II.

I've wrote a thousand words about you inside my head that never made it to paper.
I have all these words coiled tightly around my tongue,
words I never let out their cage.
I bite into my own flesh to fight the release of speeches with too much meaning,
but very little comprehension.
Every complex sentence that I would pin to the inside of your eardrums
would go searching for something in you to care.
Missed opportunities cupped inside your hands,
occupying the space where I should be.
You feel like a secret that I've held onto since before I could speak.
So I kept you tucked away behind my sternum,
snuggled next to my heart, selfishly.
And I bit my tongue in mixed company,
in fear that everybody could see through my flesh
and find you and every word I've hid about you.
My heart is drunk with an idea that could never be.
You intoxicate me.
You're a comfort I've always had, just misplaced.
I want to show you every emotion for you I've kept wrapped around my ribs,
caged behind distant memories.
Times I've feuded with myself to hold my composure
and keep my hands to myself
when my finger tips are begging to know
how many scars you have
and memorize the lines God etched into the palms of your hands.
Times I wished I could be fluent in your body language
so that we didn't have to tear a moment apart with words neither of us understood.
But instead,
we exchanged sandpaper love songs
that scratched at us until we bled
and avoided the conversation neither of us had the courage to have.
So we let questions build up inside our stomachs for the butterflies to feed on.
Everything I know is borrowed, broken or blind,
including you,
a dangerous mixture of all three.
But what I’ve seen of beautiful in the past
now feels merely implied compared to you.

I.

If I’m human, how does the world drift me around without my consent?
Who gives the permission to my peers to use me like tools as they neglect to cherish me? 
I always forgive but its a task to forget. It’s consistently the same thing. 
I watch friends and enticed flames grow roots around my ribcage and bait me into showing them how to open locked doors with no obvious space for a key. 
I let them inside, 
times after I promised no one else would tread within the temple or gaze upon my weaknesses. 
And I tend to put my hope in the wrong seeds and they never grow to be the kind of dream I want them to be. 
I need them to be flowers. 
I worry that I’ll always be the lover and never the loved. 
Cuz everyone’s heart is looking for a throne room 
but they always oblige my chest temporarily until some other pedestal is divinely delivered that seems to hold them better but is less of a challenge to get on. 
So one after another, 
I become the change that needs to be made to in order to achieve perfection and I am unapologetically discarded. 
And I pluck the dry weeds, that never sprouted floral buds, from the space beneath my collarbones. With one blade I buzz, 
“You love me” 
and whisper 
“You love me not” with the next. 
What excuse is there for all the failed gardens that tried to flourish in the fence of my bones? 
There’s rainy days, 
my eyes puffed up the size of heavy gray clouds. 
I keep the sun hidden in the creases of my smile just to share in moderation. 
But nothing grows with me. 
Only apart.

Love Songs

Everything I had only seen in dreams

had manifested itself right in front of me

and I touched it.

I dug my fingertips into his flesh like I was caressing piano keys,

hoping to leave my fingerprints embedded in his soul.

I used my nail to carve my name into his lungs,

praying that with every breath he took in,

he unconsciously sang my name

and when he exhaled,

a love story bellowed from somewhere deep within.

Somewhere that had always been inside him

but was begging to be awaken,

so that he could thrive the way God meant him to.

He gave me goose bumps.

And they rose up like braille all across my skin

and wrote a lyric to an undeniable melody.

Like Shakespeare and Sade had collaborated

to write the world’s most enticing love ballad

and they used my heartbeat like an 808.

Together, we could be music.

And my heart would be crooned by

the vibrations in his voice.

His lips would know the words to songs he’s never even heard of

because every verse reminds him of our love.

My eyelashes would be acoustic guitar strings

and when I blinked,

our tune would softly echo in the space around us,

growing louder with time

until the sound was unbearable

and he was incapable of ignoring that

I’m standing right in front of him !

Hollowed,

insides pulsating,

hands shaking,

waiting,

always waiting.

We could harmonize.

A pleasing combination of two being drawn together as one

and I could sample every missing beat of my heart from his

and I would share my breath with him.

I could stop hiding behind metaphors

and lopsided soliloquies backed by

wounded symphonies.

I’d leave lyrics on his lips every time we kissed

because these words

are stapled like a secret to the back of my throat

pleading to said,

no longer wanting to be wait to be heard

and accepted.

And when our voices grew tired of singing,

we could love each other instrumentally,

vocals removed,

bodies speaking on our behalf,

stripping every layer down

until we are raw, uncut versions of ourselves.

