on my Mind.

If love was a drug,

I would definitely be addicted to you. 

And on Wednesdays, I go through serious withdrawals. 

But regardless of the day, regardless of the symptoms, regardless of the rehab, you are always on my Mind. 

The songs that remind me of you, resonating like an anthem in my conscious,

bring me back to you. 

-

I hope that when you are sitting on the other side of the screen, you realize that this is for you. 

I hope that as you read, every word sinks into your pores.

Because, I think about you like my pen thinks about poetry. 

Whether you are in my arms, or 3 miles away alone in your room listening to your parents condemn you, 

You are on my mind. 

-

That red bridge on the edge of the park, that is on my mind as well. 

And the long grasses surrounded by the deep emerald pines, those are on my mind. 

The pristine crystal water flowing through our spot, it's on my mind too.
Soft melodies emitting from the strings of my guitar to the tune of the Come Home Song, those are on my mind.
The inch long sliver in my palm, unfortunately thats on my mind.
And ab workouts, those are on my mind.
Benjamin, he's on my mind too.
Descriptions of random trees only to be mercilessly teased by you, thats on my mind.
Warm Bodies, thats on my mind. Dreams of teleportation and fine-tuned abilities, those are on my mind.
Aspirations of running away from everything that we know, that is on my mind.

I think about you like my pen thinks about poetry.

-

Pouring out my soul in the park and staining the grass with my emotion, only to recede into your warm grasp, thats on my mind.
When you walked out without much speech at all, thats on my mind too.
The time we cried together on the top of the hill behind your house, fearful of the world, disheartened by my mistakes, and overwhelmed by the cold, thats on my mind.
And the time we looked over the horizon, gazing into the lights while I tried to put my life together, thats on my mind.

-

Rain.

I look forward to the rain,
to the soft solitude that it brings, to the serenity that follows.

I look forward to the rain,
to the wet jacket and the damp skin, to the frizzy hair and the humid warmth within.

I look forward to the rain,
and the sad songs that accompany it.

I look forward to the rain,
and the solum recession of my emotions with the rhythm of each drop.

For just a moment, I don't have to feel anything.
But just watch as the earth is drenched with that thing we call rain.

I look forward to the rain,
and the ominous clouds that overlook my imperfections.
and to the color being washed away,
leaving mostly everything grey.

-

I find more beauty in those things that stay colorful.
In those things that stay pristine even though the objects around it fade away.
I just wish I could be so resilient like those things.
I just wish that for once, maybe I wouldn't listen to sad songs during the rain.

But that's the just the way things are right?
That's how its supposed to be?
Maybe for once I could only look for the beauty in rain, and not the grey.

Maybe I can retain my emotions when the rain comes,
instead of watching them flutter by ever so quickly.

Maybe I can write the music to the rain.
And maybe then they wont be so sad.

Or maybe, I can just keep looking forward,
to the rain.

Space Camp

I've been staring at the blank screen for 15 minutes now. 

And thinking of how I am different has caused me some trouble. 

I've come to the undesirable conclusion that maybe, 

I'm not. 

Maybe I'm not different.

Maybe I'm not what I thought I was.

The strange music only takes you so far in being different. 

Most things only take you so far. 

And then, 

it's over. 

Yet again I find myself staring at the screen. 

The very screen that has allowed me to escape the monotonous reality that we occupy. 

The very screen that has allowed me to shed my anger in less harmless ways.

But the writing only takes me so far.

And soon, the semester will be over, 

and this blog wont mean anything to anyone not even Nelson. 

And frankly to this point I think that this blog has only meant something to me.

Because maybe, just maybe, its made me different. 

Made me different. 

-

But maybe I don't want to be.

-

Maybe I'm destined to sit behind this computer forever, writing to the blank faces on the other side of the screen that may or may not be there, just in order to be different. 

Or maybe, I'm writing to know.

To know that I'm not alone. 

To receive comfort. 

Or maybe I'm just trying to be different.