callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: I always got participant ribbons.
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/07/i-always-got-participant-ribbons.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. I always got participant ribbons. Sometimes I want someone to be there to tell me why the spacebar is more worn out than the letters in "please". And sometimes I want to ask love for its first name, because "in," "of," "for," and "with" are too simple to preface the thing I've never tried to search for. My eyes are too restless to ask all the questions that matter,. Wherefore art thou Romeo and wherefore art thou Juliet and wherefore art thou Erin. The sun is too busy.
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: Hi. I think I have a Crush. Capital C. Hi. I think I'm back in middle school.
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/08/hi-i-think-i-have-crush-capital-c-hi-i.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. Hi I think I have a Crush. Capital C. Hi. I think I'm back in middle school. Things that are cute about you:. Green eyes (I like green eyes just in general, tbh). Your laugh when you stop caring. The way you aren't ridiculously outgoing. Your voice (it definitely isn't off-putting). That you sometimes watch me. You say "hi" to me first. Your smile when something unexpected happens. Your smile when something unexpected doesn't happen, you're just happy. I probably won't tel...
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: August 2014
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014_08_01_archive.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. I made a new blog, because apparently that's what I do sometimes. I NEED A CHANGE. So, I will no longer be updating this one. Aw. Anyways, if you want to keep up with my sometimes poetry and sometimes random lists/ridiculous updates about my life, I'll be posting stuff here: heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com. Im not actually sorry. Summer is over for me. Tell me about your life. I would've stitched our hearts together like the lips of the damned. You were the best thing.
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: Call me "Reality"
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/05/call-me-reality.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. I didn't really feel comfortable staying with Alis' blog. I like where I finished with her. It's like when you say, "It's not you, it's me. I hope we can stay friends.". But she actually understood. I'm starting new, because I don't think I need to recover myself anymore. I've kind of figured it out, and I'm nowhere near who I was before I started this experience. I thought I was obedient, unquestioning, maybe a little bit snarky. This blog will be my escape. First paragra...
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: July 2014
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. Watercolor eyes bleed through to page 8. Mama shakes her head. Good refrigerator magnets are hard to come by these days. Eighteen year old blood pumps the same as sixteen. Even if the brain works the river. By the side of the road. Stepped on like leaves. Under three year old shoes. Washed down the gutter. Clutching death like a bottle. Bare feet that are better in the rain. Clothes that are better on the hanger. Watch me hit the ground. Sixteen didn't know it. My hair has...
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: Ode to Summertime Insomnia
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/06/ode-to-summertime-insomnia.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. Ode to Summertime Insomnia. The days become longer than our legs and the nights belong more to laughter than to heavy eyelids. We can roast our hearts over the campfire,. But they'll never understand why we fear obscurity more than death. The stars read our tears and tell us that wanderlust was always a myth,. And we'll all find Polaris eventually. Because north may never be the way home,. But home is only where the heart is until it gets sick of your indecision. A link to...
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: 49 things I have learned in my less than two weeks of college:
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/07/48-things-i-have-learned-in-my-less.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. 49 things I have learned in my less than two weeks of college:. The freshman fifteen is a thing and it's terrifying and it's also known as the cannon center. YSA ward sacrament meeting is eerily quiet. Fanfiction is a life ruiner. I have an obsession with e.e. cummings. It's totally reasonable to spend $44 dollars at barnes and noble. Poetry books are always more expensive than novels. It's actually a terrible idea to buy the big boxes of goldfish because freshman fifteen.
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: May 2014
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014_05_01_archive.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. I didn't really feel comfortable staying with Alis' blog. I like where I finished with her. It's like when you say, "It's not you, it's me. I hope we can stay friends.". But she actually understood. I'm starting new, because I don't think I need to recover myself anymore. I've kind of figured it out, and I'm nowhere near who I was before I started this experience. I thought I was obedient, unquestioning, maybe a little bit snarky. This blog will be my escape. That boy that...
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: IN RECENT NEWS:
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/08/in-recent-news.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. I made a new blog, because apparently that's what I do sometimes. I NEED A CHANGE. So, I will no longer be updating this one. Aw. Anyways, if you want to keep up with my sometimes poetry and sometimes random lists/ridiculous updates about my life, I'll be posting stuff here: heartsbeatheadsbeat.blogspot.com. Im not actually sorry. Summer is over for me. Tell me about your life. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A link to the new playlist. Looking for Something, Eh? But i...
callmereality.blogspot.com
Don't Call This a Confessional: Observations:
http://callmereality.blogspot.com/2014/08/observations.html
Don't Call This a Confessional. Line the top lid. Roll the cuffs once to the wrist, above the bone. Top knot's a knot, more for annoyance than effort. Hand towels don't stay on the hook. Pillows littered, catching falling sighs. Hips aren't as tall as shoulders, even on the side. Satin lines on the nightstand, pen in the pages, saying, "be back soon.". Before the sunset between the blinds, caught in a room that won't notice it. Ticking on the sill, time the light. Pretend you don't mind silence. That boy...