Love and Other Drugs

and i leave you with this.
i hope these words travel like smoke from my lips
and replace the air in your lungs
so that when i'm not in a
hand-holding,
tongue-wrestling,
skin-caressing distance,
you can hear some of these lines
every time you breathe out.

and maybe you'll need me then
like i need you now.

so excuse me if i seem a little anxious.
its just...
i want so badly to be naked with you.
i want us to leave every stitch of our clothes on
and pull back our souls layer by layer
until we know every story that accompanies every scar.

and when we're done catching up on old mistakes,
i want to let all of my inhibitions go
and learn the description of your veins
as they go racing to your heart.
so thoroughly that i could,
describe them to a blind man
who's never known the feeling
of being lost in someone's eyes,
day dreaming of love making on cloud nine.
high.

and all my dreams and
drug-like acid trips are the color of your complexion.
nothing else.
just your skin,
filling every canvas of my thoughts.

good thing i think you're the most beautiful thing God ever made.

and i don't mind seeing your face etched on the inner surface of my eyelids,
picturing you wearing my thighs like earmuffs
in world gone cold,
you're the one that makes me feel warm,
like i have the sun perched inside my rib cage
keeping it safe for any future rainy days,
so when you need a sunrise,
i can stitch you one
just for you to place your prayers on.

i would do that for you
because well,
i love you.

and i hate that i have to sum up the way
my palms sweat
and my stomach still crowds with butterflies
even after all this time of
melting into your kisses
and needing your hugs while i'm sleeping
into these three little words
that wouldn't even have a definitive meaning
without your existence.
but baby,
these three little words
are all i have.

Brownsuga* Skin

Written at 5am...what's sleep anyways ?

Please don't forget that I'm your rib.

Cause I've been here for so long that

you tend to disregard me

and strike me from

your thoughts and memories.

But every time you breathe,

you feel me,

and with every step that follows,

I lure u in,

like a sin

to be committed and forgiven.

My lips drawn speechless,

harborin secrets

and barring unadorned kisses.

Skin whisperin of the Garden of Eden,

holdin scents of fruits and flower petals.

And this is how you find me,

clothed by nothing but the Sun.

I'm without shame

and you can see my every scar

and mark tickled into my body's frame,

you beg to know my body's name.

The wind screams 'Beauty'

and without question,

you agree.

Laid out in front of you

is me.

A once blank canvas painted with

the colors of beach sunsets and spring rains.

Autumn hikes across my veins,

and my smile embodies full moons.

Cheeks rosy with aroused heat and anticipation

as your fingertips draw near me.

Amazement crawls its way between us,

draggin lust on its backside.

You lick love into my insides,

sweet honey bee nectar hidden deep within my thighs.

You're buzzin 'round,

tracin my every curve with wide eyes of disbelief,

tongue draggin with hopes of mischief.

This is brownsuga* skin...

breasts perked high at attention,

back arched just slight so the view is just right.

Womanhood drippin like a question mark,

soaked with my own curiosities.

Body parts swellin with pleasure,

every nerve on edge,

temptations crawling over my goosebumbs.

This is ecstasy.

Satisfaction buried deep within my pigment.

Strength tangled in my complexion.

There's no soul like the one trapped in brownsuga* skin.

Baby, my name is Black** Woman. 

*To be replaced with an adjective that describes your complexion. Our shades are so full of flavor and sensuality but when I wrote it, I felt like I had wrote it for anybody. All shades are beautiful and are open to acceptance.

**When I originally wrote it, I had just wrote Woman. But I'm Black...lol. Basically the word itself is interchangeable with any other ethnicity or can just be left out and said as Woman. Again, I wrote it for anybody and all women are beautiful in their own way just by the mere fact that we're women. Please don't forget that you are his rib. We're the strength of the world and whatnot, works of art. =)

Anatomy

Never have I ever written something and not known why...it's almost like another part of me wrote this while I stood on the sidelines and watched. It doesn't feel like me...but it feels like something kinda familiar...I think. Or maybe I'm just rusty...lol

Written about a month ago...

My body is a temple.

And yours knows the password to unlock all my secrets.

A slight part of my lips tries to tell you stories of my organs

but instead I end up inhaling your being.

And your soul crawls through my airway and makes itself comfortable next to mine.

I admire your posture so intensely that

your regal strength whips itself around my spine and rips the insecure slouch from my body.

I don't know if I'm standing with you or for you

but my body has never been so perpendicular to heaven and it feels sweet.

Your soul grips me,

its new found mate,

internally and my eyes jump to yours for reassurance of the at hand occurrence.

Your eyelashes are reminiscent to acoustic guitar strings

and every time you blink,

it’s like deep, sultry music to my ears.

And my fingertips begin to ache to feel you.

I know the second we meet skin to skin,

our complexions will devour each other

and blend themselves into a shade too beautiful for description.

And the goose bumps...

the goose bumps will be like braille to the blind

so that even they can know of the lyrics seeping from our pores.

My lungs are filled to capacity with the dancing of our souls.

They begin to expand inside of me

and my sternum starts to crack with excitement

until the skins rips itself away from my frame and leaves me open.

Exposed.

Vulnerable. 

Brown sugar pours from my veins and your tongue catches every drop.

You tell me I taste angry.

But you know I'll linger with an aftertaste you'll always remember,

even on the days u try to force yourself to forget.

My heart creeps near our toes,

struggles to stay whole without its shelter.

You can see every crack and scratch

and we can both hear a faint beat that sounds like its groaning your name.

My whole face flushes the color of hot summer sunsets with embarrassment.

And you laugh.

Of all things to do, you laugh.

