Which one is true: People change, or do they always stay the same?

Obviously we change, develop from a baby to someone with hobbies and dislikes, preferences, and experience. Then again we sometimes develop habits that will never leave us, maybe this means we cheat, or like to have everything perfectly in order. Which on is true?

Can they both be true, applying to different circumstances or even different people all together?

I think everyone is so different in so many ways (obviously you know this too) but what differences really define us as an individual?

Example: I am a writer, she is a dancer.

In this situation our hobbies define us.

Example: He has cancer, she has been in remission for six years.

Does the condition define them, or life and death?

Example: Mom likes to drink, Dad likes to smoke.

Both can kill you, what’s the different?

I could go on and on for days with all the things that make me different from you, but at what point do you distinguish me as someone not in your circle? What makes someone really enjoy your company?

The question I suppose I really want to know the answer to is why does it matter?

Example: I like to write, and my sister likes to dance.

Different hobbies, same blood.

Example: They met during treatment, she is still fighting for him.


Example: They picked up bad habits after the unthinkable happened to them.

We are all different, and for our own reasons, so what makes it okay for you to judge someone else for dealing with their life the way that makes sense to them? This life is so complicated because of the countless things that can happen right before your eyes, good or bad. We cannot sit by and continue to judge our fellow humans, instead we need to know when to help, how to address a situation, how to sit before someone and just be there with an open mind.

We are constantly finding reasons to dislike people, and I cannot figure out why. It isn’t more fun, it’s sad that people have become so cliche in such an inhumane way.

That we have to drill it into peoples heads to be nice, because it isn’t the natural way of things anymore. Reminders or happiness and hope are being spread by few to the many who have forgotten. When will we be kind? When will you smile?


Write A Little Love Note.

This is a work of fiction, and nothing more.

Someone once told me that love was the best thing in the world to have.

I wanted to badly to believe that for a very long time

Meeting people, hoping they were my love.

Praying they were my love.

Dreaming they were my love.

They were always my undoing.

I would cling like a leach a sucker on each end.

Sucking one dry of all he had.

I did not understand why they all left.

What wasn’t there to like about me?

Possibly the fact that I am needy, complicated, and obsessive.

I live in a la la land, a beautiful delusional land where hearts are warm and everyone wants the same thing.


I have warped my mind, obsessing it with one little tiny thing.

I have forgotten about everything else.

No one cares to see me any longer, I cannot blame them.

I am not in touch with reality.

Someone once told me that love was the best thing in the world to have.

I cannot believe Love is real.

Simple Misunderstandings

Understand this and only this.
There is no end to the madness.
Whenever it feels like it may be over
The second you feel like you can breathe
Those are the moments you should fear the most.
No one knows why this is.
And honestly there is no reason to question it.
When you begin to question the things that should remain unknown
You begin to flirt with death.
Situations like that never end well my dear.
I know many things you’ll never care about.
I know many things none of you may never know about.
You notice me when you see me.
But when you notice me it’s only what you can see with those
Shallow eyes.
Never will you see me for what I was intended to be.
Not until I rip this mask from my face, and show you all the demons inside of me.
Even then, when I have everything exposed before you
You still just will not see me.
Instead you’ll take a quick peek into yourself and see all the imperfections
The ones you never quite wanted to believe.
I will ruin you, everything you ever loved about yourself
And what for?
Just so you can hear about my poor lost soul?

Catch Up and Move On

Purl the right side.

Knit the wrong side.

Eighty stitches per row.

Blue yarn.

Green Yarn.

As you can tell, I’ve been doing a lot of knitting. Not many projects, just a blanket, and it’s been a really exciting project. For some reason it makes me feel really great, and I suppose that’s due to the fact that I am creating something. I am getting away from the world, and I’m making something. It’s an amazing feeling.

And maybe today I should be talking about my mom because it’s mothers day, but I just can’t do that.

So instead I will talk about knitting, or the mass amount of Grey’s Anatomy I’ve been watching.

I’ll talk about the twenty mile bike ride I went on, and how I slammed my leg into my pedal.

Today I will talk about things that aren’t so personal, because, well I cannot rip off the band-aid, and tell you all the beautiful things a survivor can say.

I cannot tell you that today is a good day, because today is an agonizing day, today I mourn what many others get to celebrate. 

I cannot tell you that I was sad the moment I woke up and realized I wouldn’t be making my mother breakfast in bed, as I’d done every year for a very long time. 

I cannot tell you that today is a day where I reflect on my pain, because today, I am soaking in my pain. 

