live to the point of tears (lachrymoselife) wrote,
live to the point of tears
lachrymoselife

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there's a bin in the back where you can fill a bag for a buck

i keep seeing my past lying out on picnic tables juxtaposed with mid-july red hot concrete. bins of photographs and volumes of scribbled memories, given away like charity to anyone with the time & patience to attempt to find something that glimmers in the mass of broken hearts, bad days, and hormonal imbalances. nearly nineteen years of living and you'd think i'd have something far too precious to throw away. but really, i don't. there have been times when i lived in the moment and breathed sentimental air in deep enough to think that what i felt right then & there would still be with me in a year. but it all fades away, someday the scrawls across the pages of my senior yearbook that made me cry in my car in the parking lot that day will merely make me raise my eyebrows and flip back a few hundred pages to find a face that will hopefully trigger some resemblance of recognition.
i still have t-shirts from co-ed recreational sports in fifth grades, the halter top that i wore on that fateful labor day stays folded in my drawer as a reminder, i make memorials to misfortune, pay tributes to near strangers that i never see again, i name streaks of lightning that flash through the sky in some naive hope that then they will stay for a while. really, transience is all we can ever hope to know. yet still i get so attached to inanimate objects that on this night i still clutch the teddy bear that witnessed me opening my eyes for the first time as the cracks of thunder resonate further and deeper through the night sky.
i've got hand-me-down dreams, small town fairy wings, tangled roots that run deep and serve as crutches of stability on turbulant nights like these. all these other possessions and most of my nineteen years of memories are lying out on picnic tables for you all to see. let me recommend the excessive hope from two years ago, it saw me through the best days of my life and it appears to be just your size. you may also want to try my childlike innocence because i've held on to it for far too long. adults aren't supposed to long for nothing more than bubbles wands and daisy chains in the spring. i've got this pair of painful stilletto heels that seem to have this instinctive way of walking you straight into a mistake, underwear that you only wear when you secretly hope that there will be someone around later that night to tear it away, red lipstick that's only been used once before, to blow him a kiss as he walked out my door. i've got years of experience at being naive and a degree in self pity. sweaters all streched out in the sleeves because my fingers have this funny way of tucking themselves away when i feel guilty. buckets of tears that most likely still taste a little too fresh, polluted by the rays of pitiful optimism that always seem to break through after the storm. i've got the sickenly sweet words of every boy that ever broke my heart on file in the back, next to the bins that contain the remnants of every devoted friend that ultimately found self-indulgence to be more rewarding in the end. i find it hard to walk back that far still, the lightbulb went out for the last time on one unidentified yesterday, but i'll lend you my flashlight if you think such tarnished artifacts could be of any service to you. i'd rather you take the dignity i never used and self-confidence i know i'll never grow into. i'll throw in all the recycled fake smiles for free, with a promise that these things alone will get you through high school.
i suppose what i'm really trying to say is that everything feels slightly for show these days. these words, this face, my heart that seems to be convinced that it is strong enough to fall in love again. it's arrogance is sickening. i still nearly bleed to death daily from my last run in with teenage lust, but it proclaims that maybe things could end another way, that maybe they won't have to end at all, but i know better than to believe in forever any more.
all i know is that i exist through each overflowing day just so i have plenty of time to anticipate your goodnight kiss. i proclaim a sale on picnic table number three, all the lessons i've ever learned about why you should never give your heart away are half price today.
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  • 14 comments
my god and hot damn, if i can ever write half as well as you i will be thrilled.

<3
<3

i have a feeling that you may not believe me when i say that you already do. but yea.
thank you, dear. :)
anytime :)
it's beautiful the way you write. the vocabulary, symbolism, and flow, perfect perfect. and i love it. :)
oh & i am so honored to have such a lovely reader. <3
you are such a lovely addition to this world.
as are you. <3<3<3
well spoken.
very nice. {x o x o} -
(:
when will you be 19?
thank you :)

july 7th. i get excited rather early.
your writing is fucking incredible.

you're so precious & i consider myself blessed to know you. and i want to send you something for your birthday... :D
awwww...i am smiling so wide right now. SO WIDE THAT I WILL TYPE IN CAPS FOR NOREEN!! :)

i would be more than thrilled to get anything from you on any day, especially my birthday!!!!
so i see it's already been said that your words in this entry are simply gorgeous, but i felt the need to pay the compliment to you, as well.

[and if your wondering who i am & how i found my way here, i found you through a chain of friends' friends by clicking my way through boredom. what a nice surprise to stumble upon you.]
and what a nice surprise to be complimented by a random stranger. i'm kristen, and thank you :)