And I feel my eyes swell up with the Great Lakes.

I know so much emotion is about to fall out

of this bare cavity that used to house the heart

now perched at your ankles begging for your attention.

But your lips send their apologies

and they place themselves against my own and dance themselves into a frenzy.

I cave into your chest for security and protection…

but mostly for the comfort of your anatomy. 

Storms.

Thunder shook me from my sleep.
And I reached out for you
only to wrap my hand around
emptiness and disappointment.
I squeezed my pillow
and thought of you and our storms.
And now this trip down memory lane
got me uneasily walking through our late nights.
This rain outside would be perfect for some lovemaking;
moans escaping in between the raindrops.
I squirm at the thought of times when we've been one;
finding your way into the heavens between my thighs.
I've made the storm jealous;
becoming drenched with all this reminiscing.
It'd be better if you were here to feel this storm with me;
the storm in me.
The heavens throb for your touch;
and I squeeze tighter tryna keep the flood waters in.
Outside my window;
thunder beckons again
and I can almost feel you pounding in me
as if you're tryna outdo Mother Nature.
Lightning flashes
and I look up into the night sky to see your face.
I bite my lip with frustration.
I want your lips against mines;
drowning amongst the clouds.
You dive into me.
Then quiet my pleas
with long overdue kisses
and I taste my angels that have found home near my knees.
The heavens can't keep the moisture from flowing out the gates.
Oh; it's amazing how
your body quakes into mines;
sending shakes up my spine.
I dig my nails into your skin;
clawing at your flesh;
tearing apart your sins.
Downpour outside picks up speed;
and you change pace to keep up;
personal storms trickling down my thighs.
Deep breaths.
Sweet moans.
Long sighs.
I toss and turn under the weight of your memory
and cuddle with the Iloveyou's of our past.
Storm still frantic in my heavens;
hell erupts outside my window
and the room smells of satisfaction
and reeks of your absence.

Whoooo. I turned myself on when I wrote this lmao. I mean I was already a little turned on anyways...lls tis how I thought of it.

A Very Long Story Short.

It's hard havin my heart spread out over such a large, vast space. It's like, okay...heart broken. No secret there. But it still finds a way to beat and do all the things it did before. I mean, shit, it's a lil stronger than it was. Loves a lil more than before. Even through fear. I'll keep my distance when I'm feelin down, bite my lip when I wanna tell you how I feel, and hug. I'll hug anyone cause the great thing about givin a hug is you're simultaneously gettin one in return.

Well anyways; back to all the lil broken pieces of my heart being spread everywhere. I'm texting what I guess you can label my best friend; I've gotten so used to her presence and her just being there for me over these past few months. And now; Maryland seems so empty without her.

So, a piece of my heart is in New York. And London. North Carolina. And several parts of Maryland.

I'm a lover. It's so beyond annoying cause I'll be walkin around expectin people to love me how I love them. Like; who does that ?? So here's a snippet from a convo I had last night when I was just hittin tipsy:

My expectations are now very low. Standards still high; but expectations low. I don't wanna expect anything and then be disappointed when I don't get it. Not again. I don't wanna go there again. 

So; yea...there's a wall up; emotionally but it doesn't mean that everyone doesn't have equal chance to prove to me that my expectations should be as high as my standards. But the truth is: I'm just scared. Scared for myself. And of course scared for anyone who thinks anything of me. I don't wanna unconsciously be responsible for pieces of hearts everywhere.

Oh; These Lives We Lead.

I know way too many people here right now
That I didn’t know last year, who the fuck are y’all?
I swear it feels like the last few nights
We been everywhere and back
But I just can’t remember it all.


It's been one helluva year. And that's the fuckin understatement of the century. I'm gonna pack up the last of my room today with a Dear Summer-Lights Please-Find Your Love playlist and all the songs that have become equated to my life in the past few months. I wonder if I need to watch what I say...fuck it.
So...here's what's left up my sleeve:

• Proof that laughter DOES heal you.

Even if it's temporarily and only for the moment. And you gotta learn to laugh at yourself and all your shortcomings, downfalls and heartbreaks. Cause if you don't; the build up of all the stress and drama and bad days will pile up and crush what's left of you and you'll wake up one morning to a strange version of what used to be yourself wondering how you fell so far from grace.

• It'll change you if you let it.

IT being a lifestyle, a friendship, a love interest...anything and everything can and will change you; whether its for the better or for the worst. I've seen so many people change; including myself. It hurt my soul when some people changed for the worst...and it gave me hope when I watched them grow...

• Alcohol is the problem and solution of all of life's problems.
• People spend too much time building walls instead of bridges...

Or they spend their time building bridges to get them to the wrong people and walls to keep out whose so right...but who am I to say who's right or wrong for anyone else. I don't even know who belongs with me...wants and needs are so different and if you focus on one more than they other; trust the other becomes so trivial. But I've build my walls through all the tears and pain that I've been caused and have caused...I'm nobody's victim but I'd like someone to know how I feel. I mean honestly; who wouldn't ?

• I've watched people's fears unfold right before their eyes...

