Like There’s Only Today

You’re the very best outcome
in this crazy scenario
that we find ourselves in.
I don’t know where we’re headed,
or what we are trying to do-
but right now
I’ll ride this phase out,
this one that we’re coasting through.
Dancing like some fools
in the rain
on the dance floor
and in the passenger seat
of your car.
We’re losing our minds
over getting it all
real good,
real right.

I guess what I mean is that there are no rules.

So lets sit cross legged under lantern lit skies.
Always kiss like it’s the last time.
Say goodbye when there’s no more love.
But lets try a lil’ bit of love first-
lets see how this tastes on our tongues,
how it sits on our hearts,
how it plays out in our worlds.

It’s all the best outcome, I like this day with you.

-m.j.t.-

“So what did you do?”

“I loved people who were incredibly broken. I let their brokenness fill the holes inside of me. I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t need fixing, I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t need me.

But I wasn’t a hero, I was a fraud. Because, like the blind cannot lead the blind, the broken cannot fix the broken. But I loved them viciously, wholly, truly- as much as I could, with all that I had in me.

I saw worlds in their eyes, an escape from my own. Lending me their flesh for nights that weren’t memorable. Seeing their beauty behind all the pain. I found nothing in them, yet they found everything in me. As time passed, they needed me less and I needed them more. Until I wasn’t the girl they once met, and I was hollow again in their absence.

So, you asked me ‘what did I do?’

I learned to be alone, to be comfortable with myself in the 4 a.m.’s of each day, I let myself be alone- for once.

That was the day though, that I realized being alone is not the same as being lonely. Lonely can only be found, when you cannot be alone.”

-m.j.t.-

Late to the Party

We’re fourteen and sitting side by side through the days. Lunch, classes and locker life talks are all a blur. We ride the wave of being so young, so unsure of what we’re doing. We’re friends, and I like the way you laugh at my jokes, and the fact that everything is so serious. We aren’t tainted by the people we will both love. We are here and it is steady.

We’re seventeen and the world is bigger now. We make playlists in the cold of winter, but the solid strum of guitars make me prefer this state- a deference for the darkness keeps our bones warm and our hearts beat out to the way Foo Fighters intended.

We’re nineteen and some couple hundred miles away, still singing to the sounds of something sunny. I know we’re still thinking about clever titles for playlists. Thousands of songs fill my stations, but the angst of Paramore still reminds me of you. So we reach out, we hold on, we give it another round of songs that say everything we couldn’t dare.

We’re twenty one, and we know that the world is ours. Separately, we’ve done all we could. We listened, we learned, we kept on living. We sat side by side again, the steady hum of the road beneath us. We traveled through the night, and I was fourteen again. But it was only then, in the middle of a dark room, where the music stopped, and our voices filled the spaces- we poured out our hearts.

We’re aging, slowly against the tides of life. And maybe we’re not ready for it all. And maybe we’re waiting to hear just the right string of words. Just know, I’ll be listening with ears wide open. I got it though, I realized then; I don’t need confetti, I’ll take the party for two.

-M.J.T.-

Real Words, Real World

I should have told you to stay, I should have told you that I’m scared to death, I should have told you I loved you -but no one ever says what they mean.

We would all rather be tortured with our love, than to set it free.

I thought about this while I dreamed, and every moment in between the memories.

-M.J.T.

This Season and the Next

I wanted to love you like the fall. The way autumn turns the color of leaves.

From green to red, I’d know you’d feel the passion of all that love. I wanted to be something so natural to you, that you’d feel it innately, running through your veins, just like the roots and those trees.

Blowing through each others branches, like a season that just couldn’t quit.

I felt the same way that hot chocolate keeps your hands from freezing; the steady warmth and promising sweet. I wanted to love you like the entire season.

But the problem with loving you like that, is right after, winter blows through. The leaves fall and slowly crunch under our feet, until they are buried below the flurries.

I chose the wrong season. The wrong time. Maybe the wrong way to love.

So next time, I’ll try the spring.

-M.J.T.-

Get Busy Living | Here I Am

After a month of radio silence, sleepless nights, early mornings, and putting my life back into a schedule- I am here.

These past few weeks have allowed for both moments of reflection, and some goal setting as I ring in another year of life. The last 365 days were all filled with so much love, encouragement, support and growth. It’s true what they say- about growing older, and getting wiser. I don’t claim to know everything, but I’m beginning to understand the most important of all: me.

As you age, you handle loss better. For the most part, some things will never change. Once something is your favorite, it will always be your favorite. As the days rolled on, I started collecting my favorite things. Favorite place, favorite book, favorite happy song, favorite sad song, favorite moment so far, favorite goal, and favorite time of day. I realized it’s important to keep these things with you, to remind yourself of them often. They are things that are solidified, steady, and something you can always hold close- you’ll never lose these things.