And I don’t need anyone to tell me it’s going to be okay, no one is going to call me today and ask me how I’m doing.

I’m fine with that. 

People say it’s good to talk about things, get the sad things out of your head. I just cannot. 

My mother was a person that not many got the opportunity to meet, and I got to meet her. 

Not only did I get to meet her, but I got to love this woman. This woman who never really knew how amazing she was. I got to meet a woman who struggled, a woman who lived a very difficult life, yet every day woke up just for me. I got to meet a woman who knew what love was, who knew what family was. I knew a woman who taught me to be a woman. 

I met a woman who was taken from me too soon. Had I known she was going to go away I would have made sure she knew all the great things about her. People loved my mom, she was the one who could make anyone feel better when they felt like their world was in shambles. She would help anyone out in a moments notice, and yet for some reason, my mom had no one. My mom didn’t have anyone helping her when our world was in shambles, and it was in shambles for a long time.

If I would have known that I was never going to be able to talk to her again I would have said all the right things.

I would have told her that she was beautiful, the prettiest woman who ever lived. I would have told her that I will never meet anyone as strong as her, I will never see that fight in anyone else’s eyes the way I saw it in her. I would have said that I appreciated everything she gave up to make sure that my life was worth living, even though I only needed her in order to be happy. I would have told her that no one is ever going to be my best friend the way she was, no one will make make laugh, or cry, or scream the way she did. I would have told her that she could say anything, and I’d only be mad for a second, because every second we have in precious. 

Part of me doesn’t want to share this with you. Actually, all of my is screaming not to post this for the world to see. But then she wouldn’t be seen, and her whole life, no one saw her. No one saw that beautiful, strong woman that I loved with every inch of me, so I will not share my mother with you. 

I will share the impact she had on me. Knowing that woman, sharing her blood, her spirit, well, it’s made me into a person worth seeing. She taught me all the things no one could teach her, and I wish I could share that all with her now, but instead I will share with you. My fallen angel, turned me into something worth sharing.


Insanity Might Be The Case

Some days are good days.

 I like those days, they feel happy and light, they make the whole living process seem simple.

As much as I love having a good day, of course I have a load of bad days. 

 I mean horrible, dreadful, sad fucking days. 

Yet now I realize that bad days aren’t the hard days. 

    It’s the good days that are hard.

Sure, it’s easy to let every bad event make you mad, to feel like the world is against you is easier than saying

No world, today is not your day.

But it’s not easy to wake up every day and say

out loud

to whoever is or is not listening

Okay day, I’m gonna kick your ass.

Because there is a lot that can happen in a day, and instead of being free spirited, and open to anything, we try to hide ourselves in this indestructible box, with the idea that nothing bad can happen to us.

Unfortunately, we were not made with the option of being invincible, or free of hurt, pain, destruction. We were made for just the opposite.

We feel to live

We live to die

But since we’re here we might as well wake up every day

just to say

Today is for me. 

Simple Excuses

Take my fingertips, and press them against your


Take my palms, and press them against your


Take my sight, and show me your


Let’s just make this quick and take every part of me

and show me every part of you.

I want to feel what you’ve felt

I want to hear what you’ve been told

I want to see what you’ve faced.

But I’m blind 



to everything I’ve ever thought I could love.

So I’m sorry but right now is not a good time.

My fingertips hurt and my palms are too sweaty.

Maybe if you come back I’ll be around to try again.

We both know this is never going to end.

It will always be a dance between our souls.

And do you remember that one time I told you to never let go?

I’m sorry that you did, and I’m sorry I let you.

But this is where we are now, and I don’t mean to offend you, it’s time to let go. 

We are forever bound this we know, so do me a favor

Go see the world

Read a book

Meet a girl

Save a life.

Go live this life and I promise you’ll see 

My happiness in every kindness you ever receive. 

I’m not yours but I’m forever there, in that place when everything was simple and fair. 

This is a work of fiction, and nothing more.

I once knew a boy, he was never anything special really. No one ever talked about him, no one picked on him, but no one ever really knew him either.

A quiet kid.

I wouldn’t even say he was a sad kid.

But of course this I don’t know, being that I don’t know him. I didn’t know him, but notice him, yeah I did that. He had this way about him that was always making me watch him. Like I said, nothing special, but something elegant. As if there was a story to tell, but he was too young to tell it, or we were too young to listen.

Come to think about it maybe his silence was all he had, maybe he thought if he was quiet someone would ask him something. But we never did, instead he played alone on the playground, sat alone at lunch, walked home with no one. 