Realizin that the person you love is...to say the least...crazy; moreso because they're chasing after ugh blah blah blah...how do you deal when you think their amazing ? Like they could shit sunshine and piss excellence...idk how you're supposed to handle it but you let go...and hope that all the things you love the most in life find their way back to you or at least just find their way. There's nothing like watching a lost soul.


And I know a lot about lost souls. In this last week; my roommate tried to kill herself lost all hope and attempted to put permanent ends to her pains. I've seen way too many tears from people I love...including myself. And now I've got these "Roman Numerals" that are like tally marks of my pain and the times when I've lost hope. And now I have to wonder where I'm goin next...I know where I wanna be but if this life has taught me anything: you don't always get what you want...rarely.


Confessions ?
I've got a ton...but it's best that I keep such amazing and heartbreaking realizations to myself. Cuz no one, especially myself; is really ready for the thoughts that surface when I look at you people...yeah; you people.


I don’t know how our lives got so crazy or where we’re headed next or how the hell we’ll survive; but I hope we all find the love we need, the peace we want & the happiness we deserve.


I love you, love.
"Sometimes I lie awake at night, and I ask, “Where have I gone wrong?” Then a voice says to me, “This is going to take more than one night."

'Cause Love is Like Playing with Fire...

I'm his. He's mine. That's it.


Cute; right ?

That's how it should be. And if it's not -- re-evaluation is definitely in order. His fingers should fit neatly in between yours; perfectly. And when you squeeze his hand; he should squeeze back. A light squeeze tells you : I'm here. You're safe. And you always will be as long as I'm here. If you have to fight for their hand; maybe you should just let them be free...in their mind; a glove is probably safer than the protection of anything you and your hands could ever give them.

Ugh; I feel repetitive but uhh; let me tell you something about love. It will ALWAYS be bigger than you. It's out of your control. You can't help who you love. And similarly; you can't help who loves you.

I'm watching a fire burn from afar.
Uncontrollably.
It's already destroyed many-a-things
that has fallen into its path.
I don't want you to die in this fire.
Maybe let it singe parts of you
so you know not to dive into
wild fires that don't care if you get burned.
You'll have 3rd degrees that go deep
and the fire will continue to grow larger
as if it lives and breathes.
It won't change for you.
It won't die down for you.
It won't let you tame it;
rename it
and it damn sure won't let you claim it.
I want to save you.
But you're not mines to save.
So I watch from a distance
as you stand in the path of fire;
awaiting what you think is a beautiful rage.
I don't want this to ruin you
but lovin you obviously doesn't equal a rescue.

I know a lot more than I should. I wish I was still naive and unaware. That's foolish; right ? Oh well. I just randomly wrote that poem. That was the whole reason for the post I guess. *Shrugs* As my buddy said; I'm havin one of those days...

Because that’s what people do. They leap, and hope to God they can fly, because otherwise, you just drop like a rock, wondering the whole way down, why in the hell did I jump? But here I am, falling, and the only one that makes me feel like I can fly, is you.

 -Hitch.

Thoughts of an Insomniac.

I think he's beautiful...


Looking back at pictures and the things he used to say to me; I'm sure that once upon a time, he loved me as much as I thought he did, if not more...

Blah. Blah. Blah...


I still think about him alot...even know I'm not supposed to be and I shouldn't be. I think about how sweet 'I love you' sounded from his lips and how I felt like my reply "I love you more' was a lie; not because I didn't {because God knows I loved him with everything I had} but because I felt he loved me that much. In a way that was almost unbearable to be away from him for longer than a few hours...I felt invincible with him. Invincible and helpless at the same time...

I think that love...has a way of making someone apart of you; your better half and nonsense like that. And I'd hate to think that someone undeserving or just anyone in general has had that part of me...I've handled somethings really bad between us but I think for the most part; I handled this one thing pretty well...And I don't think anyone knows how bad this one situation has broke me. I'm pretty hurt by it...I didn't realize how hurt until about an hour ago. It's one of those things that will always bother me probably...

I don't think I'll ever forgive her.


I've run out of random thoughts to embarrass myself with...I'm actually pretty tired but sleep is hard to come by now-a-days...always, always thinking...about him, or how I miss the shit outta my best friend, why nothing is going the way I want it to go. I don't really believe in all the beautiful things I once did; like love and best friends; I mean I do...but nothing quite feels the same as it used to...and I'm a cry baby...whatever. I guess there's some strength somewhere in all of this.

I need someone to tell my secrets too...but I don't see me telling anyone everything anymore.

I think that his hugs are magic and could solve every problem.
I think that his forehead kisses would still send chills through my body.
And I can't even imagine how big the smile on my face would be if he hugged me from behind, slid his hand into mines and told me he loved me...

No one needs to read this...but if you have know that I think I'm a complete idiot and I wish I would've just went to sleep...=(

Something I Needed to Read.

I'm further in than ever before; smh...

In honor of National Eating Disorders Awareness week, we wanted to share a beautiful story written by a former TWLOHA intern, Stephanie Koszalka. Please read it and enjoy remembering that your life and your story are powerful. No self-determined imperfection can change that.

