I Am Alive.

And I've been playing back memories

from long ago 

before I knew what would come of 

this. 

I'm singing songs 

in my head that remind me of 

him 

and signs on my door that are 

blue and green 

make sense only 

to me.

The words you said 

run through 

my mind and I can't think 

at all.

Get out of my head, 

your hugs make me swoon, 

and I'm not sure where I'm going with my 

words. 

My thoughts are a 

mess, 

my head is bursting,

the door is shut tight, 

and my sentences are 

long.

Remembering is hard, 

it makes tears fill 

my eyes, 

and my heart feels like it should 

burst.

Yet your face 
appears in my 
mind, 
and I am lost in your 
eyes, 
memories eating me 
alive.

I know I am alive.

A Thought or Two...

My head is full of crazy ideas, thoughts and ramblings that even I can hardly comprehend. My mind is running at a million miles a minute, and it never slows down. Thoughts about people, death, hope, the future, love. Everything. Sometimes I just want to lie down, stare at my ceiling, and forget it all, if only for a moment. All the thoughts knocking at my door, screaming through the wood, picking the lock. And I think to myself, where do they come from? Why are they here? Because I need to know, I suppose. I need to ask questions, I need to get answers. Yet most of them stay locked up in my head, fighting their way out, until I scribble them down on a piece of scrap paper, or type them out on word document, my fingers moving frustratingly slower than my steady stream of thought. Except, as I write them down, more creep into my head, seeping in between the cracks, tapping on the window panes, seeking a way in. It's a tedious process, until they make their way through my head, and settle on the floor, waiting patiently amongst the others, just waiting to be spewed out onto paper, so another can take its place amongst the chaos.

Because then I realized...

It doesn't even matter what other people think.

10 Years Ago...

 

{Every year, since the towers fell, the New York skyline has been lit up with 88 lights, in remembrance of those who died.}

I was 7. My mom was braiding my hair, my dad was downstairs eating breakfast, watching the news like any normal morning. 

Out of no where, he shouted for my mother to come downstairs, immediately. It couldn't wait. 

Abandoning the braid, she ran down the staircase, as my dad never sounded this urgent. Following her down, my brush in hand, I saw the TV, the smoke rising to the sky, the panic on my parents faces. Then my mom started to cry, my dad stared intently at the screen, never moving his eyes. 

I was late to school that day. The first time I had ever been late. And an hour late at that. I was confused, why was this so important I had to be late for school? What was I going to tell my teacher? I walked into my classroom, the lights were off, my teacher was on the phone crying, and the 6 other kids in my classroom were watching Reading Rainbow.

That's all we did that day.

I remember my teacher crying into the phone, other teachers coming in, a few kids from another class joining ours.

I think that's when I realized the world wasn't just my small little town. The world was much bigger than what I could see.

Of course, I imagined the people around the world, but that's all it was. Imagination.

Now it seemed so real.

Too real.

Never Forget.