to Target. C'est la vie.
~laura elizabeth

Wild adventures.

Rules of Adventuring:

1. Go somewhere you don't know.

2. Take lots of pictures.

 

I just want him to know me.

I want him to KNOW me, everyone. I want him to not just know me but try to know EVERYTHING about me, because isn't that just one of those romantic ideas? The boy that you didn't know, that tries to know everything about you just because he can? There's a lot to know about me, even though I don't always think so. He can know how my shoulder blades stick out; how I can actually grab someone's hand with my shoulder blades intentionally. I want him to know this, and not just because it's practically my signature trick. I want him to know every song on the playlist I listen to almost every night, and I want him to know why that song is on there. I really want this, people. I want him to know the significance of the song "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John and why it almost moves me to tears. I want him to know why I love owls so much, and I want him to know the first owl I ever loved. I want him to know not just the one pair of shoes that I wear every day, but all my pairs. I want him to know Psych like I do. I want him to know why I stayed in Ballet, and why I'm in Musical Theater, and why I'm going to try out for Dance Company next year. I want him to know all the places to take me when I'm in all the moods I have. I want him to know what I believe, and why, and how I feel about God and how I feel about the Holocaust. I want him to know how long I've had my same teddy bear and I want him to know how I snuggle down with it every night. I want him to know the smell of Caramel Machiatto on my breath, the smell of my shampoo in my thin, thin hair. I want him to know how I feel about my height. I want him to know me, but mostly I want him to want to know me.

Look, I know where I stand with people. I know where I stand with him. It's getting better, sure, but we don't have nearly enough time for all the knowledge I want him to have. I know that I tend to grab onto things with both hands too fast. I know that I tend to jump into shallow waters head first and maybe that's why I keep ending up broken. But it's so hard to not just jump in when you can already feel yourself slipping, you know? And boy, am I slipping and sliding all over the place, and I don't know how long I can last before I just take the dive and hope the water's deep enough that I won't get hurt right off the bat. But I guess it's still too early to tell.

love always, laura elizabeth.



Hallelujah.

I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand before the Lord of Song

with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

 

 

 

mom: "It's not that I don't like your pumpkins, I just think you should carve things that are more halloweeny"

me: "Because something called 'Deathly Hallows' isn't Halloweeny at all ... Also, Harry Potter's parents died on Halloween."

lindsey: "How do you know that?"

alex: "She's a geek."

me: "I prefer nerd."

 

random blog reader: "So glad I stumbled across your blog something something!"

me: "AND I LOVE YOU, RANDOM CITIZEN!"

 

me: "Yep, girls are pretty crazy. Like the whole preference thing! Girls ask so early it's insane! ... Like take you, I bet you were asked over the Summer or like two months ago or something."

guy I want to take to preference: "No, I actually haven't been asked! and I am pretty positive I won't be either!"

me: "....that is a silly thing to be positive about."

 

him: .....

me: .....

(me: I actually feel fine about this.)

 

ballet teacher: "So..."

me: "Yeah, I'll be there Thursday, definitely."

 

love always, laura elizabeth.



The truth, bare and unchanged.

Brushing my teeth,

thinking about it all,

then starting to bawl.

 

That is my life.

 

 

Yes, I miss it.

Ballet, I mean.

It's been about five weeks and I've said it feels good to have the extra time but I'm just now noticing no, it isn't.

I miss it so much that I cry,

and maybe I don't want to be told I don't care enough anymore.

If I didn't care, don't you think I'd be there instead of here?

Sorry, I was going to not be vague here, but it's hard.

It's almost one in the morning and tomorrow's a school night,

and it's been a fine day,

but it hasn't been a fine week

and it hasn't been a fine five weeks

and I'm just crying because of it.

I'm just crying.

I'm crying because he still cares but we can't anymore,

we just can't. We can't.

We haven't let go but we have to, we have to.

I've held on so long,

but that's because he cares and he cares so much

and I need someone to care about me

and I need to not need someone to care about me

but I don't know how

and I'm just crying. I'm just crying.

 

I just want to go back to Ballet.

I want to go back to when I first got my pointe shoes

and I didn't know what it was like to be loved

and what it was like to have to learn to let go

 

and it's a good thing I can type without looking

because I can't even see the screen anymore

 

I'm a ballerina, really, please, aren't I?

love always, laura elizabeth



Junioritis and First-Couple-Months-Of-Schoolitis.

My name is Laura, and I am struggling with Junioritis

[hi, Laura.]

It started when I was in sixth grade and got En Pointe and realized I am fully in love with Ballet, and it started when I decided acting was something I should be good at in seventh grade, and it started when my mom put me in the ALL program in fifth grade so that I'll forever have high expectations of myself, and it started when I got a job.

 

 

Look, I can't be Addy, much as I'd like to. I just can't.

And for another thing, maybe I am still the same as I was in sixth grade, in a way. I mean, yeah. I look and dress a lot better and I like boys a lot more. But I'm still on the line of inside and outside for most things. I'm no one's first choice of a bed partner for Shakespeare, I'm no one's first choice for a dance. I'm no one's first choice to cover their shift at work. I'm no one's first choice to do homework with or sing with or listen to or be around. The only place I'm first is in Kelsey's book, but that's a shelf just as full as mine.