---

Dear Body,

I’ve always let some imperfection or another stand in the way of me seeing what you truly are, that you are beautiful. You are a divine creation housing the most valuable thing known to the universe, my soul. I’m beginning to realize that a person’s soul has the capacity to radiate light that transcends all the characteristics that I have been conditioned to believe are flaws.

You naturally tell a story. Your blue-green veins are like a map to where your heart has been and where it is going. The curve of your waist and the shape of your cheekbones tell a tale of heritage and ethnicity. There are crayon markings on the wall somewhere that has measured your height throughout the years. Always returning to the same spot to see how you’ve changed.

Your eyes bare resemblance to nature. They are a deep forest green with golden yellow sunflower flecks. Your faded birthmark, once beet red, brought me shame because all I wanted was to conform. It now reminds me of how unique you are and all I want is to be different.

Your body begins as a story but continues with new chapters throughout your life. Some are chapters of sadness and pain, others of joy, and all of growth. Each chapter a blank canvas meant to be painted by our experiences. Photos are memories but so are our bodies in a way that’s more real, no posing and no fakeness.

I’m realizing these things now, but I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize them before. I’ve done everything I could to destroy the canvas and deface and burn the pages of different chapters.

I’ve waged war on you before; used razor blades to feel and drugs to numb. I’ve used caffeine to stay awake and alcohol to sleep. Abusing the side effects of my prescription drugs like loss of appetite, to deliberately starve myself into making you skinnier.  I’ve spent far too much time on a scale that merely weighs your effect on gravity, not the depth of your beauty. I wanted you to look like one of those girls in the magazines.

But in the ruins there is still a canvas. There is still beauty in your brokenness. The faded scars show healing reminding me that even though I’ve been in dark places, I’ve survived and learned and become stronger.

Although the war is over, the world still takes its toll. You have calluses on your hands from me writing too much and concentrating too hard. Yet the words are beautiful and the studying is worth it. You have the ache when it rains from broken bones, and stretch marks from growing too fast. You have burns from jobs and scars from falls. But those experiences were worth it.  

Dear body, as I grow older I worry about how you will age. Together we gain wisdom and wrinkles, after being young and beautiful and naïve. The wisdom tells us that the beauty doesn’t subside, it only changes, and more of it comes from within.  So I won’t worry when my hair doesn’t look just right, or when I do something stupidly funny and emerge with another scar because you are telling a story. And what would I be without my story and my past?

TWLOHA

Letter to the Sixth of February

*a post that was written days in advance of the actual day; i waited so long to post. hesitant. and idk how i feel about puttin it out there but i know that when i wrote this letter, it felt beautiful; whether anyone sees it or not...and by anyone i mean, to whom it may concern...


To Whom It May Concern,

I hope this finds you in good spirits...or that it simply finds you.

Today is the 6th of February. And it's just another day. One that wedges itself between the 5th and the 7th. I wish it were important, that it marked some journey that we successfully made it through. Today should be the sum of great accomplishments.

But this day leaves a bittersweet feeling clouding my mind. Me secretly wishing that this day was filled with everything that I remember about how we started; a complete 180 degrees from where we stand now. And I don't wanna forget how your lips feel pressed against mines and other sweet parts of my body. The way it felt to reach out for a hand and feel yours slip so perfectly into mines. The safety and comfort that I could find with my face buried in your chest, inhaling your fragrance. I dreamt you this morning and Lord knows you felt so good; almost like you were really here. Like how I used to wake up to your face next to mines. But today, I stared into the empty space that used to Yo Side of the Bed and hugged your memory. It's not as good as being laid up in your arms; caressing your smooth skin, rubbin down your back and your stomach while the sky cries cold tears that piles into white mountains; envious of the warmth that the two of us had found in each other.

Warmth.


There's nothing like the way you smooth found your way into my warmest parts; the sacred place between my legs, and my heart. Feeling you got my heart racing, skin tingling, blood pumping, moans escaping, grabbing the sheets, the pillow, the mattress...scratchin you up. Lips like heaven, body the perfect piece to the puzzle that is me. Ughhh, I thought you were the shit.


So, we've shared amazing moments. And of course the not-so-amazing. Somedays, I'm still beyond angry with you. How stupid you've been, how stupid I've allowed you to make me. Fools falling in love. I've cried. I've wanted to hurt you as bad as you've hurt me; salty cause, I don't have it in me to cause you pain. Been forced to sit idle while people have bashed you; sorta feeling like they're right but praying that I knew you better than they did and you would show them just how wrong they've been. The days that hurt the most were when you were a stranger to me; when I knew nothing of you, or what you've been up to, or anything about you, or that someone knew you better than me. What the fuck? I've been all up, down and around that body; spent hours tryna get inside your head, carve a space out for myself in your heart; only to watch it all fall apart...or someone else get in easier than me.

But I remember you, love. Most definitely. Not just on February 6th but everyday that my hand doesn't find yours. Miss you, love you...Happy 6th of February.

--Iyana ♥

P.S. And if you ever find someone new, just know she better be good to you cause if she isn't...