That is another thing about age; the finality and permanent smudge that everything eventually wears. This all becomes tainted by time, and carried over in waves if we let it. So, sometimes the things we cherished and loved, we must let go. Not all things are here to stay. Not all love lasts forever. Not all moments are as pure and whole as others. And sometimes, they’re so good to us, we carry them on us like limbs and scars.

Time decorates you. Time completes you. Time allows for things to be new again, old again, young again, free again. Embrace it if it lets you, escape it if you must, but never turn your back on it- you’ll never get this back again.

The last and most complete lesson, is to write every day. Write about how you woke up, and rushed out the door. Pick apart those moments between the snooze button, and the last sip of coffee. You’ll start to realize that waking up to a quiet house, is the sound that you like best. That the smell of bread as it begins to toast, is a comfort of its own. Turning on the computer, and the slow ping of emails and updates; reminding you that life is calling. There is a laziness to every morning, that even fills the most chaotic and rushed. Let it in, let it in.

So as I sit here, and age a little more between the words. I welcome you back into my life. I welcome some more reading, some more writing, and a little extra love.

Cheers to another year.¶

 

Palm reader

Just let me trace the palms of your hands,
the lines that connect from the bottom of your palm;
to the top where it widens out.
Your lifeline, my lifeline
the one that makes me feel tethered to your own.
How long a life you’ll live,
mapped out like a journey
we’ll compare each other’s roads,
see where they’ll diverge.
Let the suns light, sneak through the gaps
eye’s covered in surprises, and when the blush creeps up
starting on my neck, behind my ears, up to my cheeks
and you can read it in my eyes.
We’ll drum our fingers on our knees,
in the air-
when a solo is necessary and fundamental to our dance parties.
Thumbs up for
our favorite foods
movies
and songs
your freshly washed sheets
my pancakes on Sundays.
Thumbs down for
puns that don’t make you want to cringe
the bottom of ice cream pints
lost keys
poorly made margaritas.
You see, these hands tell me more
than secrets scribbled through journals
and childhood bedrooms alike.
Your work, your life
all splattered across those beautiful wide hands
that grasp for
my hips
the back of my neck
and my very own hands.
So tiny in yours.
Enveloped, covered, protected.
Lifeline to lifeline.
All of this and all of you and all of me
I read it in your hands,
when I traced them.
-m.j.t-

Get Busy Living | What I thought about when I opened that little box of memories

I sat crossed legged on the floor of my childhood room. The paint’s been redone once again. From sunny yellow, to nauseating pink and purple stripes, now coming to a calm sunset blue. I took out that box, the one that usually remains settled, dormant, untouched for many years. It’s the one you dig out in moments- of nostalgia, sadness, and sometimes weakness.

It contains all but moments- things that should have been thrown out many moons ago. But somehow find themselves still here, living harmoniously inside this cream colored secret box of mine.

I open it slowly, like a gift that keeps on giving- the lid is covered in quotes and words. All dated and signed like I was afraid I’d forget that I wrote them.

What sits at the top is a collection of old birthday cards. From best friends, past friends, and people who were there in passing. But it’s never about the pieces at the top, the things so easily on display for whoever discovered it. It’s always the deeper you dig, the more treasure you find. The closer you get to the love, the closer you get to knowing me.

Because at the bottom, are letters, the remaining pieces of loves, and lovers. The pieces that I consciously stopped remembering. Except for when I open this box. I guess the thing about letting go, is that we never truly do. Never let go completely. And maybe its not so that we have reminders of those people we loved- but so that we can have reminders of who we were when we loved like that. When I loved like that. Someone who loved so fiercely, for not knowing a thing about love at all. Was she loving right? Should she care more? Care less?

How silly it all seems now, because there was never a right way at all. Love was love. Love is love. And it came in many forms.

Maybe it was CD’s of dub-step, with letters written longhand, describing each song. The moment you feel the drop, anticipating it. All those shiny silver disc’s wrapped in handmade envelopes entitled “Moar Lyrics. Moar Fun. Moar Love.” How you listened to it, over and over, in those walls that were still so pink and purple, you were dizzy. Partly from the color, partly from the songs.

Maybe it was love notes. Celebrating seven months of first love and first loving. Postcards marked from Spain. How you checked the mail every day, just up until that very card came. How we dreamed of being lovers in Spain. How loving you was an adventure all on its own.

Maybe it was cling peach jars, and three versions of the same letter, written to the same lover. Filling the jar to the brim with quotes- words from another mind, saying everything your fourteen year old self didn’t have the guts to say. But you spent the time, finding the exact right ones, clipped them up- to hand over in a jar, to a boy, in the middle of the rain, on that very driveway where he’s picked you up a handful of times. How you’d love that boy for a long while.

