Eleanor and Park

Today, on paper, was a good day.
I slept in, had a dentist appointment, had lunch with my mom and two little brothers, emailed old friends, watched T.V. and read.
It was a relaxing day and I am so ungrateful for being sad.
It started when I woke up around 8:30 so I could meet my friend to give her her jacket, chap-stick and keys before her classes. In exchange she said she'd return my backpack with my Vaseline and
 my ukulele. When she arrived at my house with our other friend, she tip toed to my drive-way in her bare feet and I met her halfway. She thanked me for returning her things and I shrugged it off. I noticed her hands were empty and asked if she had my backpack and ukulele, in which she said in a guilty tone that she'd forgotten. I smiled and said it was fine. She got back in the car and I waved goodbye to my two friends. It was fine. It's not like I needed my backpack, and my Vaseline I just used for my lips. It was my ukulele that I missed. It made me feel like I was doing something with my life while I attempted to learn how to play it.
I didn't get ready for the day, I had breakfast and said my morning prayer. I thank God for all of my blessings but start to feel temptation. I start to ache to ask for help with my health and friends but I hold back because these are all things I brought on myself. In fact, in the eyes of others, it's not even something to worry about. I'm dramatic for thinking about asking for help for something that doesn't even seem like a problem.
I went to the dentist, returned home and to my room to have some nice quiet time. I checked my email and found that my friends on missions wrote back to me. I had a huge smile on my face when I read how happy they were to hear from me. It felt so warm to know that people were happy that I was back in their lives. But then I felt empty again. Like the warmth I felt was a campfire that was falling down an endless hole. I realized they really only were happy to hear from me because they too were lonely and ached for someone to miss them.
I fell asleep for hours and woke up to the night. I watched T.V. and read Eleanor and Park. If you haven't read it I think you should. I mean, I haven't finished it yet, or even gotten any far, but so far I like the uniqueness of the book. The two main characters are a short Asian kid and a plump red head girl. Normally in books, the people who fall in love are secretly beautiful. I like how they aren't obviously beautiful. Or even loud or funny. I am only beginning to scratch the surface of their personalities, so you wouldn't think I was too attached to them or their story. But there was a line in the book that struck me. They both are walking together quietly and they don't even know why they are walking together, when Park finally speaks up. It was nothing big or too funny, but he just wanted a reaction from this girl. The way he worded it though, just slapped me across the face.
"And she...
Eleanor laughed."
Here comes that big smile again, I absolutely loved that line. Here was a boy who saw a girl who no one else thought was anything special, who is just taken away by her laughter. And here I am, smiling because it's an innocent moment and suddenly my face gets hot and there are tears and I'm crying. How come I am so dramatic? I read this beautiful line and I just had to ruin it. I just had to think about how this is happening to millions of people, to people I know, but not me. That my friends are off living their own lives, not only that but with each other in their dorm rooms, in their memory-lane-hall. That people are meeting other people and making memories and having moments like this and I am stuck in my own personal limbo.
I put myself in this situation, I know that. I'm the one who took a semester off, I'm the one who moved back home, I'm the one who won't go out and socialize because I feel I'm not thin enough, or pretty enough to hang out with my goddess friends. I'm the one who put myself in the overfilling, lonely body. I'm the one who pushed people away because I know they can be happier with people who make them look good.
Right now, no one will care when I laugh. My laugh is nothing special to anyone. My presence makes no dent to any conversation or event. I know I'm the one who makes me feel this way and I really hate it. I can really hate myself sometimes and I feel I can't let anyone know. I'm so dramatic for not loving myself, I'm so selfish for not being grateful. I'm so pathetic for wanting and outstretched hand.
Who is Eleanor without Park highlighting her beauty. She is no one without Park taking an interest. I am the over-looked Eleanor. We all are until we find our Park.

I'm just being dramatic

In fact,

I'm only at it again

As an addict with a pen

Who's addicted to the wind

As it blows me back and forth

Mindless, spineless, and pretend

Of course I'll be here again

See you tomorrow

But it's the end of today

End of my ways

As a walking denial

My trial was filed as a crazy

Suicidal head case

But you specialize in dying

You hear me screaming

Father

And I'm lying here just crying

So wash me with your water

ADDICT WITH A PEN

Twenty One Pilots

Photography

Mountain Leaves

Waiting to fall asleep,

to feel the pills under my skin

until my body understands

my mind's exhaustion.

How crushing it is

to feel the heavy emptiness all again;

nodding to broken poets.

It's too nostalgic.

AM

I love 4 am.
The morning when it still looks like night.
When there are still crickets chirping.
I toss and turn to try to go back to bed.

I love 5 am.
 The sky and earth gain definition and light but the sun still hides.
When the birds sing each other awake.
I lie on my stomach and let my hair out my window, surrender to consciousness.  

I love 6 am.
 The clouds begin to vibrate golden oranges, prints of the sun becoming visible.
When the air soothes your lungs and cools the tip of your nose.
 I listen to the softest tune and the morning symphony.

I am a failure with no fulfillment.

I feel numb,

but my limbs are heavy.

I can not bury myself deep enough

in my own embrace.

I try quick breaths of air,

but my lungs fill with water.

My head pounds, begging for rest,

but won't slow down.

My heart is catching momentum.

How do I stop.