What I've Been Thinking.

Random thoughts: Thank God for best friends. And I've written some really beautiful poems lately... #thatisall.


The hardest thing in the world is watching the one you love, loving someone else. I know it's bound to happen...I hate the thought of it. Scary, honestly. And I rarely ever tell anyone I'm scared of anything except my silly lil fears like thunder and of course, ladybugs; so, consider yourself lucky to have read that.

I don't have any control over anyone else's feelings. I barely have control over my own feelings and shit. I can cross my fingers and wish for people to feel how I want them to feel all I want but no. I can think to myself that no one's gonna love the way that I would, give them all that I would but I can wanna give someone the world all I want but I can't make them take it. It kills me inside. Even when I try to tell myself it doesn't. Even when I try to act like it doesn't. Everybody knows and I wish they didn't.

In similar news, one best friend is headed onto what seems to be a great new adventure, which is awesome. He's the type of guy who gives a girl his all, wish they were all like that but whatever, whatever. The other best friend finds herself questioning everything she's come to know. She's so much like me it's bothersome. And I'm tryna give her advice, knowing I suck at the exact situation she's in, well similarly, cuz honestly, I'm not in a situation, right? I just have the very unfortunate luck of loving a friend...one I'd do anything for, like swallow my emotions...

I wonder if cavemen ever fell in love...you know, so easy a caveman can do it...what if they never did it? That was dumb...it's just hard. Everything will work itself out in time, I suppose. Whatever will happen will. I'm not sure, I'm not even supposed to be thinking about it...but we're rapidly approaching February and I just wanna rub a stomach...weird, yea. It's a throwback kinda feeling...one that I'm feeling by myself.

Now, ain't that some shit, lol, smh.

Chasing Dreams with the Angels

I'm pretty sure I believe in angels...Yuuup, really beautiful ones with hidden wings and sweet heavenly faces and big hearts. I'm really lucky to be honest. I'm surrounded by some amazing people who make my life worth living and provide me with opportunities that I would've missed without them. Not to mention all the love and laughter I share with them. When love and friendship is real and honest, nothing can tear it apart. Not distance or time or insignificant dramas. I don't care if you're in North Carolina or you're in London with a ridiculous five hour time distance, I'm gonna miss you, I'm gonna wish you were next to me sharing these moments of my life, but I also know that when we come back together, it's gonna be like we never left each others side. That's if it's all real. Cause I love my angels and I want all the happiness in the world for them. I'm willing to let you go, I'm more than happy to let you live cause if you need me, you know exactly where to find me. I'll be on the other end of your phone call or text msg or webcam over skype. If you want me, I'm right here.

Only time will tell who will always be an angel in my life. Time and circumstances.

But I've had a lot of time to think and just...breathe. And I almost know exactly what I want...almost. But I have time to figure it out. I'm ready to chase some FUCKING dreams lol. With the help of my wonderful friends and God. --Yea, me and Him got a special thing going on, just between me and Him. I'm spiritual...still tryna figure out if that's synonymous to religious. Oh well.

Here's some random short stories of what the angels do:

• Sit with me in the stairwell while I cry. Stand with me in the rain while we try to jump the car. Tell me their secrets. Tell me I can do anything when I swear I can't. Speed to make it to the carryout before midnight. Buy me Sims 3.
• Go on adventures/roadtrips to the mall. Show me their ass as they're walking down the hallway. Buy me lipgloss. Text me all day long. Help me drag a very drunk person inside while he screams about the things people have done to his balls. Take naps with me. Speak highly of me. Offer to kill my roommate for me. Tell me your escaping from Alcatraz... 
• Make funny videos. Tell me I deserve better. And that we're lucky to escape. Watch sweeny todd with me. Eat donuts. And sushi. And Chipotle. And Coldstones. Also take naps with me. Sing to me/with me. Throw apple sauce at people, the same apple sauce you offered to share with me and when I said yes please, you said no...
• Lay in bed with 3 of the coolest people in the world. (Well only TWO of them are the coolest to me, the other one is cool to her.) Stay up til 7am, mad that we didn't think to get McDonald's breakfast. Skype from 5000 miles away. Get lost while walking in snow storms. Slumber parties. Tons of journals, filled with secrets, dreams, stories, poems. Watch purple ink run down the drain.
• Send good morning and good night texts. Give me back rubs. Write me songs. Send me surprises. Wish you were in this state instead of that state. Sing Kid Cudi with me. Tell me my looks could kill you lol. One last time before you go. Greatest 5 minutes of my life seeing you. Drive me crazy.
• Stay up with me when I can't sleep. Make me brownies. Eat ihop with me.
• Tell me I inspire you and I'm wise and real. Call me lil mama.
• Spill juice on your shirt. Watch Top Model in my lil brother's room. My spiritual advisor. Ask to hang with me cause Zeno is in the room. Play DJ Hero and spades with me.
• Have tree waiting for me. Party with me. Shop with me. Let me keep you company while you're at work. Fistpump.
• Buy me panties. Cry in the movies with me. Fight about who's gonna drive. Take your ugg boats off and walk in 30 degree weather while you're on the phone with "Corey's Father" screaming you love him, LOUD, for everyone to hear...
• Listen to my stories. Fight for me. Ride the subway with me. Tell me the truth. Forgive me. Understand that I need to circle Forever 21 seven times before I actually try something on.
• (THROWBACK) -- Kiss my forehead-nose-lips; in that order. Watch shows with me that you hate at first and then grow to love. Hold my hand. Hug me. Be my biggest fan. Take care of me when I'm sick. Best team ever. Sled in the snow on a piece of cardboard with me. Make me laugh. Say you love me.