Eventually we grew up, he met people that I guess he felt he fit in with. I still noticed him, every day, we even talked a few times come middle school and high school. Not friends, but we spent some time together.

I remember one random day I asked that boy to walk home with me. I only did it because I knew we walked the same route, so why the hell not. We didn’t go home though, instead to this little pond no one ever went to. He was pleasantly surprised I knew the place, I remember because it was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. He had a pretty smile.

We sat on a log, and put our feet in the warm water. He talked to me about music, and the world. He talked to me about the beauty in nothing, and the ugly in everything else. I didn’t say a whole lot, he did enough talking for the both of us. 

He told me he wasn’t a good person, he told me he’d done bad things.

At that moment I guess I should have been scared, I should have told him I had to be home before my parents started to worry. Instead all I could do was sit there with him, and listen to him tell me about the life no one ever asked about.

This boy, he doesn’t want to live anymore, says he’s done too much bad to ever get anything good. I looked at him, and suddenly the boy no one ever noticed seemed like the only thing in this whole damn world. 

I told him he could change.

He said he’d given up.

I remember then there was this rage that emerged in my chest, I wanted to scream at him. 

I wanted to tell him that even if he didn’t believe that he wouldn’t see good in this life, leaving this life wouldn’t be any better. That killing himself eliminates any chance he could ever have of redeeming himself. I wanted to tell him this was only a moment of weakness.

This boy I didn’t even know.

My Words Are Far From Truth.

“I’m okay.”

For those of you who know me, you’ve probably heard those words from my mouth countless times, but now it’s time for me to come clean.

I’m really not okay.

I try, really hard to be anywhere near okay. But in reality I’ve never felt so far from something so simple. 

Thoughts consume my mind, a lot of them being “What ifs”, I attempt to push them away yet they grab at my imagination. Every story I’ve attempted is morbid, dark, and involves death somewhere. Most people tell me: “You can’t think that way… you just can’t.”

Well what I’d like to know is how do I do this? How do I live with someone I’ve never had to live without? How can I wake up in the morning knowing my best friend is gone? By no means am I saying I want to end my life or anything, but the fact is I think I’m going through some depression. 

And today I realized something.

That’s okay.

I lost someone, and not just anyone but my mother. I lost my best friend, my biggest fan, my partner in crime. I’m not meant to be okay right now, I’m allowed to hurt, and I’m allowed to let my mind wander.

When I say “I’m okay”I realize that I say that for your benefit and not mine. Because who wants to hang out with the girl who’s “not okay”? No one, and i don’t want people to see me differently even though I’m not the same person I was in September.

And that’s just okay. 

#reverb12 Day 8: Your most important relationship?

I’ve missed a few days of this new fun in the blogging world! I’ve actually missed a lot of time blogging and todays #reverb12 topic is actually very fitting for what I wanted to share with my readers today anyways.

As you know I haven’t updated since October 15th: three days after I turned 18, and five days after I lost my mother. 

My mom was 36 years old and her death was completely unexpected, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever had to deal with in my life. It’s been almost two months and it still feels like it happened yesterday. 

That being said my most important relationship was the incredibly close relationship I had with my mother.

My mom, Belinda Mross was a funny woman, she was crazy, and then of course she was sometimes unbearable. We didn’t have your typical mother daughter relationship, while some days were good and others not so much we had a bond I felt wasn’t the same as others. 

My mom was sick, not sick enough to die, but she spend majority of her adult life sick. That being said I had to grow up fairly fast. I didn’t get the luxury of having the lovely childhood I dreamed of, but looking back on it I’m kind of glad I didn’t have that. I spent a lot of time taking care of my siblings and my mom. I spent a lot of time doing things I didn’t think kids my age were doing (trust me I was right on that one). It became normal for me to be more mature than all of my other friends,and as I got older instead of spending my weekends going out and getting drunk or being stupid I enjoyed spending time with my mom, sometimes we’d go out to Apple bees and spend hours there just laughing about stupid things, other nights I didn’t want to be anywhere near her. 

I miss my mom a lot, and at the most random moments I feel an emptiness knowing that her person isn’t still here. I know she’s there in spirit and will always be with me and maybe I’m still in some stage of anger but that doesn’t make me feel better. When I can’t call my mom or tell her something really random just to see her reaction it upsets me, sure she may be looking down on me but it’s not the same.

There is no way to maintain a relationship with the dead, other than respect their wishes. So I intend to graduate high school (on time) and start college in the fall of 2013. Finishing school was important to my mom, so I plan to do that for not just her but for both of us.