So I'm not going to be the wordy, high bunned girl with perfect eyelashes and great style and huge intelligence that hides behind a high voice. I'm not going to be the girl that has her own style and can crump like no one's business. I'm not going to be the hair with the huge hair and even bigger heart, or the girl he took to Homecoming, or the girl with beautiful eyes and beautiful hair and has a chance with Teddy like I never did. I can't be any of you and I can't want to anymore, because that more than anything is what's burning me out this year. I need to stop killing myself over these feelings of not fitting in anymore and just find a way like I did last year, because I did and it was beautiful.

And you know what? Maybe I will ask him to a dance. Maybe I'll ask both of them to a dance and maybe they'll have fun and be glad I did.

love always, laura elizabeth.



Star Dust.

So I went on a sabbatical, or a hiatus,

but whatever you call it,

I'm back now.

 

 

I saw a shooting star

as it fell down to the Earth

when I took a closer look

it burst

 

I heard a shooting star

as it fell down to the Earth

when I tried to close my ears

it burst

 

I felt a shooting star

as it fell down to the Earth

it singed your skin right off me

and it burst

 

When I saw the falling star,

I would've tried to save it

but I heard the cries

echoing

I felt the vibrations

ringing

and so I let it burst

 

love always, laura elizabeth

 

The Weeping Willow's Melody.

Take this sinking boat

and point it home

we've still got time

You are every sad song

You are half an hour after rain

You are the shadows after a Summer day

You are the hummingbird trapped in a window

You are three in the morning on a school night

You are the last day of a performance

You are old pointe shoes

You are stepping on a scale

You are coming home from a vacation

You are the clouds passing

You are the harmony

to the Weeping Willow's Melody

And you are the favorite song that ends

love always, laura elizabeth.



Every Summer Has A Story.

There's gotta be somebody for me out there.

 What's funny about saying that, the Summer and the Story and everything,

is that last year,

the Summer's story was about trying to get to know him,

and this year,

it's about trying to get over him.

it's funny how much changes in a year,

and the year is about to start again,

what plot twist is coming?

Here's a secret or two about what might change.

I'm scared of not being asked to the dances (call me lame. I just don't want to feel like I'm back tracking from this past year).

I'm scared every time that I work podium that he will come in with a date.

I'm scared that Stevie will move in with Russell and forget about me.

I'm scared that Connor will go on his mission and come back and not even remember me because it feels like we only just became friends.

I'm scared that Justyn and I will become estranged again.

I'm scared that I won't ever see Kristen, or Eliza, or Amy, or any of the other seniors again.

and the list goes on.

m;zlsk jvkeklrms;lkgjdlihsjlkmcklsnhljflkjalkejgk;ljdlkjklcm,l;ieutoiyer jlskjgoiejlakeoiwtew mljncskghouihehoiajflkahlkjf.

(Greetings from the land where all feelings fly out of your body and onto the keyboard in a jumbled mess.)

love always, laura elizabeth.

Fairytales and Best Friends.

Sometimes, the memories overwhelm her,

they make her laugh or smile,

those pass.

Sometimes, the memories overwhelm her,

they make her curl up and weep and curse at the wind,

but those pass, too.

And today, it's like a text that went unanswered that you wonder about all day,

or a comment you saw that you meant to reply to but never did,

or waving and dancing and not caring about anyone but the girl beside you.

Can't I believe in love at first sight for just one more childhood dream of life?

All the rationalizations, all the justifications for the opposite arguement,

they're true and unstoppable and make sense,

but for one oblivious, childish moment I'd like to believe in a fairytale again,

in the tooth fairy I was so convinced I saw when I was five years old,

or the jingle bells I heard in the kitchen at night when I was three.

but they too, like all else, they pass.

For life, it passes, it will always pass, just as everything else- our problems, our worries, our fears, and indeed everything about us -will pass, and only when we're no longer breathing

are we immortal.

love always, laura elizabeth.



I like to believe in love.

you say you love rain,

but you open your umbrella.

you say you love the sun,

but you find a shadow spot.

you say you love the wind,

but you close your windows.

this is why i am afraid,

you say you love me too.

--William Shakespeare.

Sometimes I listen to songs and I am struck with their brilliancy.

Like, "Great Escape" or "The Middle" or "Gold Forever"

or a bunch of other songs.

Sometimes I listen to songs and I am struck with inspiration,

and I want to just get up and dance,

like "Too Close" and "Wild One" and "Lightning".

Sometimes I listen to songs and I am struck down with memories,

sometimes the memories make me smile

like "Long Live" and "Forget You" and "Club Can't Handle Me"

and sometimes they make me curl up for a moment,

hoping that someday I will be able to listen to them peacefully again,

like "How To Save A Life" and "Drops of Jupiter" and two whole cds full.

So sometimes, when songs like these come on, I just have to try to forget.

love always, laura elizabeth.