Those are all true stories. Each bullet about someone different, someone special. Angels. With beautiful, inspiring, meaningful lives. I love a good group of people. And it feels so right when they love me back. Nothing is perfect, or written in stone for sure what's going to happen, but for now, I've got a oddly great team. Life isn't the best but it could be a whole lot worst...

Don't be discouraged if you're alone; because if you're alone and alive, you've already proven that you don't need anyone.

--So I never actually am alone, I just always feel alone...

The Miseducation of Me to You.

You keep me grounded cuz at times I'm out of whack. Ur an essential part of my everyday activities and I'm happy we're growing to be best friends. I love how you love me and I give much credit to you for helping me get...cuz you never gave up when I did at times. Ur a great encourager even when I don't wanna believe you. You keep it 100 twenty-four seven and I really appreciate that. I couldn't ask for a better friend that's short, cute and brilliant. Ur light shines bright and it's one that anybody would be lucky to be in. I'm just happy that you allowed me to get a glimpse of the amazingness that's yet to come. --probably one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.

Finally. Someone sees something great in me. I can whine that no one understands me, knowing that's not true. It's right there --proof that someone gets me. And I know that there are a little circle of people that understand me and thinks that I'm lowkey awesome in my own special way.

But...I'm what psychologists and Webster call a pessimist. So no matter how much you pour in my glass, I'ma tell you that it's not enough, it's half empty instead of half full, not because I'm selfish but because I've gotten uncomfortably used to disappointment. And for some odd reason, I got all these wonderful ass people loving me but the fact that someone misunderstands me, fucks my whole world up. And it shouldn't but I got this lil' blood pumper called a heart that feels...it doesn't matter how exactly but i feel. I feel like some people are completely miseducated on me. I've been called a lot of things --sweetheart, baby, love, lil mama (in the cute way not the why do u have a ponytail hole cut in ur new era fitted? kinda way), whore, slut, dumb bitch... --and the confession is: I either smile excessively from a gesture of kindness from anyone, or I let words hurt me, even make me cry. I let words hurt me.That's some real honesty. I know, I know, I need to just man the fuck up. Guess I'm just a cry baby...

I AM A SWEETHEART. That's what it is. I've tried to be cold, I've tried to care about everything but these bitches (and interchangeably niggas), but I do. I'm sensitive and emotional and warm-hearted...I'm genuine with my feelings and the things I say. I'm honest cuz I hate to be lied to myself. An okay listener who can sometimes talk too much but I got a nigga (well not a nigga) tellin me about myself. I'm still living off some shit they taught in kindergarten --treat people how you wanna be treated. I can't be savage, I'm not vengeful, or hateful. The fact is, I'ma always tell you how I feel even if I know it has potential to end bad. I can give out advice ALL DAY LONG but my own shit is a beautiful mess that drives me crazy, pierces me in places I wish you didn't still have control over and hurts. Truth is --I'd die for mines. I keep people I love up on a very high pedestal where they're surrounded with respect, understanding, trust and enough love to suffocate the shit outta anybody. But I know they deserve it, especially the ones who say shit like that.

Long story short --I can love people who seem to be complete strangers to me. You should know me better than to think that I'd show you anything but love and respect. But I guess you don't. I'm a lover. A fighter --I'd die for mines. BEST friend; shoulder to cry on. unethical wife of several, girlfriend of a many same sex --in the most heterosexual way. I'm just Yani. And I wish you'd ask me about me before you pass judgement and drop blame.

I ain't do it to be cocky, I do it to be loved and understood cuz everyone, yup EVERYONE deserves that. So, you can tell me about myself, constructively, cuz it'll help me grow. But I wanna grow with you...

Everyday's Forecast.

I'm resisting every urge I have to curl up into a ball and disappear off the face of the fucking earth. I'm in a hateful ass relationship with my own damn emotions. I have a tendency to care. I fall for all the wrong people and things and there's this devastatingly cold lonely feeling that won't get of my fucking back. And most importantly, I'm tired. I'm tired. Of trying with bullshit ass results and misinterpretations of my soul, heart and worth.

But yet, I'm still trying. I have no idea why. I'm taking a lot of heat from people I love, leveling out my pride, bottling up my emotions. I know exactly how I feel but I'm tired of explaining, trying to prove myself. Here's what's going on inside my head in a something slight format.