All love. All different. All beautiful. All their own.

So, the box, the one we keep in the back. Sealed tight with pictures, letter, cards, and your heart. All living simultaneously inside. Take it out every once in a while, blow off the dust, take in the moments.

Because it’s all just proof. Proof that you’ve loved like this, and that you’ll love again. Stronger and better. Each time. With time. With life.¶

 

Wasting good days with you,

-This is an open letter, to whoever I will love next-

I hope you’re nothing that I imagined you would be. I hope that you don’t tick off all the boxes that I’ve made sure the next person should have. I hope that it’s not an all or nothing love. I hope that you are living your life, too busy chasing dreams, and making plans. I hope you’re spending all your time.

Let me start by saying, I can be a little rough around the edges. My dreams used to feel like walls that felt like they would consume me, if I dared to dream too wildly. At times, my scars will show. They will be the gloves I put on to defend the nicked and scratched portions of my exterior. I am someone who has been built from a foundation of her choosing. Because I’m constantly being, and constantly growing. I wasn’t always this happy, this silly, this honest, this truthful. I wasn’t always this much- of anything. But slowly, I guided myself to be too much of everything. Because I’d rather paint my life with too much of anything, than nothing at all.

This is where you come in. Because I want to share my world with you. I want to waste great days laying around in the grass- sober from the sunburn, but drunk on your favorite memories. I want to fill you in, and be filled in, on all the things we missed. You’ll show your ghosts, and I’ll show mine too. I’ll accept them all with the grace and patience that you have taught me. We’ll want to grow and dream beside each other. All with each other’s support, and without each other’s judgment. I want to learn about your passions. And make them my own too. I want to share with you what makes waking up so easy, and going to sleep so difficult. Because I am so excited about living life. 

You’ll know that I don’t like black licorice, candy corn, or the sounds of heavy metal. That I’ll read several books- all at the same time- because I was too indecisive to choose just one. Maybe you’ll like all the things that I don’t. And maybe I’ll learn to love them, because they are a part of you. We’ll also be the Tuesday kind of love- where we wake up after hitting snooze four, maybe five times. The coffee that was freshly brewed is now room temperature, because we couldn’t get out of bed. We would rather spend another five minutes looking out of half awake morning eyes, remembering how we are. Then eventually, we will lazily make our way into a semblance of a morning routine. Rushing out the door to work. All because it was five more minutes to share with you. Easily. Comfortably. Simultaneously.

I want to be surprised by you. I want you to challenge everything I have ever known. I want you to finally be someone I can stop comparing to all the others- because you are entirely your own. I hope that I can love you, and love myself, in tandem. Because I want to love you without losing myself, and only you will understand that best. I want you to do all the things you’ve ever wanted, and to know that I will never keep you from reaching the sky. We will champion each other’s dreams. And celebrate each other’s success. Lastly, I just want to spare some of your time, and spare some of my time, and spend it on each other. Something so much more valuable than money could buy, and something we can never seem to get enough of these days.

So, I hope you’re nothing that I imagined you would be. I hope that you don’t tick off all the boxes that I’ve made sure the next person should have. I hope that it’s not an all or nothing love. I hope that you are living your life, too busy chasing dreams, and making plans. I hope you’re spending all your time.

It’s nice to finally meet you. To see you again. Or maybe we just haven’t met quite yet. But know this, I look forward to loving you one day

Get Busy Living | Here you are, again

In the flush of love’s light, we dare be brave. And suddenly we see that love costs all we are, and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free.

From the eyes of a lover, the world takes on two shades- the way life was before falling, and the way the world looks after you’ve fallen. It is accurate to say we ‘fall in love’- your heart speeds up, it feels like it’s rising into your throat, you’re a little scared, and your body feels weightless. It is every sensation coursing through your body, suspended in time. But what comes of the after math once you’ve landed?

Once you’ve lost. You find yourself drifting. No longer between daydreams, but between the ghost of who you were, and the shell of who you are now. You learn what it means to build and form the foundation for who you want to be. You’re changed, and it makes you reevaluate the things you care for- to cast aside the things that no longer need your attention. You sift through the remnants of yourself, picking up only the vital pieces of a soul that was so carelessly scattered across the time and space of loving and leaving.

We forget that while we are basking in the golden light- that we must also urgently, ardently, and forcefully love ourselves as well. We have to keep the spirit and life that dwells within us, alive, afloat, and never let it be dampened down at the cost of loving someone else. It is a lesson that is hard learned, hard earned, and happens so subtly- that you most often never see it coming.  It is both magic and a curse to love someone so deeply. 

Do not confuse this for another article on how to heal a broken heart. This is a reminder to actively love someone alongside loving the most important one of all- you. Continue reading “Get Busy Living | Here you are, again”