• BOYS. The one I think I want. The one I probably need. The other one? Funny how this is probably the least of my problems. Always in my head but a solution in itself probably. Everybody loses, lol. --That's not funny.
• We'll call this bullet --LOVED ONES AND LISTS. I have some friends. I don't want them to go on this list I have. It's a list that pains me and makes me sad. Like brings me to tears sad. That is all.
• SCHOOL.
• MOTHER.

I repeat --I'm tired. Tired of the same outcomes and repetitive pains. It's really taking a toll on me that I don't want to express. I just need to sit down. And I think I see everything the way its bound to happen. I'm done. I'm gone. You're just waiting. For what? Idk. New Years is just another day on the calendar. Don't structure our pains around it.

He broke down in tears talking about how God neglected him. --Everyday's Forecast.

The Birds and the Bees

"...and they left all of the snakes out of the birds and the bees."

I actually went searching for the story of the birds and the bees. No such luck lol. Turns out its not a literal type thing. The story of 'the birds and the bees' is just an opening for parents to begin everyone's favorite and most awkward sex talk. But I've come to realize that when parents tell that story, they portray a happy fairytale. And when you're a kid who thinks the birds sing and the bees try to have sex with them to your understanding (that was a Simpsons quote if you ain't know), you believe it. You'll believe anything until you find out firsthand.

So let me tell you the real story. Some shit that I know firsthand.

"So, back when crushes didn't crush us..."

Birds and bees are completely different creatures. You shouldn't really expect the birds to understand how the bees feel or vise versa. But they try to make it work anyways. It's like I know you're from Venus and I'm from Mars but let's meet somewhere in the middle, Earth maybe, and make magic or some shit like that. Men and women really are from two different world's. Their mannerisms are different, their thought process is different, and their hearts? Their hearts are programmed in a completely different way and the sooner both parties involved realize that, we can make something work.

But as I said before, somebody forgot to mention the snakes. And when I mean snakes, I mean the serpent that tempted Eve...except they're lower, grimier...the type that makes your skin crawl. The birds have realized that bees don't fly the way they do and the bees no that the birds can build their nests anywhere, with another bee, or many bees at the same time...those are the snakes... They let you think they're birds and that they are real enough to make this bird-bee relationship work despite all differences. But they're not. I don't really need to go deeper than that. I'm sure eventually everybody recognizes the appearance of snakes. They're poisonous. But they are damn good at what they do, getting you and making you believe that they're the bird to your bee.

Idk, no one ever told me the story anyways...I've kinda been winging it since I got in the game. And I don't even know which of the two is male or female...is the bird the female because she builds nest...nurturing and is the man the bee because he has a stinger and can pollinate? Idk but if so, I definitely wrote it the other way lol. Oh well, I just wanted to write.

"If you're a bird, then I'm a bird." -The Notebook

when we were in love.

i remember the time so vividly
as if it happened yesterday.
i still have kisses lingering on my forehead and nose,
anticipating when u would finally kiss my lips.
i've always been scared of u.
scared that we could be something they couldn't handle.
scared that i would take ur hand
only for u to lead me some place where
u could leave me
and i would just be there needing u.
but we were in love.
so i threw all my fears aside cuz
i've never been more scared of anything than
losing u.
so now we do this uncoordinated dance
of what used to be...
i sit back and blame myself,
wondering if i hadn't been so scared and
called dibs on ur ass when u wanted me
i would have u.
but i mean,
that was when we were in love.
when nothing else mattered but us being together
and nothing could keep us apart.
we said a lot of long goodbyes
trying to drag out our last moments together for as long as we could
and now we've been reduced to informal passing bys
with no hopes of the sweet kisses or hugs we had
when we were in love.
cuz now it's just
i'm in love.
with a memory.
with the way we used to be.
the way i screamed ur name until i couldn't scream anymore.
the way we stayed up late just talking.
the way we held hands
and held each other
and held our hearts
when we were apart
too long.
when we were in love
i was ur girl.
but now i've been reduced to some girl.
some girl who loves u.
some girl who defends u.
some girl who misses u.
but none of that matters
cuz we're not in love.
it's just me by myself.
it was right around this time last year
when we were in love.

it's no shocker. im in love with a boy. what do u do when ur biggest fear comes to be? there's nothing u can do. =/
i love you.

that's all i have.

TWLOHA

To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit organization that encourages hope and strength for people struggling with depression, addiction, self injury and suicide. Their vision is the belief that:

-You were created to love and be loved.
-You are not alone, especially at the times you feel MOST alone.
-Pain is real.
-Your life is worth fighting for.

So today, on November 13, I supported the movement because LOVE is one of the most important factors in my life. I've said it before and I still stand by it: Love is everything it's cracked up to be. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for and risking everything for.

And the thing that gets me about TWLOHA is that you never know who needs love and hope. Things like TWLOHA remind me to keep an open heart, not be judgmental and remember that no matter how bad I think I have it, someone, somewhere has it worse off than me...Some days it ain't sunny but it ain't so hard...

Yung, I'm cool as shit. lmao.

Lil Angie's arm. lol. 

For more info hit this :http://www.twloha.com/vision/ for the vision, the story, and ways you can support the movement. LOVE is the Movement. Rescue is possible.

♥missflyybarbie